“I will give you anything you ask!” panted Helen excitedly, as she seemed to see a faint chance of the girl yielding.
“Do you not understand what would happen if I helped you to go?” said the girl, quietly.
“No; I cannot tell,” replied Helen, “but I will not mind the danger.”
“There is more danger for me than for you,” was the answer, with a little laugh. “I will tell you: Murad would be angry and fierce; he would forget that he loved me once, and brought me here to be one of his wives. He would make his men take me to the river, and force me to kneel down, when I should be krissed and thrown into the water for the crocodiles to eat.”
“Oh, no; it is too horrible!” whispered Helen, as her excited imagination conjured up the dreadful scene.
“It is true,” said the girl, simply. “He had one wife krissed like that because she ran away twice—because she ran away to the boy she loved before she was taken from her home. Murad is Sultan, and he will be obeyed. He is very cruel sometimes!”
Helen shuddered as she thought that if this were true, she could not ask for help at such a price.
“I should have gone away before now,” said the girl, thoughtfully, as her hands played with Helen’s hair; “for I have someone else who followed me here that he might be near me; but I dare not go! Murad would kill me. It would not hurt much, and I don’t think I should mind; but he would kill someone else, and I could not bear that!”
“Go, then,” said Helen quickly. “Leave me to myself. Let me escape without your help!”
“He would kill me and her all the same,” said the girl, sadly; “and if I let you get out, what could you do? You would wander in the jungle till the beasts seized you, or you died. You must have a boat to escape from here; and if you could get a boat you could not row.”