"Kimo smashed the side of Ahuhu's face with all the force he could muster. The Hawaiian staggered with surprise, and slumped down on one knee, then fell sideways like a drunk in a doorway. Kimo rained blow after frenzied blow on Ahuhu's head, hate lodging in his throat like a fishbone. Ahuhu had argued for Rose, yet he'd been buying native women in Fort Vancouver where venereal disease, the "Chinook Love Fever," was rampant. Kimo's insides burned like aa, lava. The thought of what might have happened to her enraged him. The Indians halted to watch, but on a signal from their leader, none interfered. Kimo finally stopped when his stomach heaved and he needed to wretch... Ahuhu rose, stumbling to his feet, his battered face blood-covered from cuts to his right eye, now half shut and swollen. A wide gash had split his mouth across the upper lip. He spat blood, and a tooth, from his bleeding mouth. "I curse you, Kanui!" he raged. In the old days, a curse could reduce a man to fear and trembling, but Kimo barely lifted an eyebrow. He rejected superstition now. Partly from the missionaries' teaching. Mostly by his own inclination. "I turn my back on you and your curse," he replied evenly, and slowly turned his back. Even the raiders understood the symbolism. The Indian stepped between them, uttered a gutteral order and gestured to Ahuhu to move to the rear. Kimo picked up his musket and they loped in silence towards Semiahmoo Bay.