"What! Venner?"
"Surely. Why not? Is not Dolores worthy such a sacrifice then? Hah, but Venner is a man of decision. Thy eyes saw the treasure? It's lost to thee--unless--" she whispered, peering up into his angry face.
"Unless?"
"Unless thou prove the better man. Dolores would have thee before all the rest, friend; but she despises a waverer. I tell thee thy fortune is yet in thy hands."
"How?"
"Here, I have thy sword. Take it, and keep aloof and watch. When thou canst see men carrying the treasure chests out to the white vessel, then will be the time to strike. Join thyself with the men who seem faithful to my mistress. There will be fighting; and the spoils are for the victor."
Pearse would have stayed her, but she ran from him with a tantalizing laugh and vanished into the women's quarters.
In the morning, when the men had breakfasted, a hum of activity pervaded the place which was attributable to the octoroon's subtle influence. As if by prearrangement, men drew apart into little knots, each gathering about a leader and showing indecision until each man ascertained exactly where his fellows were going. Then Dolores appeared with Milo, and she faced four distinct parties before the great stone.
The sun was metallic in its redness, rising from behind a group of low-hanging, hazy clouds, casting its fierce beams on the point and the low shores of the anchorage. A brazen sky overtopped the scene, giving to green foliage and yellow sands alike, a glare as of terrific artificial light.
As Dolores appeared, the party headed by Caliban stepped forward, muttering angrily, and every man kept hand on knife or cutlass. Caliban himself, nervous and yet determined, glared at the formidable giant and suddenly sprang out alone, shaking his first at Milo, and working himself into greater fury. A frown darkened the face of Dolores; she had commanded Pascherette to bring about a condition of unrest, but nothing like this; for in all four parties was an attitude of suspicion of herself, not of each other. She spoke in a low voice to Milo, then raised her hand and advanced toward Caliban.
"Well, whelp of a deformed dog!" she cried. "What do ye seek with me? Is this the way I've taught thee to beg?"
"I beg nothing!" screamed Caliban, pacing to and fro restlessly. "We demand, not beg!"
"Demand? Have a care for thy loose tongue!"
"My tongue's my own! We are tired of thy trumpery state. Tired of thy mystery and falsity. We know thy plot--know thy cunning scheme to carry thy favorites away from here--to carry away the treasure that is ours, not thine! Think ye we men will let ye go, to set the dogs of war-ships upon us? Here and now we demand a settlement."