“In seeking the pebbles that are denied our people, and in befriending the whites who have been condemned by us for centuries.”
She was silent for a moment. Then she said, bravely:
“Tcharn, such laws are unjust. I will break them because they are my father’s laws and not my own. When I come to rule my people I will make other laws that are more reasonable—and then I will forgive you for your gold-work.”
“Oh, Ilalah!” exclaimed Moit; “how can you rule these Indians when you have promised to come with me, and be my queen?”
She drew her hand across her eyes as if bewildered, and then smiled sweetly into her lover’s face.
“How easy it is to forget,” she said, “when one has always been accustomed to a certain life. I will go with you, and I will never rule my people.”
“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.”