, wayworn chief
when he reached the southern shore.

The weary hero only stayed his steps when he reached the brow of the
great bluff of Palikaholo. The sea broke many hundred feet below where
he stood. The gulls and screaming boatswain birds sailed in mid-air
between his perch and the green waves. He looked up the coast to his
right, and saw the lofty, wondrous sea columns of Honopu. He looked
to the left, and beheld the crags of Kalulu, but nowhere could he
see any sign which should tell him where his love was hid away.

His strong, wild nature was touched by the distant sob and moan
of the surf. It sang a song for his sad, savage soul. It roused up
before his eyes other eyes, and lips, and cheeks, and clasps of tender
arms. His own sinewy ones he now stretched out wildly in the mocking
air. He groaned, and sobbed, and beat his breast as he cried out,
"Kaala! O Kaala! Where art thou? Dost thou sleep with the fish gods,
or must I go to join thee in the great shark's maw?"

As the sad hero thought of this dread devourer of many a tender
child of the isles, he hid his face with his hands,--looking with
self-torture upon the image of his soft young love, crunched, bloody
and shrieking, in the jaws of the horrid god of the Hawaiian seas;
and as he thought and waked up in his heart the memories of his love,
he felt that he must seek her even in her gory grave in the sea.

Then he looks forth again, and as he gazes down by the shore his
eyes rest upon the spray of the blowing cave near Kaumalapau. It
leaps high with the swell which the south wind sends. The white mist
gleams in the sun. Shifting forms and shades are seen in the varied
play of the up-leaping cloud. And as with fevered soul he glances,
he sees a form spring up in the ever bounding spray.

He sees with his burning eyes the lines of the sweet form that twines
with tender touch around his soul. He sees the waving hair, that
mingles on his neck with his own swart curls. He sees,--he thinks he
sees,--in the leap and play of sun-tinted spray, his love, his lost
Kaala; and with hot foot he rushes downward to the shore.

He stands upon the point of rock whence Opunui sprang. He feels the
throb beneath his feet of the beating, bounding tide. He sees the fret
and foam of the surging gulf below the leaping spray, and is wetted
by the shore-driven mist. He sees all of this wild, working water,
but he does not see Kaala.

And yet he peers into this mad surf for her