dagger.

"Strike, Sultana," said Milo simply. He drew aside the strap of his
leathern tunic, baring his heart. "Strike, but first suffer thy slave to
release thee from this tomb."

"Release? Tomb? What talk is this?" gasped Dolores, her dagger held
poised aloft, her lips quivering.

"A tomb it is if thy servant falls, Sultana. None save I can open the
great door. Close it? Yes, any might close it. Come, I will lead thee
out of this awful presence; then at the gate thou shalt send Milo to his
master who loved him."

Slowly Dolores slipped her dagger into the sheath, and her face was
bowed in confusion. All her life, the giant slave had tended her,
guarded her steps and her sleep, taught her the exercises that had made
her feared by all the turbulent crew outside; and she was now permitted
the saving grace of remembrance. She gave him her hand, and allowed him
to place it upon his head, always his favorite means of expression when
she followed an outburst of rage with contrition; and in softer tone she
begged for an answer to the riddle that had been left with her.

"Come, Sultana," Milo said, once more laying a hand on her shoulder,
this time without resentment from her. "Thy father, the Red Chief, left
much to be told; I will tell thee all, but not now. Patience, princess,"
he pleaded, catching the warning glint in her eyes, "dost thou hear
nothing? Listen attentively--no, not in here, outside--bend thy ear to
this tapestry; 'tis before a cunning sounding stone through which voices
may well be heard on the cliffside. Listen."

Dolores listened with bad grace, for she regarded this as a subterfuge
of the giant's, and resentment was very ready to rise in her again. But
in a moment her indifference vanished; she grew alert; her body tensed,
and her limbs quivered; the glitter of a queen in righteous anger
lighted her eyes, and she raised an unnecessary hand to impress silence
upon the slave.

"Hast hear this before now?" she demanded in a vibrant whisper.

"Since thou entered, Sultana. It could be nothing but rebellion; yet was
I loath to burden my chief with this trouble in his hour of passage. But
I know now that it has risen to heights which demand swift action;
therefore I have made thee aware of it."

"'Tis that villain Rufe again!" muttered Dolores, still pressing her ear
against the tapestry. The murmur of a hundred voices came clearly to
her, and above all sounded the high-raised shout of one who harangue