h fiercest contempt to the Indians; and at
last, with fierce gestures, seemed to cast off the very dust of her
feet against them, and springing to Amyas's side, placed herself in the
forefront of the English battle.

The whole scene was so sudden, that Amyas had hardly discovered whether
she came as friend or foe, before her bow was raised. He had just time
to strike up her hand, when the arrow flew past the ear of the offending
Piache, and stuck quivering in a tree.

"Let me kill the wretch!" said she, stamping with rage; but Amyas held
her arm firmly.

"Fools!" cried she to the tribe, while tears of anger rolled down her
cheeks. "Choose between me and your trumpet! I am a daughter of the Sun;
I am white; I am a companion for Englishmen! But you! your mothers were
Guahibas, and ate mud; and your fathers--they were howling apes! Let
them sing to you! I shall go to the white men, and never sing you to
sleep any more; and when the little evil spirit misses my voice, he will
come and tumble you out of your hammocks, and make you dream of ghosts
every night, till you grow as thin as blow-guns, and as stupid as
aye-ayes!"*

* Two-toed sloths.

This terrible counter-threat, in spite of the slight bathos involved,
had its effect; for it appealed to that dread of the sleep world which
is common to all savages: but the conjuror was ready to outbid the
prophetess, and had begun a fresh oration, when Amyas turned the tide
of war. Bursting into a huge laugh at the whole matter, he took the
conjuror by his shoulders, sent him with one crafty kick half-a-dozen
yards off upon his nose; and then, walking out of the ranks, shook hands
round with all his Indian acquaintances.

Whereon, like grown-up babies, they all burst out laughing too, shook
hands with all the English, and then with each other; being, after all,
as glad as any bishops to prorogue the convocation, and let unpleasant
questions stand over till the next session. The Piache relented, like
a prudent man; Ayacanora returned to her hut to sulk; and Amyas to his
island, to long for Cary's return, for he felt himself on dangerous
ground.

At last Will returned, safe and sound, and as merry as ever, not having
lost a man (though he had had a smart brush with the Guahibas). He
brought back three of the wounded men, now pretty nigh cured; the other
two, who had lost a leg apiece, had refused to come. They had Indian
wives; more than they could eat; and tobacco witho