their hands in a set measure as they recited this hymn.
The King of Fire retreated into the temple. Ula stood by, and whispered
low with Toko. There was a ceremonial pause of some fifteen minutes.
Presently, from the inner recesses of the temple itself, a low noise
issued forth as of a rising wind. For some seconds it buzzed and hummed,
droningly. But at the very first note of that holy sound Ula dropped her
lover's hand, as one drops a red-hot coal, and darted wildly off at
full speed, like some frightened wild beast, into the thick jungle. Every
other woman near began to rush away with equally instantaneous signs of
haste and fear. The men, on the other hand, erect and naked, with their
hands on their foreheads, crossed the taboo-line at once. It was the
summons to all who had been initiated at the mysteries--the sacred
bull-roarer was calling the assembly of the men of Boupari.

For several minutes it buzzed and droned, that mystic implement, growing
louder and louder, till it roared like thunder. One after another, the
men of the island rushed in as if mad or in flight for their lives before
some fierce beast pursuing them. They ran up, panting, and dripping with
sweat; their hands clapped to their foreheads; their eyes starting wildly
from their staring sockets; torn and bleeding and lacerated by the thorns
and branches of the jungle, for each man ran straight across country from
the spot where he lay asleep, in the direction of the sound, and never
paused or drew breath, for dear life's sake, till he stood beside the
corpse of the dead Tu-Kila-Kila.

And every moment the cry pealed louder and louder still. "Lavita, the son
of Sami, is dead, praise Heaven! The King of the Rain has slain him, and
is now the true Tu-Kila-Kila!"

Felix bent irresolute over the fallen savage's bloodstained corpse. What
next was expected of him he hardly knew or cared. His one desire now was
to return to Muriel--to Muriel, whom he had rescued from something worse
than death at the hateful hands of that accursed creature who lay
breathless forever on the ground beside him.

Somebody came up just then, and seized his hand warmly. Felix looked up
with a start. It was their friend, the Frenchman. "Ah, my captain, you
have done well," M. Peyron cried, admiring him. "What courage! What
coolness! What pluck! What soldiership! I couldn't see all. But I was in
at the death! And oh, _mon Dieu_, how I admired and envied you!"

By this time th