instantly there was tumult all about us. the crowd broke and surged toward the central point in the tragedy, forcing us who were in front to struggle on the crest of the wave. their reserve vanished and each man cried to his neighbor in eager tones and allowed the mad excitement of the moment full sway.
some one cut ilalah’s bonds and the girl sank to the ground to support the head of the little arrow-maker upon her breast, pressing back his thin locks and tenderly kissing him upon the forehead.
but he knew nothing of this grateful kindness. his eyes were set and glazed, for the arrow had lodged in his heart.
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a tug at my thong threatened to strangle me, for moit had bounded forward to kneel beside ilalah and try to assist her in spite of his own helpless condition. then some semblance of order was restored and our guards pushed us back and eased the thong which was fast throttling me.
from the murmured words of the natives i gathered that tcharn had atoned by his sacrifice for all the guilt charged against the princess, as the law declared that when the death penalty was imposed another could die instead of the condemned and so set him free.
for this reason the king was raging like a wild beast and threatening those who expressed sympathy for the girl who had so miraculously escaped his brutal vengeance.
“but the whites, at least, shall die—and the black men who are with them!” he shouted aloud, casting at us such glances of hatred and ferocity that we knew our fate was sealed.
they had carried poor tcharn away and the princess had risen to her feet and now stood bravely confronting her father.
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“it is folly to talk of injuring these strangers,” she answered him, boldly. “i alone know their wonderful powers and that they are able to crush us all if we dare attempt to harm them.”
the king let out a disdainful roar, but ilalah’s words impressed many in the crowd and caused the techlas to murmur again.
“what can they do?” asked nalig-nad, derisively. “they are but human and they are in our power.”
“they have their magic chariot,” she said, “which you all know can deal death and destruction to their foes.”
“magic!” retorted the king, laughing boisterously; “do you call that poor, man-made contrivance magic?”
all eyes turned toward the opening, where a hundred yards beyond the broken wall poor moit’s automobile was standing motionless as we had left it.
most of those present had witnessed the machine’s marvelous performances, and in nearly every face now lurked an expression of awe or apprehension. nalig-nad saw the look, and it aroused him to fury.
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“come!” he cried, “i will prove that the white men have no magic.”
seizing a heavy, bronze-tipped spear from an attendant he ran from the enclosure and made directly for the automobile, followed by a crowd of his most devoted adherents. the others, with us, remained to watch curiously what he would do.
i saw moit’s face pale and his lips tremble; but he stood firm and steadfast while the king rushed upon his beloved machine and with a powerful stroke drove the spear clean through the plates of sheathing which protected the body.
i own i was amazed at such a display of strength, but a more athletic savage than nalig-nad i have never beheld. when the jagged rent was torn in the side of the automobile the crowd that surrounded it danced gleefully and jeered at the helpless child of our poor inventor’s brain as if it were alive and could feel their scorn.
again nalig-nad seized a spear and hurled it at the side of the machine, piercing once more the light but stout metal. a third went crashing into the automobile, and then—
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and then it seemed as though the world had suddenly come to an end.
i was dashed so forcibly against the huge body of my guard that where he fell upon the hard earth his head was crushed in like an eggshell. but i did not know this until i came to my senses and heard the sounds of moaning all around me and saw the ground covered with the forms of the stricken natives.
a knife severed my bonds and set me free, and i staggered to my feet to find ilalah and duncan moit supporting me until i could recover sufficiently to stand alone.
nux and bryonia, all unhurt, were busy restoring the bruised and bewildered techlas to consciousness, while uncle naboth sat upon the king’s bench, his clothing torn to tatters, and wiped away with his red handkerchief the blood that trickled from a cut in his head.
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i looked around wonderingly, trying to imagine what had happened, and saw a piece of dull silver metal driven edgewise into the front of the palace, where it was wedged firmly into the hard clay. that gave me a hint, and i looked out upon the plain where the automobile had stood and found that it had disappeared. so had nalig-nad and the crowd of furious natives that had surrounded him as he plunged his spear into the heart of duncan moit’s great invention.
then i remembered the can of glycerine explosive and knew the whole terrible story in an instant. the spear-point had made ilalah queen of the techlas. it had also deprived her lover of the perfect fruit of years of inspired thought and faithful toil.
