"The devil that took my Helma!" I heard him whisper. "The Shining Devil!"
"Both these men," Lugur was raging, "they shall dance with the Shining one. And this one, too." He pointed at me malignantly.
"This man is mine," said the priestess, and her voice was menacing. She rested her hand on Larry's shoulder. "He shall not dance. No—nor his friend. I have told you I dare not for this one!" She pointed to Olaf.
"Neither this man, nor this," said Larry, "shall be harmed. This is my word, Yolara!"
"Even so," she answered quietly, "my lord!"
I saw Marakinoff stare at O'Keefe with a new and curiously speculative interest. Lugur's eyes grew hellish; he raised his arms as though to strike her. Larry's pistol prodded him rudely enough.
"No rough stuff now, kid!" said O'Keefe in English. The red dwarf quivered, turned—caught a robe from a priest standing by, and threw it over himself. The ladala, shouting, gesticulating, fighting with the soldiers, were jostling down from the tiers of jet.
"Come!" commanded Yolara—her eyes rested upon Larry. "Your heart is great, indeed—my lord!" she murmured; and her voice was very sweet. "Come!"
"This man comes with us, Yolara," said O'Keefe pointing to Olaf.
"Bring him," she said. "Bring him—only tell him to look no more upon me as before!" she added fiercely.