"What of Ga-ha-no?" he demanded sternly.
She glanced fearfully backward along the way we had come.
"We may not stay," she answered rapidly. "I will talk as we run. Oh, haste, haste, or all will be lost!"
The Seneca resumed his steady gait, but the moonlight filtering through the branches revealed the agony in his face, an agony which the ordeal at the stake had not been able to produce.
"Ga-ha-no thought of all," gasped our companion, her voice strangely muffled by the mask. "She came to me this morning—whilst I was pleading with them—told me how it might be done—fetched me here—procured me the mask and costume—taught me the dance. 'Twas she secured the delay—in your torture—made them send you food—bolstered your strength."
"Where is she now?" asked Ta-wan-ne-ars hardly.
She looked sidewise at him—I think in pity.
"With the Chevalier de Veulle," she said reluctantly.
Then with quick earnestness:
"'Twas part of her plan. It might not—otherwise be done."