“Keola!” said, a voice close by upon the empty sand.

“Lehua! is that you?” he cried, and gasped, and looked in vain for her; but by the eyesight he was stark alone.

“I saw you pass before,” the voice answered:  “but you would not hear me.  Quick! get the leaves and the herbs, and let us free.”

“You are there with the mat?” he asked.

“Here, at your side;” said she.  And he felt her arms about him.  “Quick! the leaves and the herbs, before my father can get back!”

So Keola ran for his life, and fetched the wizard fuel; and Lehua guided him back, and set his feet upon the mat, and made the fire.  All the time of its burning, the sound of the battle towered out of the wood; the wizards and the man-eaters hard at fight; the wizards, the viewless ones, roaring out aloud like bulls upon a mountain, and the men of the tribe replying shrill and savage out of the terror of their souls.  And all the time of the burning, Keola stood there and listened, and shook, and watched how the unseen hands of Lehua poured the leaves.  She poured them fast, and the flame burned high, and scorched Keola’s hands; and she speeded and blew the burning with her breath.  The last leaf was eaten, the flame fell, and the shock followed, and there were Keola and Lehua in the room at home.

Now, when Keola could see his wife at last he was mighty pleased, and he was mighty pleased to be home again in Molokai and sit down beside a bowl of poi — for they make no poi on board ships, and there was none in the Isle of Voices — and he was out of the body with pleasure to be clean escaped out of the hands of the eaters of men.  But there was another matter not so clear, and Lehua and Keola talked of it all night and were troubled.  There was Kalamake left upon the isle.  If, by the blessing of God, he could but stick there, all were well; but should he escape and return to Molokai, it would be an ill day for his daughter and her husband.  They spoke of his gift of swelling, and whether he could wade that distance in the seas.  But Keola knew by this time where that island was — and that is to say, in the Low or Dangerous Archipelago.  So they fetched the atlas and looked upon the distance in the map, and by what they could make of it, it seemed a far way for an old gentleman to walk.  Still, it would not do to make too sure of a warlock like Kalamake, and they determined at last to take counsel of a white missionary.

So the first one that came by, Keola told him everything.  And the missionary was very sharp on him for taking the second wife in the low island; but for all the rest, he vowed he could make neither head nor tail of it.

“However,” says he, “if you think this money of your father’s ill gotten, my advice to you would be, give some of it to the lepers and some to the missionary fund.  And as for this extraordinary rigmarole, you cannot do better than keep it to yourselves.”