Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 124: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

114 there showed the face of a bearded white man—Parks! “Will you cover me as we go down to the beach?” he asked. ‘‘I suppose you’ve got a boat theré. My name’s Parks, and—”’ ‘““T know,” said McKay. ‘“ Faroa’s on board my schooner. Go get your daughter. I think she’s in the tambu-house. We'll stroll over toward the bush-trail and wait for you. . Better hurry. Those priests are in the temple, but they may come back for something. The village is tabu.” ‘“ That’s why I put on this ostrich busi- ness,” said Parks. ‘“ Thanks. Get your names later.” He capered off, and McKay and his party slowly walked toward the trail that led to the sig-sing grounds and thence to the beach. . ‘* Some stunt!” he said to Sime. ‘‘ Won- der how he got at Ponda. I hope he finished him. Soon as we can we'll get a move on. Hell ’ll break loose any minute once they’re on to us. That man Parks has got brains.”’ “ T'll say so,” said Sime, hitching his guns to the front. CHAPTER XI. THE PEARLS. PARKS played his role well. He neither hurried nor wasted time. In front of the tambu-house he performed a devi-devil dance worthy of Ponda himself. Parks knew, as McKay knew, that there are Peeping Toms in every South Sea vil- lage. Holes in the thatch are too con- venient and too easily made, and curiosity can overcome superstition occasionally; " especially with the sex supposed to be most prone to both influences. So there might be some one looking on, and, if such were the case, it behooved him not to arouse suspicion. Peeping Toms in Motonui would look fearfully and none too closely. Any one observing them might re- port them secretly to Ponda or his assis- tants, and that meant sure death, for the glorification of the priest. So Parks, torn with love and anxiety for his daughter, faint from lack of food, and frem the struggle in which he had worsted THE ARGOSY. Ponda—no easy task—and taken from him his tatatvututu outfit,.spared no pains that would bolster up his assumption of Ponda’s office. The priests might come back from the temple, but, while he pranced flat- footed, in correct imitation of the original, Sweat running from him, half stifled be- neath his mask and straw cloak, Parks kept to ritual as he had observed it. Three times, stiff-legged, he pranced up to.the mats that closed the upper half of the front wall of the tambu-house and pecked with the beak of his mask upon the poles of the lower half, hopping up the platform steps in absurd imitation of a great bird. The mask could be kept in place by a bar of bamboo held clenched between the teeth, leaving the arms free, but Parks could not show his arms. He had daubed his feet with Ponda’s own make-up materials, but he bad found no time to blacken his arms, nor could he take from Ponda the latter’s ornaments, closely fitted, sunk into the flesh. He danced up a fourth time and poked the beak through an opening where the mats overlapped badly. A rift of sunlight sifted through the dusk of the tambu-house, and a girl, sitting on the mats on the floor, her head to one side, listening, fearing, sprang to her feet. Parks was holding the supporting bar of the mask in one hand and he spoke low but distinctly: ‘“Come on, Lenna! Step out and follow me as I dance backward. Act as if you were hypnotized. Don’t stop for anvthing. Come!” As his daughter advanced, Parks re- treated, doing a wild whirl in front of the place, and then, springing backward, with an occasional wheel to judge his location, for his only line of vision was straight ahead, through the open beak. McKay and his party had disappeared into the bush-trail, but had stopped close to its beginning, watching the progress through the dense foliage, McKay and Sime with guns ready, the native boys backing them with their rifles. From the temple the sound of drums had started. The heat was still terrific. For thirty- six hours no winds had moved. It was phenomenal weather. GOMIIGIOO SS (@