So went on several days, during which the trees were felled, and the process of digging them out began; while Ayacanora, silent and moody, wandered into the woods all day with her blow-gun, and brought home at evening a load of parrots, monkeys, and curassows; two or three old hands were sent out to hunt likewise; so that, what with the game and the fish of the river, which seemed inexhaustible, and the fruit of the neighboring palm-trees, there was no lack of food in the camp.  But what to do with Ayacanora weighed heavily on the mind of Amyas.  He opened his heart on the matter to the old hermit, and asked him whether he would take charge of her.  The latter smiled, and shook his head at the notion.  “If your report of her be true, I may as well take in hand to tame a jaguar.”  However, he promised to try; and one evening, as they were all standing together before the mouth of the cave, Ayacanora came up smiling with the fruit of her day’s sport; and Amyas, thinking this a fit opportunity, began a carefully prepared harangue to her, which he intended to be altogether soothing, and even pathetic,—­to the effect that the maiden, having no parents, was to look upon this good old man as her father; that he would instruct her in the white man’s religion (at which promise Yeo, as a good Protestant, winced a good deal), and teach her how to be happy and good, and so forth; and that, in fine, she was to remain there with the hermit.

She heard him quietly, her great dark eyes opening wider and wider, her bosom swelling, her stature seeming to grow taller every moment, as she clenched her weapons firmly in both her hands.  Beautiful as she always was, she had never looked so beautiful before; and as Amyas spoke of parting with her, it was like throwing away a lovely toy; but it must be done, for her sake, for his, perhaps for that of all the crew.

The last words had hardly passed his lips, when, with a shriek of mingled scorn, rage, and fear, she dashed through the astonished group.

“Stop her!” were Amyas’s first words; but his next were, “Let her go!” for, springing like a deer through the little garden and over the flower-fence, she turned, menacing with her blow-gun the sailors, who had already started in her pursuit.

“Let her alone, for Heaven’s sake!” shouted Amyas, who, he scarce knew why, shrank from the thought of seeing those graceful limbs struggling in the seamen’s grasp.

She turned again, and in another minute her gaudy plumes had vanished among the dark forest stems, as swiftly as if she had been a passing bird.

All stood thunderstruck at this unexpected end to the conference.  At last Aymas spoke: 

“There’s no use in standing here idle, gentlemen.  Staring after her won’t bring her back.  After all, I’m glad she’s gone.”

But the tone of his voice belied his words.  Now he had lost her, he wanted her back; and perhaps every one present, except he, guessed why.