has saved you; ’tis the law of the Natchez.  Nay, thank me not,” as I sought to express my words of gratitude.  “I told you before it was not from any desire to show mercy, but for a purpose of my own.  Yet if you would continue to profit through my strange whim—­and surely I have seldom been thus swayed to action—­then it will be well to give heed unto my words.  I bid you proceed at once to that second hut yonder, nor dare venture forth again until I send.  The children of the Sun bow now to the commands of their ancient faith, yet are of temper hard to control.”

“You fear they may yet demand us in sacrifice?”

“Not to-day, unless you do that which shall arouse their passions beyond my power of restraint.  While the sun dominates the sky your lives are preserved from violence, but if you would live longer it must be through careful guarding of speech and action.  I promise nothing beyond the present day.  But now,” she bent over, severing my bonds with a flint blade, “go; do exactly as I bade you, and no longer bandy words with me.”

“But the lady within the lodge?” I ventured anxiously, as I struggled to my feet, standing erect before her.

“She bides elsewhere.”

“It will be hard for her alone—­”

“What is all that to you, sirrah?” she interrupted haughtily.  “According to the tale told, you are not her husband.  He who might have right to question separation has made no complaint.”

“He does not comprehend your speech.  For that reason he remains dumb.”

“Mean you it is he who inspires your objection?” she asked scornfully.

“No; yet I doubt not ’tis in his heart even as upon my lips.”

She turned aside, an incredulous smile curling her lips, looking curiously down upon him, and their eyes met.  She stooped swiftly, severing the thongs of grass binding his arms, and with her own hands assisted him to rise.

“A fair and noble gallant,” she said softly, reluctantly turning back from him to me.  “Not of hard, stern visage like yours, but with the bearing of a gentleman, the smile of a courtier.  Pish! he will not miss her over-much, or else I read not rightly the challenge of his eyes.  But come, hunter, I bade you go in haste, nor is it well for any one to wait my bidding twice.”

“’T is no more than just we should be told the destiny of our companions,” I persisted, determined not to desert them thus.  “May not both the Puritan and the woman abide with us?”

Her eyes flashed in uncontrolled anger, her lips giving vent to a low, cruel laugh.

“I tell you no, and understand once for all my word is law.  You are not standing before a French court to haggle over trifles, and dispute about your rights.  Bah! you have no rights; you live from day to day merely by my whim.  The red-headed man tarries where he is as long as it remains my pleasure; while as to yon dainty creature, she shall meet no harm.  Forsooth, it will not greatly hurt her to be beyond your sight for a space.”