“I make none.”
“You are right; nothing can be said to palliate the crime of falsehood, murder, and robbery! Come along with me.”
“Indeed! Where to?”
“To our chief—to Wacora.”
“A prisoner?”
“Yes.”
“And who is to take me?”
“I will.”
“You!” retorted Rody, with a sneer.
“Yes; your life was in my hands but a minute ago. You live only because I would not kill you in my sister’s presence. Your very slave has proved false to you. You are in my power; Wacora shall pass sentence on you, and that sentence will be death.”