As for Zeppa, he had never at any time feared the face of man, and, in his then condition, would have faced man or fiend with equal indifference. But the sight of the savage chief seemed to recall something to his mind. He stood with his arms crossed, and an expression of perplexity on his countenance, while Ongoloo assumed an attitude of defence.
Suddenly a beaming smile overspread Zeppa’s face. We have already said that his smile had fascination in it. The effect on the savage was to paralyse him for the moment. Zeppa advanced, took Ongoloo’s face between both hands, and, placing his nose against that of the chief, gently rubbed it.
For the benefit of the ignorant, we may explain that this is the usual salutation of friendship among some of the South Sea Islanders.
Ongoloo returned the rub, and dropped his club. He was obviously glad of this peaceful termination to the rencontre.
Then, for the first time, it occurred to Zeppa to use the language of Ratinga. The chief evidently understood it.
“God is love,” said Zeppa solemnly, pointing upward with his finger. “God forgives. You will forgive, and so be like God.”
The chief was completely overawed by Zeppa’s grandeur and gentleness. He had never before seen the two qualities combined.
Zeppa took him by the hand, as he had previously taken Wapoota, and led him up into the mountains. The chief submitted meekly, as if he thought a being from the better world were guiding him. On reaching the cave they found Wapoota arranging the supper-table—if we may so express it—for he had been in the habit of doing this for some time past, about sunset, at which time his protector had invariably returned home—alas! it was a poor home!
To say that Wapoota was transfixed, or petrified, on beholding Ongoloo, would not convey the full idea of his condition. It is useless to say that he glared; that his knees smote, or that lemon-yellow supplanted brown-ochre on his visage. Words can do much, but they cannot describe the state of that savage on that occasion. The reader’s imagination is much more likely to do justice to the situation. To that we leave it.
But who, or what language, shall describe the state of mind into which both Ongoloo and Wapoota were thrown when Zeppa, having brought them close to each other, grasped them firmly by their necks and rubbed their noses forcibly together. There was no resisting the smile with which this was dune. The chief and the thief first glanced at each other, then at their captor, and then they laughed—absolutely roared—after which they rubbed noses of their own accord, and “made it up.”