"Churlakin," another chief said, "do not put up with an insult."
The savage frowned and drew his knife.
"Do you wish to kill her?" Mercedes exclaimed in horror.
"Yes," Churlakin answered, "unless she will follow me to my toldo, where she will be the squaw of a chief—a great chief."
"You are mad," Mercedes retorted, "your toldo is full, and there is no room for another fire." "There is still room for two fires," the Indian answered, with a laugh, "and since this woman is your sister, you shall come with her."
In the course of this discussion an impenetrable circle of savages surrounded the two girls and Churlakin. Mercedes did not know how to escape the danger.
"Well," Churlakin continued, seizing Doña Concha's hair, which he rolled round his wrist, and brandishing his knife, "will you and your sister follow me to my toldo?"
Doña Concha, who had sunk down to the ground, awaited the death-stroke with pallid face and closed eyes. Mercedes drew herself and checked the arm that was ready to strike.
"Since you insist on it, dog," she said to the chief, in a haughty voice, "your destiny shall be accomplished. Look at me. Gualichu does not allow his slaves to be insulted with impunity. Look at me!"
She turned her face towards a huge fire, flashing a few yards off, and which threw a bright light over the surrounding objects. The Indians uttered a cry of surprise on recognizing her, and fell back. Churlakin himself let go of Doña Concha's hair.