straight, and black, like an Indian’s, but of a rich, glossy brown, and curling richly and crisply from her very temples to her knees.  Her forehead, though low, was upright and ample; her nose was straight and small; her lips, the lips of a European; her whole face of the highest and richest type of Spanish beauty; a collar of gold mingled with green beads hung round her neck, and golden bracelets were on her wrists.  All the strange and dim legends of white Indians, and of nations of a higher race than Carib, or Arrowak, or Solimo, which Amyas had ever heard, rose up in his memory.  She must be the daughter of some great cacique, perhaps of the lost Incas themselves—­why not?  And full of simple wonder, he gazed upon that fairy vision, while she, unabashed in her free innocence, gazed fearlessly in return, as Eve might have done in Paradise, upon the mighty stature, and the strange garments, and above all, on the bushy beard and flowing yellow locks of the Englishman.

He spoke first, in some Indian tongue, gently and smilingly, and made a half-step forward; but quick as light she caught up from the ground a bow, and held it fiercely toward him, fitted with the long arrow, with which, as he could see, she had been striking fish, for a line of twisted grass hung from its barbed head.  Amyas stopped, laid down his own bow and sword, and made another step in advance, smiling still, and making all Indian signs of amity:  but the arrow was still pointed straight at his breast, and he knew the mettle and strength of the forest nymphs well enough to stand still and call for the Indian boy; too proud to retreat, but in the uncomfortable expectation of feeling every moment the shaft quivering between his ribs.

The boy, who had been peering from above, leaped down to them in a moment; and began, as the safest method, grovelling on his nose upon the pebbles, while he tried two or three dialects; one of which at last she seemed to understand, and answered in a tone of evident suspicion and anger.

“What does she say?”

“That you are a Spaniard and a robber, because you have a beard.”

“Tell her that we are no Spaniards, but that we hate them; and are come across the great waters to help the Indians to kill them.”

The boy translated his speech.  The nymph answered by a contemptuous shake of the head.

“Tell her, that if she will send her tribe to us, we will do them no harm.  We are going over the mountains to fight the Spaniards, and we want them to show us the way.”

The boy had no sooner spoken, than, nimble as a deer, the nymph had sprung up the rocks, and darted between the palm-stems to her canoe.  Suddenly she caught sight of the English boat, and stopped with a cry of fear and rage.

“Let her pass!” shouted Amyas, who had followed her close.  “Push your boat off, and let her pass.  Boy, tell her to go on; they will not come near her.”

But she hesitated still, and with arrow drawn to the head, faced first on the boat’s crew, and then on Amyas, till the Englishmen had shoved off full twenty yards.