Naturally enough, it was some time before Felix and Muriel could recover from the shock of their deadly peril.  Yet, strange to say, the natives at the end of three days seemed positively to have forgotten all about it.  Their loves and their hates were as shortlived as children’s.  As soon as the period of seclusion was over, their attentions to the two strangers redoubled in intensity.  They were evidently most anxious, after this brief disagreement, to reassure the new gods, who came from the sun, of their gratitude and devotion.  The men who had wounded Felix, in particular, now came daily in the morning with exceptional gifts of fish, fruit, and flowers; they would bring a crab from the sea, or a joint of turtle-meat.  “Forgive us, O king,” they cried, prostrating themselves humbly.  “We did not mean to hurt you; we thought your time had really come.  You are a Korong.  We would not offend you.  Do not refuse us your showers because of our sin.  We are very penitent.  We will do what you ask of us.  Your look is poison.  See, here is wood; here are leaves and fire; we are but your meat; choose and cook which you will of us!”

It was useless Felix’s trying to explain to them that he wanted no victims, and no propitiation.  The more he protested, the more they brought gifts.  “He is a very great god,” they exclaimed.  “He wants nothing from us.  What can we give him that will be an acceptable gift?  Shall we offer him ourselves, our wives, our children?”

As for the women, when they saw how thoroughly frightened of them Muriel now was, they couldn’t find means to express their regret and devotion.  Mothers brought their little children, whom she had patted on the head, and offered them, just outside the line, as presents for her acceptance.  They explained to her Shadow that they never meant to hurt her, and that, if only she would venture without the line, as of old, all should be well, and they would love and adore her.  Mali translated to her mistress these speeches and prayers.  “Them say, ‘You come back, Queenie,’” she explained in her broken Queensland English. “’Boupari women love you very much.  Boupari women glad you come.  You kind; you beautiful!  All Boupari men and women very much pleased with you and the gentleman, because you give back him cocoanut and fruit that you pick in the storm, and because you bring down fresh fire from heaven.’”

Gradually, after several days, Felix’s confidence was so far restored that he ventured to stroll beyond the line again; and he found himself, indeed, most popular among the people.  In various ways he picked up gradually the idea that the islanders generally disliked Tu-Kila-Kila, and liked himself; and that they somehow regarded him as Tu-Kila-Kila’s natural enemy.  What it could all mean he did not yet understand, though some inklings of an explanation occasionally occurred to him.  Oh, how he longed now for the Month of Birds to end, in order that he might pay his long-deferred visit to the mysterious Frenchman, from whose voice his Shadow had fled on that fateful evening with such sudden precipitancy.  The Frenchman, he judged, must have been long on the island, and could probably give him some satisfactory solution of this abstruse problem.