Finally, however, the conference came to an end.
A tall, lean chief whose gray hairs and the prominence of the green stripes in his tunic evidently entitled him to be the spokesman, stepped forward and bowed low before the king.
“Mighty Ruler of the Techlas,” he said, “we have weighed well the strange conduct of the Princess Ilalah and desire to ask her a question.”
“The speech of the accused may not be considered,” said the king, gruffly.
“It affects not her condemnation, but rather her punishment,” returned the other.
“Then proceed.”
“Princess,” continued the old man, speaking in a kindly tone as he addressed the young girl, “if in our mercy we spare your life will you promise to forsake your white chief and yield him and his followers to our vengeance?”
“No!” she answered, proudly.
Her questioner sighed and turned to his fellows, who nodded to him gravely.
“Then,” said he, again turning to the king, “we find that the conduct of the Princess Ilalah merits punishment, and the punishment is death!”