man under the umbrella, with his two supporters, came
forward boldly. Felix noticed that they crossed without scruple the thick
white line of sand which all the other natives so carefully respected.
The man within the umbrella drew aside the curtain of hanging nautilus
shells. His face was covered with a thin mask of paper mulberry bark; but
Felix knew he was the self-same person whom they had seen the day before
in the central temple.

Tu-Kila-Kila's air was more insolent and arrogant than even before. He
was clearly in high spirits. "You have done well, O King of the Rain," he
said, turning gayly to Felix; "and you too, O Queen of the Clouds; you
have done right bravely. We have all acquitted ourselves as our people
would wish. We have made our showers to descend abundantly from heaven;
we have caused the crops to grow; we have wetted the plantain bushes.
See; Tu-Kila-Kila, who is so great a god, has come from his own home on
the hills to greet you."

"It has certainly rained in the night," Felix answered, dryly.

But Tu-Kila-Kila was not to be put off thus. Adjusting his thin mask or
veil of bark, so as to hide his face more thoroughly from the inferior
god, he turned round once more to the chiefs, who even so hardly dared to
look openly upon him. Then he struck an attitude. The man was clearly
bursting with spiritual pride. He knew himself to be a god, and was
filled with the insolence of his supernatural power. "See, my people," he
cried, holding up his hands, palm outward, in his accustomed god-like
way; "I am indeed a great deity--Lord of Heaven, Lord of Earth, Life of
the World, Master of Time, Measurer of the Sun's Course, Spirit of
Growth, Creator of the Harvest, Master of Mortals, Bestower of Breath
upon Men, Chief Pillar of Heaven!"

The warriors bowed down before their bloated master with unquestioning
assent. "Giver of Life to all the host of the gods," they cried, "you are
indeed a mighty one. Weigher of the equipoise of Heaven and Earth, we
acknowledge your might; we give you thanks eternally."

Tu-Kila-Kila swelled with visible importance. "Did I not tell you, my
meat," he exclaimed, "I would bring you new gods, great spirits from the
sun, fetchers of fire from my bright home in the heavens? And have they
not come? Are they not here to-day? Have they not brought the precious
gift of fresh fire with them?"

"Tu-Kila-Kila speaks true," the chiefs echoed, submissively, with bent
heads.

"Did I not