autiously from boat to boat. "He says, 'We are
friends,'" the young man remarked in an undertone to his terrified
companion. "I can understand his dialect. Thank Heaven, it's very close
to Fijian. I shall be able at least to palaver to these men. I don't
think they mean just now to harm us. I believe we can trust them, at any
rate for the present."

The poor girl drew back, in still greater awe and alarm than ever. "Oh,
are they going to land here?" she cried, still clinging closer with both
hands to her one friend and protector.

"Try not to look so frightened!" Felix exclaimed, with a warning glance.
"Remember, much depends upon it; savages judge you greatly by what
demeanor you happen to assume. If you're frightened, they know their
power; if they see you're resolute, they suspect you have some
supernatural means of protection. Try to meet them frankly, as if you
were not afraid of them." Then, advancing slowly to the water's edge, he
called out aloud, in a strong, clear voice, a few words which Muriel
didn't understand, but which were really the Fijian for "We also are
friendly. Our medicine is good. We mean no magic. We come to you from
across the great water. We desire your peace. Receive us and protect us!"

At the sound of words which he could readily understand, and which
differed but little, indeed, from his own language, the leader on the
foremost canoe, who seemed by his manner to be a great chief, turned
round to his followers and cried out in tones of superstitious awe,
"Tu-Kila-Kila spoke well. These are, indeed, what he told us. Korong!
Korong! They are spirits who have come to us from the disk of the sun, to
bring us light and pure, fresh fire. Stay back there, all of you. You are
not holy enough to approach. I and my crew, who are sanctified by the
mysteries, we alone will go forward to meet them."

As he spoke, a sudden idea, suggested by his words, struck Felix's mind.
Superstition is the great lever by which to move the savage intelligence.
Gathering up a few dry leaves and fragments of stick on the shore, he
laid them together in a pile, and awaited in silence the arrival of the
foremost islanders. The first canoe advanced slowly and cautiously, the
men in it eying these proceedings with evident suspicion; the rest hung
back, with their spears in array, and their hands just ready to use them
with effect should occasion demand it.

The leader of the first canoe, coming close to the shore, jumped