Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1904-09-22

the MOIuinS breeze lldL TuSLleQ IN the
fringing palms behind the beach. 1t
was sweeter than the tapping water
that crept about the coral reefs. Her
melody rippled gayly with the waves
that caressed her boat, for its was of
love, of loves triumph, that she sang.
Once she looked back at the land she
was leaving, but only once, and then
she saw the island stretching itself,
rosy and flushed with light, up from
the sea to greet the sun. After that
one backward glance, Kaomao kept
her eyes and her boat steadily toward
the east, and gave no further heed, nc
further thought to the home she was
leaving forever.
She was as familiar with the sea
as with the banyan tree that sheltered
her matched hut. She had spent days
in her canoe, long days and long nights.
Her muscles were as t~ireless as the
bronze they counterfeited, and now
her slender body swayed with the
movement Of the waves, with the
rhythm of her song. Dried fish and
fruits she had brought with her, and at
night she slept as securely, as peaceful
ly, upon the oceans breast as in her
own Nuuanu hut. The waves and the
winds were with her, and she was
guided by the sun and by the stars.
1t was early morning when the gaunt
gray cliffs of Molokai rose out of the
pearly sea, but Kaomao knew better
than to approach the settlement upon
its shores by daylight. Rounding the
first high p%romontory, she ventured
close to the land, and saw a small
deserted beach, a short stretch of white
sand. from which the hills sloped
gradually up and back. She stopped
padding, and, with a sharp knife,
cut the thongs that bound the outrig-
ger to her canoe, For a few moments
she gashed and hacked the bottom and
sides of the tiny craft. If she could
destroy the boat that had brought her
to him, Paliopaleke could not make her
go back as she had come. For a single
instant she stood erect in the canoe
as it settled slowly down into the
water. Her white cotton gov was
drawn close about her Waist, her brown
body cleaned in the morning sun, her
arms were stretched high above her
head. Then she plunged into the sea.
and with long straight strokes swan
toward the deserted beach.
The next day, at sunrise, she stood
on the hill above the leper settlement.
She looked down on the white houses,
on the church, on the school, but still
she did not dare show herself. She
must find Paliopaleke. She must know
where Paliopaleke lived. And all at
once she saw him, quite near her,
stretched out on the desolate hillside.
his mournful eyes turned with pas
sionate longing toward the west.
toward Nuuanu.
Stealthily she crept closer to him.
But eve now she must not speak to
him. Even there in that deserted
wilderness of gray crag and rock she
must not let him know that she had
come.
The day passed, the noon sun brooded
low over the sea and land, the night
fell all gold and sapphire blue and
ruby red. The moon rose clear and
full. The same moon that mellowed
and softened the mellow softness of
Nuuanu valley revealed the SCARED
white desolation of Molokai, but
Paliopaleke's eyes saw only the
Nuuanu moonlight, saw the deep per-
fumed shadows of the banyan shelter
ing q small grass hut, saw the frayed
leaves of the banana tree, and in its
fringed fan shadow he saw Kaomao
gowned all in white, crowned with a
jasmine lei.
Quietly, softly, out of the shadow
into the moonlight came Kaomao, her
white gown falling about her, a white
feather on her head, a white feather
wreath about her neck and hanging TO
her waist.
"Kaomao! Kaomao!" cried Paliopal-
eke, But he buried his face in his arms
to shut out the haunting moonlit
vision.
"Paliopaleke!" 1t was a cry, but it
was soft and low and sweet.
Kaomao's tender arms were about
his neck, his head was on Kaomao's
breast, her lips were pressed to his.
In an instant he realized the truth.
1t was Kaomao, Kaomao herself, in
all her exquisite beauty, with all her
sweet young life. Almost brutally he
repulsed her, but she would not be re-
pulsed. With angry words he tried to
drive her from him but she would not
go. He ran from her, but she followed
him. He begged and pleaded, but her
arguments were stronger than his, for
the love that weakened his gave
strength to hers, and before the morn
ing came she had conquered, he had
yielded.
The old priest who had given his life
to those island wrecks, vas slowly
climbing the hill to Paliopaleke's
house. In his heart was a prayer for
aid in comforting this latest exile, this
ulOoJ I'LL SSOLSllCd uuulLlOu w III
flock. At the doorway he stopped
aghast, for he saw Kaomao's arms
about her lovers neck, Kaomao's soft
cheek against her lovers cheek.
In hurried words she told her story.
With frmness she announced her
intention of staying with Paliopaleke.
The priests arguments were more
fluent than Paliopaleke's had been,
but they we're of no use. Kaomao's
dark eyes met his steadily, she did not
faltor, she did not waver. To his
threats, to his warnings, to his COM
mands in the name of the island au-
thorities, she made but one reply.
She would stay with Paliopaleke. He
was her lover. She would live with
him as he lived. She would die with