The light will not burn them.

They may look toward the place where Tu-Kila-Kila's face is hidden from them." The people all rose with one accord, and gazed straight before them.
"The King of Fire will bring dry sticks," Tu-Kila-Kila said, in his accustomed regal manner.
The King of Fire, sticking one pole of the screen into the ground securely, brought forward a bundle of sun-dried sticks and leaves from a basket beside him.
"The King of the Rain, who has put out all our hearths with his flood last night, will relight them again with new fire, fresh flame from the sun, rays of our disk, divine, mystic, wonderful," Tu-Kila-Kila proclaimed, in his droning monotone.
Felix advanced as he spoke to the pile, and struck a match before the eyes of all the islanders.

As they saw it light, and then set fire to the wood, a loud cry went up once more, "Tu-Kila-Kila is great! His words are true! He has brought fire from the sun! His ways are wonderful!" Tu-Kila-Kila, from his point of vantage behind the curtain, strove to improve the occasion with a theological lesson.

"That is the way we have learned from our divine ancestors," he said, slowly; "the rule of the gods in our island of Boupari.

Each god, as he grows old, reincarnates himself visibly.