opped on one elbow, with her face close to his; and offered
him, with one brown, irresistible hand, the intoxicating liquor.
Tu-Kila-Kila took the bowl, and drank a second time, for he had drunk of
it once with his dinner already. It was seldom he allowed himself the
luxury of a second draught of that very stupefying native intoxicant, for
he knew too well the danger of insecurely guarding his sacred tree; but
on this particular occasion, as on so many others in the collective life
of humanity, "the woman tempted him," and he acted as she told him. He
drank it off deep. "Ha, ha! that is good!" he cried, smacking his lips.
"That is a drink fit for a god. No woman can make kava like you, Ula." He
toyed with her arms and neck lazily once more. "You are the queen of my
wives," he went on, in a dreamy voice. "I like you so well, that, plump
as you are, I really believe, Ula, I could never make up my mind to eat
you."

"My lord is very gracious," Ula made answer, in a soft, low tone,
pretending to caress him. And for some minutes more she continued to make
much of him in the fulsome strain of Polynesian flattery.

At last the kava had clearly got into Tu-Kila-Kila's head. Then Ula bent
forward once more and again attacked him. "Now I know you will tell me,"
she said, coaxingly, "why you make them Korong. As long as I live, I will
never speak or hint of it to anybody anywhere. And if I do--why, the
remedy is near. I am your meat--take me and eat me."

Even cannibals are human; and at the touch of her soft hand, Tu-Kila-Kila
gave way slowly. "I made them Korong," he answered, in rather thick
accents, "because it is less dangerous for me to make them so than to
choose for the post from among our own islanders. Sooner or later, my day
must come; but I can put it off best by making my enemies out of
strangers who arrive upon our island, and not out of those of my own
household. All Boupari men who have been initiated know the terrible
secret--they know where lies the Death of Tu-Kila-Kila. The strangers who
come to us from the sun or the sea do not know it; and therefore my life
is safest with them. So I make them Korong whenever I can, to prolong my
own days, and to guard my secret."

"And the Death of Tu-Kila-Kila?" the woman whispered, very low, still
soothing his arm with her hand and patting his cheek softly from time to
time with a gentle, caressing motion. "Tell me where does that live? Who
holds it in charge? Where is T