“Furthermore,” he said, “my people, hear me.  As I came in a ship propelled by fire over the high waves of the sea, so I go away in one.  We watch for such a ship to pass by Boupari.  When it comes, the Queen of the Clouds—­upon whose life I place a great Taboo; let no man dare to touch her at his peril; if he does, I will rush upon him and kill him as I killed Lavita, the son of Sami.  When it comes, the Queen of the Clouds, the King of the Birds, and I, we will go away back in it to the land whence we came, and be quit of Boupari.  But we will not leave it fireless or godless.  When I return back home again to my own far land, I will send out messengers, very good men, who will tell you of a God more powerful by much than any you ever knew, and very righteous.  They will teach you great things you never dreamed of.  Therefore, I ask you now to disperse to your own homes, while the King of Birds and I bury the body of Lavita, the son of Sami.”

All this time Muriel had been seated on the ground, listening with profound interest, but scarcely understanding a word, though here and there, after her six months’ stay in the island, a single phrase was dimly intelligible to her.  But now, at this critical moment she rose, and, standing upright by Felix’s side in her spotless English purity among those assembled savages, she pointed just once with her uplifted finger to the calm vault of heaven, and then across the moonlit horizon of the sea, and last of all to the clustering huts and villages of Boupari.  “Tell them,” she said to Felix, with blanched lips, but without one sign of a tremor in her fearless voice, “I will pray for them to Heaven, when I go across the sea, and will think of the children that I loved to pat and play with, and will send out messengers from our home beyond the waves, to make them wiser and happier and better.”

Felix translated her simple message to them in its pure womanly goodness.  Even the natives were touched.  They whispered and hesitated.  Then after a time of much murmured debate, the King of Fire stood forward as a mediator.  “There is an oracle, O Korong,” he said, “not to prejudge the matter, which decides all these things—­a great conch-shell at a sacred grove in the neighboring island of Aloa Mauna.  It is the holiest oracle of all our holy religion.  We gods and men of Boupari have taken counsel together, and have come to a conclusion.  We will put forth a canoe and send men with blood on their faces to inquire at Aloa Mauna of the very great oracle.  Till then, you are neither Tu-Kila-Kila, nor not Tu-Kila-Kila.  It behooves us to be very careful how we deal with gods.  Our people will stand round your precinct in a row, and guard you with their spears.  You shall not cross the taboo line to them, nor they to you:  all shall be neutral.  Food shall be laid by the line, as always, morn, noon, and night; and your Shadows shall take it in; but you shall not come out.  Neither shall you bury the body of Lavita, the son of Sami.  Till the canoe comes back it shall lie in the sun and rot there.”