“Ho, ho! Tamavili. Whither goest in such a hurry? See, there in the canoe is the little bird we both sought, and there following comes her father. But she is neither for me nor thee. Is not her lover there, a fine man—nearly as handsome as I am, and big enough to make ten such rats as thee.”
Tamavili was mad with rage, and did not answer. There were with Manka six men—all armed with rifles which loaded at the breech like that which he had given Manaia, and Manka was too great a man for even Tamavili to hurt. But suddenly, as we in the canoe sailed in between the boat and the taumualua, the old chief found his voice, and called out to Manaia to lower his sail.
“Give me the lady Sa Luia,” he said, “and I will let thee and the girl Selema go,” and as he spoke, the crew turned the taumualua round and came after us, twenty men paddling on each side.
“Keep back!” cried Manaia fiercely, as he changed seats with me, and giving me the steering paddle, he took up the rifle and loaded it.
“Beware, old man!” shouted Manka, “'tis a dog that bites!”
But Tamavili was too hot with anger to take heed, and shouted to his men to go on, and then Manaia took aim and fired, and two men went down.
“Ho, ho!” and Manka's voice again mocked, “did I not say 'twas a dog that bit?”
There was great commotion in the taumualua for a moment or two, but Tamavili shouted to his men to go on; he would have ordered some of them to cease paddling and try and shoot Manaia, but feared to hurt or perhaps kill me, and that would have meant war between Tufa and Mulifanua.
“Alo, alo foe!” {*} he cried, standing up on the stem and brandishing his death-knife at Manaia. “I shall give thy head to the children of the village for a football ere the sun is in mid-heaven.”
* “Paddle, paddle hard!”