The King of Fire and the King of Water, supporting the umbrella, bowed assent to his words.  Tu-Kila-Kila motioned Felix and Muriel into the nearest hut.  It was the one where the two Shadows lay crouching in terror among the native mats.  As the god tried to enter, the two cowering wretches set up a loud shout, “Taboo!  Taboo!  Mercy!  Mercy!  Mercy!” Tu-Kila-Kila retreated with a contemptuous smile.  “I want to see you alone,” he said, in Polynesian, to Felix.  “Is the other hut empty?  If not, go in and cut their throats who sit there, and make the place a solitude for Tu-Kila-Kila.”

“There is no one in the hut,” Felix answered, with a nod, concealing his disgust at the command as far as he was able.

“That is well,” Tu-Kila-Kila answered, and walked into it carelessly.  Felix followed him close and deemed it best to make Muriel enter also.

As soon-as they were alone, Tu-Kila-Kila’s manner altered greatly.  “Come, now,” he said, quite genially, yet with a curious under-current of hate in his steely gray eye; “we three are all gods.  We who are in heaven need have no secrets from one another.  Tell me the truth; did you really come to us direct from the sun, or are you sailing gods, dropped from a great canoe belonging to the warriors who seek laborers for the white men in the distant country?”

Felix told him briefly, in as few words as possible, the story of their arrival.

Tu-Kila-Kila listened with lively interest, then he said, very decisively, with great bravado, “It was I who made the big wave wash your sister overboard.  I sent it to your ship.  I wanted a Korong just now in Boupari.  It was I who brought you.”

“You are mistaken,” Felix said, simply, not thinking it worth while to contradict him further.  “It was a purely natural accident.”

“Well, tell me,” the savage god went on once more, eying him close and sharp, “they say you have brought fresh fire from the sun with you, and that you know how to make it burst out like lightning at will.  My people have seen it.  They tell me the wonder.  I wish to see it too.  We are all gods here; we need have no secrets.  Only, I didn’t want to let those common people outside see I asked you to show me.  Make fire leap forth.  I desire to behold it.”

Felix took out the match-box from his pocket, and struck a vesta carefully.  Tu-Kila-Kila looked on with profound interest.  “It is wonderful,” he said, taking the vesta in his own hand as it burned, and examining it closely.  “I have heard of this before, but I have never seen it.  You are indeed gods, you white men, you sailors of the sea.”  He glanced at Muriel.  “And the woman, too,” he said, with a horrible leer, “the woman is pretty.”