Explore "My Tahiti" by Robert Dean Frisbie on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Next morning at daylight we started for Papeete. Manea rode ahead, astride a bony mare, his great feet bumping against the horse's ribs like two bags of copra. Tuahu and I followed in the buggy; and for once we went at a respectable pace, for Manea effectively blocked the road so that Boulgasse, try as he might, could not get around him.
-"I will be glad to get back to Vaiiti," Tuahu said presently. "I was thinking last night that this is the beginning of the albacore season, and that soon the sailing canoes will be putting to sea, for the big fishing." And after a little, with a sigh: "Soon I will be too old to go fishing for albacore; perhaps even this season will be my last."