“You are wrong, my princess,” declared the dwarf, eagerly. “What to you is the white man’s land? You will rule us indeed, and that in a brief space of time!”
“No, my friend,” she said, “the house that moves will carry me away with my white chief, and in a new land I will help him to rule his own people.”
The arrow-maker looked at her with a dreamy, prophetic expression upon his wizened features.
“Man knows little,” said he, “but the Serpent of Wisdom knows much. In my forest the serpent dwells, and it has told me secrets of the days to come. Soon you will be the Queen of the Techlas, and the White Chief will be but your slave. I see you ruling wisely and with justice, as you have promised, but still upholding the traditions of your race. You will never leave the San Blas country, my Ilalah.”
She laughed, brightly.
“Are you then a seer, my cousin?” she asked.
The dwarf started, as if suddenly awakened, and his eyes lost their speculative gaze.
“Sometimes the vision comes to me,” he said; “how or why I know not. But always I see truly.”
Duncan Moit did not understand this dialogue, which had been conducted in the native tongue. He had been examining, with the appreciation of a skilled workman, the beautiful creations of the Indian goldsmith. But now our uneasy looks and the significant glances of Nux and Bryonia attracted his attention, and he turned to ask an explanation.
The princess evaded the subject, saying lightly that the dwarf had been trying to excuse himself for breaking the law and employing the forbidden gold in his decorations. I turned to Tcharn and again demanded: