“The law says you shall be put to death, not that you will be permitted to die in time,” said he.
“Oh; very well, let it be that way,” I agreed. “But I am innocent of any intent to wrong you, or any of your people, your Majesty; so I appeal to you to postpone putting me to death as long as possible.”
He stared at me in a puzzled way.
“It is not fear,” he muttered, “that drives you to beg for your life—for a few brief hours or days. What is it, then?”
“I’ve acquired a habit of living,” said I, “and I hate to break it. Also I have a duty to perform—to instruct you in the truth concerning the great world outside of Faytan, of which I find you are very ignorant. I must show you how far behind other nations you are; how much you have yet to learn. You cannot gain this information from your own people, who are as ignorant as you are; you must gain it from me, before I am put to death. You say proudly that you rule a great country, but there is a way for you to make it a far greater country. You say your people are happy and prosperous, but I can teach you how to give them many comforts they are now without.”
At last I had interested him, for he was an intelligent youth. His eyes flashed. He rose to his feet, facing me, and asked:
“Can you do this?”
“Yes; and more. I can tell you of things you have never even dreamed of, which will make Faytan greater and more powerful than it has ever been—since the beginning of time.”
“Then,” said he, “your death shall wait until I have listened to your teachings. But do not misunderstand me. I grant you neither pardon nor life. I merely postpone your death.”
“That is fair enough,” I answered. “I am satisfied.”
Deliberately and with dignity he again seated himself, turning toward my captors, who had heard all this conversation plainly.
“You may go,” said he.
Evidently the king had no thought of asking anyone’s advice as to his actions. He told the captain of the guard to take us to a certain room and keep us safely until he sent for us, and as we bowed low and left the youthful monarch he turned and cast himself prone upon the blankets of the throne again. When I looked back over my shoulder I found he had buried his face in his hands and his attitude was one of great dejection.
The Pearl Temple was also the Royal Palace, for as the king was the sole priest of the Pearl God it was fitting that his abode should be in this sacred place. Seldom has a nation placed the supreme power, both religious and political, in the hands of one person. It is concrete autocracy and usually a priesthood protects a country from its king while the king protects it from the priests. But here was decidedly a one-man rule—and the man was a boy. If we could win the boy’s friendship there were no complications to thwart his will, and therein lay our sole chance of salvation.
Joe and I talked it over in our prison, a fine big room in the rear portion of the temple, with windows opening on the square. There were no guards, nor were we bound or otherwise restrained except by the command of the king to remain in the room until sent for. We might easily have dropped from one of the windows to the crowded streets; but that would have availed us nothing. We might have walked out by way of the corridors, and met the guards at the other end. Really, we were safe enough, and our captors knew it.
Our unfortunate mishap caused us considerable uneasiness. It was not so much on account of our personal safety, although of that we had ample cause to fear; but I worried lest my father or Uncle Naboth, suspecting we were captured, should send out a party to attempt to rescue us. From my present information I knew that would mean death to them all; only while in the ship fort, with ample supplies of guns and ammunition, could they successfully oppose these numerous and powerful Faytans.
At noon we were given ample rations of excellent food; fish, turtle and lobster forming the chief dishes. The drinking water, almost ice-cold from earthen jars, was the finest I ever tasted. Women waited upon us, but when I spoke to them in their native tongue they refused to answer.
After the meal the king came in, unannounced and alone. The youth walked with great dignity and his face was very sad. Sitting upon a bench beside us he said:
“You will tell me of the world beyond the sea, and I will listen. But first tell me your names, and what island you come from.”
We introduced ourselves and said we were Americans, but of course that meant nothing to him.
“I am Attero, the twentieth of that name who has ruled in Faytan,” said he proudly. Then he began to examine our clothing and to feel the texture of the cloth, asking us how it was made and of what use the various garments might be.
Joe is not much of a talker, so I spent several hours giving the king the most primitive sort of information, taking care to so explain our machinery and inventions as to set him wondering at our cleverness. He was more interested at first in “the weapon that stings” than in any other mechanical contrivance, and you may be sure I explained the death-dealing character of our guns in a most impressive manner.
“Your people are many, oh King,” said I; “but our rifles and revolvers have more stings in them than you have people, although our own numbers are so few.”
He pondered this a moment.
“I thought that might be so,” he returned. “That is a reason why I did not sooner send my people to capture you. My chief Medicine Man, Kuru, has been studying this matter, and Kuru has found that while the metal stings enter human flesh, and pass through it, they do not go far into the bark of the trees. For when my father and some of his people were stung, many other stings flew over their heads and reached the forest, where we found the marks they made. This is the first time such weapons have been used by invaders into Faytan. All others have had spears and arrows like our own. Also you are the only pale-skins who have come to Faytan.”
“The pale-skins have more wisdom than the dark-skins,” I asserted. “They have conquered all the known world. The reason Faytan has not yet been conquered by us is that until the storm drove us upon your coast we did not know such an island existed.”
He bowed gravely.
“That proves how wise my forefathers were in making our laws,” said he. “We have been left in peace because the restless pale-skins, who love to conquer what does not belong to them, did not know where to find Faytan. Had we permitted any to leave our shores alive you would then have heard of us. Also my forefathers declared that other nations would want our pearls, which have brought good luck to us for many years. Is that also true?”
“It is,” I replied frankly. “My people like all pretty things, and you must know that pearls are found not alone in Faytan, but in many other parts of the world.”
He seemed surprised.
“As many as we have?” he asked.
“Perhaps not. But pearls are not unknown to us. See,” and I showed him my watch fob, which was set with a large diamond surrounded by small pearls. He paid no attention to the diamond but examined the pearls carefully. Then he smiled.
“Have you seen any so small, so dull and colorless in my kingdom?” he asked.
“No, your Majesty.”
“Such trifles grow in small shellfish, which we do not open, but throw back into the sea to allow them to grow. Those which you have are dead. The life is gone from them. We know how to keep all our pearls alive by bathing them in the salt water,” he said. Then he asked. “What is on the other end of this yellow chain?”
I exhibited my watch and explained its use. He was greatly excited over this trinket, especially when I showed him the wheels and how to keep them going by winding. I thought it good policy to make him a present of the watch, which was a cheap affair, and he accepted it with evidences of joy and gave me in return a necklace of pearls worth a fortune.
When he left us he said:
“You must tell me more of your wonderful land and your wise people, for truly you are able to teach me much.”
He paused on his way out and came slowly back to us.
“Tell me how my people can be safe from your stings,” he begged.
“By keeping a long distance away from them,” I replied promptly.
“Is there no other way?”
“None, your Majesty.”
“My chief Medicine Man, Kuru, thought that if we made shields of bark, and carried them before us, the stings would not hurt.”
That explained the work we had seen the natives doing in the forest. But I hastened to assure King Attero that such shields were useless, as when they came neat to our guns the bullets would go through them easily.
“Then,” said he, in a grieved tone, “many of my people will die, for they will make the attack to-morrow morning.”
“Can you not send swift messengers and stop them?” I asked anxiously.
“I will not do that,” he answered, “for it is not good to give one order to change another. But I will spend the night in beseeching the great Pearl God to protect my people from the pale-skins. Our god has never yet failed us.”
With that he left us and we saw no more of him until the following afternoon. When he entered our room then, the boy king was more cheerful of countenance and stepped more firmly and proudly than ever.
“The Pearl God told me not to fear, for all would be well with my people,” he announced.
I looked at him curiously. Could one so naturally intelligent really believe some mythical god had spoken to him? But it is not safe to question anyone’s religion. Ignoring the point I asked:
“Have you heard news of the battle?”
“Yes. Many of my warriors have been killed, and your ship has not yet been captured. But they are still fighting.”
I heard this report with pleasure, and Joe shouted: “Hooray!”
The king did not seem annoyed.
“If we do not succeed to-day, we will to-morrow,” he prophesied, with cool assurance. “For to-morrow I shall go to the battle myself, and carry with me our greatest Chieftain, known as the Crooked One.”
“May we go, also?” I inquired, eagerly.
He considered the request thoughtfully. Then he replied:
“It would seem best to drown you both this evening, before I leave for the fight. The Crooked One has advised that, and his wisdom is great. But I wish to be taught more of your knowledge, so I will let you live until my return.”
“But why must we stay here?” I asked.
“Would you assist me in defeating your people, if I took you with me?”
“No,” said I.
He took my hand and touched it lightly to his breast.
“What I like in the pale-skins,” he said, “is the truth-tongue. You do not try to deceive me. That is why I have let you live to teach me. From a lying teacher I would gain but little knowledge.”
I have said before that this boy was remarkably intelligent for a savage. There was also a nobility in his nature that was admirable and noteworthy. I am no more truthful than the average American, but it was not easy to try to deceive one of so simple and frank a character. From the first I had thought it the best policy to be honest with him. Had the pale-skins always been honest in their dealings with the dark-skinned races many national tragedies would have been averted.
We passed several hours in conversation, Joe taking a part in the talk, now and then, but leaving most of it to me. Finally the king withdrew, saying he would not see us again until after his return from the “war.”
It was getting dark and we were thinking of going to bed on our benches—which were plentifully supplied with soft blankets—when a sound of slow and dragging footsteps along the corridor aroused us. A light flickered across the doorway and was followed by a native bearing a torch of rottenwood.
At once I knew who it was. The shrewd, withered features, iron-gray locks and penetrating glance; the humpbacked frame, long arms and spindle legs could belong to none but the “Crooked One,” of whom the king had spoken. I wondered if he came with his Majesty’s permission, for he shielded the torch with a portion of an ample robe that partially covered his misshapen body and peered at us silently a while before addressing us.
Then he said, speaking in a low, soft voice:
“Strangers, I am here to assist you. Our mighty King, the wise Attero, has accepted you as his friends; but that will not save you from the death which the law decrees.”
He paused impressively, and I asked:
“What will save us, then?”
“Perhaps nothing at all,” he returned, evasively. “But I am the King’s adviser, even as I was his father’s adviser, and I command all the warriors of Faytan. If King Attero listens to anyone, he will listen to me.”
“And you will try to save us?”
“If you will do what I am about to ask.”
I reflected.
“There seems no way to evade the law,” said I. “The law is as old as Faytan, I am told, and demands the death of every stranger landing upon your shores. The King has himself informed us that he is powerless to evade the law, even if he desired to.”
The Crooked One smiled sardonically.
“Who makes the laws of Faytan?” he demanded.
“The King’s forefathers made this law, it seems,” I returned.
“True. Only the King can make a law in Faytan. And—only the King can unmake it.”
I sprang to my feet, inspired by a new hope. Of course the king had power to abrogate the present law! Why had I not thought of this before? It was an absurd law. The king was our friend.
The Crooked One, having spoken so impressively, was now regarding us with marked attention. The look enabled me to recover my composure quickly.
“Well, then?” said I.
He sat down upon a bench, looking more crooked than ever.
“I am Chief of the Warriors of Faytan,” he repeated. “I have fought many invaders, and all are dead. For it is true that until now none has been able to resist the number and power of the Faytans I have led. Your own people cannot resist them for long; yet they are more terrible in a fight than any we have ever met. There are perhaps as many persons in your ship as I have fingers and toes; there are more Faytans than the hairs of my head. In time, in spite of your stinging weapons, which the King says are called guns, we shall surely capture you all. But if there is much fighting many of my warriors will have died before we conquer and destroy the pale-skins. I do not wish to have my warriors die. Why is it necessary? So I have come to you, the King’s teachers, to say this: Teach me, also. Teach me how to capture your people, and in return I will ask the King to make a new law and cancel the old one, so that you two will be permitted to remain in Faytan as long as you live, not only safe from harm but honored by the King and all his people.”
“Chief,” I returned, amused but angry, “we could not be honored by anyone if we proved ourselves dishonorable. Will any of your warriors betray you, or your King, to save their own lives? I do not think they would. Nor will we be less noble than the Faytans. But I will give you this answer: We could not betray our people if we would; for there is no way you or your warriors can avoid death if you fight with the pale-skins. Had you made them your friends they would have gone away and left you in peace. But if you foolishly continue to make war upon them, you and your island are lost forever, for no human power can save you.”
“A man is but a man,” he returned, “whether his skin be pale or brown. You have powerful weapons, but you are few in numbers. If you could kill half my warriors the other half would finally conquer you.”
“That remains to be proven,” I said.
He arose from the bench and paced up and down, the light of the torch making him appear like some huge goblin.
“So you would sacrifice your own lives to save your friends?” he asked.
“Willingly, if it is necessary.”
“And are they as loyal to you?”
“Any one of them would die to save us,” I asserted proudly.
He laughed at this; a low, cackling laugh that was not pleasant to hear.
“Then they must be allowed to do so,” he said, and picking up the torch left the room without another word or even a parting glance in our direction.
“I don’t like that,” growled Joe. “He’s up to some deviltry, I’m sure.”
“The same thing has occurred to me,” I replied. “Let us remember his words. He will allow our friends to die to save our lives. It’s a trick of some sort, Joe. The Crooked One is far more dangerous than the King himself.”
“What can he do?” inquired my friend.
“I don’t know; but that clever old head has conceived some shrewd idea, or I’m greatly mistaken. We must be on our guard, Joe. I wish we had some way of warning our people.”
“Might send them a wireless,” said Joe, grinning.
“Well, let’s go to bed and forget it,” I suggested. “Nothing can happen before morning, anyhow.”
But in this declaration I was wrong. Something happened within the hour—a summons to attend the king. We had gone to bed but had not fallen asleep when the messenger came, so in a few moments we were ready to follow the captain of the guard to the throne room.
His Majesty was ready for the field. He bore a short spear with rows of pearls set in the shaft, and over his shoulder was slung a bow and sheaf of arrows. In his belt was the native two-edged tomahawk, and the young fellow looked fit to render a good account of himself, had he been going to fight savages like himself.
Beside the king stood the Crooked One, who bore no arms at all. We afterward learned that this famous chieftain, contrary to the custom of these islanders, never fought in person but contented himself planning the battle and directing his men. In this he was unconsciously imitating the great generals of the civilized world.
“Come,” said Attero. “We are ready for the journey.”
“Oh! are we to go along?” I asked in surprise.
“Yes,” said he, and marched out into the square. We followed. It was pitch dark, but a group of men outside bore torches. Several litters had been provided, similar to the “stretchers” we carry wounded men on. The king took possession of one of these, the Crooked One of another. A third and fourth were for the use of Joe and myself. As soon as I had reclined upon the litter four men started away with it, going on a jog trot, and I found it by no means uncomfortable.
It was a queer procession. Half a dozen runners carried torches ahead of us to light the way. The king’s litter came first; then the chieftain’s, followed by mine and Joe’s. More torchbearers closed the line. And so we proceeded at a rapid pace over hill and dale through the black night to the opposite end of the island.
As we came to the further edge of the forest, dawn broke. It was a gray, dismal day and I thought the sky threatened rain.
A great assemblage of warriors met us and welcomed the king and the Crooked One with evident satisfaction. I stood by and listened while several leaders made their reports. It seemed the fighting had been constant the day before, and time and again the natives had been repulsed with heavy loss. The “stinging things” went straight through the bark shields, which the wise Kuru had recommended, and they had therefore been abandoned. Between the forest and the ship the plain was strewn with dead and wounded Faytans, and their friends could only go under cover of darkness to reclaim their bodies, as whenever they showed themselves a hail of bullets greeted them.
I was very proud to learn that my friends were doing such excellent work. Against their rapid-fire guns the poor natives with their primitive weapons had no show whatever. Yet the simple creatures had persisted in sacrificing themselves uselessly.
The Crooked One listened calmly to the reports. Then he asked:
“Have any of the invaders left the ship?”
Not any, they told him, since the two who were prisoners had flown away through the air.
“Very good,” said he. “To-day, my warriors, we will capture all the pale-skins.”
I was curious to learn how he would do it; but breakfast seemed the first thing on the programme, and of this meal Joe and I were given an ample share.
Afterwards the king walked aside with his chieftain while they conferred together privately, speaking in low tones. The natives, stolid and calm, obeying implicitly—and indifferent to life or death—awaited their pleasure in silence. Then Joe and I were led to the edge of the forest and permitted to step out into the open and observe the ship. There was no sign of life on board at first, and rather anxiously I pulled out my handkerchief and waved it to and fro, regardless of the Faytans just behind me. Joe imitated my example and after a moment a flag was run up on the mainmast and ducked once or twice to show we had been recognized.
To find only that short distance separating us from our friends was distinctly aggravating and I was almost tempted to cut and run for the ship and chance a spear thrust between my shoulders. Turning my head to see how near the natives were I found the Crooked One grinning with much satisfaction, and saw him exchange a triumphant glance with the youthful king.
This nettled me, for I at once suspected we had been playing into the hands of our enemies and for some reason had been placed where we were in order that our friends on the ship might recognize us. A moment later the chieftain gave a signal and we were seized by strong natives and our hands bound firmly behind our backs.
Then the mystery was explained.
The Faytan warriors, fully armed, formed in two long lines just behind us, Joe being placed in front of one line and I before another. It was easy to guess their plan then. They intended to use us for living shields, believing our friends would not dare to fire upon us, and so advance near enough to the ship to board it with a rush and slay the pale-skins by sheer force of numbers.
It was a desperate attempt, cleverly conceived, and based upon my assertion to the Crooked One that our friends would sacrifice themselves for our sakes.
But nature took a hand in the game just then. The sky had been overcast since daybreak, and just as the two lines were advancing into the open, pushing Joe and me before them, the clouds opened and immense drops of rain came pattering down. It grew dark, too, so that we could scarcely see the ship, and the Faytans hesitated and looked inquiringly at their chieftain.
The Crooked One eyed the sky, listened to the low growl of thunder, and ordered his men back to the forest. Next moment the rain came down in floods, and a bolt of lightning crashed overhead and sent a tall tree toppling down upon us. No one was hurt, but it was now so dark we could not see one another, and the great battle of the elements seemed to render our puny human war insignificant.
I realized this would be a good time to make a break for liberty, but our hands were tied and the cords held by stalwart Faytans, so that we were unable to take advantage of the opportunity.
Crash after crash succeeded, and the thunder was deafening, while around us the lightning darted like angry serpents. They have terrible storms in these tropics, at times, and it is no unusual thing for an island to suddenly disappear and never be heard of again. The tempest we now experienced was so extraordinary that I believe it awed even the natives.
I could hear the sea pounding against the rocks and wondered if the boats patrolling the reefs could survive. An hour, perhaps, the storm lasted; but it broke almost as suddenly as it began, and while the trees still dripped rivulets upon us, who were drenched to the skin already, the sun came out brilliantly, shining for the first time that day. The clouds tumbled away hurriedly, as if they had business elsewhere; the wind hushed and was still and only the fierce boom of the breakers remained to remind us of our late fearful experience.
The Faytans also recovered quickly. A few moments sufficed to turn the hundreds of dusky dripping statues into eager, alert warriors, and again the Crooked One ordered the advance—in the same manner previously attempted.
Neither Joe nor I was big enough to fully cover the lines of gigantic warriors crowding behind us; but the idea was that our friends would not dare fire for fear of hitting us. If the natives could in this manner advance close enough to stampede up the rocks to the ship, they hoped to get enough men aboard to conquer our small party very quickly. For at close range the savages had no doubt of their own superiority.
For a time it seemed their plot would be successful. Joe and I held back as much as we could, with that pushing crowd behind us, but steadily we approached the ship and no sign came from those on board. I began to be worried. Surely Uncle Naboth and Ned Britton were too clever to allow a lot of half naked islanders to outwit them; yet not a head appeared above the bulwarks, not a puff of smoke or rifle ball proved that our tried and trusty seamen were prepared to sell their lives dearly and defend the women to the last.
We had reached the first of the rocks that clustered above the shore and had began to stumble over them when, with an abruptness that fairly made me jump, a near by crack of firearms saluted us and a straggling volley was poured upon the devoted natives. Not from the ship, however; the shots came from a ridge of rocks directly to the left of us, and the Faytans began falling by the dozens.
“Drop, Joe!” I cried, and at the same time fell flat upon my face between two protecting rocks and lay there while the slaughter continued.
I was exulting in the strategy that had outflanked the Faytans and reflecting that our boys had made a dash for those rocks during the darkness of the storm, when their movements could not be observed, when two stout arms seized me and raised me bodily from the ground. I thought at first some of our own people had rescued me, but being turned face down over a broad shoulder I saw the dusky skin of a savage below me and knew that I had been taken by a Faytan.
Instantly I began to struggle and cry out, but bound as I was I could offer no serious resistance and my howls were almost drowned by the crack of rifles, which continued unabated. I know now that my friends saw my plight and Ned and Señor de Jiminez, who were both splendid shots, made one or two attempts to bring down my captor; but my sprawling body so covered him that only his head and legs were free, and to fire at him at all was to put me in imminent danger.
He was a powerful fellow, and fairly ran with me—no light burden, if I am small—back to the forest. There were few of his band as successful and he doubtless owed his own safety to the fact that he bore me upon his back.
The “stinging weapons” had played fearful havoc with the attacking party, and even as the few stragglers who survived—most of them wounded—crept back to the protecting forest, our men sallied from the rocks, hastily stripped the pearl ornaments from the fallen, and regained the ship without a single casualty.
I stood among the trees watching them, with the king at one side of me and the Crooked One on the other side. My joy was equaled by the chagrin of my enemies when we saw Joe was safe with his comrades and being complimented on all sides, while the ladies waved their handkerchiefs to him from the deck of the ship.
We were a silent party. I, because I was so disappointed and disgusted at my hard luck that I could almost have cried, and the others because their prettily conceived plan of attack had been thwarted and their warriors mowed down by scores.
“It is useless, your Majesty,” announced the Crooked One, regretfully; “the weapons of the pale-skins are too bitter for us to face. The other plan is best. It will require time and patience; but it is best.”
“Come, then,” replied the King, briefly. “We will return to the city.”
“What is the other plan?” I inquired, as we were conducted to our litters.
“We shall let thirst and hunger fight for us,” answered Attero, readily. “Your people will soon need fresh water; but they cannot get it without entering the forest, where my warriors will patiently await them.”
I got into my litter, where my bonds were removed and I was borne along by my bearers beside the king.
“Did the boats escape the storm?” I asked presently.
He nodded.
“Of course. There was less danger to them on the water than to us in the forest.”
“But the reefs—”
“My men are fishes first, and warriors afterward. They are used to storms and do not dread them.”
I did not see how any living thing could withstand the breakers on the reefs, but said nothing more on that subject.
The king was unusually quiet and seemed not to wish to converse with me. I could not well blame him, seeing he had just witnessed the destruction of many of his choicest fighting men.
Dismally enough we made our way back to the Pearl City, where to my satisfaction I was taken to my old room at the back of the temple. I missed Joe, but was glad he was safe with his friends. It was not the room that I cared especially for, but the evidence that I still retained the young king’s good will. Had he ordered me to some other place in close confinement, I might know my end was not very far off.
Attero sent for me the following day and asked me to continue my descriptions of American life. In view of the fact that he was determined upon the destruction of our entire band I thought best to impress upon him our national importance and to assure him that, as our ships sailed every sea, it was only a question of time when others would discover Faytan and come in such numbers that they could not be successfully opposed. Also I explained many of the luxuries and conveniences we enjoyed, of which the Faytans were wholly ignorant, and informed the king that he and his people could readily secure them all in exchange for a portion of their pearls.
“At present the pearls are of no value to you,” said I, “as you can use them only as ornaments. But by disposing of even your smallest ones you can secure practical inventions and manufactured goods that would have the effect of civilizing your people and render their lives far more pleasant and useful.”
Attero thought deeply upon this matter, and I could see my arguments tempted him; but neither during this interview nor others could I overthrow the prejudices inherited from a long line of exclusive ancestors, who believed Faytan was the important portion of the world and none but Faytans must ever be permitted to live upon the island.
“I would like the good things the pale-skins have,” he admitted, “but not at the price we would have to pay. Our riches lie in our pearls; not because they could be exchanged for so many other things, but because they bring us good luck, and the vast collection we have keeps the Pearl God here among us, and thus insures his protection. We are now prosperous and do not miss your great inventions because we have never had them. But if we allowed you to go away and return with more of your people, think what would happen! Our happy life would become one of turmoil and eagerness to gain worldly goods. Some of my people would want more than their share, and that would lead to envy and quarrels. At present all property belongs to the King, and each of his subjects is given what he requires. My people are content with this condition and it would be foolish for me to change it.”
“Then,” said I, “I have another proposition. Allow us to leave this island, and do you come with us as our guest. We will take you to America and show you our cities and our great civilization. You will acquire much wisdom, much learning and experience. And afterward, if you still desire it, we will bring you back here, land you upon your island, and go away without telling anyone of Faytan or its king. We will faithfully keep your secret, your Majesty, and you will be no worse off than before we came, but far richer in knowledge of the world.”
I thought this would win him, for a time; but finally he rejected the plan, as he did all others I suggested. We talked together on several days, but my stories of our life and the wonders of our civilization seemed to content him. One evening he said to me:
“You have given me much to think of, Steele; and after you are dead I shall remember you as a good teacher. I am even sorry the law compels me to put you to death; but it does, and my chiefs and medicine men are beginning to reproach me for the delay.”
“The King is supreme,” I said rather uneasily.
“Because he obeys the same laws his subjects do,” was the answer. “Were I to disobey the laws of my great ancestors there would soon be rebels and traitors in Faytan.”
I remembered the suggestion of the Crooked One.
“The King who makes the laws has power to change them,” I asserted. “If you proclaim a new law, saying that I, your friend, must be permitted to live, your subjects will accept it willingly.”
He smiled and looked at me rather pityingly.
“It would please me to do that,” said he; “but it would be wrong. I must not, for my own pleasure, disobey my forefathers, who in their wisdom said that all strangers must be put to death. Is my own judgment so perfect that I dare oppose that of twenty noble rulers of Faytan? No. I have the power to save you in that way; but I will not do so.”
“Never mind,” said I; “we will speak of this matter again, some other time.”
He gave me a steady look.
“There will be no opportunity,” was his reply. “I like you, Steele. I am glad you have been my friend. But to-morrow you will be put to death.”
“To-morrow!”
“I have waited too long already. My people are unhappy to see a pale-skin alive when the law condemns him to death. It will be to-morrow.”
He turned away.
“Wait, your Majesty—hear me!” I pleaded.
He waved me aside with a haughty gesture and left the room. The Faytans are philosophers and accept death without a murmur. The king, my friend, could not understand my protest.
Friend? Well, it was a queer sort of friendship that made no effort to save me; that had no sympathy for my unhappy fate.
I am a good deal of a coward at times. That night I could not sleep. Thinking over my predicament with sober care I could see no possible way of escape. My prison was well guarded. If I managed to leave it there was no chance of my being able to pass through the native city and gain the ship unchallenged. Still, desperate conditions require desperate remedies, and I had my two revolvers in my pocket, both fully loaded. About midnight it occurred to me to make a bold dash for liberty. If I failed I could be no worse off than now, since I was condemned to die the next morning.
The windows of my room were not glazed or barred. They were big square openings placed about five feet above the floor. By standing on the stone bench that ran around the room I could look out upon the square at the rear of the temple. I had no light; neither was there any light burned outside; but the stars were bright enough for me to observe all surrounding objects distinctly. I found the square deserted save by a solitary form standing almost directly beneath my window, his back toward me. A blanket covered his head and shoulders, for the natives dread the chill night air and usually wear a blanket in this manner when abroad at night.
I waited for the man to move away, but when a half hour passed and he did not stir I decided he was a sentry placed there to prevent my escape. It was the first time a guard of any sort had been set to watch over me.
The sight of his blanket gave me an idea. I gathered up one of the heaviest of those with which my bench was provided and creeping into the thick embrasure of the window I spread the blanket, dropped it swiftly over the head of the sentry, and then leaped down and caught him firmly around the arms, bearing him to the ground with my weight.
Although muffled in the blanket, which obstructed free action, the fellow struggled desperately, and I soon realized I could not subdue him. I dared not fire a revolver, as the sound would bring a horde upon me; so I managed to draw my pocket knife and open the blade. With this I stabbed repeatedly at the blanket, trying to reach the man’s heart, but the cloth was so thick and closely woven that the rather blunt end of my knife would not penetrate it, and all the while I was having greater difficulty in holding him down.
Rendered desperate by this condition I suddenly sprang away and made for the nearest alley that led out of the square, leaving the sentry to fumble with the blanket until he could free his head.
Before he could do this I had entered a narrow street, up which I ran at my best speed. By good luck it led westward, and I had visions of making a successful run across the island when suddenly in the darkness a pair of strong arms were flung around me and I was pinioned in a viselike grip.
“Pardon me,” said a low, sneering voice, in the native tongue. “It is not wise to walk out at night. The dews of Faytan are dangerous.”
It was the Crooked One.
Panting and breathless I stood an unresisting prisoner, for I knew the game was up. But I did not reply, understanding that any remark would only call forth more triumphant sneers. As we stood there footsteps hastily approached and another joined us.
“Have you got him?” asked the newcomer.
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Good,” said Attero. “He nearly smothered me.”
“I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” said I. “I had no idea it was you.”
“And had you known—what then?” he asked.
“I believe I should have acted in the same way.”
The Crooked One laughed, and said:
“While I hold him, your Majesty will do well to search him. He may carry dangerous weapons.”
Attero had no hesitation in obeying this request. He took away my revolvers. My knife I had dropped in the square. Then I was led back to my prison.
“I suspected,” said the Crooked One as he thrust me into my old room, “that on this night you would attempt to escape, knowing you are to die to-morrow.”