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The Hawaiians still call the mountains back of Koolau, near Honolulu, after the name of the three, and when the missionaries gave them the Jewish sacred books, were delighted to point out that long before Christ came to earth they had believed as above, and that Abraham was the tenth from Noah, that Abraham practised circumcision, and was father of Isaac and the illegitimate Ishmael, and that their descendant of Nuu, as Abraham, became the father of twelve children, and the founder of the Polynesian race, as Abraham had of the Jews.

Koolau forgot where he was, forgot everything, as he lay and marvelled at the strange persistence of these haoles who would have their will though the sky fell in. Aye, they would have their will over all men and all things, even though they died in getting it. He could not but admire them, too, what of that will in them that was stronger than life and that bent all things to their bidding.

At the coffee shop on King Street, Joe asked, "Remember that week we spent on Kauai? That was a good time." "Yeah, the Na Pali coast," Max said. "Some place," Joe said. "The whole damn island should be a world park." "I remember that story you told us about the leper who wouldn't go to the colony." "Koolau," Joe said. "He defeated the British Navy. They couldn't get him. He warned them, too.

So the soldiers thought, for, under the burning afternoon sun, they climbed the goat-trail again. And again the knife-edged passage was disputed, and again they fell back to the beach. For two days longer Koolau held the passage, though the soldiers contented themselves with flinging shells into his retreat.

He had nothing to lean upon but the air. The lava rock crumbled under his feet, and on either side the dislodged fragments pitched downward through the depths. The sun blazed upon him, and his face was wet with sweat. Still he advanced, until the halfway point was reached. "Stop!" Koolau commanded from the thicket. "One more step and I shoot."

Koolau remembered the maid who lay there on watch, and ran down to see. The smoke was still rising from the bushes when he crawled in. He was astounded. The branches were splintered and broken. Where the girl had lain was a hole in the ground. The girl herself was in shattered fragments. The shell had burst right on her.

The sheriff halted, swaying for balance as he stood poised above the void. His face was pale, but his eyes were determined. He licked his dry lips before he spoke. "Koolau, you won't shoot me. I know you won't." He started once more. The bullet whirled him half about. On his face was an expression of querulous surprise as he reeled to the fall.

"Who are you?" the sheriff asked. "I am Koolau, the leper," was the reply. "Then come out. We want you. Dead or alive, there is a thousand dollars on your head. You cannot escape." Koolau laughed aloud in the thicket. "Come out!" the sheriff commanded, and was answered by silence. He conferred with the police, and Koolau saw that they were preparing to rush him. "Koolau," the sheriff called.

He saw the wild goats flee before them as they climbed higher and higher, until he doubted his judgment and sent for Kiloliana, who crawled in beside him. "No, there is no way," said Kiloliana. "The goats?" Koolau questioned. "They come over from the next valley, but they cannot pass to this. There is no way. Those men are not wiser than goats. They may fall to their deaths. Let us watch."

Five times Koolau pulled the trigger, so rapidly that his shots constituted a rattle. Changing his position and crouching low under the bullets that were biting and singing through the bushes, he peered out. Four of the police had followed the sheriff. The fifth lay across the knife-edge still alive. On the farther side, no longer firing, were the surviving police.