"I am ready if you wish to kill me," she replied meekly.
"Pale-face wan't die. McGable say kill white gal ef he no come back. He no come back—white gal must die."
"I have told you I am ready—why do you wait. Strike, now, and may God forgive you both."
Still the savage hesitated. A baleful light glittered in his black eye as he surveyed the vision of loveliness before him. His hand toyed with the buckhorn handle of his knife, and his chest sank and rose like the billows of the sea. Several times the knife was partly withdrawn, until Marian wondering at the stillness and inaction, looked up and encountered the fiery gaze of the Indian. The latter forced his knife to its place, and sucking his breath between his teeth, demanded,
"I have not deserved death, and I do not wish to die, but I am prepared for death and expect nothing else at your hands."
"Be Indian chief's squaw?" asked the Indian with the rapidity of lightning.
Marian started, as if stung by an adder, and gazed into the eyes which fairly scintillated their electric light into her own. She comprehended the meaning of the words in an instant.
"No, Indian, I cannot be your squaw."
"Then die—think two, tree time, afore speak agin."