woman before me. I felt like a hero. I had saved her life. And
she laughed at me. It was not hysteria. She had never dreamed of
her danger. Anyway, I solaced myself, it was not I but Ford that
saved her, and I didn't have to feel like a hero. And besides, that
leg-steering was great. In a few minutes more of practice I was
able to thread my way in and out past several bathers and to remain
on top my breaker instead of going under it.

"To-morrow," Ford said, "I am going to take you out into the blue
water."

I looked seaward where he pointed, and saw the great smoking combers
that made the breakers I had been riding look like ripples. I don't
know what I might have said had I not recollected just then that I
was one of a kingly species. So all that I did say was, "All right,
I'll tackle them to-morrow."

The water that rolls in on Waikiki Beach is just the same as the
water that laves the shores of all the Hawaiian Islands; and in
ways, especially from the swimmer's standpoint, it is wonderful
water. It is cool enough to be comfortable, while it is warm enough
to permit a swimmer to stay in all day without experiencing a chill.
Under the sun or the stars, at high noon or at midnight, in
midwinter or in midsummer, it does not matter when, it is always the
same temperature--not too warm, not too cold, just right. It is
wonderful water, salt as old ocean itself, pure and crystal-clear.
When the nature of the water is considered, it is not so remarkable
after all that the Kanakas are one of the most expert of swimming
races.