lled the eye
and heart of one who stood among the braves of the great chief--the
heart of the stout young warrior Kaaialii.

This youth had fought in the battle of Maunalei, Lanai's last bloody
fight. With his long-reaching spear, wielded with sinewy arms, he urged
the flying foe to the top of a fearful cliff, and mocking the cries of
a huddled crowd of panic-scared men, drove them with thrusts and shouts
till they leaped like frightened sheep into the jaws of the deep,
dark chasm, and their torn corpses strewed the jagged stones below.

Kaaialii, like many a butcher of his kind, was comely to see. With the
lion's heart, he had the lion's tawny hue. A swart grace beamed beneath
his curling brows. He had the small, firm hand to throttle or caress,
and eyes full of fire for hate or love; and love's flame now lit the
face of the hero of the bloody leap, and to his great chief he said,
"O King of all the isles, let this sweet flower be mine, rather than
the valley thou gavest me for my domain."

Said Kamehameha: "You shall plant the Lanai jessamine in the valley
I gave you in Kohala. But there is another who claims our daughter,
who is the stout bone-breaker, the scarred Mailou. My spearman of
Maunalei can have no fear; and you shall wrestle with him; and let
the one whose arms can clasp the girl after the fight carry her to
his house, where one kapa shall cover the two."

The poor maid, the careless gift of savage power, held up her clasped
hands with a frightened gesture at the dread name of the breaker of
bones; for she had heard how he had sucked the breath of many a dainty
bloom like her, then crunched the wilted blossom with sinews of hate,
and flung it to the sharks.

And the Lanai maiden loved the young chief of Hawaii. He had indeed
pierced her people, but only the tender darts of his eyes had wounded
her. Turning to him, she looked her savage, quick, young love, and
said, "O Kaaialii, may thy grip be as sure as thy thrust. Save me
from the bloody virgin-eater, and I will catch the squid and beat
the kapa for thee all my days."

The time of contest approached. The King sat under the shade of a
leafy _kou_, the royal tree of the olden time, which has faded away
with the chiefs it once did shelter. On the smooth shell floor,
covered with the hala mat, stood the bare-limbed braves, stripped
to the malo, who with hot eyes of hate shot out their rage of lust
and blood, and stretched out their strangling arms. The