"That is not the question,"replied the sorcerer."Being here,we have matter in our hands,and that we must attend to.Go,while Irecover my breath,into the borders of the wood,and bring me the leaves of such and such a herb,and such and such a tree,which you will find to grow there plentifully -three handfuls of each.And be speedy.We must be home again before the steamer comes;it would seem strange if we had disappeared."And he sat on the sand and panted.
Keola went up the beach,which was of shining sand and coral,strewn with singular shells;and he thought in his heart -"How do I not know this beach?I will come here again and gather shells."In front of him was a line of palms against the sky;not like the palms of the Eight Islands,but tall and fresh and beautiful,and hanging out withered fans like gold among the green,and he thought in his heart -"It is strange I should not have found this grove.I will come here again,when it is warm,to sleep."And he thought,"How warm it has grown suddenly!"For it was winter in Hawaii,and the day had been chill.And he thought also,"Where are the grey mountains?And where is the high cliff with the hanging forest and the wheeling birds?"And the more he considered,the less he might conceive in what quarter of the islands he was fallen.
In the border of the grove,where it met the beach,the herb was growing,but the tree further back.Now,as Keola went toward the tree,he was aware of a young woman who had nothing on her body but a belt of leaves.
"Well!"thought Keola,"they are not very particular about their dress in this part of the country."And he paused,supposing she would observe him and escape;and seeing that she still looked before her,stood and hummed aloud.Up she leaped at the sound.
Her face was ashen;she looked this way and that,and her mouth gaped with the terror of her soul.But it was a strange thing that her eyes did not rest upon Keola.