Milo looked around in bewilderment. In all her life Dolores had been his especial care; in her many moments of temper she had perhaps pained his devoted heart, but never had she used to him the tone she now used. It seemed to his simple soul that the foundations of his faith were being wrenched loose.
"I will find them, Sultana," he said quietly, and turned to leave by the tunnel.
"Stay here, thou blind fool!" she commanded him. "I will find them myself. Here is work more fitting for a slave. How many chests are going to the ship?"
"Three."
"And how many have ye yet empty here?"
"Three, lady."
"Then get them quickly. Until I return, bid thy fellows replace the treasure that is still in the powder store. And haste, for I will leave this place this day, though all the fiends say no."
She ran along the tunnel, and Milo set his men to their task. As he passed along to the powder chamber, a low moan arrested him, and he halted in sudden remorse for Pascherette, whom he now felt he had judged harshly. He left his fellows and went to the tiny alcove where the little octoroon lay, and his great heart leaped in response to the worship that shone in her dark eyes. He saw the dry and cracked lips, the flushed face, and fetched water and wine before he would speak to her. Then, with her small head and slender shoulders against his immense chest, he gave her drink, soothing her pain with soft speech and caressing hand.
Pascherette's wound was deep, and bleeding internally; a fever already burned in the tiny maid's veins. She peered up at him wistfully, all of her mischief, all her piquancy gone and replaced by a softened, humbled expression that wrung Milo's heart-strings.
"Will ye not kiss me now, Milo?" she whispered, with a pearly drop brimming from each eye, where laughter had so lately dwelt.
"Pascherette, thy fault was great," he answered, yet in his face was a look so forgiving, so excusing, that the girl shivered expectantly and closed her eyes with a happy sigh.
Yet the kiss was not given. From the great chamber the angry voice of Dolores rang out.
"Milo! Where art thou, slave!"
And the giant tenderly laid Pascherette down again, and ran in answer.
"Sultana?"
"Blind, idle dolt! While thou art fondling that serpent of thine, thy mistress's affairs may go hang! Haste with the treasure, or feel my anger. While thy useless eyes were mooning on nothing, the strangers have escaped. They are even now getting sail on the white vessel. Carry the chests down to the Point as soon as ye may. I will stay them yet, and they shall learn the cost of flouting Dolores! Hasten, I tell ye!"