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"And who is Tribonnora," said Babbalanja, "that he thus bravely diverts himself, running down innocent paddlers?" "A harum-scarum young chief," replied Media, "heir to three islands; he likes nothing better than the sport you now see see him at." "He must be possessed by a devil," said Mohi. Said Babbalanja, "Then he is only like all of us." "What say you?" cried Media.
"Hold!" cried Media, "who have we here?" and he pointed ahead of our prow to three men in the water, urging themselves along, each with a paddle. We made haste to overtake them. "Who are you?" said Media, "where from, and where bound?" "From Variora," they answered, "and bound to Mondoldo." "And did that devil Tribonnora swamp your canoe?" asked Media, offering to help them into ours.
Whereas, Tribonnora's devil, who daily runs down canoes, drowning their occupants, belongs to the species of out and out devils; but being high in station, and strongly backed by kith and kin, Tribonnora can not be mastered, and put in a strait jacket. For myself, I think my devil is some where between these two extremes; at any rate, he belongs to that class of devils who harm not other devils."
Turning, we descried a sharp-prowed canoe, dashing on, under the pressure of an immense triangular sail, whose outer edges were streaming with long, crimson pennons. Flying before it, were several small craft, belonging to the poorer sort of Islanders. "Out of his way there, ye laggards," cried Media, "or that mad prince, Tribonnora, will ride over ye with a rush!"
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