There was only one language this beautiful, but barbaric, creature could understand. Steve employed it. With a shrug he cast her hand from his arm as if its touch defiled him; in a voice of thunder he said:
"Woman, you question me? I am the Law!"
Then, having tossed in his raise, he held his breath. If she called his cards—
But the bluff worked. Color fled from the priestess' lips; she stared at him strangely for a moment, then sank to one knee. In a low voice:
"Yes, O Eternal One!" she whispered. "Thou art the Law!"
"Then listen," bade Steve, "and learn, O priestess!" And he turned to the awestruck captives. "Which of you calls himself leader of this band?"
One stepped forward hesitantly. He was covered with sweat and blood, grimy, bearded, but his features were fine, his eyes those of a reasoning creature.
"I am the leader, O Mighty One."
"You call yourself—?"
"Jon, O Heaven-sent."