“If you molest us no further we shall not harm him,” cried Barbara, “and when we leave your island we shall set him free; but renew your attack upon us and this white man who holds him says that he will cut out his heart and feed it to the fox,” which was rather a bloodthirsty statement for so gentle a character as Barbara Harding; but she knew enough of the superstitious fears of the ancient Japanese to feel confident that this threat would have considerable weight with the subjects of the young Lord of Yoka.
Again the natives conferred in whispers. Finally he who had acted as spokesman before turned toward the strangers.
“We shall not harm you,” he said, “so long as you do not harm Oda Iseka; but we shall watch you always until you leave the island, and if harm befalls him then shall you never leave, for we shall kill you all.”
Barbara translated the man's words to the mucker.
“Do youse fall fer dat?” he asked.
“I think they will be careful to make no open assault upon us,” replied the girl; “but never for an instant must we cease our watchfulness for at the first opportunity I am sure that they will murder us.”
They turned back to Theriere now. The man still lay, unconscious and moaning, where Byrne had deposited him. The mucker removed the gag from Oda Iseka's mouth.
“Which way is water? Ask him,” he said to Barbara.
The girl put the question.
“He says that straight up this ravine behind us there is a little spring,” translated the girl.