A RASH RESOLVE.
The rest of that day was a time of profound and intense anxiety. Felix
and Muriel remained alone in their huts, absorbed in plans of escape, but
messengers of many sorts from chiefs and gods kept continually coming to
them. The natives evidently regarded it as a period of preparation. The
Eyes of Tu-Kila-Kila surrounded their precinct; yet Felix couldn't help
noticing that they seemed in many ways less watchful than of old, and
that they whispered and conferred very much in a mysterious fashion with
the people of the village. More than once Toko shook his head, sagely,
"If only any one dared break the Great Taboo," he said, with some terror
on his face, "our people would be glad. It would greatly please them.
They are tired of this Tu-Kila-Kila. He has held the god in his breast
far, far too long. They would willingly see some other in place of him."
Before noon, the young girls of the village, bringing native mats and
huge strings of nautilus shells, trooped up to the hut, like bridesmaids,
with flowers in their hands, to deck Muriel for her approaching wedding.
Before them they carried quantities of red and brown tappa-cloth and
very fine net-work, the dowry to be presented by the royal bride to her
divine husband. Within the hut, they decked out the Queen of the Clouds
with garlands of flowers and necklets of shells, in solemn native
fashion, bewailing her fate all the time to a measured dirge in their
own language. Muriel could see that their sympathy, though partly
conventional, was largely real as well. Many of the young girls seized
her hand convulsively from time to time, and kissed it with genuine
feeling. The gentle young English woman had won their savage hearts
by her purity and innocence. "Poor thing, poor thing," they said,
stroking her hand tenderly. "She is too good for Korong! Too good for
Tu-Kila-Kila! If only we knew the Great Taboo like the men, we would tell
her everything. She is too good to die. We are sorry she is to be
sacrificed!"
But when all their preparations were finished, the chief among them
raised a calabash with a little scented oil in it, and poured a few drops
solemnly on Muriel's head. "Oh, great god!" she said, in her own tongue,
"we offer this sacrifice, a goddess herself, to you. We obey your words.
You are very holy. We will each of us eat a portion of her flesh at your
feast. So give us good crops, strong health, many children!"
"What does she say?" Muriel asked, pale and awestruck, of Mali.
Mali translated the words with perfect _sang-froid_. At that awful sound
Muriel drew back, chill and cold to the marrow. How inconceivable was the
state of mind of these terrible people! They were really sorry for her;
they kissed her hand with fervor; and yet they deliberately and solemnly
proposed to eat her!
Toward evening the young girls at last retired, in regular order, to the
clapping of hands, and Felix was left alone with Muriel and the Shadows.
Already he had explained to Muriel what he intended to do; and Muriel,
half dazed with terror and paralyzed by these awful preparations,
consented passively. "But how if you never come back, Felix?" she cried
at last, clinging to him passionately.
Felix looked at her with a fixed look. "I have thought of that," he said.
"M. Peyron, to whom I sent a message by flashes, has helped me in my
difficulty. This bowl has poison in it. Peyron sent it to me to-day. He
prepared it himself from the root of the kava bean. If by sunrise
to-morrow you have heard no news, drink it off at once. It will instantly
kill you. You shall _not_ fall alive into that creature's clutches."
By slow degrees the evening wore on, and night approached--the last night
that remained to them. Felix had decided to make his attempt about one in
the morning. The moon was nearly full now, and there would be plenty
of light. Supposing he succeeded, if they gained nothing else, they would
gain at least a day or two's respite.
As dusk set in, and they sat by the door of the hut, they were all
surprised to see Ula approach the precinct stealthily through the
jungle, accompanied by two of Tu-Kila-Kila's Eyes, yet apparently on some
strange and friendly message. She beckoned imperiously with one finger to
Toko to cross the line. The Shadow rose, and without one word of
explanation went out to speak to her. The woman gave her message in
short, sharp sentences. "We have found out all," she said, breathing
hard. "Fire and Water have learned it. But Tu-Kila-Kila himself knows
nothing. We have found out that the King of the Rain has discovered the
secret of the Great Taboo. He heard it from the Soul of all dead parrots.
Tu-Kila-Kila's Eyes saw, and learned, and understood. But they said
nothing to Tu-Kila-Kila. For my counsel was wise; I planned that they
should not, with Fire and Water. Fire and Water and all the people of
Boupari think, with me, the time has come that there should arise among
us a new Tu-Kila-Kila. This one let his blood fall out upon the dust of
the ground. His luck has gone. We have need of another."
"Then for what have you come?" Toko asked, all awestruck. It was terrible
to him for a woman to meddle in such high matters.
"I have come," Ula answered, laying her hand on his arm, and holding her
face close to his with profound solemnity--"I have come to say to the
King of the Rain, 'Whatever you do, that do quickly.' To-night I will
engage to keep Tu-Kila-Kila in his temple. He shall see nothing. He
shall hear nothing. I know not the Great Taboo; but I know from him this
much--that if by wile or guile I keep him alone in his temple to-night,
the King of the Rain may fight with him in single combat; and if the King
of the Rain conquers in the battle, he becomes himself the home of the
great deity."
She nodded thrice, with her hands on her forehead, and withdrew as
stealthily as she had come through the jungle. The Eyes of Tu-Kila-Kila,
falling into line, remained behind, and kept watch upon the huts with the
closest apparent scrutiny.
More than ever they were hemmed in by mystery on mystery.
The Shadow went back and reported to Felix. Felix, turning it over in his
own mind, wondered and debated. Was this true, or a trap to lure him to
destruction?
As the night wore on, and the hour drew nigh, Muriel sat beside her
friend and lover, in blank despair and agony. How could she ever allow
him to leave her now? How could she venture to remain alone with Mali in
her hut in this last extremity? It was awful to be so girt with
mysterious enemies. "I must go with you, Felix! I must go, too!" she
cried over and over again. "I daren't remain behind with all these awful
men. And then, if he kills either of us, he will kill us at least both
together."
But Felix knew he might do nothing of the sort. A more terrible chance
was still in reserve. He might spare Muriel. And against that awful
possibility he felt it his duty now to guard at all hazard.
"No, Muriel," he said, kissing her, and holding her pale hand, "I must go
alone. You can't come with me. If I return, we will have gained at least
a respite, till the Australasian may turn up. If I don't, you will at any
rate have strength of mind left to swallow the poison, before
Tu-Kila-Kila comes to claim you."
Hour after hour passed by slowly, and Felix and the Shadow watched the
stars at the door, to know when the hour for the attempt had arrived. The
eyes of Tu-Kila-Kila, peering silent from just beyond the line, saw them
watching all the time, but gave no sign or token of disapproval. With
heads bent low, and tangled hair about their faces, they stood like
statues, watching, watching sullenly. Were they only waiting till he
moved, Felix wondered; and would they then hasten off by short routes
through the jungle to warn their master of the impending conflict?
At last the hour came when Felix felt sure there was the greatest chance
of Tu-Kila-Kila sleeping soundly in his hut, and forgetting the defence
of the sacred bough on the holy banyan-tree. He rose from his seat with a
gesture for silence, and moved forward to Muriel. The poor girl flung
herself, all tears, into his arms. "Oh, Felix, Felix," she cried, "redeem
your promise now! Kill us both here together, and then, at least, I shall
never be separated from you! It wouldn't be wrong! It can't be wrong! We
would surely be forgiven if we did it only to escape falling into the
hands of these terrible savages!"
Felix clasped her to his bosom with a faltering heart. "No, Muriel," he
said, slowly. "Not yet. Not yet. I must leave no opening on earth untried
by which I can possibly or conceivably save you. It's as hard for me
to leave you here alone as for you to be left. But for your own dear
sake, I must steel myself. I must do it."
He kissed her many times over. He wiped away her tears. Then, with a
gentle movement, he untwined her clasping arms. "You must let me go, my
own darling," he said, "You must let me go, without crossing the border.
If you pass beyond the taboo-line to-night, Heaven only knows what,
perhaps, may happen to you. We must give these people no handle of
offence. Good-night, Muriel, my own heart's wife; and if I never come
back, then good-by forever."
She clung to his arm still. He disentangled himself, gently. The Shadow
rose at the same moment, and followed in silence to the open door. Muriel
rushed after them, wildly. "Oh, Felix, Felix, come back," she cried,
bursting into wild floods of hot, fierce tears. "Come back and let me die
with you! Let me die! Let me die with you!"
Felix crossed the white line without one word of reply, and went forth
into the night, half unmanned by this effort. Muriel sank, where she
stood, into Mali's arms. The girl caught her and supported her. But
before she had fainted quite away, Muriel had time vaguely to see and
note one significant fact. The Eyes of Tu-Kila-Kila, who stood watching
the huts with lynx-like care, nodded twice to Toko, the Shadow, as he
passed between them; then they stealthily turned and dogged the two men's
footsteps afar off in the jungle.
Muriel was left by herself in the hut, face to face with Mali.
"Let us pray, Mali," she cried, seizing her Shadow's arm.
And Mali, moved suddenly by some half-obliterated impulse, exclaimed in
concert, in a terrified voice, "Let us pray to Methodist God in heaven!"
For her life, too, hung on the issue of that rash endeavor.