The conversation that had ensued was somewhat as follows, being interpreted into our plain and humdrum English:--
The Queen. "Why advances my general and slave except on his knees, even as come the frogs?"
Kaloomah. "My queen will pardon me. I will not so offend again. Your majesty has reigned long and happily."
Q. "True, slave."
She seized the poisoned spear as she spoke, and would have used it freely; but at a word from Kaloomah it was wrenched from her grasp.
K. "Your majesty's reign has ended! The old queen must make room for the beautiful daughter of the pale-faces. Yet will your beneficence live in the person of the new queen, and in our hearts--the hearts of those who have fought for you. For we each and all shall taste of your roasted flesh!"
Then, turning quickly to the soldiers, "Seize her and drag her forth!" he cried, "and do your duty speedily."
I must not be too graphic in my description of the scene that followed. But the ex-queen was led to a darksome hut, and there she was speedily despatched.
That night high revelry was held in the royal camp of the cannibals. Many prisoners were killed and roasted, and the feast was a fearful and awful one.
But not a chief was there in all that crowd who did not partake of the flesh of his late queen, while horn trumpets blared and war tom-toms were wildly beaten.