come forth again in safety."

The soul of Keola died within him.

"What is this?" he cried. "I cannot live among devils. I will not be
left behind upon this isle. I am dying to leave it."

"You will never leave it alive, my poor Keola," said the girl; "for to
tell you the truth, my people are eaters of men; but this they keep
secret. And the reason they will kill you before we leave is because in
our island ships come, and Donat-Kimaran comes and talks for the French,
and there is a white trader there in a house with a verandah, and a
catechist. O, that is a fine place indeed! The trader has barrels filled
with flour; and a French war-ship once came in the lagoon and gave
everybody wine and biscuit. Ah, my poor Keola, I wish I could take you
there, for great is my love to you, and it is the finest place in the
seas except Papeete."

So now Keola was the most terrified man in the four oceans. He had heard
tell of eaters of men in the south islands, and the thing had always
been a fear to him; and here it was knocking at his door. He had heard
besides, by travellers, of their practices, and how when they are in a
mind to eat a man they cherish and fondle him like a mother with a
favourite baby. And he saw this must be his own case; and that was why
he had been housed, and fed, and wived, and liberated from all work; and
why the old men and the chiefs discoursed with him like a person of
weight. So he lay on his bed and railed upon his destiny; and the flesh
curdled on his bones.

The next day the people of the tribe were very civil, as their way was.
They were elegant speakers, and they made beautiful poetry, and jested
at meals, so that a missionary must have died laughing. It was little
enough Keola cared for their fine ways; all he saw was the white teeth
shining in their mouths, and his gorge rose at the sight; and when they
were done eating, he went and lay in the bush like a dead man.

The next day it was the same, and then his wife followed him.

"Keola," she said, "if you do not eat, I tell you plainly you will be
killed and cooked to-morrow. Some of the old chiefs are murmuring
already. They think you are fallen sick and must lose flesh."

With that Keola got to his feet, and anger burned in him.

"It is little I care one way or the other," said he. "I am between the
devil and the deep sea. Since die I must, let me die the quickest way;
and since I must be eaten at the best of it, let me rather be eate