curses. And the brood of Rameses shall learn whether your husband's
son will let himself be ill-used and scorned without revenging him self.
I will fling them into an abyss, and I will laugh when I see them
writhing in the sand at my feet!"

"Fool!" cried Setchem, beside herself. "I am but a woman, and have
often blamed myself for being soft and weak; but as sure as I am faithful
to your dead father--who you are no more like than a bramble is like a
palm-tree--so surely will I tear my love for you out of my heart if you
--if you--Now I see! now I know! Answer me-murderer! Where are the
seven arrows with the wicked words which used to hang here? Where are
the arrows on which you had scrawled 'Death to Mena?'"

With these words Setchem breathlessly started forward, but the pioneer
drew back as she confronted him, as in his youthful days when she
threatened to punish him for some misdemeanor. She followed him up,
caught him by the girdle, and in a hoarse voice repeated her question.
He stood still, snatched her hand angrily from his belt, and said
defiantly:

"I have put them in my quiver--and not for mere play. Now you know."

Incapable of words, the maddened woman once more raised her hand against
her degenerate son, but he put back her arm.

"I am no longer a child," he said, "and I am master of this house. I
will do what I will, if a hundred women hindered me!" and with these
words he pointed to the door. Setchem broke into loud sobs, and turned
her back upon him; but at the door once more she turned to look at him.
He had seated himself, and was resting his forehead on the table on which