CHAPTER LXVII.
THE JOURNEY ROUND THE BEACH IT was on the fourth day of the first month of the Hegira, or flight from Tamai (we now reckoned our time thus), that, rising bright and early, we were up and away out of the valley of Hartair before the fishermen even were stirring.
It was the earliest dawn.

The morning only showed itself along the lower edge of a bank of purple clouds pierced by the misty peaks of Tahiti.

The tropical day seemed too languid to rise.

Sometimes, starting fitfully, it decked the clouds with faint edgings of pink and gray, which, fading away, left all dim again.

Anon, it threw out thin, pale rays, growing lighter and lighter, until at last, the golden morning sprang out of the East with a bound--darting its bright beams hither and thither, higher and higher, and sending them, broadcast, over the face of the heavens.
All balmy from the groves of Tahiti came an indolent air, cooled by its transit over the waters; and grateful underfoot was the damp and slightly yielding beach, from which the waves seemed just retired.
The doctor was in famous spirits; removing his Koora, he went splashing into the sea; and, after swimming a few yards, waded ashore, hopping, skipping, and jumping along the beach; but very careful to cut all his capers in the direction of our journey.
Say what they will of the glowing independence one feels in the saddle, give me the first morning flush of your cheery pedestrian! Thus exhilarated, we went on, as light-hearted and care-free as we could wish.
And here I cannot refrain from lauding the very superior inducements which most intertropical countries afford, not only to mere rovers like ourselves, but to penniless people generally.