"Hath dying then no fears for you—no?"
"'Tis overpast!" quoth I.
"Liar!" said she. "Wipe the craven sweat from you! You beat me, and for this you should die, but though you fear death you shall live to fear me more—aye, you shall live awhile—take your life!"
So saying, she tossed the pistols down beside me and laughed.
"When I wish to kill and be done with you, my steel shall take you in your sleep, or you shall die by poison; there be many roots and berries hereabout, Indian poisons I wot of. So your life is mine to take whensoever I will."
"How if I kill you first?"
"Ah, bah!" said she, snapping her fingers. "Try an you will—but I know men and you are not the killing sort. I've faced death too oft to fear it, or the likes of you. There lie your pistols, fool; take 'em and shoot me if you will!"
Thereupon I stooped and catching up the pistols tossed them behind me.
"And now," said I, rising, "leave me—begone lest I thrash you again for the evil child you are."
"Child?" says she, staring as one vastly amazed, "child—and to me, fool, to me? All along the Main my name is known and feared."