id thy fellows replace the
treasure that is still in the powder store. And haste, for I will leave
this place this day, though all the fiends say no."

She ran along the tunnel, and Milo set his men to their task. As he
passed along to the powder chamber, a low moan arrested him, and he
halted in sudden remorse for Pascherette, whom he now felt he had judged
harshly. He left his fellows and went to the tiny alcove where the
little octoroon lay, and his great heart leaped in response to the
worship that shone in her dark eyes. He saw the dry and cracked lips,
the flushed face, and fetched water and wine before he would speak to
her. Then, with her small head and slender shoulders against his immense
chest, he gave her drink, soothing her pain with soft speech and
caressing hand.

Pascherette's wound was deep, and bleeding internally; a fever already
burned in the tiny maid's veins. She peered up at him wistfully, all of
her mischief, all her piquancy gone and replaced by a softened, humbled
expression that wrung Milo's heart-strings.

"Will ye not kiss me now, Milo?" she whispered, with a pearly drop
brimming from each eye, where laughter had so lately dwelt.

"Pascherette, thy fault was great," he answered, yet in his face was a
look so forgiving, so excusing, that the girl shivered expectantly and
closed her eyes with a happy sigh.

Yet the kiss was not given. From the great chamber the angry voice of
Dolores rang out.

"Milo! Where art thou, slave!"

And the giant tenderly laid Pascherette down again, and ran in answer.

"Sultana?"

"Blind, idle dolt! While thou art fondling that serpent of thine, thy
mistress's affairs may go hang! Haste with the treasure, or feel my
anger. While thy useless eyes were mooning on nothing, the strangers
have escaped. They are even now getting sail on the white vessel. Carry
the chests down to the Point as soon as ye may. I will stay them yet,
and they shall learn the cost of flouting Dolores! Hasten, I tell ye!"

Milo winced at her address; his black eyes, usually holding the utter
devotion of a noble dog, glittered with tiny sparks of resentment; yet
the habit of years could not be lightly cast off, and he bowed low, even
while Dolores had turned her back on him, and picked up a great empty
chest to carry it to the powder store. Here in the flickering light of a
pine splinter the slaves worked feverishly, their abject eyes sparkling
with borrowed radiance from the riches t