“Thrice, Noma.”

“And what chanced to them through whom you talked?”

“Two lived and took no harm; the third died, because the awakening medicine lacked power.  Yet fear nothing; that which I have with me is of the best.  Noma, you know my plight:  I must win wisdom or fall for ever, and you alone can help me; for under this new rule, I can no longer buy a youth or maid for purposes of witchcraft, even if one could be found fitted to the work.  Choose then:  shall we go back or forward?  Here trance will not help us; for those entranced cannot read the future, nor can they hold communion with the dead, being but asleep.  Choose, Noma.”

“I have chosen,” she answered.  “Never yet have I turned my back upon a venture, nor will I do so now.  Come life, come death, I will submit me to your wish, though there are few women who would dare as much for any man.  Nor in truth do I do this for you, Hokosa; I do it because I seek power, and thus only can we win it who are fallen.  Also I love all things strange, and desire to commune with the dead and to know that, if for some few minutes only, at least my woman’s breast has held the spirit of a king.  Yet, I warn you, make no fault in your magic; for should I die beneath it, then I, who desire to live on and to be great, will haunt you and be avenged upon you!”

“Oh!  Noma,” he said, “if I believed that there was any danger for you, should I ask you to suffer this thing?—­I, who love you more even than you love power, more than my life, more than anything that is or ever can be.”

“I know it, and it is to that I trust,” the woman answered.  “Now begin, before my courage leaves me.”

“Good,” he said.  “Seat yourself there upon the mound, resting your head against the stone.”

She obeyed; and taking thongs of hide which he had made ready, Hokosa bound her wrists and ankles, as these people bind the wrists and ankles of corpses.  Then he knelt before her, staring into her face with his solemn eyes and muttering:  “Obey and sleep.”

Presently her limbs relaxed, and her head fell forward.

“Do you sleep?” he asked.

“I sleep.  Whither shall I go?  It is the true sleep—­test me.”

“Pass to the house of the white man, my rival.  Are you with him?”

“I am with him.”

“What does he?”

“He lies in slumber on his bed, and in his slumber he mutters the name of a woman, and tells her that he loves her, but that duty is more than love.  Oh! call me back I cannot stay; a Presence guards him, and thrusts me thence.”

“Return,” said Hokosa starting.  “Pass through the earth beneath you and tell me what you see.”

“I see the body of the king; but were it not for his royal ornaments none would know him now.”

“Return,” said Hokosa, “and let the eyes of your spirit be open.  Look around you and tell me what you see.”

“I see the shadows of the dead,” she answered; “they stand about you, gazing at you with angry eyes; but when they come near you, something drives them back, and I cannot understand what it is they say.”