As she climbed upward she saw by the side of the path low bushes, and
on them beautiful red and yellow berries, growing in clusters. The
berries were like large currants.

"It is chelo,"[30] said the priests, "it is Pélé's berry. You must not
touch them unless we ask her. She will breathe fire on you."

Kapiolani broke off a branch from one of the bushes regardless of
the horrified faces of the priests. And she ate the berries, without
stopping to ask the goddess for her permission.

She carried a branch of the berries in her hand. If she had told them
what she was going to do they would have been frenzied with fear and
horror.

Up she climbed until the full terrors of the boiling crater of Kilawea
burst on her sight. Before her an immense gulf yawned in the shape of
the crescent moon, eight miles in circumference and over a thousand
feet deep. Down in the smoking hollow, hundreds of feet beneath her, a
lake of fiery lava rolled in flaming waves against precipices of
rock. This ever-moving lake of molten fire is called: "The House of
Everlasting Burning." This surging lake was dotted with tiny mountain
islets, and, from the tops of their little peaks, pyramids of flame
blazed and columns of grey smoke went up. From some of these little
islands streams of blazing lava rolled down into the lake of fire. The
air was filled with the roar of the furnaces of flame.

Even the fearless Kapiolani stood in awe as she looked. But she did
not flinch, though here and there, as she walked, the crust of the
lava cracked under her feet and the ground was hot with hidden fire.