d so the natives
make much of the parrot to the present day, saying he is greater than
any, save a Korong or a god, for he is the Soul of a dead race, summing
it up in himself, and he knows the secret of the Death of Tu-Kila-Kila."

"But you can't tell me what language he speaks?" Felix asked with a
despairing gesture. It was terrible to stand thus within measurable
distance of the secret which might, perhaps, save Muriel's life, and yet
be perpetually balked by wheel within wheel of more than Egyptian
mystery.

"Who can say?" the Frenchman answered, shrugging his shoulders
helplessly. "It isn't Polynesian; that I know well, for I speak
Bouparese now like a native of Boupari; and it isn't the only other
language spoken at the present day in the South Seas--the Melanesian of
New Caledonia--for that I learned well from the Kanakas while I was
serving my time as a convict among them. All we can say for certain is
that it may, perhaps, be some very ancient tongue. For parrots, we know,
are immensely long-lived. Some of them, it is said, exceed their century.
Is it not so, eh, my friend Methuselah?"

CHAPTER XVII.

FACING THE WORST.

Muriel, meanwhile, sat alone in her hut, frightened at Felix's unexpected
disappearance so early in the morning, and anxiously awaiting her lover's
return, for she made no pretences now to herself that she did not really
love Felix. Though the two might never return to Europe to be husband and
wife, she did not doubt that before the eye of Heaven they were already
betrothed to one another as truly as though they had plighted their troth
in solemn fashion. Felix had risked his life for her, and had brought all
this misery upon himself in the attempt to save her. Felix was now all
the world that was left her. With Felix, she was happy, even on this
horrible island; without him, she was miserable and terrified, no matter
what happened.

"Mali," she cried to her faithful attendant, as soon as she found Felix
was missing from his tent, "what's become of Mr. Thurstan? Where can he
be gone, I wonder, this morning?"

"You no fear, Missy Queenie," Mali answered, with the childish
confidence of the native Polynesian. "Mistah Thurstan, him gone to see
man-a-oui-oui, the King of the Birds. Month of Birds finish last night;
man-a-oui-oui no taboo any longer. King of the Birds keep very old
parrot, Boupari folk tell me; and old parrot very wise, know how to make
Tu-Kila-Kila. Mistah Thurstan,