Slowly the minutes slipped by, while the king lay like a corpse before
them, and outside of that silent ring the soldiers murmured as the wind.
The sun was sinking fast, and Hokosa watched it, counting the seconds.
At length he spoke:--

"The half of the hour that you demanded is dead, White Man, as dead
as the king; and now the time has come for you to die also," and he
stretched out his hand to take him.

Owen looked at his watch and replied:--

"There is still another minute; and you, Hokosa, who are skilled in
medicines, may know that this antidote does not work so swiftly as the
bane."

The shot was a random one, but it told, for Hokosa fell back and was
silent.

The seconds passed on as the minute hand of the watch went round from
ten to twenty, from twenty to thirty, from thirty to forty. A few
more instants and the game was played. Had that dream of his been vain
imagining, and was all his faith nothing but a dream wondered Owen?
Well, if so, it would be best that he should die. But he did not believe
that it was so; he believed that the Power above him would intervene to
save--not him, indeed, but all this people.

"Let us make an end," said Hokosa, "the time is done."

"Yes," said Owen, "the time is done--and _the king lives!_"