greatly refreshed, and
with every bite of the rind, vigor returned, and with vigor, boldness.
Then Tangaloa said: "Let us pray"; and with that they both went down on
their knees, the old chief beseeching God for deliverance, and
repeating again and again his thankfulness for O'olo, and for the nuts.

But all was far from finished, and there was much for God to do yet if
ever He destined them to gain the security of Savai'i; and O'olo
proclaimed his intention of hiding in the mountains, and going eastward
circuitously, and making no sign or stir until the close of the war, and
the withdrawal of the Tuamasanga from A'ana. To this Tangaloa agreed
without argument, resigning himself like a little child to O'olo's
guidance, and making no demur when the Tongan said: "Let us rise and go,
for by dawn we must be on the heights, and beyond pursuit."

Thus determined, they took the plantation road upward, assisted by the
moon which was near its full; and toilsomely attaining the limits of the
cultivated land, buried themselves in the tomb of the forest. Here, with
groping and hurt, and frequent misdirection, they struggled on and on,
making of a watercourse their path, and at times so hidden in the defile
of rocks that it was as though the earth had closed over them. In this
manner were many hours spent until at last Tangaloa fell exhausted on a
bank of ferns, saying: "More I cannot do." Then O'olo built a fire to
warm his parent, who was perishing of cold, and rubbed his legs, and
shaped a bough for his pillow, and kissed him lovingly; and when the old
man said: "I am convinced we shall die"; he answered stoutly, "No, we
shall live, for God has not brought us thus far to desert us now"; at
which Tangaloa was comforted and went to sleep, while O'olo watched and
watched beside him, his heart much troubled by the evil of their
situation, and the frailty of the old chief, and the assailing doubts as
to whether, after all, they should ever escape.

* * * * *

The news of O'olo's desertion was variously twisted by the returning
troops, so that to Evanitalina, inquiring in anguish, there were as many
tales as men. Some would have it that they had seen him die, giving
details; others that he had run away from the battle, in wildness and
panic; others praised him truthfully for a hero, and as the first to
leap the fort. Of these there was a fewness, for the most preferred to
laud themselves or their relat