er smaller rocks. Milo stooped to the sill of the rock, and placed
his hands beneath it.

"Stand away," he whispered, and strained his arms. "Let thy servant go
out and silence this clamor--"

"Open quickly!" she interrupted him, imperiously. "It is not for the
slave to precede the sovereign. Peace, and open."

Her hand was on her dagger, her head was raised proudly; every inch and
line of her figure irradiated splendid strength and surety; Milo heaved
at the rock, and smiled blissfully. This was indeed how he had dreamed
of his Sultana when she should come into her own.

He heaved steadily, and the great rock rose from one side, rolling up
and up until it balanced on the ledge; but Milo knew there was some
agency at work that hindered the raising of it; never before had it been
a task to bring sweat to his brow, and now he dripped from every pore.
The rock refused to balance without his hand upon it, and he dared not
take his shoulder away to look over the top lest it fall and crush him.
He cast an appealing look toward Dolores, who was impatiently waiting
for him to stand clear, and she stepped past him to the outside. She was
greeted with a roar of derision that echoed far down to the sea.

"Peace, dogs of the devil!" she cried with one hand upraised. A roaring
guffaw answered her. Then a burly ruffian, one-eyed and marked by a
great cutlas-scar that ran from his chin across his broken nose and
ended somewhere among the roots of his hair, stepped forward with a
smirk of confidence, and made a mock curtsy.

"Queen o' the pirates, we salute ye!" he said. Then threw away all
pretense, and swore a ripping curse to the destination of his soul.
"Come, my girl," he shouted, "the game's played to a finish. Th' old
buck is dead, an' we want some o' them pretties he hid away inside.
You're a nice gal, I don't deny, and we ain't going to harm ye if ye
don't hinder us; but we ain't playin' kings an' queens no more. Come
now, let the big feller take us in, and say no more about it, for have
our fling, we will."

The mob had edged nearer, until now they surged around the entrance so
close to Dolores that she felt the breath of the leaders. She noticed
with sharp wonderment that Yellow Rufe was not among the foremost; but
she was given no time to surmise, for the mob pressed on until she was
forced either to risk an advance or give ground. A little shock rippled
through her when she turned swiftly to see how Milo fared, and