The sheriff was no coward. Yet was he undecided. He gazed into the
gulf on either side and ran his eyes along the knife-edge he must
travel. Then he made up his mind.

"Koolau," he called.

But the thicket remained silent.

"Koolau, don't shoot. I am coming."

The sheriff turned, gave some orders to the police, then started on
his perilous way. He advanced slowly. It was like walking a tight
rope. He had nothing to lean upon but the air. The lava rock
crumbled under his feet, and on either side the dislodged fragments
pitched downward through the depths. The sun blazed upon him, and
his face was wet with sweat. Still he advanced, until the halfway
point was reached.

"Stop!" Koolau commanded from the thicket. "One more step and I
shoot."

The sheriff halted, swaying for balance as he stood poised above the
void. His face was pale, but his eyes were determined. He licked
his dry lips before he spoke.

"Koolau, you won't shoot me. I know you won't."

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