"I have told you that all I love are dead?"

"Yet death is terrible."

"Your name?"

"Alice Rody."

With a cry of fiendish delight, Wacora grasped the maiden's arm.

"You, the daughter of that accursed man--the daughter of that demon in human form! Then, by the Great Spirit above us! by the ashes of my ancestors, you shall die! My own hand shall inflict the blow."

As he uttered these words, he drew a knife from his belt, and was on the point of sheathing it in her heart, when his arm was seized, and a voice full of agony vibrated in his ear--

"Spare her!--oh! spare her. Take my life instead."

"Nelatu!"

"Yes, Nelatu; your cousin, your slave, if you will--only spare her life!"

"You forget her name."

"No, no; I know it but too well."

"You forget that her father has been the accursed cause of all this misery?"

"No; I remember that too."

"Then you are insane thus to beg for her life. She must die!"

"I am not insane. Oh! Wacora, on my knees I implore you to spare her!"

"Rise, Nelatu; the son of Oluski should not bend his knee to man. At your intercession, her life shall be spared!"

Nelatu rose from the ground.

"You are indeed our chief, Wacora. Your heart is open and generous."

"Stay, yet, before you mistake me. I give you her life, but 'an eye for an eye!' She shall suffer what Sansuta has suffered; spare her life, but not her honour."

"Wacora!"

"I have said it. Here"--turning to the a.s.sembled warriors who had been amazed witnesses of the scene--"this is the child of our enemy, Elias Rody. I have, at Nelatu's entreaty, spared her life; I bestow her upon the tribe; do with her what you will."

Nelatu leaped before the advancing braves.

"Back!" he cried. "The first who lays hands upon her, dies!"

Wacora gazed upon his cousin.

In his breast rage contended with wonder.

"Heed him not; he is insane."

"No; not insane."

"Speak; what then?"

"I love her! I love her!"

The young girl, who had stood like a statue throughout all the previous scene, gave a start, and, cowering to the ground, buried her face in her hands.

To Wacora the words of Nelatu were no less surprising.

Turning to the shrinking maiden, he said--

"You hear what Nelatu says? He loves you."

She murmured faintly--"I hear."

"He loves you. Wacora, too, has loved. That love has been trampled upon, and by your wretch of a brother! Yet still it shall plead for Nelatu. His request is granted. You are spared both life and honour, but must remain a prisoner. Conduct her hence!"

"And these?" asked a warrior, pointing to the other prisoners.

Wacora's heart, touched for an instant by his cousin's pleading, as well as by Alice Rody's heroic bearing, became again hardened.

He replied--

"They must die! Not by the torture, but at once. Let them be shot!"

The brave fellows, disdaining to sue for mercy, were led away from the spot.

Soon after he heard several shots that came echoing from the woods.

His captives had been released from all earthly care.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

RUIN AMONG THE RUINS.

The Indians' encampment near Tampa Bay was broken up.

The women and children, attended by a few warriors had departed for the town.

Alice Rody, a prisoner, went along with them.

Wacora, Nelatu, and the rest of the tribe, joined others of their race in the war which was now rapidly spreading over the whole peninsula.