"Dog of a Chilcat," was the low growl-like response. "Why speak such soft words? Klitonda knows their worth. Owindia will never be the wife of such a cur as Bamba. The Chilcats are squaws. They are afraid of Klitonda. He stands here in their midst. Unfasten these thongs. With all his warriors about him, does he fear one Ayana brave?"
"Why does Klitonda say such things?" was the sharp reply. "Does he not know that he is in the hands of the Chilcats? Does not his heart tell him that soft words will come better from his lips?"
"Bah! Klitonda is not a jack-rabbit. He has said that the Chilcats are squaws, but no he was wrong, they are papooses."
During this conversation Klitonda was standing close to the fire, while the Coast Indians were gathered near, surrounding their leader. As the word of contempt fell from the captive's lips, Bamba turned and pointed to a tree standing in the shadows several rods away.
"Take the Ayana chief, and fasten him there," he commanded. "Bamba would talk to the Chilcat warriors. Make the dog safe, neck, body, and feet. Quick."
Klitonda was immediately seized, and hurried across the open. With his back placed against the tree he was bound as Bamba had directed. And there he was left alone facing his captors, who were now gathered about the fire in eager consultation. Klitonda knew that escape from such a situation was impossible. The thong about his neck was alone sufficient to bind him, apart from the others around his body and ankles. It drew his head back against the tree in a cramped position, forcing him to look upwards, and only with extreme difficulty could he observe the warriors sitting near the fire. The wind swayed the trees, and the cold air drifted into his face. But though his body was bound, his indomitable spirit was free. Thongs, and the power of the Chilcats could not curb that. He knew what to expect from his merciless enemies. What the outcome of their consultation would be he had not the slightest doubt. But no matter what they might do he would be Klitonda, the Ayana chief, to the bitter end.
[CHAPTER XV]
THE SPIRIT OF KLOTA
When Owindia left her father's lodge and entered the forest a great dread came upon her. Once she stayed her steps as if uncertain what to do. The wild beating of her own heart was the only sound she heard. She was tempted to turn back and give up the undertaking. But the thought of the promise she had made and what the Chilcats might do if she did not appear nerved her heart and gave her courage to go forward. Down among the trees she moved, then across an open valley, where stretched a long meadow of wild grass. On the farther side was the large rock, which she had mentioned as the place of meeting. Her steps lagged as she approached the spot, and a sigh of relief escaped her lips when she found that no one was there. Taking up her position by the rock, she leaned against it, and looked down the valley. The soughing of the wind was the only sound which fell upon her ears. How lonely it was, and the darkness was fast deepening. Her eyes wandered away among the dim arches of the forest and she fancied she could see dozens of Chilcats hiding among the trees and peering forth upon her. The suspense now became terrible. She could have endured almost anything except this time of waiting.