Not long after Mr. Chalmers left Delena a great feast was held there. Kone’s heart was full of love to his white friend who had saved him from death and had brought peace because he knew the great Spirit of Love. Kone, too, wished to bring peace. He would help Tamate’s work and end the strife between the Loloans and the Naara tribe with whom they were at war. He thought the feast would be a good time to begin, so he asked two Naara men to come to Delena for it.
As the dancing began, he saw a Loloan steal up behind one of his Naara friends. The Loloan’s spear was aimed at the stranger. There was no time for Kone to save his guest except in one way. He leapt in front of his friend, and the spear that was meant for the Naara man entered his own breast. He was carried home to die.
“Send for Tamate,” he said, “send for Tamate.” But across the reef and up against the shore a great south-east wind was blowing, and no canoe could face the wildness of the sea.
In the darkness of pain and weakness, Kone could not have the joy of seeing his friend once more. But still in the shadow of death he sought for Tamate’s Master, and murmured the words he had learned so slowly: “Great Spirit of Love, give me light! Lead me to Christ.”
The spear entered his own breast
A few months later, Mr. Chalmers came back to Delena. He wished to go still farther west, and meant to take Kone with him. Kone was a good fellow-traveller. He could speak many languages, he was loved by the natives, and he was a constant joy to Tamate. The great childlike heart of the savage chief was like his own.
When the boat reached Delena, a canoe came out to meet her. But there were no shouts of welcome, and Kone was not there.
A chief stepped on board in silence, and at first would give no answer to the eager question, “Where is Kone?” Then he said, “Oh, Tamate, your friend Kone is dead.”
“Dead?”