There were the black cedars and there gleamed the roofs of the Gold House, his prison where dwelt the Asika and the dreadful fetishes of which she was the priestess.

To him it was like the vision of a nightmare, he could scarcely think it real.
And yet by this time doubtless they sought him far and wide.

What mood, he wondered, would the Asika be in when she learned of his escape and the fashion of it, and how would she greet him if he were recaptured and taken back to her?
Well, he would not be recaptured.

He had still some cartridges and he would fight till they killed him, or failing that, save the last of them for himself.

Never, never could he endure to be dragged back to Bonsa Town there to live and die.
They went on across the mountains, till in the afternoon once more they saw the road running beneath them like a ribbon, and at the end of it the lagoon.