"It will take us three nights," she replied. "By day we must hide, for even you could not vanquish a great number of bad men should they attack you at once." "No," said Waldo; "I presume not." "It was very wonderful to watch you, though," she went on, "when you battled upon the cliff-side, beating them down as they came upon you. How brave you were! How terrible! You trembled from rage." "Yes," admitted Waldo, "I was quite angry. I always tremble like that when my ire is excited. Sometimes I get so bad that my knees knock together. If you ever see them do that you will realize how exceedingly angry I am." "Yes," murmured the girl. Presently Waldo saw that she was laughing quietly to herself. A great fear rose in his breast. Could it be that she was less gullible than she had appeared? Did she, after all, penetrate the bombast with which he had sought to cloak his cowardice? He finally mustered sufficient courage to ask: "Why do you laugh?" "I think of the surprise that awaits old Flatfoot and Korth and the others when I lead you to them." "Why will they be surprised?" asked Waldo. "At the way you will crack their heads." Waldo shuddered. "Why should I crack their heads?" he asked. "Why should you crack their heads!" It was apparently incredible to the girl that he should not understand. "How little you know," she said. "You cannot swim, you do not know the language which men may understand, you would be lost in the woods were I to leave you, and now you say that you do not know that when you come to a strange tribe they will try to kill you, and only take you as one of them when you have proven your worth by killing at least one of their strongest men." "At least one!" said Waldo, half to himself. He was dazed by this information. He had expected to be welcomed with open arms into the best society that the girl's community afforded. He had thought of it in just this way, for he had not even yet learned that there might be a whole people living under entirely different conditions than those which existed in Boston, Massachusetts. Her reference to his ignorance also came as a distinct shock to him. He had always considered himself a man of considerable learning. It had been his secret boast and his mother's open pride. And now to be pitied for his ignorance by one who probably thought the earth flat, if she ever thought about such matters at all--by one who could neither read nor write. And the worst of it all was that her indictment was correct--only she had not gone far enough. There was little of practical value that he did know. With the realization of his limitations Waldo Emerson took, unknown to himself, a great stride toward a broader wisdom than his narrow soul had ever conceived. That night, after the sun had set and the stars and moon come out, the two set forth from their retreat toward the northwest, where the girl said that the village of her people lay.