“Yes,” said Diane, “all will be well. We cannot have been separated and thus brought together to be again ruthlessly torn apart. God has been good to me. If there is to be further suffering—but I cannot believe it—I will not! And now—” starting to her feet—“En avant, Monsieur!”
In this way by resting often we came toward sunset to within a short distance of the harbor and encampment. Then, by making a wide circuit to the left, we passed the Indian trail and by stepping-stones crossed a small stream which ran into the harbor. Down this we walked, I carrying Mademoiselle, much against her will, in my strong arms, until at the right we saw the glare of the Indian fires upon the beach and the glimmer of lights which showed where the Vengeance and the other ships lay at anchor. When we came to another crossing place Maheera bade us wait while she went forward toward the encampment.
By this time Olotoraca must have returned from his expedition to the Spanish Forts. I hoped that Maheera would escape his notice, but I doubted not that she could explain her presence at the camp to his satisfaction. In spite of this assurance, it seemed a long while before she came back. Several times we heard the sound of footsteps, and thinking that some keen-scented Indian might have wandered upon our trail and be following it, I drew Mademoiselle deeper into the thicket. While I feared no injury, I knew not what complications might come should the escape of Diane be discovered to Olotoraca. I had disobeyed the orders of De Gourgues in following Maheera, and I was in something of a quandary how to have Mademoiselle conveyed aboard the Vengeance, to safety. I knew that I had some stormy moments before me with De Gourgues, but felt that could we carry forward our object and bring Mademoiselle aboard the vessel secretly, his displeasure would speedily pass by; and I trusted much to Mademoiselle. Could he resist her, he were less than a man. After a time we heard the footsteps not of one but of two persons, and presently Maheera’s soft voice called out through the darkness from the crossing place where we had been. In a moment we were together. There was De Brésac—my good Brésac,—whom our little guide had found at the camp. He embraced me with great joy, saying that De Gourgues was much perturbed over my absence, but that he himself had believed I would return safe and sound. To Mademoiselle he bowed with a grace which would have done him honor at a levee, bending over and kissing her hand and telling her in courtly phrase how long he had looked forward to this moment. I thought it savored too much of Paris for these rough woods, but nothing the Chevalier de Brésac saw fit to do was greatly out of place. Mademoiselle, for her part, told him in her sweet voice how deep was her debt, and the Chevalier—like all others who saw her—thereupon vowed himself forever to her service. I told him straightway that he might try his service now, since Mademoiselle had no humor to swim to the ship.
“Yes, good Sydney,” he replied, “and you have come near enough crossing the plans of the Avenger to set a smaller value upon your life than I have put upon the Spanish. If I mistake not, you yourself will need some further service from me. But I will see. Stay here and I will return as soon as may be.” And so he departed alone.
By and by the red glare of the Indian fires increased and a murmur which at first rose no higher than the distant booming of the surf upon the beach came to our ears. There was a measured and rumbling noise which I did not understand. Maheera craned her neck and put her hands to her ears.
“It is the war-dance,” she said excitedly, “the dance of the battle. Olotoraca is there. I can hear him. They are playing upon the tawægons. To-morrow they will drink the ‘black-drink.’ Then they will go.”
In a little while the glow of the fires seemed to light the whole firmament and the sound of the voices and the drumming rose to a prolonged and savage note. Louder and wilder it grew, swelling into a vengeful and relentless scream, more animal than human, which seemed to rend the very sky. The dancers saw themselves already victorious at San Mateo—and fiercely cried their desires to their gods of war and vengeance. So piercing were the shrieks that the beasts of the forest were aroused and we could hear the answering howls come now and then from the woods behind us. Even the birds started from their perches, fluttering down past us crying shrilly to one another in fear at the unwonted turmoil.
Mademoiselle shuddered; Maheera, missing no note of the savage chorus, said proudly,
“Olotoraca dances first and dances longest. Olotoraca is a great chief!”
It seemed long before De Brésac returned. But when he did, it was with the news that De Gourgues had been placated and that a boat had come ashore for us, down the beach.