He shook restlessly, not aware that the girl's sorrowful glance,
luminous with love and pain, was fixed upon him. Summarily dismissing
these grisly phantoms of the mind, he asked himself what the Mahommedan
exactly meant by warning him against the trees on the right and the
"silent death" that might come from them. He was about to crawl forth
to the lip of the rock and investigate matters in that locality when
Iris, who also was busy with her thoughts, restrained him.

"Wait a little while," she said. "None of the Dyaks will venture into
the open until night falls. And I have something to say to you."

There was a quiet solemnity in her voice that Jenks had never heard
before. It chilled him. His heart acknowledged a quick sense of evil
omen. He raised himself slightly and turned towards her. Her face,
beautiful and serene beneath its disfigurements, wore an expression of
settled purpose. For the life of him he dared not question her.

"That man, the interpreter," she said, "told you that if I were given
up to the chief, he and his followers would go away and molest you no
more."

His forehead seamed with sudden anger.

"A mere bait," he protested. "In any event it is hardly worth
discussion."

And the answer came, clear and resolute--

"I think I will agree to those terms."