"Let me see," the giant was saying, and held out his hand for the ivory image.
The pulse of Connor doubled its beat—but with his fingers still closed he said:
"The ivory head is an old companion of mine and has brought me a great deal of luck."
The torchlight changed in the eyes of Joseph as the sun glints and glimmers on watered silk.
"I would not hurt it," he said, and made a gingerly motion to show how light and deft his fingers could be.
"Very well," said Connor, "but I rarely let it out of my hand."
He stepped closer to the firelight and exposed the little carving again. It was a curious bit of work, with every detail nicely executed; pinpoint emeralds were inset for eyes, the lips grinned back from tiny fangs of gold, and the swelling neck suggested the powerful ape body of the model. In the firelight the teeth and eyes flashed.
Joseph grinned in sympathy. Ephraim and Jacob also had drawn close, and the white man saw in the three faces one expression: they had become children before a master, and when Connor placed the trinket in the great paw of Joseph the other two flashed at him glances of envy. As for the big man, he was transformed.
"Speak truth," he said suddenly. "Why do you wish to enter the Garden?"
"I've already told you, I think," said Connor. "It's to rest up until the horse and mule are well again."