Aissa, sitting on the high after-deck, her father's blackened and bleeding head in her lap, looked up with fearless eyes at Babalatchi.

"They shall find only smoke, blood and dead men, and women mad with fear there, but nothing else living," she said, mournfully.

Babalatchi, pressing with his right hand the deep gash on his shoulder, answered sadly: "They are very strong.

When we fight with them we can only die.

Yet," he added, menacingly--"some of us still live! Some of us still live!" For a short time he dreamed of vengeance, but his dream was dispelled by the cold reception of the Sultan of Sulu, with whom they sought refuge at first and who gave them only a contemptuous and grudging hospitality.
While Omar, nursed by Aissa, was recovering from his wounds, Babalatchi attended industriously before the exalted Presence that had extended to them the hand of Protection.