This we did, then, while Maya watched us. At length the task was finished, and as we turned to leave the heaps of stones, of a sudden we heard a dog baying down by the river, followed by a sound of men and horses forcing a path through the bush. For a while we stared at each other in silence, then Molas said, “They are coming.”
“If so I wish they would come quickly,” answered the señor.
“Why, White Man? Are you afraid?” asked Maya.
“Yes, very much,” he answered, with a little laugh, “for the odds are heavy, and probably we shall soon be killed, that is, all the men among us will be killed. Does not the prospect frighten you?”
“Why should it,” she answered, with a shrug and a smile, “seeing that if it comes to the worst, I shall be killed also and spared a long journey home?”
“How can you be sure of that, Lady?”
“So,” she answered, holding a tiny blow-pipe dart before his eyes. “If I prick myself with this here—” and she touched the large vein in her neck, “in one minute I shall be asleep, and in two I shall be dead.”
“I understand; but you talk of death very easily for one so young and beautiful.”
“If so, señor, it is because I have not found life too soft, nor”—she added with a sigh—“do I know what destiny awaits me in the future; but I do know that when we sleep upon the Heart of Heaven, we shall find peace if nothing more.”
“I hope so,” said the señor. “Look, here they come,” and as he spoke a party of seven or eight men, three of them riding on mules, appeared at the foot of the mound, and, dismounting, picketed their animals to trees.