ion. With him were some of the priests or sorcerers who were
dancing about as I imagine the priests of Baal must have done, and
filled with fury. They rolled their eyes, they stuck out their tongues,
they uttered weird cries and shook their wooden knives at the placid
Bastin.

"What is the matter?" I asked sternly of the chief.

"This, Friend-from-the-Sea. The Bellower there, when the sacrifice
was about to be offered to Oro at the dawn, rushed forward, and having
thrust something between the legs of the image of the god, poured yellow
water over it, and with fire caused it to burst into fierce flame. Then
he ran away and mocked the god who presently, with a loud report,
flew into pieces and killed that man. Therefore the Bellower must be
sacrificed."

"What to?" I asked. "The image has gone and the piece of it that
ascended fell not upon the Bellower, as would have happened if the god
had been angry with him, but on one of its own priests, whom it killed.
Therefore, having been sacrificed by the god itself, he it is that
should be eaten, not the Bellower, who merely did what his Spirit bade
him."

This ingenious argument seemed to produce some effect upon Marama, but
to the priests it did not at all appeal.

"Eat them all!" these cried. "They are the enemies of Oro and have
worked sacrilege!"

Moreover, to judge from their demeanour, the bulk of the people seemed
to agree with them. Things began to look very ugly. The priests rushed
forward, threatening us with their wooden weapons, and one of them even
aimed a blow at Bickley, which only missed him by an inch or two.

"Look here, my friend," called the doctor whose temper was rising, "you
name me the Great Priest or Great Healer, do you not? Well, be careful,
lest I should show you that I can kill as well as heal!"

Not in the least intimidated by this threat the man, a great bedizened
fellow who literally was foaming at the mouth with rage, rushed forward
again, his club raised, apparently with the object of dashing out
Bickley's brains.

Suddenly Bickley lifted his revolver and fired. The man, shot through
the heart, sprang into the air and fell upon his face--stone dead. There
was consternation, for these people had never seen us shoot anything
before, and were quite unacquainted with the properties of firearms,
which they supposed to be merely instruments for making a noise. They
stared, they gasped in fear and astonishment, and then they fled,
pursued