"Justice!" demanded the chief, his voice trembling with the rage and fear he had nursed, "justice against the Old One, the stealer of girls, the destroyer of cities--may death go to him. Iwa!----" The very day Sanders had left, the messenger of the great king had come, and with him a hundred warriors, demanding the dancing girl. True to his pre-arranged scheme, the chief began the inevitable bargaining over terms. The presents offered were too small. The girl was worth a hundred thousand rods--nay, a thousand bags of salt. "You were mad," said Sanders calmly; "no woman is worth a thousand bags of salt." "Well, that might be," admitted the outraged father; "yet it would be folly to begin by naming a price too low. The bargaining went on through the night and all the next day, and in the end the envoy of the great king grew impatient. "Let the woman be sent for," he said, and obedient to the summons came Daihili, demure enough, yet with covert glances of encouragement to the unemotional ambassador, and with subtle exhibitions of her charms. "Woman," said the messenger, "the greatest of kings desires you, will you come?" "Lord," said the girl, "I wish for nothing better." With that, the hundred armed warriors in attendance at the palaver closed round the girl. "And so," said Sanders, "you got nothing?" "Lord, it is as you say," moaned the old chief. "It is evident," said Sanders, "that an injustice has been done; for no man may take a woman unless he pay. I think," he added, with a flash of that mordant humour which occasionally illuminated his judgments, "that the man pays twice, once to the father, and all his life to his wife--but that is as may be." Six weeks later, after consultation, Sanders sent a messenger to the great king, demanding the price of the woman. What happened to the messenger I would rather not describe. That he was killed, is saying the least. Just before he died, when the glaze of death must have been on his eyes, and his poor wrecked body settling to the rest of oblivion, he was carried to a place before the king's hut, and Daihili danced the Dance of the Spirits. This much is now known. Sanders did nothing; nor did the British Government, but hurried notes were exchanged between ambassadors and ministers in Paris, and that was the end of the incident. Two Icheli spies went up into the great king's country. One came back saying that the dancing girl was the favourite wife of the old king, and that her whims swayed the destinies of the nation. Also he reported that because of this slim girl who danced, many men, councillors, and captains of war had died the death. The other spy did not come back. It may have been his discovery that induced the girl to send an army against the Icheli, thinking perchance that her people were spying upon her. One day the city of Icheli was surrounded by the soldiers of the great king, and neither man, woman nor child escaped.