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Updated: June 26, 2025
Into this Eden, this Paradise in which I had never seen or heard of the slightest ailment, we, the prideful whites, had brought this deadly thing! Should we remain, I dared not face the consequences. "Is it... bad?" I managed to ask. "Pretty," moaned poor Whinney. "Left knee, small of back... spreading." "I'm going home," I said. "We'll meet here tomorrow afternoon at the same tune.
An' you, Whinney boy, you ain't ketched a bug nor a beetle, have yer? And you, ole Swanko-panko, you ain't drawed a line, have yer?" We hung our heads like schoolboys before the master. Of course if Triplett put it that way, on moral grounds, so to speak, there was no more to be said. "Well, what's the answer?" he continued. "It's time you got married an' settled down, ain't it? When is it to be?"
It was an anxious moment until he looked up and said with a hysterical quiver in his voice: "Unanimously green." "Let's go!" shouted Swank, but I stopped him. "Hold on," I said. "Triplett is in on this. We agreed that it must be unanimous." My companions' faces lengthened like barrel-staves. "Damn," muttered Whinney. "I hadn't thought of him."
She moved with alertness, and as the girl dismounted and approached her she raised her head and turned a pleasant face with deep-set, sightless gray eyes upon her visitor. "Good morning, Ethel, dear," she said. "I knew the pony's whinney. You're up early today." "Good morning, Nora," responded the schoolteacher, advancing to kiss the withered cheek. "Are you pretty well?" "In body, dear.
Jim used to go with me on all my jaunts I could talk to him by the hour and never stammer a word. And Old Sol well, when everything seemed to be going against me, I used to go out and talk things over with Old Sol. Somehow he seemed to understand he used to whinney softly and rub his nose against my shoulder as if to say, "I understand, Bennie, I understand!"
Even at three thousand feet he gave me a chill.... But let Whinney speak. "It is plain," he said, "that the basalt monadnock on which we stand is a carboniferous upthrust of metamorphosed schists, shales and conglomerate, probably Mesozoic or at least early Silurian." At this point our wives burst into laughter. In fact, their attitude throughout was trying but Whinney bravely proceeded.
Every few moments he would lurch forward and press his nose against the canvas, once falling flat on his masterpiece, most of which was transferred to his chest. But he persevered. Whinney by this time had retired to his darkroom; Baahaabaa and Hitoia-Upa snored; Swank worked and I, from a near-by knoll, watched the miracle of a tropical dawn.
William Henry Thomas's head rose proudly as his wife replied in thrilling, woodland tones, "Fatakahala." "Fatakahala!" repeated Baahaabaa, "Flower of Darkness," and William Henry Thomas raised his head as high as it would go. "When does the ceremony take place?" asked Whinney. Baahaabaa pointed to the distant peak of the mountain. "Tonight.
Of course Swank, Whinney and I were objects of much curiosity and admiration. Hundreds of times my radiant Daughter of Pearl and Coral repeated: "Ahoa tarumea Kapatooi Naani-Tui" "I should like to make you acquainted with my husband, Face-of-the-Moon." Hundreds of times did I press my chin against soft ears and submit to the same gentle greeting.
A shrill, quavering neigh, like the whinney of a galloping horse, rang from beyond the house, and Vic saw the black stallion racing up and down his corral. Back and forth he wove, then raced straight for the bars, flashed above them, and stood free beyond, with the sunshine trembling on him.
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