MAUI’S FIGHT WITH THE SUN
Mahuika, surrounded by fire, was terrible to behold—ah, my listener, terrible. She cried: “Au-eh, who is there in the light of my children?”—and Maui answered: “It is Maui, your grandson.” Mahuika now asked him the four sacred questions, and he answered them as he had answered Taranga, when Mahuika knew that her grandchild was standing before her in the light of her fire, and she spoke: “Yes, my son, I will that you receive the fire you have asked for”—and she took one of her fingers and gave it to Maui.
With the fire he now wandered back, but, when he had travelled part of his way, his old cunning overmastered him, and he resolved to take all the fire of Mahuika. Ha, ha!
He killed the finger Mahuika had given him in a great water, and went back to his ancestress to ask for another finger, telling her that he had lost the first one.
And Mahuika gave him another finger—ha, ha.
He killed the second finger, too, in the great water, and came back to ask for more; and his ancestress gave him another finger—ha, ha—ah! Maui came again and again, and Mahuika gave him all her fingers till she had only one left—ha, ha! Maui killed them all in the great water; but, when he again came back and asked for the last finger, then Mahuika knew that he wished to deceive her and kill her, and a frightful anger took hold upon her! Ha, she took her last child, her last finger, and threw it upon the world, and the world filled with fire—ha!
Ah, then Maui began to run!
The flames grew larger and larger, and followed him; he ran into the forests, and the forests caught fire—ah, Maui, my ancestor—ah, he ran into the river, but the river began to boil—ah! He took the form of an eagle, but the flames pursued him high into the air. Ha!—he sang great incantations to Tawhiri-matea and the gods, and they sent clouds of rain. The clouds wandered forth from the end of heaven and burst into rain, and long rain fell upon the fire, and heavy rain, and lasting rain. Through the rain flew Maui, and threw himself into the sea, to save himself from the terrible wrath of his ancestress Mahuika—ah!
Ah, my listener, Maui had almost perished through the terrible fire that filled the world, but Mahuika, ah, Mahuika, she had to perish in the endless floods which fell down upon the world. She knew that she had to die, and she filled the world with terrible cries. With her great swiftness—for is she not the mother of the fire?—she ran and ran to save her child, the flame; and she ran and ran but the flood of the rain always followed her. At last, knowing that she must die, she took her last child, her last finger, and hid it in the Kai-Komaki tree—and then, my listener, the rain has slain the mother of the fire—ah!