ives.

Slowly Sir Francis continued, and now one watching intently might have
sensed from the gleam in his eyes that he had reached the real point in
the interview.

"One question, nevertheless, would I ask of all-wise Torquam before we
part." He hesitated, searching the impassive face of the Indian. "Can'st
tell me of a Spaniard, one Cabrillo, son to that arch pirate of Spain,
who, since his father's death, still sails upon these waters? To him I
bear a message,"--again he paused while the heart of Wildenai beat in
sudden panic beneath her fawnskin tunic; but Torquam's face remained
blank as a page unwritten,--"a message from our queen," added Drake. The
last words were uttered with significance.

The Indian slowly shook his head.

"The noble white chief asks what is unknown to any man," he answered.
"The young Cabrillo once landed, 'tis true, on Punagwandah. Many moons
ago it was. Where he is now, how should Torquam know?"

In his bitter disappointment the hand of the Englishman sought the
hilt of his sword. Instantly a ring of warriors closed darkly about the
chief.

Drake laughed.

"Nay then, 'tis but by chance I asked thee, thinking thou mightst tell
me. It matters not. The gift I promised thee will come, as I said,
tonight."

He turned to go and young Harold rose to follow. Then, perceiving the
dark eyes of the princess fixed wistfully upon him, he hesitated and,
obeying a sudden impulse, he stepped hastily to her side.

"When they return with the gift for thy father," he whispered, "I will
come with them," he smiled into her soft eyes shining with pleased
surprise, "and I will bring a gift to thee as well, oh Wildenai, fairest
of maidens!"

Drake gave a sharp command. His followers sprang to their feet, and
without further ceremony the party passed quickly down the beach to
their boat.

But the princess Wildenai did not leave the feasting ground. Hidden
by deepening shadows she watched the ship's lights glimmer across the
water. Glad indeed was she of the darkness, for a warm flush glowed
in her cheeks and her heart throbbed with a strange new pleasure, a
pleasure bordering close on fear, yet wholly sweet.

But when, at length, the quiet of sleep had descended upon the village,
once again she sought her father. He, too, within the open doorway of
his lodge, watched intently the distant ship. Without surprise he saw
his daughter enter and, as she knelt upon the blanket beside him, he
stretched a h