not? Is not Dolores worthy such a sacrifice then? Hah, but
Venner is a man of decision. Thy eyes saw the treasure? It's lost to
thee--unless--" she whispered, peering up into his angry face.

"Unless?"

"Unless thou prove the better man. Dolores would have thee before all
the rest, friend; but she despises a waverer. I tell thee thy fortune is
yet in thy hands."

"How?"

"Here, I have thy sword. Take it, and keep aloof and watch. When thou
canst see men carrying the treasure chests out to the white vessel, then
will be the time to strike. Join thyself with the men who seem faithful
to my mistress. There will be fighting; and the spoils are for the
victor."

Pearse would have stayed her, but she ran from him with a tantalizing
laugh and vanished into the women's quarters.

In the morning, when the men had breakfasted, a hum of activity pervaded
the place which was attributable to the octoroon's subtle influence. As
if by prearrangement, men drew apart into little knots, each gathering
about a leader and showing indecision until each man ascertained exactly
where his fellows were going. Then Dolores appeared with Milo, and she
faced four distinct parties before the great stone.

The sun was metallic in its redness, rising from behind a group of
low-hanging, hazy clouds, casting its fierce beams on the point and the
low shores of the anchorage. A brazen sky overtopped the scene, giving
to green foliage and yellow sands alike, a glare as of terrific
artificial light.

As Dolores appeared, the party headed by Caliban stepped forward,
muttering angrily, and every man kept hand on knife or cutlass. Caliban
himself, nervous and yet determined, glared at the formidable giant and
suddenly sprang out alone, shaking his first at Milo, and working
himself into greater fury. A frown darkened the face of Dolores; she had
commanded Pascherette to bring about a condition of unrest, but nothing
like this; for in all four parties was an attitude of suspicion of
herself, not of each other. She spoke in a low voice to Milo, then
raised her hand and advanced toward Caliban.

"Well, whelp of a deformed dog!" she cried. "What do ye seek with me? Is
this the way I've taught thee to beg?"

"I beg nothing!" screamed Caliban, pacing to and fro restlessly. "We
demand, not beg!"

"Demand? Have a care for thy loose tongue!"

"My tongue's my own! We are tired of thy trumpery state. Tired of thy
mystery and falsity. We know thy plot--kn