was patent. Considering the paucity of members of the federated
twelve villages and their primitive tools and methods, Bassett knew
that the toil of a myriad generations could scarcely have made that
enormous excavation.

He found the pit bottom carpeted with human bones, among which,
battered and defaced, lay village gods of wood and stone. Some,
covered with obscene totemic figures and designs, were carved from
solid tree trunks forty or fifty feet in length. He noted the
absence of the shark and turtle gods, so common among the shore
villages, and was amazed at the constant recurrence of the helmet
motive. What did these jungle savages of the dark heart of
Guadalcanal know of helmets? Had Mendana's men-at-arms worn
helmets and penetrated here centuries before? And if not, then
whence had the bush-folk caught the motive?

Advancing over the litter of gods and bones, Balatta whimpering at
his heels, Bassett entered the shadow of the Red One and passed on
under its gigantic overhang until he touched it with his finger-
tips. No lacquer that. Nor was the surface smooth as it should
have been in the case of lacquer. On the contrary, it was
corrugated and pitted, with here and there patches that showed
signs of heat and fusing. Also, the substance of it was metal,
though unlike any metal, or combination of metals, he had ever
known. As for the colour itself, he decided it to be no
application. It was the intrinsic colour of the metal itself.

He moved his finger-tips, which up to that had merely rested, along
the surface, and felt the whole gigantic sphere quicken and live
and respond. It was incredible! So light a touch on so vast a