“But Lohiau is dead,” chorused the women.
“Yes, dead! And what was the cause of his death?”
“He kissed Hiiaka,” the woman answered.
“Ah! but who killed him?”
“Pele.” Her voice sank to a whisper, and the name she uttered was to be made out, or guessed at, rather by a study of the protruding lips and the sympathetic arching of the brow than by any sound emitted. Her eyes also made a half-turn in the direction of Pele’s cave.
“He came to Hawaii in the expectation that Pele would be his life.” Paoa spoke with thoughtful deliberation. “How came it about that she should cause his death?” … After a moment’s pause, he continued: “He tasted death once at Haena and, now, again, here, on this barren … a second death, and through the wrath of Pele!”
Pele roused herself at this and spoke up: “What is that you say? that Lohiau died at Haena?”
“Yes, he tasted of death there,” Paoa answered firmly.
“How, then, did he become alive again?” asked Pele sharply.
“Hiiaka, she treated him, and by her gracious skill and power brought his soul and body together again. That done, they sailed away for Hawaii.”