a second or two do they remain silent, till the sorceress recovers
breath; for it is she who breaks the silence, saying:--

"Nacena wants to speak with Shebotha? On what subject?"

"Need I tell you, Shebotha; you know!"

"I know that the sister of Kaolin is in love with our young _cacique_.
That is no secret to others, any more than to me."

"Oh! do not say that! I thought no one knew of it but--"

"But everybody," interrupts the unfeeling hag. "And what if they do?
Nacena is beautiful, the belle of our tribe, and need fear no rival; not
even her with the eyes of blue, and the tresses of gold, who sleeps
under Shebotha's roof. Nacena is jealous of the paleface captive; she
has no cause."

"O, good Shebotha!" cries the young girl, in passionate tone, her heart
heaving with rekindled hope, "can you assure me of that? If so, you
shall have all I can give you; my armlets, neck ornaments, _mantas,
hamacas_, everything. Fear not my rewarding you well!"

"Nacena is generous," rejoins the sorceress, her eyes sparkling with
pleasure at such a wholesale proffer of chattels. "She shall have that
assurance; for Shebotha can give it without fail. See this!"

While speaking, she has drawn out, from under the skin robe that covers
her bony breast, what appears to be a small horn, converted into a phial
with bottom and stopper.

"In this," she says, holding it up to the light, "is a fluid, one drop
of which, given to Aguara will turn his heart whichever way Shebotha
wishes it turned; make him love whomsoever she wants him to love; and
that will be as Nacena wants it."

"Oh! it is good of you, Mam Shebotha so good! How shall I ever enough
thank or reward you?"

"No matter about thanks," responds the hag with a knowing leer;
"Shebotha likes better the reward. And what you've promised will
content her. But promises, as Nacena herself knows, are sometimes badly
kept, and should have something to secure them, by way of earnest. What
can you give me now?"

The girl glances down to her breast, upon which lie several pendants,
sustained by a massive chain of gold passing around her neck. Then she
holds out her arms to show bracelets upon the wrists, beset with pearls
and precious stones, that no doubt once clasped other wrists than hers--
those of palefaced _doncellas_ dwelling in Santiago or Salta.
Unclasping the armlets, one after another, she delivers them to
Shebotha.

But the avaricious beldame is not yet sati