swathed in a single
garment of b 1 u e
cloth. S h e h a d
brown eyes and dark
ringlets, and was so
frightened at being
photographed, that
she broke' into tears,
and was with difficulty
reassured. As
it was, the tears lay
in a rim about her
eyes long after she
had ceased to c ry ;
and she could" not
be persuaded to resume
the pole, which
she used at the prow
of her father’s boat
with infinite grace.
Behind her in the
recesses ot the boat
crouched hfer grandmother, a midnight hag—type of
the terrible old age of the Salon woman. I do not
suppose that there is anywhere in the world any one
more ugly than an old woman of the Salon.
HARPOONING
Some of the men plunged with harpoons, to show me
how they did it, and the exhibition was greeted with
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peals of laughter from all the assembled boats. The
harpooner before plunging strains forward, every muscle
taut, the whole weight of his body resting on the ball
TH E HARPOONER
of his foot—a missile incarnate. Then he flings his
harpoon with a whirr through the sunlight, and leaps
after it into the water. Spear and man are lost to
sight. A moment later, he comes up with dripping hair,
clutches the cut in the shapely gunwale, and climbs
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