“Does she bide with you?”

“If I so will it, yes; if not, no.  Who are you, hunter, to dare question Naladi after she bids you cease?” she exclaimed, her cheeks crimsoning.  “Now go; go ere I am tempted to show you I possess power to enforce my will.  Another word, and you will long regret it.”

She was a tigress now, her eyes burning into mine with the fierceness of a wild animal scenting blood.  It would have been sheer madness to attempt more, with those scowling, savage faces lowering at us from every side, their possessors only too eager to spring forward in cruel obedience to a gesture of their Queen.  A single word from her red lips would, in spite of all superstition, cause them to rend us limb from limb, so I bade De Noyan follow me, feeling relief when once beyond her sight in the cool depths of the sheltering hut.

“Well, Master Benteen,” remarked my comrade easily, finding a soft bearskin upon which to rest his aching limbs, “this is an odd company among whom you have piloted us; one not altogether appealing to my taste in its masculine elements.  Yet, damme, but you possess rare advantage over the rest of us in holding converse with these people, while I must remain dumb as an oyster, save for a glance of the eye.  Perhaps, now that we have time for it, you will kindly explain the meaning of all this mummery with which we passed the night, for, by all the gods of Rome, it was weird enough to turn my hair gray, yet I understood neither word nor deed.  How came that grim preacher to attain such honor, taking position beside their peerless Queen?”

His idiotic lightness of speech and manner jarred unpleasantly upon my humor.  I was heavy-hearted from what had passed, retaining little confidence in the future, yet I told him the story as best I could, trusting the recital might serve to sober him, so we could counsel together regarding our plans.

“Pardieu! ’twas rather a pretty trick of the lady,” he exclaimed laughingly, as I ended the tale.  “She would do honor to a more pretentious court with her wit as well as beauty.  What did you call the title she bore?”

“‘Daughter of the Sun’ was the name given in the altar-house yonder; later she made use of the word Naladi.”

“Ay! that was it.  ’T is a name fitting her well to my taste, and I boast of some experience with the sex. Sacre!  I trust not to have seen the last of so fair a vision as this Queen Naladi.”

He was twirling his moustache, such a look of complacency upon his features I could only stare at him in bewildered surprise.

“You appear reconciled to our situation with marvellous good grace,” I managed to say at last, in a tone which made no attempt to conceal my disgust at his coxcombry.  “For myself I can see very little to hope for.”