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"I have seen through a karahi mea tiohi i te fetu, the Mirror Thing Through Which One Looks At The Stars, long as a tree and big around as a pig. Miope has people upon it." "Are they Marquesans?" "They must be Marquesans for there are islands," I replied. "And popoi and pigs?" demanded the ena-perfumed one. "Namu?
Turning and gazing toward Fatu-hiva I saw the Southern Cross, low in the sky, brilliant, and splendid. "Mataike fetu!" Ghost Girl named the constellation. "The Small Eyes." "Miope has rivers like Taka-Uku and Atuona," I said, relying on the alleged canals of Mars to save my soul.
I was on the edge of the steersman's perch, enjoying the mist of the flying spray and watching the stars appear one by one. Tetuahunahuna pointed toward the northern sky. "Miope! I steer by the star the color of the rosewood tree," he said. There was our own Mars, redder than the sunsets over Mariveles. Northwest he was, this god of war and fertility, and our bow beacon.
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