hands searching for some hummock of grass against which I might press, to force my body silently downward, but discovered none.  Then there sounded, slightly to my left, the soft rustle of a moccasoned foot, and a low, guttural voice muttered some indistinct sentences.  The lurking form in my front appeared to rise, and there was a brief grunt as if in response to command.  Then a huge warrior stalked past so close that his moccasoned foot planted itself fairly between my outstretched arms.  Instantly he faded away within the enveloping gloom, and with hardly the hesitation of a moment I was on hands and knees creeping toward my goal.  With groping fingers I touched the riven trunk that formed the threshold, and, reaching upward, noted with a thrill of delight that merely a heavy curtain of woven straw guarded the interior.  There was no time for hesitancy; at any instant the savage guard might return to his deserted post.  Pushing the slight barrier noiselessly aside, I gained the interior, dropped the mat behind me, and, for the first time, ventured to pause and survey my surroundings.

The single partition did not extend to the roof by a foot or more, so sufficient light found passage through the narrow aperture to render dimly visible the principal features of this apartment into which I had ventured.  It was evidently a sleeping-chamber, handsomely furnished in barbaric fashion, the faint light gleaming on numerous burnished ornaments, while a carpet of soft skins concealed the floor.  To this I gave brief attention, my anxious glance falling almost instantly upon the draped figure of a woman, vaguely defined in the dimness, lying outstretched on a slightly raised cushioned couch, her face concealed by the denser shadows of the wall, sound asleep.

Cautiously I crept forward, hesitating to touch her lest so sudden an awakening might cause alarm.  It seemed safer to trust in speech, as then she would recognize at once who was by her side.

“Madame,” I whispered softly, my lips as close as possible to her tiny ear, “I seek brief word with you to-night.”

She must have slept lightly, for at my faint whisper I perceived that her wide-opened eyes were scrutinizing my face.

“’Tis I, Madame, Geoffrey Benteen.  I beg you make no noise.”

“You need have no fear,” returned a soft voice in purest Spanish.  “You do me honor by so unexpected a visit; I bid you welcome, Geoffrey Benteen.”

CHAPTER XXVIII

SPEECH WITH NALADI

If you were ever rudely aroused from pleasant dreams by a sudden dash of cold water in your face, you may partially comprehend my emotions upon hearing these words of greeting, and realizing that I was looking into the beautiful, pitiless eyes of the Daughter of the Sun, now sitting upright on the couch, happily smiling at my embarrassment.