After the officer had concluded his account of the misdemeanors of the prisoner, by permission of the king the old man rose to his feet, and was about to speak in his own defence when Kiha, turning his gaze with an effort from the green eye of the dog, abruptly inquired:
“What manner of animal is this, and how came he in your possession?”
“O king!” replied the prisoner, “the dog was given to me by my uncle, a distinguished kaula of Kauai, and it is believed that he was cast up from the sea.”
“Enough!” exclaimed the king, with a gesture of impatience. “Take them both to the temple of Paakalani,” he continued, addressing a chief with a yellow cape and helmet, “and there await my coming.”
The prisoner and his green-eyed companion were removed to the temple, and in the dusk of the evening Kiha proceeded thither alone. Entering the royal retreat with which the heiau enclosure was provided, he sent for the high-priest, and soon after for the prisoner and his dog. They were conducted to the apartment, and the door was closed, a kukui torch held at another opening throwing a glare of light into the room.
The king sat for a few breaths in silence, while the priest was scanning the prisoner and his strange companion. Finally, pointing to the dog, Kiha turned to the priest and said:
“A wonderful animal—a being without hands, and wearing neither mantle nor maro!”
“True,” returned the priest, recalling the promise of the gods; “and should he be the messenger, his services must not be slighted.”
“Listen,” said the king, addressing the prisoner. “I have faith that this animal can do me a service. In a marshy forest in the mountains back of Waipio a band of conjuring outlaws have lately found a retreat. A magic shell of great power, stolen from me many years ago, is now in the possession of some one of them—probably of Ika, their chief. Can you prompt this animal to recover the Kiha-pu?”
“Perhaps,” replied the prisoner.