“Then get thy darts. Have thy pipe ready here, thyself concealed, and watch thy time to strike. But first light the altar fires. The rogues believe in my magic no longer; I shall teach them anew, and such magic as shall convince some of them.”

From the camp arose a babel of uproar, men shouting against each other, curses and threats alike aimed broadcast. And impatient of the delay, small groups straggled into the grove to wait, Stumpy’s party first, their leader striving fiercely to quiet their noise. Dolores reappeared soon, dressed in her altar robe, and her flashing eyes told her quickly that John Pearse wavered between staying with his chosen party and going in search of his companions. She caught his eye, and smiled brightly at him, beckoning him to her.