Some of them do not even rest on the shore before swimming out for another wave slide; and as the afternoon passes they rival each other in more and more daring feats. See those two men no longer lying flat on their boards as they rush onward in the water! They only kneel, and wave their arms and shout in glee to their companions. But most daring of all is Auwae's father, who actually stands erect as he is borne toward the shore on the crest of a huge wave. He travels at a rate sufficient to deprive one of breath.
The kind man takes time during the afternoon to give Auwae lessons in riding her own board, which he has lately made for her. Up to this time she has had to be content with swimming only, and in this, as I told you, she is already wonderfully skilful and graceful.
The hours pass only too quickly, and night suddenly shuts down upon the happy people. The moon comes out in such beauty as is seen only in the tropics. It bathes sea and shore in a soft, sweet light, so pleasant after the dazzling brightness of the sun. Auwae and Upa once more lead the party as they wander slowly homeward and again enter the shadow of the tall palm-trees.
The children look toward the mountains behind the village reaching up so grandly till their tops are lost in the clouds, and Upa says:
"Auwae, do you know that my father is going to Kilauea next week, and he says I may go with him. Ask your father if you may go, too. It will be such fun!"
Auwae has wished a long, long time for such a chance as this. She claps her hands in delight, as she feels quite sure of her parents' consent.
Kilauea! She has heard so much about the mighty crater. Even now she can see a faint reddish gleam light up the sky in the distance. The largest active volcano in the world is showing that it is still alive and using the mighty forces directed from the very bowels of the earth.[1]
It would almost seem as if Auwae would feel fear at living in the shadow of a volcano. Is she not sometimes awakened in the night by the low rumbling sound coming to her through the clear air? And does she not then lie trembling at the thought that she may sometime be swallowed up in a tremendous flow of lava? Other children in towns like hers have met such a fate in the years that are gone. Why should she not fear?
But Auwae was born here, and has always lived where she could see the light from that huge furnace of Nature. She is so used to it that she does not dread its power. She lives in the joy of the present, and does not consider that which might possibly come to her.