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 beach of Marua—that they had been deluded by the guardians of Karolin and the ghosts of the Ancient, drawn to sea to meet the vengeance of the dead Uta Matu, of his son, and the men slain by the hand and will of Taori.

That thunder from the heart of the sea, those waves from nowhere, the prodigy of the gulls, all these were portents.

“Taori,” said he, “now that you have told me, I would go back. My heart misgives me and if I had known that Laminai fell by your hand I would not have come; I love you as a son, Taori, you fought for the women and children of Karolin against the white men, but you do not know Uta Matu the king, whose son you killed, whose men you put to flight.”

“But Uta Matu is dead,” said Dick, “he has no power.”

“You do not know Uta Matu,” said Aioma, “nor the length of his arm, nor the power of his blow. You have not seen his eyes or you would not say those words. Let us return, Taori, before he draws us too far into his grasp.”

“When I have seen what I wish to see, I will return,” said Dick. He had no fear of dead men, nor of living men either, and for the first time his respect for Aioma was dimmed. “I will return when I have seen what we came to see. I am not afraid.”

Aioma rose and straightened himself.

“I have never known fear,” said he, “and I do not know it now. It was for you I spoke. Go forward