Felix was emboldened by this favorable opinion to strike out a fresh line in a further direction.  He stood forward once more, and beckoned again for silence.  “Yes, my people,” he said calmly, with slow articulation, “by the custom of your race and the creed you profess I am now indeed, and in every truth, the abode of your great god, Tu-Kila-Kila.  But, furthermore, I have a new revelation to make to you.  I am going to instruct you in a fresh way.  This creed that you hold is full of errors.  As Tu-Kila-Kila, I mean to take my own course, no islander hindering me.  If you try to depose me, what great gods have you now got left?  None, save only Fire and Water, my ministers.  King of the Rain there is none; for I, who was he, am now Tu-Kila-Kila.  Tu-Kila-Kila there is none, save only me; for the other, that was, I have fought and conquered.  The Queen of the Clouds is with me.  The King of the Birds is with me.  Consider, then, O friends, that if you kill us all, you will have nowhere to turn; you will be left quite godless.”

“It is true,” the people murmured, looking about them, half puzzled.  “He is wise.  He speaks well.  He is indeed a Tu-Kila-Kila.”

Felix pressed his advantage home at once.  “Now listen,” he said, lifting up one solemn forefinger.  “I come from a country very far away, where the customs are better by many yams than those of Boupari.  And now that I am indeed Tu-Kila-Kila—­your god, your master—­I will change and alter some of your customs that seem to me here and now most undesirable.  In the first place—­hear this!—­I will put down all cannibalism.  No man shall eat of human flesh on pain of death.  And to begin with, no man shall cook or eat the body of Lavita, the son of Sami.  On that I am determined—­I, Tu-Kila-Kila.  The King of the Birds and I, we will dig a pit, and we will bury in it the corpse of this man that was once your god, and whom his own wickedness compelled me to fight and slay, in order to prevent more cruelty and bloodshed.”

The young chief stood up, all red in his wrath, and interrupted him, brandishing a coral-stone hatchet.  “This is blasphemy,” he said.  “This is sheer rank blasphemy.  These are not good words.  They are very bad medicine.  The white-faced Korong is no true Tu-Kila-Kila.  His advice is evil—­and ill-luck would follow it.  He wishes to change the sacred customs of Boupari.  Now, that is not well.  My counsel is this:  let us eat him now, unless he changes his heart, and amends his ways, and partakes, as is right, of the body of Lavita, the son of Sami.”

The assembly swayed visibly, this way and that, some inclining to the conservative view of the rash young chief, and others to the cautious liberalism of the gray-haired warrior.  Felix noted their division, and spoke once more, this time still more authoritatively than ever.