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“Take him away!” ordered Minarii. “Come here no more. This is our sacred place.”

Mills struggled to his feet, dazed and enraged, and stood with clenched fists, eyeing the native while McCoy spoke.

“Pull yersel’ together, John! Say naught and get out o’ this afore there’s blood shed! Come along, now. They’ve right on their side, and he’s an unchancy loon to meddle with.”

Mills was in middle age, and Minarii’s stern face and gigantic figure might have intimidated a far younger man. He turned aside and permitted McCoy to lead him away. The natives gazed after them in silence as they climbed the ridge and disappeared on the path leading to the settlement.

“Go you others,” said Minarii, “and let no more be thought of this. The man was ignorant. As McCoy said, he meant no desecration.”

Tetahiti remained behind and the two men lingered outside the enclosure surveying their handiwork with deep satisfaction.

“The building was auspicious,” said Minarii, after a long silence. “The sacredness is in the stones.”