The cocoanuts and taro told the same doubtful tale. From the way they
grew, even in that dim starlight, Felix recognized at once they had all
been planted.
Still, he didn't hesitate to do what he thought best for Muriel's relief
for all that. Collecting a few sticks and fragments of palm-branches from
the jungle about, he piled them into a heap, and waited patiently for his
matches to dry. As soon as they were ready--and the warmth of the stone
made them quickly inflammable--he struck a match on the box, and
proceeded to light his fire by Muriel's side. As her clothes grew warmer,
the poor girl opened her eyes at last, and, gazing around her, exclaimed,
in blank terror, "Oh, Mr. Thurstan, where are we? What does all this
mean? Where have we got to? On a desert island?"
"No, _not_ on a desert island," Felix answered, shortly; "I'm afraid it's
a great deal worse than that. To tell you the truth, I'm afraid it's
inhabited."
At that moment, by the hot embers of the great sacrificial pyre on the
central hill, two of the savage temple-attendants, calling their god's
attention to a sudden blaze of flame upon the fringing reef, pointed with
their dark forefingers and called out in surprise, "See, see, a fire on
the barrier! A fire! A fire! What can it mean? There are no men of our
people over there to-night. Have war-canoes arrived? Has some enemy
landed?"
Tu-Kila-Kila leaned back, drained his cocoanut cup of intoxicating kava,
and surveyed the unwonted apparition on the reef long and carefully.
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