'I believe it not,' cried Menotah, clasping again the child in her arms. 'Behold! it is now my turn to give you advice. Return to your own gods, who bid you take vengeance and crush the foe. Not willingly would you harm those you love. Why then should you have pity for those you hate? I trust not to such teaching.'
She turned to depart, yet the old man sent after her quavering words, 'Let not anger prevail over the mind, my daughter; for when the blood runs hot, and the heart rages with passion fire, the hand may tremble and the eyes may fail. See there is no need for the second blow.'
She cast the words back at him as he sat huddled before the door. 'You may throw aside your fear. Have I kept this strength to fail at the last hour, when retribution lies like a gift in my hand? I, child as you call me, am older even than you. The day of sorrow is longer than the year of joy.'
'You will return?' he muttered, dimly perceiving that she moved away.
'When the moons dips upon the ridge summits,' she said. Then, with the child clasped to her bosom, she disappeared with slow step amid the fast gathering darkness.
CHAPTER III
RESURRECTION
A big bluff man, with wide, glowing face and stentorian voice, entered the precincts of Garry about the end of July. He came invigorated by the prospect of a fortnight's leave, with the outspoken intention of enjoying himself. At every saloon—for he visited each impartially—there was a resonant welcome from many boon companions. McAuliffe was popular in his way among those of his own set.
So, three days after arrival, he might have been seen proceeding along the principal street, accompanied by half a dozen elderly men, lined and bearded, yet all disporting themselves like boys released from school. They were all 'Company lads,' down on leave from northern posts, actuated by a single idea of padding their few days of emancipation by as large an amount of dissipation as possible.