Because of this a strange thing came to them as they reached the summit. Strong as was the heart of Yahn the Apache, she was struck by terror, and 294 Ka-yemo knew that the great god of the men of iron had sent a threat for his eyes to see.
For, still and erect against a dark wall of the Lost Others, stood a man outlined in fire. In Castilian war dress he stood, and little flickering lines of fire ran along helmet and breastplate and lance. No face could they see of the horror, which added to, rather than lessened the terror of Ka-yemo. A living face he could meet and fight––but this burning ghost of a man not yet dead––!
He turned and stumbled downward blindly, and Yahn Tsyn-deh clung to him and gripped his hand cruelly for silence, and when they sank at last beside a great boulder, her arms were around him, as though that clasp kept the solid world from crumbling beneath her feet.
“No––no––no!” muttered Ka-yemo as though she had actually uttered words of persuasion,––“it is what their padre said long ago. Their strong god has an army of saints, and of angels,––they stand guard;––all who go against them are swept into the flames of their Underworld! It is what the Padre Luis said––and now it has been seen by my eyes! Their altars are the stronger altars,––we will go there––we will both go;––the fire of their hell will not reach us at their altar––the medicine prayers of their padre are strong prayers––we will go to him––”
The old fear of his boyhood had enveloped him as the unchained electric force had enveloped the heights. Yahn Tsyn-deh put up her hand to her throat;––she felt herself strangle for breath as she listened.
“It was some trick!” she insisted––though she also had trembled with awe––“Listen to me!––they have many tricks––these white men! Because of 295 a trick will you go to their altars, and be shamed in your clan? Their priest is the head of all things––will you follow the steps of another when you can wear the feathers of a leader? Will you be laughed at by the tribe? Hear––oh hear!––and let your heart listen! Never again will the gods send you this chance to be great––this is your day and your night!”
“Their devils keep guard––the flames of their hell no man can fight!”
“Ka-yemo!––I am holding you close––I give myself to you!––one arrow only must you send when the witch maid is killed, and Tahn-té is killed,––one arrow, and forever you are the highest, and I am your slave to give you love! Ka-yemo!”
The light of the moon was sending a glow above Na-im-be mountains. The moon itself was not yet seen, but enough light was on the mesa for the pleading girl to see the face of the man she adored.
The face was averted and turned from her. In terror he bent the arrow shafts across his knee, and flung the bow far down into the shadows.