"Many men fear that maiden," retorted Tokalji grimly. "Heh, you are a fighter. We will accept your comrade for whatever he is. You I know I can use. Kara!"
The girl looked at him sullenly.
"Take the strangers to Mother Kathene. Tell her to bed them with the young men."
She stood up, her half-clad Dryad's body shining a golden bronze hue.
"I am not afraid of you, Giorgi Bordu," she said, humbly fearless. "You turned aside my knife with your bare hand, and my life is yours. Will you take it?"
As she spoke, she pulled aside what scanty rags remained of her bodice, and exposed her breast for his knife. Nikka regarded her curiously, and a light I had never seen there before gleamed momentarily in his eyes.
"Your life is your own, maiden," he answered. "But remember I steal from others. Others do not steal from me."
"That is as it should be," she said. "You are a voivode, a chief. I knew you were no ordinary man when I saw you hunt down the old Frank in the street. I said to myself: 'That man is a great thief. He must be the king of a tribe.' To-night," she added royally, "I will pay ransom for my life. I will dance for you."
Tokalji emitted a peculiar gurgling sound which was intended for laughter.
"Heh, Giorgi Bordu, have you by chance been a bear-tamer?" he asked as he swept up his pile of gold and turned away.