the head of this stranger. By
general consent he was allowed to take part in the race, provided he
could cite an honorable parentage. This he did, for he was the son of
a former chief in Oahu, and he rattled off the names of his ancestors
for sixteen generations, ending the catalogue in this fashion,
"Maweke and Niolaukea, husband and wife; Mulilealii and Wehelani,
husband and wife; Moikeha and Hooipo, husband and wife." This little
joke, his assumption that the girl was already his, made everybody
laugh and put the company in good humor.

At the word of command a score or more of lusty fellows pushed their
boats through the surf, hoisted sail, and pointed their prows for
Kaula, fifty miles away. Moikeha alone showed no haste. He bade a
cheerful farewell to his host and the pretty daughter, marked with
delight her serious look as he took his leave, then, with a single
attendant and the smallest boat in the fleet, he set off across the
blue water. Directly that her sail was up the little craft sprang
through the sea as if blown by a hurricane, while the other boats slid
over the glassy waves under the push of oars. "It is the fish-god,
Apukohai, who drags his canoe," declared the rowers, as he passed. In
twenty-four hours he was at the side of Kooipo with the whale-tooth,
proof of his voyage, that was delivered to him at Kaula by a servant
who had been sent there with it in advance. He was easily the victor,
the other contestants arriving from one to three days later. No
objection being offered, the couple were married with rejoicings, and
on the death of Puna the husband became chief, and married off eight
or ten youngsters of his own. Not for a long time was it known that in
the race for a wife his lone but potent companion was Laamaomao, the
wind-god, who, loosing favorable breezes from his magic calabash, that
blew whither he listed, carried him swiftly past all other competitors.

The Sailing of Paao

Paao, who afterward became a high priest in Hawaii, migrated thither
in the eleventh century from Samoa, after a quarrel with his brother,
Lonopele. Both of these men were wizards, and were persons of riches
and influence. It came about that Lonopele had missed a quantity of
his choicest fruit, which was conveyed away at night, and although
he could see visions and tell fortunes for others, he could not
reveal for his own satisfaction so simple a matter as the source of
these disappearances. In a foolish r