The leader of the first canoe, coming close to the shore, jumped out upon the reef in shallow water.  Half a dozen of his followers jumped after him without hesitation, and brandished their weapons round their heads as they advanced, in savage unison.  But Felix, pretending hardly to notice these hostile demonstrations, stepped boldly up toward his little pile with great deliberation, though trembling inwardly, and proceeded before their eyes to take a match from his box, which he displayed ostentatiously, all glittering in the sun, to the foremost savage.  The leader stood by and watched him close with eyes of silent wonder.  Then Felix, kneeling down, struck the match on the box, and applied it, as it lighted, to the dry leaves beside him.

A chorus of astonishment burst unanimously from the delighted natives as the dry leaves leaped all at once into a tongue of flame, and the little pile caught quickly from the fire in the vesta.

The leader looked hard at the two white faces, and then at the fire on the beach, with evident approbation.  “It is as Tu-Kila-Kila said,” he exclaimed at last with profound awe.  “They are spirits from the sun, and they carry with them pure fire in shining boxes.”

Then, advancing a pace and pointing toward the canoe, he motioned Felix and Muriel to take their seats within it with native savage politeness.  “Tu-Kila-Kila has sent for you,” he said, in his grandest aristocratic air, “for your chief is a gentleman.  He wishes to receive you.  He saw your message-fire on the reef last night, and he knew you had come.  He has made you a very great Taboo.  He has put you under protection of Fire and Water.”

The people in the boats, with one accord, shouted out in wild chorus, as if to confirm his words, “Taboo!  Taboo!  Tu-Kila-Kila has said it!  Taboo!  Taboo!  Ware Fire!  Ware Water!”

Though the dialect in which they spoke differed somewhat from that in use in Fiji, Felix could still make out with care almost every word of what the chief had said to him; and the universal Polynesian expression, “Taboo,” in particular, somewhat reassured him as to their friendly intentions.  Among remote heathen islanders like these, he felt sure, the very word itself was far too sacred to be taken in vain.  They would respect its inviolability.  He turned round to Muriel.  “We must go with them,” he said, shortly.  “It’s our one chance left of life now.  Don’t be too terrified; there is still some hope.  They say somebody they call Tu-Kila-Kila has tabooed us.  No one will dare to hurt us against so great a Taboo; for Tu-Kila-Kila is evidently some very important king or chief.  You must step into the boat.  It can’t be avoided.  If any harm is threatened, be sure I won’t forget my promise.”

Muriel shrank back in alarm, and clung still to his arm now as naturally as she would have clung to a brother’s.  “Oh, Mr. Thurstan,” she cried—­“Felix, I don’t know what to say; I can’t go with them.”