Runi made his appearance at dusk.

I rose and greeted him, but he spoke no word and, until he went to his hammock, sat in sullen silence, ignoring my presence.
On the following day the crisis came.

We were once more gathered in the room--all but Kua-ko and another of the men, who had not yet returned from some expedition--and for the space of half an hour not a word was spoken by anyone.

Something was expected; even the children were strangely still, and whenever one of the pet birds strayed in at the open door, uttering a little plaintive note, it was chased out again, but without a sound.

At length Runi straightened himself on his seat and fixed his eyes on me; then cleared his throat and began a long harangue, delivered in the loud, monotonous singsong which I knew so well and which meant that the occasion was an important one.