The chief directed us to halt before a small door of the palace.
“Get out,” he commanded, in the native tongue, “and follow me to the presence of our ruler, the mighty Nalig-Nad.”
Bryonia and Nux at once obeyed, but the chief motioned to us to come also. We hesitated, and Bry said:
“One of our slaves must remain in the machine, to care for it. The other may accompany us.”
“Both must come!” returned the chief, sternly.
“What! do you give me orders—do you command the Honorable Bryonia, King of Tayakoo?” demanded our black, drawing himself up proudly and frowning upon Ogo.
“The king shall decide,” returned the chief. “Come!”
I followed them in and Duncan remained with the machine. We passed through a hallway and came upon a central courtyard, built in the Spanish style. Here, upon a rude bench, sat an old warrior with a deeply lined face and long locks sprinkled with gray. His eyes were large and black and so piercing in their gaze that they seemed to probe one through and through, yet the expression of the man’s countenance was just now gentle and unassuming.
He had neither the stern nor the fierce look we had remarked in so many of the San Blas, but one might well hesitate to deceive the owner of that square chin and eagle-like glance.
The king wore a white robe with seven broad stripes of green woven into its texture, and on his knees were seated two children, a curly-headed little maid of about ten years and a calm faced boy of five. His surroundings were exceedingly simple, and the only others present were a group of warriors squatting in a far corner.