Chapter III

The barking of a small dog awoke Nalima from a nap. Sitting up, she saw at a little distance down the valley, someone coming up the path. At first she thought it was Kalani, then saw that it was a _haole_ hat that appeared and disappeared among the bushes. "_Auwe_, it's some trespasser that's come up here because Kalani is away, what shall I do?" While she yet feared, the figure stood at the door and Kalani's voice reassured her.

We may not repeat all that Nalima listened to, for in another tongue than the Hawaiian, its flavor would be much impaired. The simple souls accepted the great good fortune of the suit of clothes, the shoes, and the hats, with childlike simplicity. The long and early walk had given Kalani a hearty appetite, which the sour poi, spiced with a bit of salt salmon from the _Pake_ (Chinese) store at Moiliili, soon appeased. Nalima produced a few mountain apples she had gathered during his absence, and they felt they had feasted like chiefs of old.

Nor can we tell of the profound sensation produced in the little district church the following Sabbath, when Kalani entered dressed in his new suit, and crowned with his silk hat. This latter he wore until he took his seat, so that all might see it; then he carefully placed it on the bench beside him. It seemed as if the possession of this silk hat bade fair to restore to him his prestige of the long ago. That he should have been in such high favor with anyone, as to receive such a gift, surely argued greatly for his birthright, and for the heritage of his youth, of which the younger generation had not been aware. Certain it was that soon after this Kalani was made a deacon in the church, and other honors were accorded him in the months that followed. In the little hut in the valley, the driest corner was given to the precious hat, and Nalima gently fondled it as she smoothed it again and again, hoping to preserve its shining gloss indefinitely. It was not pride but _satisfaction_ in this _special possession_ that filled Kalani's soul. He often removed the paper in which it was kept, and, holding it upon his hand, would relate to Nalima the experiences of that momentous morning walk, when he became possessed of this treasure. And Nalima never tired of listening to the tale, though she had long known it by heart. In closing he always said, "The best of it all was, I know they were _glad_ to give it to me, and, Nalima, you know what to do with it if I die first."