“That man is a traitor, liar!” Octrogona yelled fiercely. “He abducted Gona, then learning we were preparing for war he sends his daughter, whose beauty is renowned, sends this lovely girl among my men to lead their thoughts from war to love. She obtained sympathy for her father and his people, she lowered my sister in the esteem of my soldiers, declaring Gona went voluntarily, having long been enamoured with Potolili. (This we did not doubt.) By the merest chance I heard of the matter and ordered the lovely devil brought before me. And she came like the Queen, enchantress, that she is, reclining amid silken cushions and flowers and borne aloft by worshippers.
“I was dazzled, and—er—,” Octrogona paused, his glance shifted, “she is still here.” Then realizing the comical side of the situation, he burst out laughing.
“She and her father are schemers, and have no equal for craftiness,” he continued. “Her mission is to influence all in favor of her people, to arouse so-called brotherly love, and effect the unification of tribes, with—er—Potolili as supreme chief. Until her mission is accomplished she will not permit me to possess her, yet swears to her love for me. She is not a prisoner, but I have placed her where she can work no further mischief except upon me; and I love her! I love her! She has full freedom, but at the least sign or inclination to return to her people she becomes a prisoner and a slave to my fancy.”
“Octrogona! Octrogona!” we heard a voice wail in protest, sweet as a bell. With a stride Octrogona reached the end of the tent, flung aside the hanging and drew forth the shrinking woman.
We knew she was Potolili’s daughter. No one in the world could resemble him so completely. She was beautiful, wondrously beautiful, in a sensuous, barbaric fashion. Her luxurious tresses, glossily rippled unconfined; her dusky neck, shoulders, arms were devoid of covering except for the flashing gems that hid most of her charms. Soft, white, shimmering stuff wound around her form. This woman, with her great animal magnetism, could sway and rule as she pleased. The conquest of Octrogona was diversion to her. She hung upon his shoulder with her full weight. He flung his arm around her, both were oblivious of our presence. In silence he gazed into her deep eyes with intense love, and she cooed to him while one pretty hand caressed his cheek.
“Octrogona, I am your prisoner,” we heard her tell him. “Your eyes thrill, hold me, your glance is stronger than prison bars.”
“I should say so!” muttered Sheldon, who had become very restless.
“I love you! I love you!” the siren went on. “Octrogona, your pleasure is mine.”
Swiftly he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.
“No,” said Sheldon, turning his back upon them, “they’re not married yet. Matrimony is death to that sort of thing. And I say, boys, she’s playing the same old game on him, and they claim to be six hundred years ahead of us. That fiery boy is as blind as a bat. Twenty to one foxy Potolili rules the two tribes in less than a month, and I don’t blame Octrogona. She’s a glorious woman! Jove, a glorious woman!”