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.”

At first he regarded her with undisguised and wordless amazement.  Then the appalling thought darted through his brain that she contemplated this supreme sacrifice in order to save him.  A clammy sweat bedewed his brow, but by sheer will power he contrived to say—­

“You must be mad to even dream of such a thing.  Don’t you understand what it means to you—­and to me?  It is a ruse to trap us.  They are ungoverned savages.  Once they had you in their power they would laugh at a promise made to me.”

“You may be mistaken.  They must have some sense of fair dealing.  Even assuming that such was their intention, they may depart from it.  They have already lost a great many men.  Their chief, having gained his main object, might not be able to persuade them to take further risks.  I will make it a part of the bargain that they first supply you with plenty of water.  Then you, unaided, could keep them at bay for many days.  We lose nothing; we can gain a great deal by endeavoring to pacify them.”

“Iris!” he gasped, “what are you saying?”

The unexpected sound of her name on his lips almost unnerved her.  But no martyr ever went to the stake with more settled purpose than this pure woman, resolved to immolate herself for the sake of the man she loved.  He had dared all for her, faced death in many shapes.  Now it was her turn.  Her eyes were lit with a seraphic fire, her sweet face resigned as that of an angel.

“I have thought it out,” she murmured, gazing at him steadily, yet scarce seeing him.  “It is worth trying as a last expedient.  We are abandoned by all, save the Lord; and it does not appear to be His holy will to help us on earth.  We can struggle on here until we die.  Is that right, when one of us may live?”