'This duk-duk,' replied the man in an awed whisper.
'Duk-duk! What is duk-duk?'
'Big medicine. Duk-duk dance; that say big bird no go away; white fella all belongina afraid.'
Hoole whistled.
'That's the stunt, is it? By gosh, Trentham, it must be that old medicine-man thinking he 'll scare us stiff. He 's gotten a kind of affection for the machine. Well, Grinson, come along with me.'
He rose slowly, walked towards the seaplane, dodging between two of the dancers, and got into the seat behind the engine. Grinson had followed him.
'Just go to the propeller, Grinson,' he said, 'and swing it round five or six times when I give you the wink.'
The dancers had drawn closer to the machine, yelling more shrilly than ever. Hoole watched them with a smile as they circled round. Suddenly he gave the sign; Grinson caught the propeller, and with a heave of his brawny arm swung it about. Hoole nodded to him to step aside. The leader of the dance was just approaching, when there was a roar; Hoole had started the engine, and the propeller whizzed round with ever-increasing velocity. The dancer stopped short; before he could collect himself or retreat the air set in motion by the whirring propeller smote him with hurricane force, stripping the leaves from his body, and whirling his headdress, pole and all, across the enclosure. There stood revealed the lean, naked form of the medicine-man. He threw up his hands as if to defend his face from the blast; then, with a yell of fury, he sprinted to the gate, followed by the rest of the dancers.
THE LEADER OF THE DANCERS WAS JUST APPROACHING WHEN THERE WAS A ROAR, AND THE WHIRRING PROPELLER SET UP A HURRICANE WHICH CAUGHT AT HIS DRESS.