Somo was largely deserted, and those that were in it were sunk in sleep.

So no one vexed him as he trotted through the winding pathways between the many houses and past the obscene kingposts of totemic heraldry, where the forms of men, carved from single tree trunks, were seated in the gaping jaws of carved sharks.

For Somo, tracing back to Somo its founder, worshipped the shark-god and the salt-water deities as well as the deities of the bush and swamp and mountain.
Turning to the right until he was past the sea-wall, Jerry came on down to the beach.

No _Arangi_ was to be seen on the placid surface of the lagoon.

All about him was the debris of the feast, and he scented the smouldering odours of dying fires and burnt meat.