“The goodness of this place and hour be upon thee,” responded Orondo, still not recognizing Yermah.
As the men looked at each other, a family of deer roused themselves under the shelter of a friendly live-oak tree standing in the sward to the right of the pavement. The buck stood up and shook his graceful, spreading horns, until the leaves overhead quivered in the current of air set in motion. The doe licked the side of one fawn, while the other spotted creature wrinkled up its little nose, took a sniff of fresh air, and clicked its hoofs together in the very exuberance and joy of living.
The two heavy-hearted men gazed at one another in an embarrassed silence. Finally, Orondo said:
“I have seen the priestess Kerœcia.”
“And—she?” Yermah finished the sentence with a supplicating movement and braced himself for the shock.
“She—she is not for me,” responded Orondo, brokenly.
Not to have saved his immortal soul, could Yermah control the wave of emotion which swept over him, making him stagger like a drunken man. The revulsion of feeling was so strong that he put out his hand to steady himself, while his senses fairly reeled.
Like a flash the truth dawned on Orondo; but he would have suffered his tongue cut out rather than acknowledge even to himself what he had seen. Profound pity moved him, and under its influence he threw himself on his knees before the Dorado.
“Give me leave,” he cried, “to take men and flocks and go into the valley of the Mississippi, to begin mound-building. My mission in Tlamco is finished.”
“Stand equally with me,” exclaimed Yermah, assisting Orondo to rise and embracing him. “A solemn covenant binds thee to that task. Consult only thine own pleasure and convenience.” Then, after a pause, “I shall miss thy strong, right hand, thy faithful heart and welcome presence here.”