The woman now seized her by the arm, and bending down, hissed through her clenched teeth:
“John Bonyton did it.”
Hope Vines dropped to the floor as if a shot had penetrated her heart, and there she lay with no sign of life, to the evident gratification of the other, who left her to recover as best she might, while she busied herself in preparing a meal over the coals. Seeing Hope rise to her feet, and stand erect and motionless at the mouth of the cave, she called out:
“Skake, come and eat.”
Receiving no answer, and perhaps weary of this useless teasing, she strode across the space, and shaking her by the arm, cried again:
“Come and eat.”
“I will eat,” answered Hope, softly, taking corn and dried venison. There was a strange light in her eye which the woman saw, but did not understand, for she went on in her former vein:
“The Spider caught a bad snake when she wove a net for Hope Vines.”
The latter covered her face with both her hands, and the veins of her forehead swelled above them. Yet when she uncovered her eyes they were red, not with tears, but with the effort to suppress them.
“It is a long, long time that I have been here, Acashee,” she murmured, softly.