do. "But the parrot," he cried, "the Soul of all dead
parrots! _He_ knew the secret, they say:--I taught it him myself in an
ancient day, many, many years ago--when no man now living was born, save
only I--in another incarnation--and _he_ may have told it. For the
strangers, they say, speak the language of birds; and in the language of
birds did I tell the Great Taboo to him."

Ula pooh-poohed the mighty man-god's fears. "No, no," she cried, with
confidence; "he can never have told them. If he had, would not your Eyes
that watch ever for all that happens on heaven or earth, have straightway
reported it to you? The parrot died without yielding up the tale. Were it
otherwise, Toko, who loves and worships you, would surely have told me."

The man-god puckered his brows slightly, as if he liked not the security.
"Well, somehow, Ula," he said, feeling her soft brown arms with his
divine hand, slowly, "I have always had my doubts since that day the Soul
of all dead parrots bit me. A vicious bird! What did he mean by his
bite?" He lowered his voice and looked at her fixedly. "Did not his
spilling my blood portend," he asked, with a shudder of fear, "that
through that ill-omened bird I, who was once Lavita, should cease to be
Tu-Kila-Kila?"

Ula smiled contentedly again. To say the truth, that was precisely the
interpretation she herself had put on that terrific omen. The parrot had
spilled Tu-Kila-Kila's sacred blood upon the soil of earth. According to
her simple natural philosophy, that was a certain sign that through the
parrot's instrumentality Tu-Kila-Kila's life would be forfeited to the
great eternal earth-spirit. Or, rather, the earth-spirit would claim the
blood of the man Lavita, in whose body it dwelt, and would itself migrate
to some new earthly tabernacle.

But for all that, she dissembled. "Great god," she cried, smiling, a
benign smile, "you are tired! You are thirsty! Care for heaven and
earth has wearied you out. You feel the fatigue of upholding the sun in
heaven. Your arms must ache. Your thews must give under you. Drink of the
soul-inspiring juice of the kava! My hands have prepared the divine cup.
For Tu-Kila-Kila did I make it--fresh, pure, invigorating!"

She held the bowl to his lips with an enticing smile. Tu-Kila-Kila
hesitated and glanced around him suspiciously. "What if the white-faced
stranger should come to-night?" he whispered, hoarsely. "He may have
discovered the Great Taboo, after all. W