Kamakaua turned his face in compliance, and as he did so the prince poised his javelin and hurled it in the direction of the bird. In twenty paces the point did not droop; in forty it did not fall to the ground; in a hundred a new energy seized it, and like a flash of light it sped out of sight. A moment later the prince saw the bird sink and disappear.
“I can see no one,” said Kamakaua, after carefully scanning the ground over which they had passed. “Nor can I now see the bird,” he continued, looking toward the ridge. “Where can it be?”
“At the foot of the cliff,” replied the prince, “with the point of my javelin in his heart.”
Having been with the prince on Molokai, Kamakaua received the strange information without question or great wonder, and, hastening to the base of the precipice, they found the monster dead, with the javelin buried in its breast. Removing the weapon, they cut off the head and one of the feet of the bird, pulled from its wings four of the longest feathers, and with them returned to the hala tree under which they had found shelter from the sun. The burden taxed their strength to the utmost. The weight of the head, which was borne by the prince, was scarcely less than that of his own body, while the feathers were seven paces in length, and the claws two paces between their extreme points.
Great excitement followed the spreading of the news that Pueoalii had been killed by strangers. The sufferers through its visitations were disposed to commend the act, and others condemned it as an insult to the gods, which would probably bring broadcast calamity upon the whole island. To placate the anger of the gods it was proposed to sacrifice the strangers at the nearest heiau, and, respectfully wrapping the head of the bird in kapa, Kaululaau and his companion were conducted with their trophies to the sacred temple of Kukaniloko, which was not far distant. They were accompanied by a crowd which constantly swelled in numbers as they proceeded, and on arriving at the heiau they were surrounded by four or five hundred men and women, many of them armed and clamoring for their blood.
Kaululaau was in nowise alarmed, but rather enjoyed the situation. The high-priest of the temple appeared and the matter was laid before him. Looking at the foot and mighty feathers of the bird, he turned to the strangers and said:
“You have slain a creature sacred to the gods, and my thought is that you should be sacrificed to avert their wrath.”
“Be careful in your judgment, priest,” replied the prince. “How know you that the bird was sacred?”
“For years it has been so regarded,” returned the priest. “How know you that it was not?”
“Does it become the high-priest of Kukaniloko to ask such a question?” said the prince. “But I will reply to it when you answer this: With the javelin now in my hand I killed the bird at a distance farther than from where we stand to yonder hills. Could it have been done by human hand without the especial favor of the gods. If not, then how have the gods been angered?”