Hawaii - James Michener [172]
"No," Abner insisted, "God and Kane are not the same."
"Of course," the kahunas agreed heartily, "their names are different, but we know that Kane would not like this door here."
"The door has to be here," Abner explained.
"If it is, Kane will destroy the church," the kahunas said sorrowfully.
"God does not go about destroying His own churches," Abner assured the men.
"But we know that Kane does, if they are built wrong, and since Kane and God mean the same thing . . ."
The solemn kahunas never lost their tempers with the stubborn little stranger who did not quite understand religion, so far as they could judge, and Abner had learned not to lose his, so the argument about the door lasted for several hours, until the moon had vanished from the west and only low dark clouds scudded across the mysterious and silent sky. With nothing agreed, but with the kahunas feeling very sorry for their misguided friend who insisted upon building a doomed church for Kane, the meeting broke up and Kelolo said, "After I bid the kahunas good night I will walk back home with you."
"I can find my way alone," Abner assured him.
"On a night like this . . ." Kelolo said speculatively, looking at the low clouds over the coconut palms, "it would be better, perhaps . . ." And he bade the kahunas a hasty farewell so that he could hurry down the dusty road and overtake the missionary, but they had progressed only a few hundred yards when Abner heard the kahunas walking behind them, and he said, "I don't want to argue with them any more," but when Kelolo turned to tell the kahunas so, he saw nothing. There were no kahunas. There were no walking men. There was only an ominous echo under the scudding clouds, and suddenly Kelolo grabbed Abner in a vise of death and muttered in horror, "It is the night marchers! Oh, God! We are lost!” And before Abner could protest, Kelolo had caught him about the waist and swept him precipitately over a hedge and thrown him into a ditch, where foul water drenched him. When he tried to rise, Kelolo's mighty arm pinned him to the wet earth, and he could feel that the huge alii was trembling in terror.
"What is it?" Abner sputtered, but Kelolo's giant hand clasped his mouth, accidentally forcing grass and mud into his lips.
"It is the night marchers!" Kelolo whispered, his lips quivering in horror.
"Who are they?" Abner whispered back, pulling Kelolo's hand from his mouth.
"The great alii of the past." Kelolo trembled. "I am afraid they are coming for me."
"Ridiculous!" Abner grunted, trying to break free. But his captor held him pinioned in the ditch, and he could feel the awful tenseness of the big man's muscles. Kelolo was terrified.
"Why are they coming for you?" Abner whispered.
"No one knows," Kelolo replied, his teeth chattering. "Perhaps because I gave the land of Kane for your church."
With the greatest circumspection he lifted his huge head until it was even with the top of the hedge, looked for a moment up the dark path, and shuddered. "They are marching toward us!" he gasped. "Oh, Makua Hale, pray to your god for me. Pray! Pray!"
"Kelolo!" Abner grunted, smothered by the pressure on his chest. "There is nothing out there. When alii die they remain dead."
"They are marching," Kelolo whispered. And in the silence of the night, with only wind rustling through dead palm leaves, there was indeed a sound of feet. "I can see them coming past the church," Kelolo reported. "They carry torches and feathered staves. They wear their golden robes and feather helmets. Makua Hale, they are coming for me."
The giant alii pressed himself into the ditch, hiding Abner beneath his ample form, and the missionary could hear the man praying, "Oh, Pele, save me now; I am your child, Kelolo, and I do not want to die tonight."
The sound grew louder and Kelolo engaged in violent actions, almost smothering Abner, who mumbled, "What are you doing?"
"Undressing!" Kelolo grunted. "You cannot speak to the gods with clothes on." When he was completely naked he resumed praying in an agitated voice,