He looked at me with a signal in his eye; and the five chiefs looked at me civilly enough, but kind of pointed; and the people looked at me and craned and jostled. I remembered the folks that watched my house, and how the pastor had jumped in his pulpit at the bare sight of me; and the whole business seemed so out of the way that I rose and followed Case. The crowd opened again to let us through, but wider than before, the children on the skirts running and singing out, and as we two white men walked away they all stood and watched us. “And now,” said I, “what is all this about?” “The truth is I can’t rightly make it out myself. They have a down on you,” says Case. “Taboo a man because they have a down on him!” I cried. “I never heard the like.” “It’s worse than that, you see,” said Case. “You ain’t tabooed—I told you that couldn’t be. The people won’t go near you, Wiltshire, and there’s where it is.” “They won’t go near me? What do you mean by that? Why won’t they go near me?” I cried. Case hesitated. “Seems they’re frightened,” says he, in a low voice. I stopped dead short. “Frightened?” I repeated. “Are you gone crazy, Case? What are they frightened of?” “I wish I could make out,” Case answered, shaking his head. “Appears like one of their tomfool superstitions. That’s what I don’t cotton to,” he said. “It’s like the business about Vigours.” “I’d like to know what you mean by that, and I’ll trouble you to tell me,” says I. “Well, you know, Vigours lit out and left all standing,” said he. “It was some superstition business—I never got the hang of it but it began to look bad before the end.” “I’ve heard a different story about that,” said I, “and I had better tell you so. I heard he ran away because of you.” “O! well, I suppose he was ashamed to tell the truth,” says Case; “I guess he thought it silly. And it’s a fact that I packed him off. ‘What would you do, old man?’ says he. ‘Get,’ says I, ‘and not think twice about it.’ I was the gladdest kind of man to see him clear away. It ain’t my notion to turn my back on a mate when he’s in a tight place, but there was that much trouble in the village that I couldn’t see where it might likely end. I was a fool to be so much about with Vigours. They cast it up to me to-day. Didn’t you hear Maea—that’s the young chief, the big one—ripping out about ‘Vika’? That was him they were after. They don’t seem to forget it, somehow.” “This is all very well,” said I, “but it don’t tell me what’s wrong; it don’t tell me what they’re afraid of—what their idea is.” “Well, I wish I knew,” said Case. “I can’t say fairer than that.” “You might have asked, I think,” says I.