"There they sit," said the girl. "If they recognize me they will want to keep me."
Hiiaka bade Wahine-oma'o fall in behind her, hunch her shoulders, bend forward her head and walk with short infirm steps in imitation of an old woman. Hiiaka, on coming close to the old people, using the language of song, asked directions as to the road:
I na maka o Nana-kilo ma
E nonoho mai la, e.
Auhea ka ala, e?
TRANSLATION
You with the clear-scanning eyes,
Sitting at rest before me,
Point me out now the road.
"The road is plain enough; you are taking the right way.. . . We are looking at that young woman of your party—she has such a strong resemblance to our missing daughter, save her way of shuffling and holding her head."
On reaching the outskirts of the village of Hilo, Hiiaka found a rickety foot-bridge, consisting of a single narrow and wobbly plank, liable to turn at every step and precipitate the passenger into the tumbling waters below—and this was the only passage across the rocky chasm of the Wai-luku[1] river. This precarious crossing was the work of two sorcerers, degenerate nondescripts, who had the audacity to levy toll for the use of their bridge, in default of which the traveler suddenly found himself precipitated into the raging water. By virtue of their necromantic powers, they had the presumption to claim spiritual kinship with Hiiaka, a bond the woman could not absolutely repudiate.
"Here comes our mo'o-puna,"[2] called out Pili-a-mo'o to his companion.
"Well, what of it? She will have to pay her fare the same as anyone else," replied Noho-a-mo'o. "Only on that condition shall she cross by our bridge."
On Hiiaka's attempting to cross without paying toll, the two
