Tu-Kila-Kila gazed at it with horrid childish glee. "A fine fire!" he
said, gayly. "A fire worthy of a god. It will serve me well. Tu-Kila-Kila
will have a good oven to roast his meal in."

Then he turned toward the sea, and held up his hand once more for
silence. As he did so, an answering light upon its surface attracted his
eye for a moment's space. It was a bright red light, mixed with white and
green ones; in point of fact, the Australasian was passing. Tu-Kila-Kila
pointed toward it solemnly with his plump, brown fore-finger. "See," he
said, drawing himself up and looking preternaturally wise; "your god is
great. I am sending some of this fire across the sea to where my sun has
set, to aid and reinforce it. That is to keep up the fire of the sun,
lest ever at any time it should fade and fail you. While Tu-Kila-Kila
lives the sun will burn bright. If Tu-Kila-Kila were to die it would be
night forever."

His votaries, following their god's fore-finger as it pointed, all turned
to look in the direction he indicated with blank surprise and
astonishment. Such a sight had never met their eyes before, for the
Australasian was the very first steamer to take the eastward route,
through the dangerous and tortuous Boupari Channel. So their awe and
surprise at the unwonted sight knew no bounds. Fire on the ocean!
Miraculous light on the waves! Their god must, indeed, be a mighty deity
if he could send flames like that careering over the sea! Surely the sun
was safe in the hands of a potentate who could thus visibly reinforce it
with red light, and white! In their astonishment and awe, they stood with
their long hair falling down over their foreheads, and their hands held
up to their eyes that they might gaze the farther across the dim, dark
ocean. The borrowed light of their bonfire was moving, slowly moving over