ce was
quietly proud. "Come; I'll see if Aimu will receive you."

With surprising, childlike trust, she held out her little hand to him.
The gesture was so delightfully natural that Hale, grinning boyishly,
took her hand and held it as they walked down the jungle path.

"Sing for me," he demanded abruptly. "Sing the song you sang just now."

"That?" asked the girl, turning the virgin-blue fire of her eyes on him.
"That was my death-song that I practice each day. Perhaps soon I shall
be released from this." She passed her hands over her beautiful,
half-clothed body.

* * * * *

Hale's warm glance swept over her. "Do you want to die?"

"Yes; don't you? But you do not, or you would not have retreated from my
poisoned arrow."

"No, Ana; I want to live."

"To live--and be a slave of _this_?" Again her hand went over her slim
body. "A slave of a pile of flesh that you must feed and protect from
the agonies that attack it on every side? Bah! But I am hoping that my
turn will come next."

"Your turn for what, Ana?"

"To enter the Room of Release. Perhaps, if Aimu approves of you, you,
too, may taste of death." Her gentle smile was beatific.

"Do you speak of Sir Basil Addington?"

"He was called that once, before he came to us. Now he has no name. We
can find none holy enough for him; and so we call him Aimu, which means
good friend." Her beautiful face was sweet with reverence.

And now, in the distance, Hale saw that the path led into a large
clearing. He slowed his pace, for he wanted to know this lovely girl
better before he joined the Ungapuks.

"Who are you, Ana?" he asked suddenly, bending closer to the crinkled,
dull-gold hair.

"I am Ana, a white woman." She looked at him frankly.

"But who are your parents, and how did you get among the Ungapuks?"

Ana's red lips curved into a dewy smile. "I thought all white men were
wise, like Aimu. But you are stupid. How do you think a white woman
could appear in a tribe of Indians who live in the jungle, many weeks'
journey from what you call civilization?"

Hale looked a little blank and more than a little disconcerted.

"I suppose I am stupid," he said dryly. "But tell me, Ana, how did you
get here?"

"Why," she exclaimed, "he made me!"

"Made you? Good Lord! What do you mean?"

"Just what I said, Hale Oakham. If he can take a few grains of dust and
make a shoot that will grow into a giant tree like yonder monster
itau