came next door to going to church after all, a thing I'm little
likely to forget. I had turned out for a stroll, and heard the
hymn tune up. You know how it is. If you hear folk singing, it
seems to draw you; and pretty soon I found myself alongside the
church. It was a little long low place, coral built, rounded off
at both ends like a whale-boat, a big native roof on the top of it,
windows without sashes and doorways without doors. I stuck my head
into one of the windows, and the sight was so new to me - for
things went quite different in the islands I was acquainted with -
that I stayed and looked on. The congregation sat on the floor on
mats, the women on one side, the men on the other, all rigged out
to kill - the women with dresses and trade hats, the men in white
jackets and shirts. The hymn was over; the pastor, a big buck
Kanaka, was in the pulpit, preaching for his life; and by the way
he wagged his hand, and worked his voice, and made his points, and
seemed to argue with the folk, I made out he was a gun at the
business. Well, he looked up suddenly and caught my eye, and I
give you my word he staggered in the pulpit; his eyes bulged out of
his head, his hand rose and pointed at me like as if against his
will, and the sermon stopped right there.

It isn't a fine thing to say for yourself, but I ran away; and if
the same kind of a shock was given me, I should run away again
tomorrow. To see that palavering Kanaka struck all of a heap at
the mere sight of me gave me a feeling as if the bottom had dropped
out of the world. I went right home, and stayed there, and said
nothing. You might think I would tell Uma, but that was against my
system. You might have thought I would have gone over and
consulted Case; but the truth was I was ashamed to speak of such a
thing, I thought everyone would blurt out laughing in my face. So