er irrelevant
nothings, her keen eyes roved over every face. And Spotted Dog drew and
held her gaze as no other did; his face was awork with savage unbelief,
his loose lips wreathed and curled in his impatience to speak. At last
his fury could not be longer restrained; he sprang to the front, and
howled:

"Lies, all lies! Thy chit of a maid--"

The words were choked in his throat with terrible suddenness. Like
something unearthly, reaching from the unknown, the hand of death
gripped Spotted Dog and he stumbled and fell forward, gnashing his teeth
and clawing futilely at his breast. Dolores did not move. Her expression
did not change. Milo had again proved faithful.

But others of Spotted Dog's band, the greatest malcontents, stood
forward and peered down at their fallen leader; then with a shout of
rage they leaped up, faced the altar, and urged their fellows on.

"More infernal witchcraft!" they cried. "Tear the black witch and her
altar down!"

A moment of frightful silence followed, for the speakers felt the same
mysterious hand that had reached for and grasped their leader. One by
one they dropped in their tracks, smitten none knew how or whence; and
even Pearse, with Stumpy's band, shivered at the terrible uncanniness of
it. Then Caliban shook off his terror, sensed human agency in the silent
death, and looked around for the hand that sped it. As he glared, a dart
entered his own breast; but this one, ill-sped, failed in its mission.
The pirate staggered, his eyes widened, then he seized the protruding
dart. For an instant he hesitated; then taking the direction indicated
by the slanting missile, he flung an arm toward Stumpy's crew and
howled:

"There's the dog! There's the sudden death! Tear 'em up, bullies! Pull
Stumpy down!"

In an instant the grove seethed with a terrific conflict, in which
Stumpy's party was set upon by three times the number. And John Pearse
was carried into the thick of the fight; unwilling or not, his skilled
rapier began to take toll of the roaring furies about him. And while the
battle raged, and Dolores stood calmly looking on, one of the pirates
whose duties had kept him at the anchorage of the schooner appeared with
a rush upon the scene and shouted:

"Lads, ye're being fooled! The slaves are even now taking the treasure
down to the schooner!"

CHAPTER XIX.

WHILE VICTORY HANGS IN THE BALANCE.

The cry rang through the Grove like a trumpet call, and the fight wa