"You also, my brother, speak of death! I must escape—I cannot sacrifice my life!"
"Nor shall you," a gentle voice broke in passionately, and Lianor, her face full of tender compassion, stood before the victim, Panteleone beside her.
"Follow me," the latter said briefly, drawing the girl's arm through his. "Trust us, and you will yet be saved."
With joyful hearts the two Indians accompanied their kind protectors, climbing among the broken gods, higher and higher, until they at last arrived without the temple, the other side from where the Indians were assembled.
There they were rejoined by the soldiers and attendants, and the little party commenced their homeward journey, hoping the wild group would not discover their presence.
But their hopes were not to be realized; ere they had gone many yards, the flight of the rajah's widow had been discovered, and with hideous cries they sought eagerly to find her.
It was not long ere they espied the small party, and full of triumph dashed toward them.
"Lianor, keep back—leave me to deal with these barbarians!" Panteleone said hurriedly, and in a minute a deadly fight began between the Indians and the soldiers.
But what was their strength against more than five hundred strong warriors? Ere long the brave party was captured, and while Konmia dragged the terrified girl towards the funereal-pile, the Indians shrieked aloud in triumphant gladness.
"To-morrow Siva will receive a sacrifice that will remain forever in the memory of those now living. To-day, our chief's widow; to-morrow, the Portuguese prisoners!"