"An' you go along sixty paces."
"To the right?" questioned the Fijian.
"No! To the left, you fool!" screamed his companion.
"All right, you go to the left," muttered the rebuked one. "An' that's the way to heaven!" cried the Maori.
"The way to heaven," echoed the Fijian; then the two lifted up their voices and chanted:
"That's the way to heaven,
That's the way to heaven,
That's the way to heaven out
Of Black Fernando's hell.
The incident stirred my curiosity. If I had only heard the words of the chant I would not have puzzled my brain to determine their meaning, but it was the manner in which the Maori instructed his friend as to the direction in which one must walk from the white waterfall that made me interested. I turned the words over in my mind as I watched them saunter slowly toward me. Black Fernando's hell and the white waterfall were places that I had never heard of. I thought of all the missionary hymns that I had ever listened to afloat and ashore, but the lines that the pair had chanted were not familiar.