when at last he sailed away did he hold the promise that the beautiful
daughter of the chief should become his bride when next he touched upon
that shore. Could this, then, be the Spaniard's fleet returning? Was the
Great Spirit powerless, after all, to save her? In sore bewilderment and
terror Wildenai watched the distant ship.

Nearer and nearer it came. But, as its outline grew each moment more
distinct, gradually her fears departed. For this was not the clumsy
Spanish galleon she remembered. The prow was not nearly so high, nor was
the incoming vessel as large in any respect as had been that other. Yet,
though fear died, wonder grew. What new variety of strangers, then, was
about to visit them? For that the ship intended to anchor she was by
this time sure. Steadily it bore on until within a scant half mile of
the crescent shaped beach where lay the royal village of the tribe. At
length, as if in fear to trust themselves closer to the rocky shore, the
crew were seen to bring the vessel sharply about. An anchor was cast
over, the creaking of the hawsers distinctly audible in the clear
morning air, and a few moments later a small boat was lowered. Into this
boat immediately several sailors swung themselves and after a short
delay, amidst the shouting of the Indians, now running in wild
excitement up and down the beach, the men picked up their oars and
started for the land.

"Alla-hoa, Wildenai!"

Up the stony trail leading to her cavern scrambled an Indian runner, a
lithe youth who flung himself breathless at her feet.

"Thy father, oh princess, sends me to summon thee to his lodge.
Strangers, - paleface strangers, - enemies, who can tell, are coming.