“Yes, I saw them among the other islanders,” Felix answered, half-smiling, but prudently remaining within the taboo-line, as his Shadow advised him.
Toko kept his hand still on his master’s shoulder. “Oh, king,” he said, beseechingly, and with great solemnity, “I am doing wrong to warn you; I am breaking a very great Taboo. I don’t know what harm may come to me for telling you. Perhaps Tu-Kila-Kila will burn me to ashes with one glance of his eyes. He may know this minute what I’m saying here alone to you.”
It is hard for a white man to meet scruples like this; but Felix was bold enough to answer outright: “Tu-Kila-Kila knows nothing of the sort, and can never find out. Take my word for it, Toko, nothing that you say to me will ever reach Tu-Kila-Kila.”
The Shadow looked at him doubtfully, and trembled as he spoke. “I like you, Korong,” he said, with a genuinely truthful ring in his voice. “You seem to me so kind and good—so different from other gods, who are very cruel. You never beat me. Nobody I ever served treated me as well or as kindly as you have done. And for your sake I will even dare to break taboo—if you’re quite, quite sure Tu-Kila-Kila will never discover it.”
“I’m quite sure,” Felix answered, with perfect confidence. “I know it for certain. I swear a great oath to it.”
“You swear by Tu-Kila-Kila himself?” the young savage asked, anxiously.
“I swear by Tu-Kila-Kila himself,” Felix replied at once. “I swear, without doubt. He can never know it.”
“That is a great Taboo,” the Shadow went on, meditatively, stroking Felix’s arm. “A very great Taboo indeed. A terrible medicine. And you are a god; I can trust you. Well, then, you see, the secret is this: you are Korong, but you are a stranger, and you don’t understand the ways of Boupari. If for three days after the end of this storm, which Tu-Kila-Kila has sent Fire and Water to pray and vow against, you or the Queen of the Clouds show yourselves outside your own taboo-line—why, then, the people are clear of sin; whoever takes you may rend you alive; they will tear you limb from limb and cut you into pieces.”
“Why so?” Felix asked, aghast at this discovery. They seemed to live on a perpetual volcano in this wonderful island; and a volcano ever breaking out in fresh places. They could never get to the bottom of its horrible superstitions.
“Because you ate the storm-apple,” the Shadow answered, confidently. “That was very wrong. You brought the tempest upon us yourselves by your own trespass; therefore, by the custom of Boupari, which we learn in the mysteries, you become full Korong for the sacrifice at once. That makes the term for you. The people will give you all your dues; then they will say, ‘We are free; we have bought you with a price; we have brought your cocoanuts. No sin attaches to us; we are righteous; we are righteous.’ And then they will kill you, and Fire and Water will roast you and boil you.”