“You shall have———”
The rest was drowned in a threatening shout. Lentala stood dazed, and in the ensuing buzzing and movement lost any opportunity she might have desired for further speech. So she stood as the still noisy crowd straggled off. Unrest had been rekindled, but to what extent I could not guess. The last loiterers often stopped to gaze at the little group on the wall, and the army stood in soldierly ranks before the gate.
“The army will salute the queen,” commanded Lentala.
It was finely given with the sword, and the men heartily responded to the oath that she gave them as soldiers of the queen. With a gesture to us that we follow, she tripped down the ladder, opened the gate, and admitted the army to the grounds. Next, after sending to liberate the soldiers in the dungeon, she had the palace astir with an order to prepare for the army a feast and accommodations for the night.
Rangan had been a silent observer of her whirlwind movements. I was not wholly satisfied with what I saw in his face, but with whatever else that I saw there was admiration. Obviously she was permitting him to remain until he should be satisfied that she was capable of assuming command of the army. As matters were quieting she asked him to go to his wife, and he tottered away, shaking his head and mumbling to himself.
She ordered the army to break ranks. The men showed their relief with childish inconsequence, and scattered at will. That left us alone. The bright look that she turned to me was a sudden change from royal sternness to Beela’s challenge. She was my little work-mate of the valley.
Something had risen between us; consciousness of it showed in her glance, and I was sore without that. To have tricked me so unnecessarily, as to Beela seemed wanton and cruel. Unreasonable as it may appear, I had been shocked so deeply that time for recovery would be required. I had seen the craftiness with the gentleness of the native blood in old Rangan. I had seen his hatred of the white man, and the merciless savagery that his show of benevolence masked. It had made me distrustful of the native blood, which composed half of Lentala. To the sweet, childish Beela whom I loved had been added something that———
“Choseph!”
I started, but could not bring a smile into the look that I gave her, even though the call had been Beela’s.
“Don’t you want to hear what has happened to me?” she asked, ignoring my stolidity.