“But—­but why not ask this of your husband?” I questioned, shrinking, in spite of my belief in its righteousness, from the committal of so dreadful a deed.

“Surely he would better make answer for the necessity of so desperate a sacrifice.”

Her dark eyes never wavered from my face, nor did her hands relax their confident grasp of mine.

“Not because I believe he would refuse, but he is of a temper changeable as the winds of Spring.  I must rest in peace, not in perpetual doubting.  You I trust implicitly; your word, once gravely given, will be kept to the death; nay, surely this is no time in which to practise deceit with each other, or act parts like mummers upon the stage.  I know you love me even as of old.  I know this, Geoffrey Benteen, and will abide in my extremity with no other promise than your own.”

“Eloise,” I answered, strangely calmed and strengthened by her faith, “it shall be as you wish.  I thank you for the words, and am better for them.  When the last faint hope flees, and dishonor or death alone is left, I will strike that blow which sets free your soul.”

I felt her kisses and tears commingled on my roughened hands, but before further words might be uttered, the heavy mat concealing the western entrance was suddenly lifted, and in from the dark night there stalked in solemn silence and dignity a long line of stalwart savages.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE VOTE OF DEATH

I have already written that I was never easily affected by supernatural fears, yet something about that grim entrance chilled the very blood.  There was no cessation of the monotonous, dismal chanting of the priests, as these newcomers,—­whose sinister purpose no one could doubt,—­moving with the silence of spectres, their bodies draped in shapeless robes of skin, appearing ghostlike beneath the uncertain flickering of flame, moved forward like a great writhing snake, passed along the southern wall beneath the face of the flying dragon overhead, until they found seats on the hard floor between altar and platform; two or three, evidently superior chiefs, by their richer trappings, ascended the raised logs and solemnly squatted thereon, so as to face us.  How many composed this uncanny company I cannot say, having failed to count as they filed past, yet they completely filled the great room with scowling, upturned faces, and were probably all the available warriors of the tribe.

This was accomplished in stealthy silence, as wild animals creep upon their prey, nor did any among them take seats until the old war-chief—­he who had led the assault in the gulch—­made signal to that end.  Responding to a second gesture, we were driven roughly forward by our guard, until permitted to sink down once more, directly in their front, within full focus of their cruel eyes.