Four hours later Leo returned, limping after the litter in which, instead of himself, for whom it was sent, lay a mountain sheep and the skin of the snow-leopard that he had placed there to save the huntsmen the labour of carrying them. Ayesha was waiting for him in the hall of her dwelling, and gliding to him—I cannot say she walked—overwhelmed him with mingled solicitude and reproaches. He listened awhile, then asked—“How dost thou know anything of this matter? The leopard skin has not yet been brought to thee.”
“I know because I saw,” she answered. “The worst hurt was above thy knee; hast thou dressed it with the salve I sent?”
“Not I,” he said. “But thou hast not left this Sanctuary; how didst thou see? By thy magic?”
“If thou wilt, at least I saw, and Holly also saw thee rolling in the snow with that fierce brute, while those curs ran round like scared children.”
“I am weary of this magic,” interrupted Leo crossly. “Cannot a man be left alone for an hour even with a leopard of the mountain? As for those brave men——”
At this moment Oros entered and whispered something, bowing low.
“As for those ‘brave men,’ I will deal with them,” said Ayesha with bitter emphasis, and covering herself—for she never appeared unveiled to the people of the Mountain—she swept from the place.
“Where has she gone, Horace?” asked Leo. “To one of her services in the Sanctuary?”
“I don’t know,” I answered; “but if so, I think it will be that chief’s burial service.”
“Will it?” he exclaimed, and instantly limped after her.