CHAPTER XV
“Ah, life and soul, still hover in his breast,
And leave my body senseless as the earth.”
—Marlowe, in Tamburlaine.
“Dearest, the king wins.” When Frazer had spoken these words, prior to the meeting of the ships, Eleanor Dare and Gyll Croyden were led away into the forest by Towaye, the Indian. They gave no outcry, each having across her mouth a bandage of silk, nor was resistance possible, their hands being firmly tied behind them. Yet Gyll, at last, would have thrown herself upon the ground and refused positively to walk farther had she not feared a worse fate at the hands of their escort. Moreover, she heard Eleanor’s footsteps rustling just ahead without cessation, and her heart took courage of the example.
Finally, after they had followed a narrow trail seemingly for miles, Towaye, who brought up the rear of the single file, halted. Then, unblinding their eyes and unshackling their wrists, probably by another’s command, he bade them be seated on the trunk of a fallen elm to rest themselves. Each was but a shadow to the other, so deep lay the darkness in the forest. But the shadows were not long motionless, for presently, with a word, Towaye told them to rise, and, binding their hands now before them, yet leaving their eyes unbandaged, pushed them once more ahead of him on the trail. Thus they walked for an hour in silence until commanded to turn aside, at which, after entering a small clearing, they were once more permitted to halt.
Apparently they had now reached their destination, for the Indian, striking two stones, one against another, set fire to a heap of dry leaves, on which he threw an armful of brushwood. As the glade was illuminated the women glanced about them quickly, for they were not long allowed to remain in the opening. Leading them to the clearing’s margin, near a deep ravine, Towaye drew aside a hanging curtain of grape-vines and motioned them into a natural arbor whose walls and roof were formed by an inextricable tangle of tough tendrils, which rendered the stronghold as impervious as though it had been enclosed by stone. The curtain, drawn back and twisted like a portière, left open a narrow, brambly entrance, through which the near fire cast its glare to light up the interior. Large clusters of grapes hung in profusion on every side and carpeted the earth, their rich fragrance filling the air as they were trod under foot by the two who entered.
The Indian, and doubtless Frazer, too, had been here earlier in the day, for just within scope of the firelight was the carcass of a young deer, while on the ground a pannier of various provisions lay beside the arbor’s entrance. Furthermore, a long riding-cloak had been spread out like a rug in the natural cell.
“Master Frazer is most thoughtful of our comfort,” observed Gyll, seating herself thereon, with a laugh. But Eleanor, sinking down, fatigued and despairing, made no answer. Meanwhile their captor was methodically cutting from the deer a steak, which he presently held over the fire on the prongs of a green crotch. Soon the meat sizzled and grew black, whereupon, turning to his captives, the Indian held it out, and, with a gesture, bade them eat. Gyll laughed. “Are we to devour it whole, Towaye?”