"What are the facts of this case?" continued King Zingary, after a pause: "you, Margaret, are discovered by us one morning, sleeping in the open air, and nearly dead with the cold. You have a treasure with you, which we might have appropriated altogether to ourselves, but a third of which has been held at your disposal—yours at any time you might choose to demand it. You come amongst us; you are treated by us with even more than usual attention and kindness; and you are allowed to associate with our wives and daughters without the least restraint. A fortnight scarcely elapses, when you conduct a robber into my room, and point to him the place where he may find the treasure belonging to the association."
"Hear me—hear me!" ejaculated Margaret, now recovering the power of speech; "hear me—and I will explain all."
"Speak," said the king.
"I am not guilty of premeditated ingratitude," continued the Rattlesnake: "I awoke in the middle of the night, and found a fiend in human shape hanging over me. That man was the one whom I had been so anxious to avoid—of whom I was so afraid. I admit that I had robbed him of the gold which you found with me; but I was not bound to tell you that before now. Well—I awoke, and he was hanging over me! How he came into the house, you best know; how he knew that I was an inmate of it, I cannot explain; how he discovered my room is also a mystery. Nevertheless—he did find me out; and with dreadful threats of instant death he made me lead him to your apartment to get back his gold. That is the whole truth."
A smile of incredulity played upon the lips of Zingary.
"Why did you not give the alarm, when once you were in my chamber?" he demanded. "Even if I am old and feeble, was not Morcar there? and could you not in one moment have summoned the others to your aid, by touching the bell-rope within your reach?"
"And, had I done so, that instant would have been my last. The fearful man, whom I obeyed, would have shot me dead on the spot," answered the Rattlesnake.
"And do you not know how to die rather than betray your companions?" asked the king.
"I am but a woman—a weak woman," exclaimed Margaret; "and—oh! no—no—I could not die so horrible a death!"
"Our women would die in such a cause," said Zingary; "and those who join us and live with us must learn our customs and our habits."