ean? Are they going to hurt us? Are these
savages coming over? Are they coming to kill us?"

Felix grasped his trusty knife hard in his right hand, and swallowed a
groan, as he looked tenderly down upon her. "Muriel," he said, forgetting
in the excitement of the moment the little conventionalities and
courtesies of civilized life, "if they are, trust me, you never shall
fall alive into their cruel hands. Sooner than that--" he held up the
knife significantly, with its open blade before her.

The poor girl clung to him harder still, with a ghastly shudder. "Oh,
it's terrible, terrible," she cried, turning deadly pale. Then, after a
short pause, she added, "But I would rather have it so. Do as you say. I
could bear it from you. Promise me _that_, rather than that those
creatures should kill me."

"I promise," Felix answered, clasping her hand hard, and paused, with the
knife ever ready in his right, awaiting the approach of the half-naked
savages.

The boats glided fast across the lagoon, propelled by the paddles of the
stalwart Polynesians who manned them, and crowded to the water's edge
with groups of grinning and shouting warriors. They were dressed in
aprons of dracaena leaves only, with necklets and armlets of sharks'
teeth and cowrie shells. A dozen canoes at least were making toward the
reef at full speed, all bristling with spears and alive with noisy and
boisterous savages. Muriel shrank back terror-stricken at the sight, as
they drew nearer and nearer. But Felix, holding his breath hard, grew
somewhat less nervous as the men approached the reef. He had seen enough
of Polynesian life before now to feel sure these people were not upon the
war-path. Whatever their ultimate intentions toward the castaways might
be, their immediate object seemed friendly and good-humored. The boats,
though large, were not regular war-canoes; the men, instead of
brandishing their spears, and lunging out with them over the edge in
threatening attitudes, held them erect in their hands at rest, like
standards; they were laughing and talking, not crying their war-cry. As
they drew near the shore, one big canoe shot suddenly a length or so
ahead of the rest; and its leader, standing on the grotesque carved
figure that adorned its prow, held up both his hands open and empty
before him, in sign of peace, while at the same time he shouted out a
word or two three times in his own language, to reassure the castaways.

Felix's eye glanced c