One of them had started up the face of the cliff. It was Stark. Nadara seized a bit of rock and hurled it down upon him. He barely dodged the missile, but he desisted in his attempt to ascend to her. Now Burlinghame advanced, raising his hand, palm toward her in sign that she should not assault him. She recalled some of the language that Thandar had taught her--maybe they would understand it. "Go-way!" she cried. "Go-way! Nadara kill bad-men." A look of pleasure overspread Burlinghame's face--the girl spoke English. "We are not bad men," he called up to her. "We will not harm you." "What you want?" asked Nadara, still unconvinced by mere words. "We want to talk with you," replied Burlinghame. "We are looking for a friend who was ship-wrecked upon this island. Come down. We will not harm you. Have we not already proved our friendship by killing this fellow who pursued you?" This man spoke precisely the tongue of Thandar. Nadara could understand every word, for Thandar had talked to her much in English. She could understand it better than she could speak it. If they talked the same tongue as Thandar they must be from the same country. Maybe they were Thandar's friends. Anyway they were like him, and Thandar never harmed women. She could trust them. Slowly she lowered her sapling and began the descent. Several times she hesitated as though minded to return to her ledge, but Burlinghame's kindly voice and encouragement at last prevailed, and presently Nadara stood before them. The officers and men of the _Priscilla_ crowded around the girl. They were struck with her beauty, and the simple dignity of her manner and her carriage. The great black panther skin that fell from her left shoulder she wore with the majesty of a queen and with a naturalness that cast no reflection upon her modesty, though it revealed quite as much of her figure as it hid. William Stark, first officer of the _Priscilla_, caught his breath--never, he was positive, had God made a more lovely creature. From the top of the cliff a shaggy man peered down upon the strange scene. He blinked his little eyes, scratched his matted head, and once he picked up a large stone that lay near him; but he did not hurl it upon those below, for he had heard the loud report of the rifles, seen the smoke belch from the muzzles, and witnessed the sudden and miraculous collapse of Thurg. Burlinghame was speaking to Nadara. "Who are you?" he asked. "Nadara," replied the girl. "Where do you live?" Nadara jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the cliff at her back. Burlinghame searched the rocky escarpment with his eyes, but saw no sign of another living being there. "Where are your people?" "Dead." "All of them?" Nadara nodded affirmatively. "How long have they been dead and what killed them?" continued Burlinghame. "Almost a moon. The Great Nagoola killed them."