- end_line
- 10824
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:25.206Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10754
- text
- THE STORY OF TOBY
The morning my comrade left me, as related in the narrative, he was
accompanied by a large party of the natives, some of them carrying fruit
and hogs for the purposes of traffic, as the report had spread that
boats had touched at the bay.
As they proceeded through the settled parts of the valley, numbers
joined them from every side, running with animated cries from every
pathway. So excited were the whole party, that eager as Toby was to gain
the beach, it was almost as much as he could do to keep up with them.
Making the valley ring with their shouts, they hurried along on a swift
trot, those in advance pausing now and then, and flourishing their
weapons to urge the rest forward.
Presently they came to a place where the paths crossed a bend of the
main stream of the valley. Here a strange sound came through the grove
beyond, and the Islanders halted. It was Mow-Mow, the one-eyed chief,
who had gone on before; he was striking his heavy lance against the
hollow bough of a tree.
This was a signal of alarm;--for nothing was now heard but shouts
of ‘Happar! Happar!’--the warriors tilting with their spears and
brandishing them in the air, and the women and boys shouting to each
other, and picking up the stones in the bed of the stream. In a moment
or two Mow-Mow and two or three other chiefs ran out from the grove, and
the din increased ten fold.
Now, thought Toby, for a fray; and being unarmed, he besought one of the
young men domiciled with Marheyo for the loan of his spear. But he was
refused; the youth roguishly telling him that the weapon was very good
for him (the Typee), but that a white man could fight much better with
his fists.
The merry humour of this young wag seemed to be shared by the rest, for
in spite of their warlike cries and gestures, everybody was capering
and laughing, as if it was one of the funniest things in the world to be
awaiting the flight of a score or two of Happar javelins from an ambush
in the thickets.
While my comrade was in vain trying to make out the meaning of all this,
a good number of the natives separated themselves from the rest and ran
off into the grove on one side, the others now keeping perfectly still,
as if awaiting the result. After a little while, however, Mow-Mow, who
stood in advance, motioned them to come on stealthily, which they did,
scarcely rustling a leaf. Thus they crept along for ten or fifteen
minutes, every now and then pausing to listen.
Toby by no means relished this sort of skulking; if there was going to
be a fight, he wanted it to begin at once. But all in good time,--for
just then, as they went prowling into the thickest of the wood, terrific
howls burst upon them on all sides, and volleys of darts and stones flew
across the path. Not an enemy was to be seen, and what was still more
surprising, not a single man dropped, though the pebbles fell among the
leaves like hail.
There was a moment’s pause, when the Typees, with wild shrieks, flung
themselves into the covert, spear in hand; nor was Toby behindhand.
Coming so near getting his skull broken by the stones, and animated by
an old grudge he bore the Happars, he was among the first to dash at
them. As he broke his way through the underbush, trying, as he did
so, to wrest a spear from a young chief, the shouts of battle all of a
sudden ceased, and the wood was as still as death. The next moment, the
party who had left them so mysteriously rushed out from behind every
bush and tree, and united with the rest in long and merry peals of
laughter.
It was all a sham, and Toby, who was quite out of breath with
excitement, was much incensed at being made a fool of.
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