ng while throttling her when first caught; it had
rattled between his fingers as the beads of a rosary, and he knew it to
be such, with a slight difference--the beads being human teeth! A
remembrance, moreover, admonishes him that this ghastly necklace was
worn by the sorceress, not for adornment, but to inspire dread. It is,
in fact, one of her weapons of weird mystery and power, and an idea has
occurred to him that it may now be used as an instrument against
herself.

Having detached it from her neck, and replaced the poncho upon her head,
he returns to where he had left the others, and holding out the string
of teeth, says to Nacena--

"Take this. Present it to the crazy paleface; tell him Shebotha sent it
as a token authorising you to act for her; and, if he be not altogether
out of his wits, I warrant it'll get you admission to the presence of
the paleface. For anything beyond, you will best know how to act of
yourself."

The girl grasps the hideous symbol, a gleam of intelligence lighting up
her swarth but beautiful face. For she, too, anticipates the effect it
will have on Shebotha's slave, from actual knowledge--not by guessing,
as with Gaspar.

Knowing herself now at liberty and free to depart, without saying
another word, she turns her back upon them; and gliding away with the
agile, stealthy step peculiar to her race, soon passes beyond their
sight.

They stand looking after her, till her dark figure disappears amid the
shadows of the scaffolds. But they have no doubt of her fidelity--no
fear that she will fail to do what she can for the fulfilment of her
promise. The keeping it is secured by her own interested motives: for
the passion impelling her to act on their behalf, though purely selfish,
can be trusted as truth itself.

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.

A DELUDED JAILER.

Midnight's hour is past, the moon has gone down, and in the Indian town
there is darkness and silence. Every one is asleep, or seems to be;
since no light shines either in _toldo_ or tent, neither can a human
figure be seen in the streets, or anywhere around.

At some distance from the houses, however, among thickly-standing trees,
and close into the base of the hill, is the quaint dwelling-place of
Shebotha--half cave, half hut--and inside this flickers a faint light,
from a dip candle of crude beeswax, with a wick of the fibre of the
_pita_ plant. By its red flame, mingled with much smoke, a collection
of curious obje