Then Ma-ui thought of a trick to play on them—on the stingy alae that would not give fire, but left men to eat raw roots and raw fish. He rolled up a piece of tapa, and he put it into the canoe, making it like a man. Then he hid near the shore. The brothers [[31]]went fishing, and the birds counted the figures in the canoe. “The swift son of Hina has gone fishing: we can have cooked bananas to-day.” “Make the fire, make the fire, until we cook our bananas,” said the young alae.
So they gathered the wood together, and they rubbed the barks, and they made the fire. The smoke rose up from it, and swift Ma-ui ran up the mountain-side. He came upon the flock of birds just as the old one was dashing water upon the embers. He caught her by the neck and held her.
“I will kill you,” he said, “for hiding fire from men.”
“If you kill me,” said the old alae, “there will be no one to show you how to get fire.”
“Show me how to get fire,” said Ma-ui, “and I will let you go.”
The cunning alae tried to deceive Ma-ui. She thought she would get him off his guard, that he would let go of her, and that she could fly away. “Go to the reeds and rub them together, and you will get fire,” she said.
Ma-ui went to the reeds and rubbed them together. But still he held the bird by the neck. Nothing came out of the reeds but moisture. He squeezed her neck. “If you kill me, there will be no one to tell you where to get fire,” said the cunning bird, still hoping to get him off his guard. “Go to the taro leaves and rub them together, and you will get fire.” [[32]]
Ma-ui held to the bird’s neck. He went to the taro leaves and rubbed them together, but no fire came. He squeezed her neck harder. The bird was nearly dead now. But still she tried to deceive the man. “Go to the banana stumps and rub them together, and you will get fire,” she said.
He went to the banana stumps and rubbed them together. But still no fire came. Then he gave the bird a squeeze that brought her near her death. She showed him then the trees to go to—the hau tree and the sandalwood tree. He took the barks of the trees and rubbed them, and they gave fire. And the sweet-smelling sandalwood he called “ili-aha”—that is, “fire bark”—because fire came most easily from the bark of that tree. With sticks from these trees Ma-ui went to men. He showed them how to get fire by rubbing them together. And never afterwards had men to eat fish raw and roots raw. They could always have fire now.
The first stick he lighted he rubbed on the head of the bird that showed him at last where the fire was hidden. And that is the reason why the alae, the mud-hen, has a red streak on her head to this day.