Lady Barbara's jailer, far from being ill favored, was quite beautiful, bearing a strong resemblance to Jezebel; and she proved to be quite as loquacious as the men who had captured them.
"You are the strangest looking South Midian I ever saw," she remarked, "and the man does not look at all like one. Your hair is neither the color of those they keep nor of those they destroy—it is just between, and your garments are such as no one ever saw before."
"We are not Midians," said Lady Barbara.
"But that is impossible," cried the woman. "There are none but Midians in the land of Midian and no way to get in or out. Some say there are people beyond the great cliffs, and some say there are only devils. If you are not a Midian perhaps you are a devil; but then, of course, you are a Midian."
"We come from a country beyond the cliffs," Lady Barbara told her, "and all we want is to go back to our own country."
"I do not think Elija will let you. He will treat you as we always treat South Midians."
"And how is that?"
"The men are put to death because of their heresy; and the women, if they are good looking, are kept as slaves. But being a slave is not bad. I am a slave. My mother was a slave. She was a South Midian who was captured by my father who owned her. She was very beautiful. After a while the South Midians would have killed her, as you do to all your beautiful women just before their first child is born.
"But we are different. We kill the bad looking ones, both boys and girls, and also any who become subject to the strange demons which afflict the South Midians. Do you have these demons?"
"I am not a Midian, I told you," said Lady Barbara.
The woman shook her head. "It is true that you do not look like them, but if Elija ever believes you are not you are lost."
"Why?" asked Lady Barbara.
"Elija is one of those who believe that the world beyond the cliffs is inhabited by demons; so, if you are not a South Midian, you must be a demon; and he would certainly destroy you as he will destroy the man; but for my part I am one of those who say they do not know. Some say that perhaps this world around Midian is inhabited by angels. Are you an angel?"
"I am not a demon," replied Lady Barbara.
"Then you must be a South Midian or an angel."
"I am no South Midian," insisted the English girl.
"Then you are an angel," reasoned the woman. "And if you are you will have no difficulty in proving it."
"How?"
"Just perform a miracle."
"Oh," said Lady Barbara.
"Is the man an angel?" demanded the woman.
"He is an American."
"I never heard of that—is it a kind of angel?"
"Europeans do not call them that."
"But really I think Elija will say he is a South Midian, and he will be destroyed."
"Why do your people hate the South Midians so?" asked Lady Barbara.
"They are heretics."
"They are very religious," said Lady Barbara; "they pray all the time to Jehovah and they never smile. Why do you think them heretics?"
"They insist that Paul's hair was black, while we know that it was yellow. They are very wicked, blasphemous people. Once, long before the memory of man, we were all one people; but there were many wicked heretics among us who had black hair and wished to kill all those with yellow hair; so those with yellow hair ran away and came to the north end of the valley. Ever since, the North Midians have killed all those with black hair and the South Midians all those with yellow hair. Do you think Paul had yellow hair?"
"Certainly I do," said Lady Barbara.
"That will be a point in your favor," said the woman.
Just then a man came to the door of the hut and sum moned Lady Barbara. "Come with me," he commanded.
The English girl followed the messenger, and the woman who had been guarding her accompanied them. Before a large stone hut they found Elija surrounded by a number of the older men of the village, while the remainder of the population was grouped in a semi-circle facing them. La fayette Smith stood before Elija, and Lady Barbara was conducted to the side of the American.
Elija, the Prophet, was a middle aged man of not unprepossessing appearance. He was short and stocky, extremely muscular in build, and his face was adorned with a wealth of blond whiskers. Like the other North Midians he was garbed in a single garment of goat skin, his only ornament being the pistol he had taken from Smith, which he wore on a leather thong that encircled his neck.
"This man," said Elija, addressing Lady Barbara, "will not talk. He makes noises, but they mean nothing. Why will he not talk?"
"He does not understand the language of the land of Midian ," replied the English girl.
"He must understand it," insisted Elija; "every one understands it."
"He is not from Midian," said Lady Barbara.
"Then he must be a demon," said Elija.
"Perhaps he is an angel," suggested Lady Barbara; "he believes that Paul's hair was yellow."
This statement precipitated a wordy argument and so impressed Elija and his apostles that they withdrew into the interior of the hut for a secret conference.
"What's it all about, Lady Barbara?" asked Smith, who, of course, had understood nothing of what had been said.
"You believe Paul's hair was yellow, don't you?" she asked.
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"Well, I told them you were a firm believer in the yellowness of Paul's hair."
"Why did you tell them that?" demanded Smith.
"Because the North Midians prefer blonds," she replied.
"But who is Paul?"
"Was, you mean. He is dead."
"Of course I'm sorry to hear that, but who was he?" insisted the American.
"I am afraid you have neglected the scriptures," she told him.
"Oh, the apostle; but what difference does it make what color his hair was?"
"It doesn't make any difference," she explained. "What does make a difference is that you have stated, through me, that you believe he had yellow hair; and that may be the means of saving your life."
"What nonsense!"
"Of course—the other fellow's religion is always nonsense; but not to him. You are also suspected of being an angel. Can you imagine!"
"No! Who suspects me?"
"It was I; or at least I suggested it, and I am hoping Elija will now suspect it. If he does we are both safe, provided that, in your celestial capacity, you will intercede for me."
"You are as good as saved then," he said, "for inasmuch as I cannot speak their language you can put any worth you wish into my mouth without fear of being called to account."
"That's a fact, isn't it?" she said, laughing. "If our emergency were not so critical I could have a lot of fun, couldn't I?"
"You seem to find fun in everything," he replied, admiringly; "even in the face of disaster."
"Perhaps I am whistling in the dark," she said.
They talked a great deal while they waited for Elija and the apostles to return, for it helped them to tide over the anxious minutes of nervous strain that slowly dragged into hours. They could hear the chatter and buzz of conversation within the hut, as Elija and his fellows debated, while, outside, the villagers kept up a constant babel of conversation.
"They like to talk," commented Smith.
"And perhaps you have noticed an idiosyncrasy of the North Midians in this respect?" she asked.
"Lots of people like to talk."
"I mean that the men gabble more than the women."
"Perhaps in self-defense."
"Here they come!" she exclaimed as Elija appeared in the doorway of the hut, fingering the pistol he wore as an ornament.
Darkness was already falling as the Prophet and the twelve apostles filed out to their places in the open. Elija raised his hands in a signal for silence and when quiet had been restored he spoke.