With the panther quite evidently conscious of the fact that dissolution
had overtaken it, I turned toward the girl, who was regarding me with
evident admiration and not a little awe, though I must admit that my
rifle claimed quite as much of her attention as did I. She was quite
the most wonderful animal that I have ever looked upon, and what few of
her charms her apparel hid, it quite effectively succeeded in
accentuating. A bit of soft, undressed leather was caught over her
left shoulder and beneath her right breast, falling upon her left side
to her hip and upon the right to a metal band which encircled her leg
above the knee and to which the lowest point of the hide was attached.
About her waist was a loose leather belt, to the center of which was
attached the scabbard belonging to her knife. There was a single
armlet between her right shoulder and elbow, and a series of them
covered her left forearm from elbow to wrist. These, I learned later,
answered the purpose of a shield against knife attack when the left arm
is raised in guard across the breast or face.
Her masses of heavy hair were held in place by a broad metal band which
bore a large triangular ornament directly in the center of her
forehead. This ornament appeared to be a huge turquoise, while the
metal of all her ornaments was beaten, virgin gold, inlaid in intricate
design with bits of mother-of-pearl and tiny pieces of stone of various
colors. From the left shoulder depended a leopard's tail, while her
feet were shod with sturdy little sandals. The knife was her only
weapon. Its blade was of iron, the grip was wound with hide and
protected by a guard of three out-bowing strips of flat iron, and upon
the top of the hilt was a knob of gold.
I took in much of this in the few seconds during which we stood facing
each other, and I also observed another salient feature of her
appearance: she was frightfully dirty! Her face and limbs and garment
were streaked with mud and perspiration, and yet even so, I felt that I
had never looked upon so perfect and beautiful a creature as she. Her
figure beggars description, and equally so, her face. Were I one of
these writer-fellows, I should probably say that her features were
Grecian, but being neither a writer nor a poet I can do her greater
justice by saying that she combined all of the finest lines that one
sees in the typical American girl's face rather than the pronounced
sheeplike physiognomy of the Greek goddess. No, even the dirt couldn't
hide that fact; she was beautiful beyond compare.
As we stood looking at each other, a slow smile came to her face,
parting her symmetrical lips and disclosing a row of strong white teeth.
"Galu?" she asked with rising inflection.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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