“The same,” said Umi; “I have met them both.”
“Then will we despatch a discreet messenger for them at once,” returned the priest, rising abruptly. “Every moment is precious, and their counsel may be the voice of the gods.”
And now, while the messenger is on his way to Waipio, it may be in place to make some further mention of the two priests in search of whom he was sent, as they contributed in no small measure to Umi’s final success, and were thereafter rated among his confidential counsellors.
Nunu and Kakohe were chiefs of distinction and belonged to the priesthood. They were both learned in the lore of the gods and the traditions of the people, and were so highly esteemed by Liloa that he frequently invited them to the royal mansion, and late in life spent one or more evenings with them in each month, when he listened to recitals of the traditions of his fathers, and mistier lines of demi-gods and heroes stretching backward in unbroken thread to the morning of creation. They were among the few who could recite the sacred genealogical mele of Kumuhonua, the Hawaiian Adam, and he loved to listen to the naming of the generations from the first man to Nuu, of the great flood, and thence to Wakea, and downward still nearly sixty generations to himself. Some differences existing between the genealogies of Hawaii and Maui, Liloa had sent them to the latter island to confer with its priests and historians, with the view of reconciling their disagreements. Their mission was successful, and what is known as the Ulu genealogy was the result of the learned conference.
These were among the friends of Liloa who, for the sake of the father and the honor of the royal line, had patiently and earnestly sought to divert Hakau from his barbarous practices. But he had scorned their kind offices, made light of their learning, and finally denied them admission to the palace. He hoped by his cruelty to drive them from Waipio; but in the prophetic flames they had read their future, and from within the sacred anu of the temple voices had come to them enjoining patience; so they sat down and waited.
Arriving at Waipio, the messenger of Kaoleioku had but little difficulty in finding the two priests of whom he was in search. It was some hours after nightfall, but on inquiry he was directed to their humble dwelling on the south side of the stream, and soon stood at their door. It was dark within, and on making his presence known two men appeared at the opening. The messenger saluted them politely, and, observing but a single person, they cautiously stepped from the door and inquired of the visitor his business with them.
By their garb and bearing he knew them to be priests, but that was not enough; he could afford to make no mistake, so he dissembled and said:
“I have probably been misinformed; this is not the house of Monana, the fisherman?”
“My friend,” said Nunu, “your words do not mislead us. Whether for good or evil I know not, but you are in search of Kakohe and Nunu, and they are here. If you have business with them, speak; there are no listeners.”
The messenger answered by unfolding from a piece of kapa an ivory talisman carved from a whale’s tooth, which he handed to Nunu, with a request that he would examine it. Stepping to a fire still smouldering near the oven of the hut, the priest threw upon it a handful of dry bark, which in a moment burst into a flame and enabled him to inspect the palaoa. Returning and addressing a few words to his companion, the priest said to the messenger: