If any man disobey you, my billows shall rise and
overwhelm him in the sea. I am a great god. I claim each year many
drowned victims."
"But not so many as me," Tu-Kila-Kila interposed, his hand playing on his
knife with a faint air of impatience.
"But not so many as you," the minor god added, in haste, as if to appease
his rising anger. "Fire and Water ever speed to do your bidding."
Tu-Kila-Kila stood up, turned toward the distant flame, and waved his
hands round and round three times before him. "Let this be for you all a
great taboo," he said, glancing once more toward his awe-struck
followers. "Now the mysteries are over. Tu-Kila-Kila will sleep. He has
eaten of human flesh. He has drunk of cocoanut rum and of new kava. He
has brought back his sun on its way in the heavens. He has sent it
messengers of fire to reinforce its strength. He has fetched from it
messengers in turn with fresh fire to Boupari, fire not lighted from any
earthly flame; fire new, divine, scorching, unspeakable. To-morrow we
will talk with the spirits he has brought. To-night we will sleep. Now
all go to your homes; and tell your women of this great taboo, lest they
speak to the spirits, and fall into the hands of Fire or of Water."
The savages dropped on their faces before the eye of their god and lay
quite still. They made a path as it were from the pyre to the temple door
with their prostrate bodies.
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