But though they spoke so bravely they hung back themselves, fearful of passing that mysterious barrier.  Others of the crowd answered them back, warmly:  “No, no; not so.  Be careful what you do.  Anger not the gods.  Don’t ruin Boupari.  If the Taboo is not indeed broken, then how dare we break it?  They are gods.  Fear their vengeance.  They are, indeed, terrible.  See what happened to us when they merely ate of the storm-apple!  What might not happen if we were to break taboo without due cause and kill them?”

One old, gray-bearded warrior, in particular, held his countrymen back.  “Mind how you trifle with gods,” the old chief said, in a tone of solemn warning.  “Mind how you provoke them.  They are very mighty.  When I was young, our people killed three sailing gods who came ashore in a small canoe, built of thin split logs; and within a month an awful earthquake devastated Boupari, and fire burst forth from a mouth in the ground, and the people knew that the spirits of the sailing gods were very angry.  Wait, therefore, till Tu-Kila-Kila himself comes, and then ask of him, and of Fire and Water.  As Tu-Kila-Kila bids you, that do you do.  Is he not our great god, the king of us all, and the guardian of the customs of the island of Boupari?”

“Is Tu-Kila-Kila coming?” some of the warriors asked, with bated breath.

“How should he not come?” the old chief asked, drawing himself up very erect.  “Know you not the mysteries?  The rain has put out all the fires in Boupari.  The King of Fire himself, even his hearth is cold.  He tried his best in the storm to keep his sacred embers still smouldering; but the King of the Rain was stronger than he was, and put it out at last in spite of his endeavors.  Be careful, therefore, how you deal with the King of the Rain, who comes down among lightnings, and is so very powerful.”

“And Tu-Kila-Kila comes to fetch fresh fire?” one of the nearest savages asked, with profound awe.

“He comes to fetch fresh fire, new fire from the sun,” the old man answered, with awe in his voice.  “These foreign gods, are they not strangers from the sun?  They have brought the divine seeds of fire, growing in a shining box that reflects the sunlight.  They need no rubbing-sticks and no drill to kindle fresh flame.  They touch the seed on the box, and, lo, like a miracle, fire bursts forth from the wood spontaneous.  Tu-Kila-Kila comes, to behold this miracle.”

The warriors hung back with doubtful eyes for a moment.  Then they spoke with one accord, “Tu-Kila-Kila shall decide.  Tu-Kila-Kila!  Tu-Kila-Kila!  If the great god says the Taboo holds good, we will not hurt or offend the strangers.  But if the great god says the Taboo is broken, and we are all without sin—­then, Korong!  Korong! we will kill them!  We will eat them!”

As the two parties thus stood glaring at one another, across that narrow imaginary wall, another cry went up to heaven at the distant sound of a peculiar tom-tom.  “Tu-Kila-Kila comes!” they shouted.  “Our great god approaches!  Women, begone!  Men, hide your eyes!  Fly, fly from the brightness of his face, which is as the sun in glory!  Tu-Kila-Kila comes!  Fly far, all profane ones!”