“I will take you to the village,” Nechi repeated. She left the baskets she had been carrying on the ground and picking up the youth threw him over her back. Accustomed as she was to carrying heavy burdens, the weight was not too great for her strength. A half hour later she reached the village, a collection of dilapidated shelters nestling under the protection of the giant palm trees.
The arrival of the girl with her find created great excitement. The men rushed up with spears and clubs ready to deliver the deathblow but the girl was not inclined to give up her prisoner so easily.
“He is mine,” she protested; “I found him. You shall not take him from me. I will feed him and give him chinca bark to cure his fever and when he is well again and fat—”
“No! No! We must not wait. The prisoner might die and then we should be cheated out of our feast.”
Nechi had not thought of that.
“Tomorrow,” she relented. “If he shows no signs of improvement by tomorrow you can prepare for the feast.”
Oomah opened his eyes.
“I came on a sacred mission,” he faltered. “Get me the white feather so that I may die like a hunter who has not given up the chase. With the white feather in my hair I can take up the trail of the Black Phantom in the other world.”
The group that surrounded him hushed their chatter.
“Where is the white feather?” asked one of the older men who seemed to be in authority.