She told a long story, from which Amyas picked up, as far as he could
understand her, that that trumpet had been for years the torment of her
life; the one thing in the tribe superior to her; the one thing which
she was not allowed to see, because, forsooth, she was a woman. So she
determined to show them that a woman was as good as a man; and hence her
hatred of marriage, and her Amazonian exploits. But still the
Piache[195-12] would not show her that trumpet, or tell her where it
was: and as for going to seek it, even she feared the superstitious
wrath of the tribe at such a profanation. But the day after the English
went, the Piache chose to express his joy at their departure; whereon,
as was to be expected, a fresh explosion between master and pupil, which
ended, she confessed, in her burning the old rogue's hut over his head,
from which he escaped with loss of all his conjuring-tackle, and fled
raging into the woods, vowing that he would carry off the trumpet to the
neighboring tribe. Whereon, by a sudden impulse, the young lady took
plenty of coca, her weapons, and her feathers, started on his trail, and
ran him to earth just as he was unveiling the precious mystery. At which
sight (she confessed), she was horribly afraid, and half inclined to
run: but, gathering courage from the thought that the white men used to
laugh at the whole matter, she rushed upon the hapless conjurer, and
bore off her prize in triumph; and there it was!

"I hope you have not killed him?" said Amyas.

"I did beat him a little; but I thought you would not let me kill him."

Amyas was half amused with her confession of his authority over her: but
she went on,

"And then I dare not go back to the Indians; so I was forced to come
after you."

"And is that, then, your only reason for coming after us?" asked stupid
Amyas.

He had touched some secret chord--though what it was he was too busy to
inquire. The girl drew herself up proudly, blushing scarlet, and said--

"You never tell lies. Do you think that I would tell lies?"

On which she fell to the rear, and followed them steadfastly, speaking
to no one, but evidently determined to follow them to the world's end.

They soon left the high road; and for several days held on downwards,
hewing their path slowly and painfully through the thick underwood. On
the evening of the fourth day, they had reached the margin of a river,
at a point where it seemed broad and still enough for naviga