Not a very encouraging prospect for a party hemmed in by a crowd of enemies eager for their lives; but we must make the best of it.
CHAPTER XXVII
WE SETTLE AN OLD SCORE
After three hours Ama came to us. She had exchanged her regal robes for a simple white toga, in which she appeared very charming in spite of her reddened eyelids and trembling lips. She was a brave girl, I willingly confess, and bore the terrible blow as well as any woman could have done.
Perhaps the bitterness of her disappointment and chagrin was lessened by the thought that her friendship for Paul had brought it upon her. Girls like to make sacrifices for the man they love, I’m told. Repudiated and scorned by the people she had so faithfully served, Ama naturally turned to those who had stood by her in her trouble, and she must have known that every one of us was a faithful friend and devoted to her cause.
Chaka’s conduct filled me with admiration. With all his heart and soul he loved this beautiful girl; yet when he saw that “his brother Paul” loved her, too, and that Ama turned more readily to Allerton than she did to him, he had never faltered in his steadfast affection for them both. The girl’s admission in the theatre that she would accept Paul as her husband settled Chaka’s chances for good and all, and he never whispered or wavered an eyelash. He was a savage, this handsome, dignified young fellow, born in savagery and even yet only half civilized. I wish there were more civilized whites as noble as he.
Ama was able to discuss the day’s events with a fair amount of composure.
“My heart is aching and my head whirls,” she said pitifully; “but one cannot die because an ungrateful people has bitterly wronged her.”
“We may all die soon,” remarked Archie, gruffly.
“Not all,” said Ama, with a wan smile. “When you, my friends, have made your escape from this valley, I will go out and deliver myself up to the cruel vengeance of the Tcha.”
“How can we escape?” asked Allerton.