CHAPTER X.
UP THE MOUNTAIN.
The pleasant days pass by for Auwae and Upa, and the time comes for the great trip to Kilauea. You must understand that Kilauea is not the volcano itself, but the largest crater on the side of Mauna Loa. Many grown people as well as children picture a volcano as a great cone with only one deep pit, down into which they can look when they reach the summit.
This is not always so; for the fire raging in the heart of Mauna Loa has burst out in more than one place on its sides. Kilauea is the largest of these outlets, or craters. It is a hard journey to climb even so far as this. Very few people are daring enough to go still farther and journey to the summit of Mauna Loa.
Auwae's mother actually grows excited while she gets her little daughter ready for the trip. She does not care to go herself.
"It is too much work. I know I should get tired; but you can tell me all about it, my child, when you come back. Then I can see it through your eyes. And Upa's father will be kind, and will take good care of you. I shall not worry."
When the first light of the morning shines through the tree tops, three clumsy-looking horses stand in front of Auwae's door. Upa and his father use two of them; the third one is for our little brown maiden, who appears with a fresh garland of flowers upon her head and a smile on her red lips.
She springs upon the saddle without help, and sits astride of the horse just as Upa does. In fact, all Hawaiians ride in this way, and it is very wise. The women could not travel safely over the rough mountain passes if they rode like their white cousins.
"Aloha! Aloha! Aloha!" echoes through the grove, and the party is soon out of sight. They have more than thirty miles of climbing before them; the horses must walk nearly all the way, as it is a steady rise from the village to the edge of the great crater.
At first, the way is through a perfect forest of breadfruit, candlenut, and palm trees. Among them are ferns growing from twenty to thirty feet high! Their great stalks are covered with a silky, golden-brown fibre. Other ferns, more delicate, are wound around these and live upon their life.