With a lightning gesture he caught up his bow and notched an arrow.
I looked toward Ilalah. Her face was pallid and set but she did not flinch for an instant. One fleeting glance she gave into Duncan’s face and then turned her eyes steadily upon her fierce and enraged sire.
The king did not hesitate. He drew the bowstring to his chin, took rapid aim, and loosed the deadly shaft.
A cry burst from the assemblage, and even while it rang in my ears I saw Tcharn leap into the air before the princess, receive the arrow in his own breast, and then fall writhing in agony upon the ground.
CHAPTER XXII
THE THRUST OF A SPEAR
Instantly there was tumult all about us. The crowd broke and surged toward the central point in the tragedy, forcing us who were in front to struggle on the crest of the wave. Their reserve vanished and each man cried to his neighbor in eager tones and allowed the mad excitement of the moment full sway.
Some one cut Ilalah’s bonds and the girl sank to the ground to support the head of the little arrow-maker upon her breast, pressing back his thin locks and tenderly kissing him upon the forehead.
But he knew nothing of this grateful kindness. His eyes were set and glazed, for the arrow had lodged in his heart.
A tug at my thong threatened to strangle me, for Moit had bounded forward to kneel beside Ilalah and try to assist her in spite of his own helpless condition. Then some semblance of order was restored and our guards pushed us back and eased the thong which was fast throttling me.