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were leading the doctor, whirled him about and marched him out of the room. When the door had closed behind him the man on the throne spoke.
    “Senorita de Orellana,” he said, “I have permitted you to look upon your father, alive and well. If, by high noon today you have willingly become High Priestess of Nayana Idra, which is the greatest honor I can bestow upon you, your father will still be living and unharmed. If not, then will he suffer the fate meted out to the girl in the black mask at high noon yesterday, and you, willing or unwilling, will have become my slave and handmaiden.
    “My people have demanded your death—have said that by raiding your camp Nayana Idra signified his desire for a white girl. But I, the mouthpiece of the great god, can tell them it was a white man they wanted. It is thus that I can save you. And as I have four white prisoners, any one will do for the sacrifice. I will permit you to choose which of these men shall live, and which man will die. One must be sacrificed at high noon, today.
    “You have had sufficient time since yesterday to think this offer over. Now let me have your answer.”
    “My father! You would sacrifice him if I should refuse to become your High Priestess?”
    “If you do other than consent now, there will be no hope for him.”
    “And if I do consent, only one of the others will die? You promise me that?”
    “I promise that.”
    “They are all my very dear friends. They have risked their lives to come here with me, to search for my father. Spare me all their lives, and I consent.’’
    “You ask too much, senorita. I cannot disappoint my people.”
    “Then I refuse.”
    “Think of your father.”
    “I refuse.”"
    “Very well. Your refusal is his death warrant, and you are my slave. When my flock has grown I will have many beautiful white slaves, though none. I swear, so beautiful as you.”
    He stood up and slowly drew a jeweled dagger—the only weapon that he carried—from its hilt in his sash. Then he descended the dais, while we watched him tensely, wondering what he was going to do.
    My heart leaped to my throat, and I stood tensely, ready to hurl myself at him, bound hands and all, as he stepped up before Anita. He looked down at her for a moment. Then he spun her around, and cut her bonds.
    “You are one slave I will not find it necessary to bind, little dove,” he said, “although I shall probably have to cage you.”
    He replaced the dagger in the sheath, took both her little hands in one of his, and with the other chafed her wrists.
    “You will not find me an ungentle master,” he said. “When you have learned obedience.”
    Anila suddenly withdrew her hands, held one to her eyes, and swayed slightly, about to fall. Bahna quickly caught her in his arms.
    “Let me go!” she cried weakly. “Let me go! I can stand!”
    He released her, his mask-like features as inscrutable as ever.
    “Very well,” he replied. “You are coming with me now, willingly or unwillingly, as I decreed. I hope it will not be necessary for me to use force.”
    “It will not be necessary,” she replied, "if you will first permit me to bid my good friends farewell.”
    “Do so,” he said, “and quickly.”
    She came and stood before me, looked up into my eyes and put her arms around me.
    “Good-bye, Jimmie,” she said. "You have been a good and true friend.”
    “And you have been a brave and wonderful little pal,” I replied, feeling, at the same time, something cold and sharp against my wrists. A slash, and they were free.
    “Stand thus for a minute,” she whispered. Aloud she said: “I’m glad, so glad to have known you, Jimmie, and to have been a wonderful pal. I’ll always remember. Adios!”
    “Adios!” I replied, still holding my hands behind me. I saw that during her apparent fainting spell she had secured Bahna’s keen dagger and slipped it up her sleeve.
    The High Priest evidently did not suspect her.
    She went to Mabrey next, repeated