The people looked about the grass and under their dishes, and, seeing nothing, asked to be enlightened. Then the councillor explained that he had not only cleaned the bones of his dead lord, but had dried and pounded them to a fine meal, had stirred them into the mass of poi which these warriors and statesmen had enveloped, so that every man who had shared in that feast was a grave. And they agreed that he was a faithful and sagacious servant, and passed a resolution to keep his memory a bright green for several years after he was dead. They say that was the only time they ate a man, and they did not know it then. The Kingship of Umi When King Liloa died he left his younger son, Hakau, to rule Hawaii in his place, but an older and natural son, Umi, whose mother had been a farm-worker among the hills, he appointed as guardian of the temples and their sacred statues. Umi had not learned of his royal parentage until he had grown to be a fine stout fellow. He had lived a lonely though adventurous life, and his kingly origin was shown in the fact that he could never be induced to work or do anything useful, unless it might be hunting and fishing. Impulses were his guides. He was in nowise disturbed when he learned that Liloa was his father. On the contrary, he took on a new dignity, donned the feather cloak and helmet of a prince, walked, in a couple of days, to the king's house, passed the guards without a word, carelessly striking down their threatening spears with his own; then, gaining the king's presence unannounced, he plumped himself into the old gentleman's lap. For one of low descent to venture on a liberty like this was death, and for a moment Liloa was mightily offended. He sprang up, spilling the prince upon the earth; then, recognizing on the young man's breast an ivory necklace clasp that had been his love-token to the girl on the mountain farm years before, and admiring the courage of the youngster, he kissed him and welcomed him to his family.