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possessed； could not be the result of mere fortuitousness。 A child of
intelligences； remote and unguessable； working corporally in metals； it
indubitably was。 He stared at it in amaze； his brain a racing wild…fire of
hypotheses to account for this far…journeyer who had adventured the night
of space； threaded the stars； and now rose before him and above him；
exhumed by patient anthropophagi； pitted and lacquered by its fiery bath
in two atmospheres。
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THE RED ONE
But was the colour a lacquer of heat upon some familiar metal？ Or
was it an intrinsic quality of the metal itself？ He thrust in the blue…point
of his pocket…knife to test the constitution of the stuff。 Instantly the
entire sphere burst into a mighty whispering； sharp with protest； almost
twanging goldenly； if a whisper could possibly be considered to twang；
rising higher； sinking deeper； the two extremes of the registry of sound
threatening to complete the circle and coalesce into the bull…mouthed
thundering he had so often heard beyond the taboo distance。
Forgetful of safety； of his own life itself； entranced by the wonder of
the unthinkable and unguessable thing； he raised his knife to strike heavily
from a long stroke； but was prevented by Balatta。 She upreared on her
own knees in an agony of terror； clasping his knees and supplicating him
to desist。 In the intensity of her desire to impress him； she put her
forearm between her teeth and sank them to the bone。
He scarcely observed her act； although he yielded automatically to his
gentler instincts and withheld the knife…hack。 To him； human life had
dwarfed to microscopic proportions before this colossal portent of higher
life from within the distances of the sidereal universe。 As had she been a
dog； he kicked the ugly little bushwoman to her feet and compelled her to
start with him on an encirclement of the base。 Part way around； he
encountered horrors。 Even； among the others； did he recognize the sun…
shrivelled remnant of the nine…years girl who had accidentally broken
Chief Vngngn's personality taboo。 And； among what was left of these
that had passed； he encountered what was left of one who had not yet
passed。 Truly had the bush…folk named themselves into the name of the
Red One； seeing in him their own image which they strove to placate and
please with such red offerings。
Farther around； always treading the bones and images of humans and
gods that constituted the floor of this ancient charnel…house of sacrifice； he
came upon the device by which the Red One was made to send his call
singing thunderingly across the jungle…belts and grass…lands to the far
beach of Ringmanu。 Simple and primitive was it as was the Red One's
consummate artifice。 A great king…post； half a hundred feet in length；
seasoned by centuries of superstitious care； carven into dynasties of gods；
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THE RED ONE
each superimposed； each helmeted； each seated in the open mouth of a
crocodile； was slung by ropes； twisted of climbing vegetable parasites；
from the apex of a tripod of three great forest trunks； themselves carved
into grinning and grotesque adumbrations of man's modern concepts of art
and god。 From the striker king…post； were suspended ropes of climbers to
which men could apply their strength and direction。 Like a battering ram；
this king…post could be driven end…onward against the mighty red…
iridescent sphere。
Here was where Ngurn officiated and functioned religiously for
himself and the twelve tribes under him。 Bassett laughed aloud； almost
with madness； at the thought of this wonderful messenger； winged with
intelligence across space； to fall into a bushman stronghold and be
worshipped by ape…like； man…eating and head… hunting savages。 It was as
if God's World had fallen into the muck mire of the abyss underlying the
bottom of hell； as if Jehovah's Commandments had been presented on
carved stone to the monkeys of the monkey cage at the Zoo； as if the
Sermon on the Mount had been preached in a roaring bedlam of lunatics。
The slow weeks passed。 The nights； by election； Bassett spent on
the ashen floor of the devil…devil house； beneath the ever… swinging； slow…
curing heads。 His reason for this was that it was taboo to the lesser sex
of woman； and therefore； a refuge for him from Balatta； who grew more
persecutingly and perilously loverly as the Southern Cross rode higher in
the sky and marked the imminence of her nuptials。 His days Bassett
spent in a hammock swung under the shade of the great breadfruit tree
before the devil…devil house。 There were breaks in this programme；
when； in the comas of his devastating fever…attacks； he lay for days and
nights in the house of heads。 Ever he struggled to combat the fever； to
live； to continue to live； to grow strong and stronger against the day when
he would be strong enough to dare the grass…lands and the belted jungle
beyond； and win to the beach； and to some labour…recruiting； black…birding
ketch or schooner； and on to civilization and the men of civilization； to
whom he could give news of the message from other worlds that lay；
darkly worshipped by beastmen； in the black heart of Guadalcanal's
midmost centre。
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THE RED ONE
On the other nights； lying late under the breadfruit tree； Bassett spent
long hours watching the slow setting of the western stars beyond the black
wall of jungle where it had been thrust back by the clearing for the village。
Possessed of more than a cursory knowledge of astronomy； he took a sick
man's pleasure in speculating as to the dwellers on the unseen worlds of
those incredibly remote suns； to haunt whose houses of light； life came