“'Say to the chief Lirou that I thank him for the rich presents he hath sent me, and that I would that I could yield to his wish, and give unto him this tract of country that his father gave to mine—so that he might build a strong place of refuge against the King Roka. But it cannot be, for we, too, fear Roka. And we are but a few, and some day it might happen that he would fall upon us, and sweep us away as a dead leaf is swept from the branch of a young tree by the strong breath of the storm.'
“So Kol returned to Lirou, and gave him the answer of Leâ, and then Lirou and those of his head men who meant ill to Leâ and her people, met together in secret, and plotted their destruction.
“And again Kol, who loved the Yap girl he had married, sent a message to Leâ, warning her to beware of treachery. And then it was that the Yap people began to build a strong fort, and at night kept a good watch.
“Then Lirou again sent messengers asking that Leâ would let him cut down a score of great trees, and Leâ sent answer to him: 'Thou art welcome. Cut down one score—or ten score. I give them freely.' This did she for the sake of peace and good-will, though she and her people knew that Lirou meant harm. But whilst a hundred of Lirou's men were cutting the trees the Yap people worked at their fort from dawn till dark, and Lirou's heart was black with rage, for these men of Yap were cunning fort builders, and he saw that, when it was finished, it could never be taken by assault. But he and his chiefs continued to speak fair words, and send presents to Leâ and her people, and she sent back presents in return. Then again Lirou besought her to become his wife, saying that such an alliance would strengthen the friendship between his people and hers; but Leâ again refused him, though with pleasant words, and Lirou said with a smooth face: 'Forgive me. I shall pester thee no more, for I see that thou dost not care for me.'
“When two months had passed two score of great trees had been felled and cut into lengths of five fathoms each, and then squared. These were to be the main timbers of the outer wall of Lirou's fort—so he said. But he did not mean to have them carried away, for now he and his chiefs had completed their plans to destroy the people of Yap, and this cutting of the trees was but a subterfuge, designed to throw Leâ and her advisers off their guard.
“One day Lirou and his chiefs, dressed in very gay attire, came into Tokolmé, each carrying in his hand a tame ring-dove which is a token of peace and amity, and desired speech of Leâ. She came forth, and ordered fine mats, trimmed with scarlet parrots' feathers, to be spread for them upon the ground and received them as honoured guests.
“'We come,' said Lirou, lifting her hand to his forehead, 'to beg thee and all thy people to come to a great feast that will be ready to-morrow, to celebrate the carrying away of the wood thou hast so generously given unto me.'
“'It is well,' said Leâ; 'I thank thee. We shall come.'
“Little did Leâ and her people know that during the night, as it rained heavily, some of Lirou's warriors had hidden clubs and spears and axes of stone near where the logs lay and where the feast was to be given. They were hidden under a great heap of chips and shavings that came from the fallen trees.
“At dawn on the day of the feast, three hundred of Lirou's men, all dressed very gaily, marched past Tokolmé, carrying no arms, but bearing baskets of food. They were going, they said, with presents to King Roka to tell him that Lirou would hold faithfully to his promise of tribute.