stood before her with bowed head, his cavernous chest heaving wildly.

“Fool! Leave me!” she snapped, and struck the slave with all her savage force on the cheek. Milo’s face turned gray for a flashing instant, then the doglike devotion that filled his heart shone through his eyes, and he knelt at the furious girl’s feet, his head to the ground. In a moment he stood up and, laying a hand reverently upon Dolores’s shaking shoulders, he gazed deep into her eyes. She shivered again at the uncanny hint of volcanic might effused by the giant — volcanic, yet quiescent for the moment. His lips opened to speak; and she sprang to the reaction. Now a fresh fury seized her at the slave’s temerity; she flung off his hand, and snatched forth her dagger.

“Strike, Sultana,”