She accepted the invitation frankly, and Duncan took her hand and pressed it to his lips as an old time courtier would have done. She was very sweet and lovely, this Indian maiden, and I did not blame the inventor for worshipping her as he evidently did.
“You cannot today with me run away,” she said, laughing and pointing a slender finger at the barricade.
“You are wrong, Ilalah,” answered Moit, smiling into her fair face. “When I wish to go the walls cannot stop me. But we would like to stay another day in your village.”
She became serious at this. Thinking someone in the crowd might understand the English language as well as she did, I motioned to Nux and Bry to enter the car, and I followed them and closed the door.
“Listen, then,” she said, seeming to be glad of the seclusion. “The king, who is my father, is angry because you have told lies to him. There was a council of the chiefs last night. The white men are to be captured and shot with arrows. The magic machine that is a bird and a fish will be destroyed, and the two black kings may then go free because they speak in our tongue, and are therefore brothers.”
“That is pleasant news,” said Duncan. “When will they do this?”
“To-day, if they can. I was with them at the council. I told them that I loved you, and would make you the mate of the Princess Ilalah. But to that my father would not agree. He says you must die.”
Duncan took her hand and kissed it again, very gratefully and with a look of joy and animation upon his face that fairly transformed it.
“Did not this make you afraid?” I asked the girl, surprised that she seemed to accept her lover’s cruel fate so lightly.
“Oh, no,” she replied. “For the white Chief I love is greater than the San Blas. He will save himself and fly, and I will go with him.”