And now, in the distance, Hale saw that the path led into a large clearing. He slowed his pace, for he wanted to know this lovely girl better before he joined the Ungapuks.
“Who are you, Aña?” he asked suddenly, bending closer to the crinkled, dull-gold hair.
“I am Aña, a white woman.” She looked at him frankly.
“But who are your parents, and how did you get among the Ungapuks?”
Aña’s red lips curved into a dewy smile. “I thought all white men were wise, like Aimu. But you are stupid. How do you think a white woman could appear in a tribe of Indians who live in the jungle, many weeks’ journey from what you call civilization?”
Hale looked a little blank and more than a little disconcerted.
“I suppose I am stupid,” he said dryly. “But tell me, Aña, how did you get here?”
“Why,” she exclaimed, “he made me!”
“Made you? Good Lord! What do you mean?”