|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmcpm

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I hope the sun hasn't affected me he muttered.
A slight movement attracted his attention, and he saw that Ata was lying on the floor, sobbing quietly.
Ata he called. Ata.
She took no notice. Again the beastly stench almost made him faintand he lit a cheroot. His eyes grew
accustomed to the darknessand now he was seized by an overwhelming sensation as he stared at the painted
walls. He knew nothing of picturesbut there was something about these that extraordinarily affected him.
From floor to ceiling the walls were covered with a strange and elaborate composition. It was indescribably
wonderful and mysterious. It took his breath away. It filled him with an emotion which he could not
understand or analyse. He felt the awe and the delight which a man might feel who watched the beginning of a
world. It was tremendoussensualpassionate; and yet there was something horrible theretoosomething
which made him afraid. It was the work of a man who had delved into the hidden depths of nature and had
discovered secrets which were beautiful and fearful too. It was the work of a man who knew things which it is
unholy for men to know. There was something primeval there and terrible. It was not human. It brought to his
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On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmcrq