olo with renewed motions of
his knife, he undesirous of showing too great a willingness, and
pretending indecision, besides doubting the chief's integrity.

"As God sees me that I will perform," said Tangaloa, "and now in my
extremity I perceive the worth of true dealing with every man, for all
my past years stand in witness to my honor, and he who trusted me has
never been deceived."

At this O'olo was reassured, and he repeated the oath for Tangaloa to
say after him, making it very full and exact, with nothing omitted; and
then he kissed the old man, beginning to feel for him the tenderness of
a son, he that had never had a father until this moment, and now having
gained one of the loftiest rank; and he raised him lovingly, and bound
his wound with a strip of cloth, and be-darlinged him, Tangaloa
returning his love, and saying again and again: "Blessed be God that He
has sent me a son for my protection."

Nor were these words of empty import, for others of the victorious army
were much displeased at O'olo's clemency, and would have torn away
Tangaloa and killed him, had not O'olo resisted with lowered gun and a
threatening expression, so that he dared not leave his father for an
instant so greedy were the warriors for his head. All that day he
crouched beside him, with neither water to drink nor food to eat,
guarding Tangaloa preciously; and had it not been for the confusion that
attends the finish of a battle, and the lessening of authority that
follows, he would have been overpowered by a multitude, and all his
bravery wasted. But those who assailed him were without cohesion or
settled plan, and they were as dogs, rushing up to affright, and then
losing courage at O'olo's demeanor, which was fierce and unshaken, with
his rifle at the cock.

It was a day terrible to remember in its heat and hunger and unbearable
thirst, with about them the headless dead, festering in the sun and
blackening, and over them the sky without a cloud, and always at their
hearts the dread of Asi and the chiefs, returning to kill them both. At
dusk it seemed as though O'olo could never get his father to his feet,
so destroyed was the old man by weakness and disinclination, and he was
as a sinking canoe, or a sting ray flopping on the reef, and abandoned
by the tide. But O'olo persevered, dragging and supporting him until
coconuts were reached, where he climbed a tree and threw down nui in
abundance; and as they drank the water they were