'I was Saturnino,' he said, low in his teeth.
She understood. She had heard of Saturnino.
'If I had only a knife!' he repeated; 'only a knife or a gun!'———
His bronze-like shoulders glistened with the salt of the sea; he sat erect on the beach regaining strength and consciousness with each breath; the heat of the night was around them like steam: it seemed to her startled fancy as if his eyes and his mouth gave out fire. She was rooted to the ground as by some spell; a fascination that she was powerless to resist held her there, by this man, though she knew he could turn and rend her as the wild boar tore the young dogs.
'Tell me how you got away,' she said very low at last, spurred on to rashness by an unquenchable longing to hear and know. 'Tell me, tell me; I will tell no one else; never, never, will I tell.'
The hunted creature that had once been the superb chieftain of the hills did not heed. He was looking northward down the long, low, level shore that shone ashen and white in the strong moonlight.
