log, at the same time pointing to the rice and to the parrot feathers. They jabbered away at such a speed we could not make out a word. But at last Dan comprehended.
"We've gone and done it," he groaned. "This is the Log of the Sun, and the rice is the Feast of Fire, or something like it. We've been sitting on the most sacred table they know of."
"But we hadn't any idea" began Dan, when of a sudden he was flung on the ground. At the same time two natives attacked me, and before any of us could resist, we found ourselves close prisoners, with our hands bound behind us and our legs linked together, with a vine-like rope of native manufacture which was as tough as iron.
In vain we tried to explain the situation. No one would listen to us, and in a few minutes after being captured we were thrust into a hut, and a tall native, with a drawn war club, was placed on guard to see that we did not escape. In the meantime the spread on the log was re-arranged, and the fire dance went on as before.
"Talk about being in a pickle!" muttered Oliver, as he turned and twisted in vain. "I wish the pearl treasure was in Jericho!"
"I am with you on that!" I answered, "that is, if we are going to have very much of this sort of thing."
