'Aye, by Mitra!' The pirate, sensing the trend of feeling, was eager to ingratiate himself with the Cimmerian. 'He is right, lads; he is our lawful captain!' A medley of acquiescence rose, lacking enthusiasm perhaps, but with sincerity accentuated by the feel of the silent woods behind them which might mask creeping ebony devils with red eyes and dripping talons. 'Swear by the hilt,' Conan demanded. Forty-four sword-hilts were lifted toward him, and forty-four voices blended in the corsair's oath of allegiance. Conan grinned and sheathed his sword. 'Come aboard, my bold swashbucklers, and take the oars.' He turned and lifted Olivia to her feet, from where she had crouched shielded by the gunwales. 'And what of me, sir?' she asked. 'What would you?' he countered, watching her narrowly. 'To go with you, wherever your path may lie!' she cried, throwing her white arms about his bronzed neck. The pirates, clambering over the rail, gasped in amazement. 'To sail a road of blood and slaughter?' he questioned. 'This keel will stain the blue waves crimson wherever it plows.' 'Aye, to sail with you on blue seas or red,' she answered passionately. 'You are a barbarian, and I am an outcast, denied by my people. We are both pariahs, wanderers of earth. Oh, take me with you!' With a gusty laugh he lifted her to his fierce lips. 'I'll make you Queen of the Blue Sea! Cast off there, dogs! We'll scorch King Yildiz's pantaloons yet, by Crom!' End of Project Gutenberg's Shadows in the Moonlight, by Robert E. Howard