to which a band of warriors
had gone several days before to hunt the otter. That no one among his
people might remain in ignorance of his command, Torquam even caused
signal fires to be kindled on each of the twin peaks, extinct volcanoes,
near the center of the island. Smoke rising there was visible from every
corner of his land, and woe to any subject who dared to disregard that
warning!

Throughout the long bright day the women toiled, preparing a ceremonial
feast. Three antelope, a deer, and half a dozen of the wild sheep which
roamed the hills were killed and placed for roasting over deep pits dug
in the sand. Nor did any member of the tribe forget in his own crude
fashion to deck himself for the occasion. The warriors adorned their
heads with feathers and daubed their cheeks and lips with ochre. The
women clothed themselves in loose-hanging tunics of doeskin girt with
strings of wampum, and hung about their tawny shoulders the lovely
greens and blues of uncut turquoise. Meanwhile, also, the great chief
Torquam donned his ceremonial dress, a string of eagle feathers held by
the crimsoned quills of the porcupine and extending down his back
until almost it touched the ground. About his neck, as token of his
priesthood, he threw the bear-claw necklace, known far and wide among
the tribes for its famous powers of healing. Wildenai alone made no
change except to bind the satin black of her hair still more smoothly
within a fillet of silver. In the center of the band, so that it rested
just above her brow, a strange device appeared, a circle enclosing many
rays,--the royal insignia of the tribe which only the daughter of the
chief might wear.

Then at last when, in the sunset, level rays of light rested golden on
the bay and turned to amethyst the distant mountains on the mainland,
all was ready. Once again, this time to the weird music of tom-toms
and the beating of drums, a boat was lowered from the ship while on the
shore the Indians watched.

It was in truth a picture not soon to be forgotten. Behind the mirrored
Bay of Moons, its crescent of sand gleaming white against the rocks, the
bands of dusky men and women stood motionless as statues in the quiet
light of the setting sun, while in the doorway of his lodge, his
daughter close beside him, Torquam waited with simple dignity to receive
his guests, the fair-skinned strangers.

At length along the beach advanced the little group of English, friends
and fel