The split in the rock to which Holman had pointed was a perpendicular crevice about four feet in length, but possessing only a width of six inches.  It separated two rock masses that were fully eighteen inches thick, and as we wriggled noiselessly toward it we saw that it gave us a glimpse of the interior of a huge cavern, the part of which that was just inside our point of observation being illuminated by a swinging ship’s lamp which hung by a rope that dropped from the vaulted dome.

The lamp swung directly in front of the crevice through which we peered breathlessly, and for a few seconds it was the only object that was visible.  Gradually our eyes became accustomed to the light, and we found that a pair of brown legs were moving slowly along the floor past our spyhole.  A body, gorgeously decorated in mats of green and crimson parrot feathers, followed the legs, and then came a head that was hidden behind a mask of sennet daubed thickly with coral lime and ochre till it appeared a ghastly nightmare.

The horror moved upon its stomach, and, viewing it as we did through the narrow cranny, it appeared as if the film of a biograph was being slowly dragged before our eyes.  Another pair of legs followed the masked head, another body, and another mask that was even more fear-inspiring than the first.  And the procession continued.  Three, four, five, and six—­each succeeding one being arrayed in a mask of more ghastly appearance than those which had preceded him.  The sixth was followed by the first, who had wriggled clear around the circle of light thrown by the lamp, and in perfect silence the infernal snaky circle moved backward round and round, the faint light shining on bare legs, on bodies from which the parrot mats were thrust aside by the contortions, and upon the masks that were weirdly fantastic and Mephistophelian.

They had circled the floor about ten times when Holman tugged my coat and I wriggled back from the crevice.

“What’s up?” My lips were dry as I put the question.

“Kaipi.”

“Where is he?”

“Cleared out.  Those human serpents scared him.  Go softly, man!  We must get him before he attempts to go down that cliff or he’ll break his thick head.”

We caught up to the deserter on the ledge to which Holman and the Fijian had dragged me a short time before, and the youngster abused the frightened native as he endeavoured to turn him back.

“No, no!” shrieked the Fijian.  “Me no see dance like that.  Me die if I stay.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It is ’tivo’—­death dance,” gasped Kaipi.  “Wizard men dance it.  Something going happen, damn bad.”

“But they can’t get you,” cried Holman, “Come back and watch them.  Soma and Leith will be there directly, and you’ll get your revenge.”

But Kaipi would have nothing more of the performance in the rocky chamber.  The repulsive masks and the backward wriggling of the six upon the floor had upset his fighting stomach for the time being, and we could not induce him to return.