92. CHAPTER XCII.
THE GOD KEEVI AND THE PRECIPICE OF MONDO.
One object of interest in Ohonoo was the original image
of Keevi the god of Thieves; hence, from time inmemorial,
the tutelar deity of the isle.
His shrine was a natural niche in a cliff, walling in the
valley of Monlova And here stood Keevi, with his five
eyes, ten hands, and three pair of legs, equipped at all
points for the vocation over which he presided. Of mighty
girth, his arms terminated in hands, every finger a limb,
spreading in multiplied digits: palms twice five, and fifty
fingers.
According to the legend, Keevi fell from a golden cloud,
burying himself to the thighs in the earth, tearing up the
soil all round. Three meditative mortals, strolling by at
the time, had a narrow escape.
A wonderful recital; but none of us voyagers durst flout
it. Did they not show us the identical spot where the idol
fell? We descended into the hollow, now verdant. Questionless,
Keevi himself would have vouched for the truth of
the miracle, had he not been unfortunately dumb. But by
far the most cogent, and pointed argument advanced in support
of this story, is a spear which the priests of Keevi
brought forth, for Babbalanja to view.
“Let me look at it closer,” said Babbalanja.
And turning it over and over and curiously inspecting it,
“Wonderful spear,” he cried. “Doubtless, my reverends,
this self-same spear must have persuaded many recusants!”
“Nay, the most stubborn,” they answered.
“And all afterward quoted as additional authority for
the truth of the legend?”
“Assuredly.”
From the sea to the shrine of this god, the fine valley of
Monlova ascends with a gentle gradation, hardly perceptible;
but upon turning round toward the water, one is surprised
to find himself high elevated above its surface. Pass on,
and the same silent ascent deceives you; and the valley
contracts; and on both sides the cliffs advance; till at last
you come to a narrow space, shouldered by buttresses of
rock. Beyond, through this cleft, all is blue sky. If the
Trades blow high, and you came unawares upon the spot,
you would think Keevi himself pushing you forward with
all his hands; so powerful is the current of air rushing
through this elevated defile. But expostulate not with the
tornado that blows you along; sail on; but soft; look
down; the land breaks off in one sheer descent of a thousand
feet, right down to the wide plain below. So sudden
and profound this precipice, that you seem to look off from
one world to another. In a dreamy, sunny day, the spangled
plain beneath assumes an uncertain fleeting aspect.
Had you a deep-sea-lead you would almost be tempted to
sound the ocean-haze at your feet.
This, mortal! is the precipice of Mondo.
From this brink, spear in hand, sprang fifty rebel warriors,
driven back into the vale by a superior force. Finding
no spot to stand at bay, with a fierce shout they took
the fatal leap.
Said Mohi, “Their souls ascended, ere their bodies
touched.”
This tragical event took place many generations gone by,
and now a dizzy, devious way conducts one, firm of foot,
from the verge to the plain. But none ever ascended. So
perilous, indeed, is the descent itself, that the islanders venture
not the feat, without invoking supernatural aid. Flanking
the precipice. beneath beetling rocks, stand the guardian
deities of Mondo; and on altars before them, are placed the
propitiatory offerings of the traveler.
To the right of the brink of the precipice, and far over it,
projects a narrow ledge. The test of legitimacy in the
Ohonoo monarchs is to stand hereon, arms folded, and javelins
darting by.
And there in his youth Uhia stood.
“How felt you, cousin?” asked Media.
“Like the King of Ohonoo,” he replied. “As I shall
again feel, when King of all Mardi.”
