Short Stories
He started once more. The bullet whirled him half about. On
his face was an expression of querulous surprise as he reeled to
the fall. He tried to save himself by throwing his body across the
knife-edge; but at that moment he knew death. The next moment
the knife-edge was vacant. Then came the rush, five policemen,
in single file, with superb steadiness, running along the knife-
edge. At the same instant the rest of the posse opened fire on the
thicket. It was madness. Five times Koolau pulled the trigger, so
rapidly that his shots constituted a rattle. Changing his position
and crouching low under the bullets that were biting and sing-
ing through the bushes, he peered out. Four of the police had
followed the sheriff. The fifth lay across the knife-edge still alive.
On the farther side, no longer firing, were the surviving police.
On the naked rock there was no hope for them. Before they
could clamber down Koolau could have picked off the last man.
But he did not fire, and, after a conference, one of them took off a
white undershirt and waved it as a flag. Followed by another, he
advanced along the knife-edge to their wounded comrade.
Koolau gave no sign, but watched them slowly withdraw and
become specks as they descended into the lower valley.
Two hours later, from another thicket, Koolau watched a
body of police trying to make the ascent from the opposite side
of the valley. He saw the wild goats flee before them as they
climbed higher and higher, until he doubted his judgment and
sent for Kiloliana, who crawled in beside him.
"No, there is no way," said Kiloliana.
"The goats?" Koolau questioned.
"They come over from the next valley, but they cannot pass
to this. There is no way. Those men are not wiser than goats.
217