ht; at length
"Taka," Malua cried, and stretched his arms
Rigid in air, his face against the sky.
The goad was in Uhila's soul, he leapt
Into the moonlight and upon his foe.
Fixed to the ground, they strove as giant trees
Tossing fierce branches in a storm; their wrath
Smote on them like a tempest, hot with hate.
Malua knew a curse was in the hands
That sought his throat, and in the blazing eyes
Close to his own. Life would defend fair life
As chief and Taka's lover. Round the shoulders
Dark and strong, straining to his heaving breast,
He threw his arms, and locked in that embrace
They stood a moment, breathing with the quick
Sharp catch of weary runners. Then a turn--
Raising his knee, Uhila strove in vain
To throw his enemy. Upon their heads
And swaying bodies lay the silver light
Of the bright moon. The great night seemed to pause
Chin upon hand to watch the struggle, air
Hushed to retain the hoarse and laboring sobs
Such strain brought forth. Their shining bodies, oiled
In honor of the feast, granted no hold
To the fierce gripping arms.

Then suddenly
Uhila sprang aside and grasped a branch,
A rough, harsh weapon--for they were unarmed.
Wary they watched each other's eyes, like beasts
Stealthy, retreating, circling with heads low,
Bodies bent for the catch. Malua sprang
Close to Uhila, caught his murderous hand,
And with the branch between them, all its thorns
Tearing their breasts, they strove once more. The moon
Glittered in troubled ripples, they had come
Under the shadow of the trees, the dark
Goaded Uhila's soul anew, his blood,
Blazing with conflict, gave him mad-man's strength
And devil's skill. His straining form relaxed,
Heavily slipping earthward; ere Malua
Could gain fresh hold upon his fainting foe,
Uhila with a twist had laid him low,
Knee on his breast, lean fingers at his throat
Seizing his life.

Malua's eyes grew dim,
The gentle stars seen faint thro' hanging leaves
Wavered uncertainly; his brain seemed black,
Confused with horrid death, the dewy moss
He lay on failed beneath him. Suddenly
Hanging upon the brittle rim of death,
His outstretched hand, gripping the scattered leaves,
Closed on a sharp stone, instinct more than brain
Showed him the way; he raised his weapon, struck
And struck and struck again.
The night looked down
Waning, and saw thro' tangled boughs a still,
Dead figure on the troubled earth. All stained
With crim