was poured upon it? What could that
superstition be, and what light might it cast on that mysterious
ceremony? He wished he could remember; but it was so long since he'd read
it, and he never cared much at school for Greek or Roman antiquities.

Suddenly, in a lull of the rain, the whole context at once came back with
a rush to him. He remembered now he had read it, some time or other, in
some classical dictionary. It was a custom connected with Greek
sacrifices. The officiating priest poured water or wine on the head of
the sheep, bullock, or other victim. If the victim shook its head and
knocked off the drops, that was a sign that it was fit for the sacrifice,
and that the god accepted it. If the victim trembled visibly, that was a
most favorable omen. If it stood quite still and didn't move its neck,
then the god rejected it as unfit for his purpose. Couldn't _that_ be the
meaning of the ceremony performed on Muriel and himself in "Heaven" that
morning? Were they merely intended as human sacrifices? Were they to be
kept meanwhile and, as it were, fed up for the slaughter? It was too
horrible to believe; yet it almost looked like it.

He wished he knew the meaning of that strange word, "Korong." Clearly, it
contained the true key to the mystery.

Anyhow, he had always his trusty knife. If the worst came to the
worst--those wretches should never harm his spotless Muriel.

For he loved her to-night; he would watch over and protect her. He would
save her at least from the deadliest of insults.

CHAPTER VII.

INTERCHANGE OF CIVILITIES.

All night long, without intermission, the heavy tropical rain descended
in torrents; at sunrise it ceased, and a bright blue vault of sky stood
in a spotless dome over the island of Boupari.

As soon as the sun was well risen, and the rain had ceased, one shy
native girl after another came straggling up timidly to the white line
that marked the taboo round Felix and Muriel's huts. They came with more
baskets of fruit and eggs. Humbly saluting three times as they drew near,
they laid down their gifts modestly just outside the line, with many loud
ejaculations of praise and gratitude to the gods in their own language.

"What do they say?" Muriel asked, in a dazed and frightened way, looking
out of the hut door, and turning in wonder to Mali.

"They say, 'Thank you, Queenie, for rain and fruits,'" Mali answered,
unconcerned, bustling about in the hut. "Missy want to wash him