He was convinced of the hopelessness of his struggle. There was no
gainsaying that terrible will of the haoles. Though he killed a
thousand, yet would they rise like the sands of the sea and come
upon him, ever more and more. They never knew when they were
beaten. That was their fault and their virtue. It was where his
own kind lacked. He could see, now, how the handful of the
preachers of God and the preachers of Rum had conquered the land.
It was because -

"Well, what have you got to say? Will you come with me?"

It was he voice of the invisible man under the white flag. There he
was, like any haole, driving straight toward the end determined.

"Let us talk," said Koolau.

The man's head and shoulders arose, then his whole body. He was a
smooth-faced, blue-eyed youngster of twenty-five, slender and natty
in his captain's uniform. He advanced until halted, then seated
himself a dozen feet away.

"You are a brave man," said Koolau wonderingly. "I could kill you
like a fly."

"No, you couldn't," was the answer.

"Why not?"

"Because you are a man, Koolau, though a bad one. I know your
story. You kill fairly."