Explore "The Call of the South" by Louis Becke on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A white rain squall came crashing through the mountain forest, and then went humming northward across the quiet lake, down over the wooded littoral and far out to sea Silence once more, and then a mountain cock, who had scorned the sweeping rain, uttered his shrill, cackling, and defiant crow, as he shook the water from his black and golden back and long snaky neck, and savage, fierce-eyed head.
Between two wide-flanking buttresses of a mighty _tamana_ tree I had taken shelter, and was comfortably seated on the thick carpet of soft dry leaves, when I heard my name called, and looking up, I saw, a few yards away, the grave face of an elderly Samoan, named Marisi (Maurice). We were old acquaintances.