"You are, indeed, beautiful both in form and face," I answered, seeking to avoid quarrel, "but it is not for a mere adventurer of the woods to utter words of love to such as you."

Her lips curled in sarcastic smile.

"Pish! you grow marvellously modest all at once. I bid you note that the passion of love cares nothing for a registry of birth—it looks to flesh and blood, not records. There is more hidden in your secret heart to-night than finds utterance upon the lips. You have the soft speech of a diplomat, full of guile and cunning. Come, I bid you tell me the whole truth. Do you think me an untutored savage, that you deny me in such disdain?"

"I know not how it may prove regarding your heart," I said boldly, not hesitating to meet her questioning eyes, "but in manner and graces you exhibit the gloss of courts."

She smiled mockingly, rising to her feet and saluting me with a low curtsy.

"Ah! very prettily said, senor. I perceive your objection then: you think me fairer without than within. I dare not contend you are altogether wrong in such conjecture. Faith, why not, senor? It would be strange otherwise. All lives do not flow gently amid prosaic routine, and my ship has been often enough upon the rocks. I have learned reasons of deceit and cruelty in the hard school of experience. If, in years of trial, I have grown hard of judgment, reckless of action, it is because others have been harsh with me. Power is naturally tyrannical. But then what use for us to dwell upon the past? So you came to-night to meet another? 'T is strange the risks a man will run for so infinitesimal a reward. Yet, Mother of God, it gives me a pleasant tale to pour into the ears of him you call De Noyan when we meet again to-morrow. If I mistake not, the one you seek in secret bears the name of that gay gallant. At least, she masquerades in this wilderness under the title of Madame de Noyan. But 'tis you, not he, her reputed husband, forsooth, who seeks her chamber in the midnight. Truly 'tis a pretty tale of romance."

It flashed upon me, as she thus lightly spoke, what infernal use an unscrupulous woman might easily make of this. The imputation lurking in her words aroused me to defiant anger, yet before I could collect my thought to make reply, she marked my hesitancy and continued with bitter sarcasm.

"Madame possesses so sweetly innocent a face I should never have suspected her of being an immodest wanton, were it not for the evidence of my own eyes. 'T is a strange world, senor. Yet I have often heard this is the way with these grandes dames of France."

"It is only your own foulness of thought which places such construction upon my coming here," I broke forth, determined I would face her down at every hazard. "You know well my purpose; I came seeking to aid one you held prisoner. It is all because of your sin, not ours. You have robbed this Chevalier de Noyan of all his manhood by your cursed smiles and honeyed speech. You have made him forget his sworn duty unto her who is his wife."

"How interesting you grow," she interrupted, her lips curling, her eyes hardening. "Senor, you grow almost handsome when your eyes flash. So you felt called upon to devote yourself to this poor, misused, neglected wife? I trust you have not found it an unpleasant service, or entirely without reward?"

"I felt called upon to aid her in escaping from your grip."

"Ah, indeed? Would you kindly, senor, tell me how you proposed performing such a miracle? It remains in my memory some such effort at release has been made before," her eyes hardening like diamonds. "Down yonder stands a blackened post which tells how Naladi deals with those daring to mock her will."

"You may spare threats," I retorted, gathering courage from rising anger, "as I care nothing for your good will, nor shall I swerve an inch in the hope of escaping your savage vengeance. Madame de Noyan is so far above you in every attribute of unsullied womanhood that no words of yours can ever besmirch her reputation; while, as to myself, I remain so certain of my own rectitude in the action of this night, I challenge you to do your worst."

"No doubt the Chevalier will also feel confidence in all you say," she added maliciously. "I understand it is the way with the French."

"With whom your previous acquaintance seems to have rendered you most familiar."

It was a wild, chance shot, for firing which I had no reason excepting that twice she had openly sneered at that people, and once had spoken of ships in a way strange to an inland savage. It was worth trying, however, and I marked her slight start of surprise at my insinuating tone, and the dark shadow sweeping across her face.

"Think you so, senor? It is passing strange, then, that I should be ignorant of the tongue."

"Yes, were it true," I made quick reply, encouraged by her manner, determined now to press this guessing home, and abide results. "But you had small difficulty comprehending the language a moment back. Permit me to remind you that it chanced to be French I spoke when first kneeling at your bedside."

She savagely bit her red lips in rage at my words; yet more, I thought, at her own forgetfulness.

"Pish! perhaps so;" and she stamped her foot angrily on the stone slabs of the floor. "What does that prove to my discredit for you to harp upon?"

Why my accidental words should thus worry her I could not even guess. Yet, clearly enough, there lay hidden some secret here—a hideous secret I had harshly probed. Believing this, I felt that I could enhance my power over her by pressing it relentlessly home with whatsoever directness of speech I dared to venture. With me, at such a crisis, decision meant action, and I advanced a step nearer, looking her directly in the eyes. A single moment she met me with a haughty stare; then defiance faded away into pleading, and her glance wavered. Whatever the cause, she was clearly afraid.

"Who—who are you?" she faltered. "Surely we have never met before?"

"As you know already, I am Geoffrey Benteen. I only regret that your memory is so faulty."

"What is it you know of me?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing, Madame," and I threw into the utterance of these words all the irony possible. "It is not altogether strange Madame should forget acquaintances of other days, even her native tongue, living so long in the wilderness."

It was a reckless shot, but somehow it struck the mark.

"I am a Toltec!" she cried wildly. "You speak to the Daughter of the Sun."

"No doubt; 'tis a neat superstition with which to overawe savages, yet there was one once across the water greatly resembling you,—a bit younger, perhaps,—yet who was content then with a title not nearly so high-sounding, until—oh, well, what need to tell the rest? Of course, it was not you?"

I would never have believed so sudden a change could come over the countenance of a human being, had I not witnessed it with these eyes. She had sunk back against the couch, her hands pressing her breast as if to still the wild throbbing of the heart, her great eyes staring at me in silent horror. Twice her lips moved as if attempting speech, yet no articulated sound issued from between them.

"Are you a fiend from hell?" she sobbed at last. "Why have you pursued me here?"

"You do me far too great an honor." I made her a low bow, thoroughly confident I held the whip hand, provided only I did not overplay my part. "It is the merest accident of fate which has thus thrown me again across your path. Nor have I the slightest desire to cause you trouble, only that through your power may come our safety."

"You—you have not followed me, then?"

"No."

I saw she was diligently studying my face in the dim light, vainly endeavoring to recall where, under what circumstances, we had met before.

"Who are you?"

"Bah! what difference can a name make? Surely you are careless enough about your own to be lenient with another choosing to forget."

"You also are a fugitive?" I caught the sudden ring of hope in her voice, saw a new light flash into her eyes.

"I have fled the Spaniards," I answered carelessly enough. "What odds is that, so long as what I did has been for France? Still, as I say, I have no desire to play you harm provided you deal justly with us all."

"Harm? You? How could you harm me?" she questioned, evidently more at ease from the change in my tone of speech. "You presume, senor; surely you forget you address the Queen of the Nahuacs; that even in our remnant there remain more than a hundred warriors to do my bidding! I can laugh at threats, senor."

I stared at her coldly.

"As you please, Madame la reine Naladi, Daughter of the Sun, formerly woman of—ah! so you do not care for me to speak that accursed word? Well, I thought you might not, so I spare you the shame. 'T is nothing to me your past, yet I would have you remember there is a people we both know to whom your miserable horde of savages would be but a mouthful. This tribe has already tested the sharpness of the French sword."

Her troubled eyes fell before mine, the last faint gleam of defiance dying from her face. She glanced about the apartment, evidently meditating retreat from my presence, or the swift summoning of her guards. Whichever it might have been, she as evidently thought better of it, turning toward me once more, no longer a frightened, angry Amazon, but instead a smiling, pleasant-faced woman.

"We have surely jested long enough, senor," she exclaimed with apparent lightness of demeanor. "It can never be best for us to be other than good friends. I doubt not you are a bold man, loyal to those trusting you, and I honor you for it. Take me, also, into that charmed circle, yet never forget I am a woman capable of doing great harm if I choose, for I have those at my command here who would die gladly at my bidding. The threat of French vengeance moves me little, senor; France is strong, cruel, relentless; but France is not here."

"Quite true," I replied, feeling best now to permit her to enjoy her own way. "But France never forgets, never pardons, and France possesses arms which reach across the seas, even into this wilderness. All she needs is a guide, and I could become that. Yet if you grant my request I pledge that no words of mine shall result in your injury."

"Your half threat does not greatly trouble me, senor. I am no frail reed fearing a puff of air. I merely seek that duty which seems most fair to all concerned. Pray tell me then what it is you would ask at my hands. Nay, wait; before we go into this business be seated here, so we may more easily converse together."

It was a low stool beside the couch she indicated, and I could do no less than silently accept her courtesy, the soft, mysterious charm of the woman blunting my prejudice.

"Now, senor," an engaging smile rendering more beautiful the face turned toward me. "I pray you trust me fully, and state frankly your demands upon Naladi."

If slightest sarcasm lurked in these softly spoken words I acknowledge total oblivion to it. Her fair face was the picture of earnestness, her eyes gazed frankly into mine.

"Our release, Madame."

She lifted her white hands in a sudden gesture of expostulation.

"Why ask that? It is utterly beyond my power, senor—at least, at once," in a tone of despair, convincing me she spoke truly. "We have our laws, which must be obeyed. It was the tribe who in battle took you prisoners, not I; it would cost me my position did I endeavor to give you immediate release."

"Could it be accomplished later?"

"Possibly it might."

"Will you promise me it shall?"

She hesitated, her eyes downcast, her bosom rising and falling to tumultuous breathing.

"Yes," at last slowly, as if she had weighed the problem with care. "I will pledge you my utmost help to that end."

"There is one thing more, Queen Naladi," I contended earnestly. "It is that Madame de Noyan be permitted meanwhile to abide with her husband."

The fair face darkened ominously. Instead of immediately answering she stepped across the room; returning, she held in her hands a small box in which I perceived papers.

"One moment, senor; move your stool here; yes, a trifle to the left where we may have clearer light shed upon these documents."

I drew it unsuspectingly to the spot indicated by her gesture, bending forward, wondering what it might be of importance she held in her hands.

"This, senor," she began calmly, slightly unrolling a written sheet, "is, as you will easily comprehend, the very document causing my unfortunate exile in this wilderness. You will take notice—"

As she spoke, I felt myself falling. She sprang hastily back, barely in time to escape my frenzied clutch upon her draperies; for one instant I clung to the stone slab of the floor desperately. Then she laughed, her heel crunched on my gripping fingers, and, with one muffled cry of despair, I went plunging down into the blackness.



CHAPTER XXIX

IN AND OUT THE SHADOW

It is strange I remember so little from that instant when my tortured hands released their frantic grasp on the stone slab of the floor. I recall the sharp pain, as that fair-faced fiend stamped upon my clutching fingers; I heard the echo of sneering laughter with which she mocked my last upward look of agony, but, with the plunge downward into that black, unknown abyss, all clear recollection ceased—I even retain no memory of the severe shock which must have occurred as my fall ended. Whether excess of fear paralyzed the brain, or what may have been the cause for such a phenomenon, I know not. I merely state the fact.

I awoke—how much later God alone knows—lying upon the rough stone bottom of an awful well, huddled in its blackness. When I finally made attempt at straightening my cramped limbs it seemed as if each separate muscle had been beaten and bruised, and it required no little manipulation before I even recovered sufficient strength to stand upright and endeavor to ascertain the nature of my grewsome prison-house. My stiffness caused me to believe that I must have lain motionless for several hours in the same cramped position into which I fell, before even regaining consciousness. Another evidence of this was the blood which, having flowed copiously from a severe cut upon the back of my head, had so thoroughly hardened as to stanch the ugly wound, thus, perhaps, preserving my life.

Slowly I returned to a clear realization of my position, for my eyes opened upon such intense darkness I could scarcely comprehend in my weakened, dazed condition that it was not all a dream from which I was yet to awaken. Little by little the mind began asserting itself, vaguely feeling here and there, putting scrap with scrap, until returning memory poured in upon me like a flood, and I grasped the terrible truth that I was buried alive. The knowledge was a deathlike blow, with which I struggled desperately, seeking to regain control over my shattered nerves. I recall yet the frenzied laugh bursting from my lips—seemingly the lips of a stranger—ringing wild and hollow, not unlike the laughter of the insane; I remember tearing wide open the front of my doublet, feeling I must surely choke from the suffocating pressure upon my chest; I retain memory of glaring violently into the darkness; how I fondled the sharp edge of the hunting knife, crying and shouting impotent curses, which I trust God has long ago forgiven, at that incarnate devil who had hurled me down to such living death. Terror dominated my brain, pulsed like molten fire through my blood, until, as the desperation of my situation became more clearly defined, I tottered upon the very verge of insanity, feeling I should soon become a helpless, gibbering imbecile.

Yet, as I succeeded in staggering weakly to my feet, the movement and exertion served to quiet my apprehensions, while hope came faintly back, bringing with it, as though newly born, a determination never to yield without one manly struggle. I possessed a knife; perchance there might be discovered some opportunity for using it. With outspread hands, and groping feet, I attempted to advance, but found I had fallen so close to the centre of the well that I had to make several steps before my extended fingers touched the cold wall. This I followed slowly, passing exploring hands with utmost care over each inch, from the floor to as high as I could reach on tiptoe, until confident I had made the complete circuit. It was all the same, vast slabs of flat stone, welded together by some rude yet effective masonry, the mortar between impervious to the sharp probing of the knife. Again and again I made that circuit, testing each crack, sounding every separate stone in the hope of discovering some slight fault in construction by which I might profit. Everywhere I was confronted by the same dull, dead wall of cold, hard rock, against which I exerted strength and skill uselessly. Finally I dropped upon my knees, creeping inch by inch across the floor, but with no better result. It likewise was composed of great slabs of stone, one having an irregular crack running through it from corner to corner, but all alike solid and immovable.

Then the last faint flicker of hope deserted me. Yet the exercise of that fruitless search had restored some measure of manhood; my brain no longer throbbed with dull agony, nor did my veins burn as with liquid fire. I felt convinced this black vault was destined to become my grave; here in after years, perhaps, some straying hunter might uncover my mouldering bones, wondering idly at my unknown story, for here I was surely doomed to face all that was mysterious and terrible in death. Well, that end must come to me some time, as to all men; I had seen many die, and, although fate faced me in far more horrid guise than any of these others, yet after all it was merely death, and I had no more cause to fear it here in the dark than yonder in the sunshine. Besides, I retained the keen knife-blade; if worse came to worse that was available for release. I passed it caressingly through my fingers, wondering would God forgive its use if the moment came when I must choose between insanity and death.

Merciful Heaven! how time dragged! What awful conceptions were formed in my fevered brain! What leering, sardonic faces pictured themselves against the black wall; what demon voices spoke and laughed in the void above! At times I stood in a cave thronged with jeering devils, some with the savage countenance of the heathen, some yet more satanic; yet ever in the midst of their maddest orgies, the cruel mockery of the infamous Naladi appeared more hellish than that of the rest. She leered down upon me from every side until I seemed to stare into a thousand faces, each wearing her hateful, sardonic smile.

I paced the floor with feverish impatience, counting my steps from wall to wall, hoping by this means to retain control of my brain. Experiencing the sharp pangs of hunger, I slashed a bit of leather from my belt, and chewed it savagely as a dog might chew a dry bone. In my despair, I danced, snapping my fingers, and hurling bitter taunts at the unseen upper world. Exhausted by such useless frenzy, I would sink prone to the floor, every nerve unstrung, lying there panting in helplessness until returning strength again sent me back and forth in that awful tramp from wall to wall. I perceived that the strain of that horrible haunted silence was driving me mad. There was no escape, no hope, no peace. Again and again did I break from incoherent ravings to sink upon my knees, beseeching God for mercy. Yet I arose without rest, without peace. At last I sank weakly down against the wall and lay trembling in every limb, staring blindly with wide-open, unseeing eyes.

I had come to the very end—to that moment when my limbs refused longer to support my swaying body, when my tortured brain was picturing scenes of hellish ingenuity. Ah! look! see! yonder comes now another to torment my soul. O God! Mark that grim, gray face floating against the wall! Away, you foul fiend! I am not yet your prey! But see! see how the ghastly horror grows! It is as large as a man; and mark those long, gaunt arms reaching up until they meet overhead. Suddenly it seemed to shed a strange, unnatural radiance over the cave. I imagined I saw things about me. What, Mother of Mercies, can it be? Daylight! Oh, good God! do my eyes actually look upon the day once more—the sweet, sweet, blessed day? Surely it is but a dream; yet no! it must truly be light streaming down from above.

I staggered to my feet, trembling so that I was compelled to clutch the wall for support. Swinging and swaying down toward me through the dim light, now in the radiance, anon in the shadow, twisting and turning like a great snake, a grass rope steadily dropped ring by ring until its loosened end coiled on the stone floor. I saw it, never believing the testimony of my own eyes, until my trembling hand had actually closed upon it. Then, with the touch in my fingers, the hot tears gushed from my blinded eyes, the tension on my brain gave way, and I was Geoffrey Benteen once more. A cautious whisper pierced the silence.

"If you remain alive, have you strength to mount the rope quickly?"

So parched and swollen were my lips I could not answer, yet managed to take stronger grasp upon the cord, and, finding it firmly held above, made earnest effort to climb. 'Twas a desperate undertaking for one who had passed through the strain which had befallen me; but now, the trembling having somewhat passed, I found myself not entirely devoid of strength, while an intense desire to escape from that hell made me willing to venture. I was dimly conscious of a face gazing intently down through the small aperture, yet, with the swaying of that loosened rope, the slipperiness of its grassy strands between my fingers, I found little opportunity for glancing upward while slowly winning toilsome way toward the light. It was as hard a struggle for life as I ever made, my heart almost ceasing to hope, when I finally felt a hand close firmly upon the collar of my jacket. With that help, I struggled on, until, panting and exhausted, I sank upon the skin-carpeted floor of the apartment from whence I had been hurled into that living tomb.

Half turning as I fell, I gazed into the face of my rescuer, endeavoring to smile as my glad eyes met those of Eloise de Noyan.

"Oh, hush!" she sobbed. "Do not speak of what you have suffered, for I read it all in your eyes. Oh, my poor, poor boy! I thank the merciful Christ you are still alive. Yet I know not how long that demon in form of woman may be absent; besides, her savage guards are everywhere. The slightest sound might bring one to the door, and it will be better that she believe you her victim, buried forever in that foul grave."

I could but gaze at her, my breath coming in sobs of pain.

"How chanced it, Madame, you knew I was thus entombed?" and my hand, yet bleeding from contact with the rope, ventured to touch her own. She looked into my eyes bravely, a red flush in either cheek.

"I overheard those bold words you spoke to her last night across the partition."

"Last night? Rather a week since."

She smiled, her hand-clasp tightening.

"Ah, no, Geoffrey. It has seemed that long even to me waiting opportunity for service, yet 'tis scarcely eight hours since you were hurled into yonder hole. See; the sun in the sky tells the story truly. But every moment we delay only serves to increase our peril of discovery. Assist me, if you have strength, to relay this stone slab. It tested my muscles sorely to drag it aside. No doubt there is a cunning spring somewhere, by use of which it moves easily, yet I sought after it in vain."

Toiling together we finally succeeded in returning the flat cover to its proper position in the flooring, and spread over it a thick skin. Seeing everything was left exactly as when she entered, Madame, who had become a new woman to my eyes, capable and alert, silently led me through a narrow curtained recess to the second apartment. This had evidently been designed as the Queen's reception room, being fairly gorgeous in coloring, the low walls covered with shields of beaten copper, while burnished bits of the same metal, mingled with duller tones of gold and iron, were scattered everywhere in strange profusion. Varied tinted stones and sea-shells had been built into a raised platform, on which stood a couch hidden beneath rich robes of skin, and draped about with multicolored cloth of rude design and texture. Altogether it was an interior of rich barbaric splendor, savage in its unusual beauty, yet possessing here and there an odd touch of civilization almost startling by contrast. You must understand that I enjoyed little opportunity to gaze about and note such details, for Madame was impatient of delay, hurrying me forward until we entered together a partially concealed passage behind where the couch stood. Here my fair guide paused, thrusting into my hands a quantity of food hastily appropriated from a long shelf, concealed by a curtain of scarlet cloth.

"Eat heartily," she commanded quickly, "for you seem very weak. Meanwhile I will stand here, keeping watch lest we be taken by surprise. Should I give a signal, lift yonder red curtain at its farther end, and hide there in silence until I come again."

I partook of the coarse food eagerly enough, yet my eyes were ever upon her, my lips even finding time for speech.

"Have you some plan, Madame?" I questioned anxiously. "You said but now this house was held under heavy guard."

"I spoke truly. I may not step forth into the air but some savage is at my side driving me back again. Oftentimes they peer within when the Queen is absent, to assure themselves that I am safely caged."

"And this Naladi—does she treat you well?"

The swift color mounted into her clear cheeks.

"Not ill, so far, at least, as relates to the physical," she responded gravely. "No hand has been angrily laid upon me since I was dragged forth from the altar-house. Yet there are other forms of torture; and she constantly mocks me with my helplessness, and, I believe, even hates me for no better reason than that I stand between her and the Chevalier."

"You have seen him?"

"No; but have heard his voice while he held private converse with her, the shameless wanton; have listened to words ill suited to the ears of a wife. She is a witch, and the slumbering devil in her has made snare for his weakness."

"I greatly fear there may be truth in this," I returned, scarcely knowing how best to speak at such a time, marking the agitation of her breathing. "Naladi is a fair woman, softly spoken and seductive when it is her purpose to please. There are not many men who could resist her wiles. Yet possibly, Madame, were you to have converse with the Chevalier your plea might break the spell."

She turned toward me with proud, impetuous gesture, and I was surprised at the sudden indignant light glowing within her dark eyes.

"No, Geoffrey Benteen, that will never be. I am this man's wife. He has vowed himself to me before the sacred altar of Holy Church. Think you that I, a lady born of France, would abase myself to beseech his loyalty? Not though life or death hung upon the issue! If he can cast me aside for the caresses of this savage harlot, he may forever go his way; never will my hand halt him, or my voice claim his allegiance. I am his wife before God; to the end I will be true unto my solemn pledges to Holy Church; yet I hope never to look again upon the false face of Charles de Noyan."

"Are you not over-hasty in such decision?" I ventured, conscious of a gladness in my own heart at her impulsive speech. "Possibly this is a mere passing whim, an idle fancy; he may yet emerge from the craze purified by trial."

She looked hard at me, as if seeking to penetrate the flimsy mask I wore, and I beheld a pride in her uplifted face such as had never been visible there before.

"Such might be the way with some women," she returned firmly. "I am of a race to whom honor is everything. My father gave his life for no less, and I hold him right in his choice. I may forgive much of wrong—ay! have forgiven—yet the stain of dishonor now rests upon the proud name I bear, and that can never be forgiven. Whether in New Orleans, or the heart of this wilderness, I am still Eloise Lafreniere, the daughter of a gentleman of France. I would die by the torture of these savages before I would surrender the honor due my race."

There was that in her proud speech silencing my tongue from further expostulation, even had I believed De Noyan deserved a defender. He had deliberately chosen his path, now let him follow it; any man who would thus lightly tread on the heart of such a woman was clearly outside the radius of human sympathy, deserving to be. Certainly I felt no call to stand between him and his fate.

"I may not comprehend the claims of family pride, Madame," I responded finally, for want of something better. "Of that I know little. Yet I cannot contend that your decision is wrong. However, let us talk of other things, permitting this disagreement to adjust itself. You have not stated how I am to escape from this present predicament. It surely looks a problem not easily solved."

"Nor is it clear even in my mind," she admitted, evidently relieved by the change of topic, "because I do not know the ending of a certain passage underground. Yet I have a plan. Behind the curtain, yonder, a concealed opening leads downward into an underground gallery. I have ventured to explore it for only a brief distance, but trust it may end under the open sky. At least our only hope is that you may discover some such ending. If not, you can only return to me, and we wilt seek other means for escape, if, indeed, there are any."

"I am to understand you do not flee with me?"

She shook her head gravely, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes lowered.

"No; I deem such move not best after those words the Queen spoke to you last night," she answered simply. "Besides, our best efforts at escape would be futile should she suspect you have not perished where she entombed you. I am safe here, for the present at least, while you can accomplish much more for all of us if she believes you dead and takes no precautions to guard against you."

I could scarcely bear the thought of her remaining in the power of that half-savage creature, who wielded such despotic power over her wild tribesmen. Inspired by fear of the result I begged reconsideration, urging her to accompany me in flight; but she was firm in refusal.

"No; urge it no longer, good friend. I know you speak from the heart, yet it is not best. You cannot know to what depths of peril, or disappointment, this passage may lead, while, by remaining behind, I can help to hide your trail, and possibly open to you some way of retreat. But hush!" She held up her hand. "It is the Queen returning; neither of us must be discovered here."

I took a step forward, gaining undisputed possession of the uplifted palm.

"I depart at your wish, Madame," I said brokenly; "but may the merciful God bring us to each other again."

For a breathless instant, even while the sounds without drew nearer, her eyes looked confidingly into mine.

"All must be as God wills," she replied gravely. "Here or hereafter, Geoffrey Benteen, I believe it shall be. Until then, continue to prove the same true man you have ever been, doubting not the trust of her who now bids you speed."

There were voices lightly conversing at the entrance, and I distinguished clearly the senseless laughter of De Noyan. Lower I bent above the white hand reposing in my rough grasp, until my lips pressed the soft flesh; nor was it withdrawn from the caress.

"Good-bye, Eloise," I whispered, and, sweeping aside the heavy folds of curtain, vanished from her sight.



CHAPTER XXX

UNDERGROUND

A slight radiance found passage through the coarsely woven curtain, proving sufficient, as my eyes became more accustomed to the gloom, to reveal, rude steps excavated from the earth, leading down into lower darkness. Pausing merely to assure myself that the meeting between Naladi and Madame was outwardly courteous, while De Noyan seemed shamed into silence by the presence of his wife, I began the descent, quickly finding myself in an apartment, rounded in outline, not greatly dissimilar to that other from which I had been so lately rescued. This, however, was smaller, the floor littered with various articles, the nature of which I found it difficult to determine in such dim light. Nor did I pause for close inspection, but, so soon as search revealed an opening into a narrow passageway beyond, I pressed forward amid dense gloom, feeling my way, fearful lest I meet some pitfall. It was a low, contracted gallery, so extremely irregular in excavation that I sometimes stood erect, unable to reach the roof with extended fingers, yet a moment later was compelled to creep on hands and knees in order to progress at all. Had it led through solid rock I should have accepted this as evidence of natural origin, but sides, floor, and roof were of earth, while every few feet, rendering progress uncertain and perilous, were huge posts of wood, usually roughly hewn tree trunks, each topped by a flat piece of stone, supporting the sagging roof.

Altogether it was a surprising excavation, exhibiting some degree of engineering skill on the part of these savages. I wondered whether the conception originated within the brain of their alien Queen, or was another of the unique inheritances of their race. Perhaps I may be permitted to add here some information which reached me later, that abundant evidences of the existence of similar passages have been noted elsewhere in the old homes of this people beside the Mississippi. While at Petite Rocher River, I met lately a Jesuit, who had travelled widely and read many books, and he gravely assured me that in the vast cities of the Aztecs, far to the south in Mexico, their temples and palaces were connected by means of such long, secret, covered ways. Hence I incline to the belief that this excavation was largely the labor of slaves; for these Nahuacs had many such, some of negro, others of Indian blood, and that the earth thus removed had been utilized in constructing those mounds above, the entire method of building merely a tradition from the past.

Let that be as it may, here the tunnel extended stretching its snake-like course before me. Along it I carefully felt a passage, nervously gripping the knife hilt, and vainly seeking to distinguish definite outlines amid the darkness. My groping feet encountered numerous obstructions along the path—here a pile of loosened earth over which I plunged headlong, or a flat stone dropped by the rotting away of its supporting prop, or some sharp declivity, as though softer earth had yielded to rude implements; yet it became evident from the start that the tunnel level rapidly descended, boring deeper and deeper into the bosom of the earth. Finally, my fingers came into contact with small fragments of rock strewing the side walls, and I comprehended I must already be beneath the base of that rounded mound upon the summit of which the house of Naladi stood. What worried me most was to what end this tunnel was made. Such vast labor had surely never been performed without adequate purpose. Besides, completed, the passage was well cared for. I met frequently in my blind groping with evidences of comparatively recent labor. Yet for what purpose was it designed? Where did it lead? To my bewildered judgment the general trend appeared northward; but that would carry it directly across the broadest portion of the upper basin. To have an unconcealed entrance in the centre of that unprotected, open plain would be foreign to savage nature; while to imagine that such a tunnel as this, from which a vast amount of earth had been borne upon the backs of workmen, could extend below the full extent of that valley, was beyond conception. Besides, the air was light and pure, as sweet to inhale as if it blew directly upon me from the open sky; itself proof positive that some opening could not be far distant.

Thus questioning, I groped slowly forward. To one accustomed to living in the open there is something peculiarly oppressive in being cooped within the confines of such narrow entries, and being compelled to reflect upon the immense mass of rock and earth resting above, and prevented from crushing him down into everlasting silence only by insignificant props of wood, whose melancholy groaning in the darkness bore evidence of the vast weight they upheld. There was nothing for me but to struggle onward, although I do not claim that it was without quaking heart, or many a start at odd noises echoing and re-echoing along that grim gallery. It is comparatively easy to be courageous where the peril is of a nature to which we have long accustomed ourselves, but many a trained nerve gives way before little ventures amid the unknown. I am told that soldiers coming to these colonies—veterans who had faced unflinchingly the flames of battle—will tremble and shrink like frightened girls at the slightest sign of a storm at sea; and there was once a famous war-chief of the Shawnees, who had fought fiercely with tomahawk and knife, yet who fell dead at the first crash of a field gun, although the piece was uncharged with ball. So I conceive that physical courage is not so high a virtue after all, and am not greatly ashamed to acknowledge I went timidly forward down that black slope, and with a wild inclination to fly backward at every sound. Nor do I boast of keeping on, for it was largely because I knew well what reception would await me; the look of scorn with which Madame would discover that a faint heart had made me afraid of the dark. So it was love, or pride, I scarce know which, that kept my reluctant feet moving; and, possibly, both of these are the true sponsors for most of the courage in the world, except that engendered by excitement.

Finally, when, with many a quaking of the heart I thought there must be above me a full hundred feet of earth, I perceived a flickering ray of light stealing along the floor. It grew more pronounced with each advancing step and soon crimsoned the upper walls. I dropped cautiously upon hands and knees, and crept slowly forward, beside the dancing shadows, taking concealment behind every irregularity. Thus approaching, I discovered the flaring beacon to be a huge pine knot stuck into the earth wall, blazing right merrily. Lying at full length, with head outstretched from behind the tree trunk that concealed my body, I gazed forward into a small room, possibly a dozen feet in width, the walls concealed by grotesquely pictured bark, its floor covered with a rude matting, dyed in fanciful colors. Somewhat to the left of where I lay uprose a huge, grim figure, roughly shapen from wood, having two uplifted wings pressing the roof, while directly in front reposed numerous dishes of untasted food. This idol, for such I conceived it to be, was a most hideous, repulsive object, colored lavishly with strange pigments, the face and head decorated in crimson, while the huge right hand, grasping a club, was uplifted as if about to strike down an approaching enemy. The flaring light of the pine knot glittered on great staring eyes which appeared to sparkle as if composed of precious stones; while about neck, zone, and ankles shone the duller gleam of gold, with the shimmer of some brighter metal.

It was a grewsome sight to approach in such a place, especially as the peculiar eyes appeared to follow my slightest movement. Yet only for a breathless moment did I experience doubt as to its nature, then laughed grimly at myself for a superstitious fool. The remaining portion of this dimly revealed underground apartment appeared bare, except for a gayly decorated skin or two, and the figure of a man, garbed in the gloomy attire of a priest, lying fast asleep at the very feet of the statue. Beyond showed a dark opening where the tunnel continued onward into the earth.

It required brief observation to note these outlines, nor did they greatly serve to delay my advance. I paused merely long enough to become thoroughly convinced of the reality of the priest's slumber, and then crept silently past, keeping close as possible within the shadow of the eastern wall, until once again safely swallowed within the blackness of the passage. Oddly enough the mere sight of that fellow lying there unconscious served to yield me new courage, robbing the cave of its loneliness, and I plunged directly ahead.

The passage I now followed rose with a sharp pitch, evidently inclining toward the surface, the opening not far distant. It was like mounting a hill, so marked was the incline, yet I covered a distance fully equalling that of my previous descent before becoming aware of a steadily increasing gray tingeing the side walls. Halting in this faint illumination I was suddenly startled by the sound of vigorous English speech. I advanced cautiously. The words were so confused by the echoes that little could be made of them until I reached a coarsely matted curtain, through which dimly sifted the welcome daylight. Here I paused, listening intently, striving to discover what mystery lay hidden beyond.

For some moments nothing reached me, excepting a low, dull murmur, as if voices chanted in muffled monotone, the sound commingling with a sharp crackling of flames, and an occasional doleful beating upon some surface resembling the taut parchment of a drum. Suddenly a deep voice close at hand roared out hoarsely, and my heart leaped in excitement, although I at once recognized it.

"You black-faced son of Belial," came a savage snort, "do you give all that food unto a dumb idol, when a Christian man, a ministering servant of the Most High, lies groaning with a stomach which has n't tasted food for four and twenty hours? Possess you no bowels of compassion for the long sufferings of a fellow-man? Come now, give me just a bite of the white meat, and yonder grinning wooden image will never miss it. You won't, you spawn of Baal, yet I marked plain enough how you filled your own lean belly with the best there was."

The straining of cords, together with sound of struggle, bore evidence that the Reverend Mr. Cairnes was making heroic effort to attain unto that food offered before idols. That such strenuous effort was vain was soon proven by the bursting forth of his voice once more.

"Oh, gracious Lord," he cried, in a tone evidencing more anger than spiritual exaltation, "surely thy ancient servant Job never bowed before greater affliction than this now visited upon me. Verily 't is even as the experiences of the Apostle Paul, yet without his reward in the flesh. I beseech Thee from the depth of humiliation—even as did Daniel from the lions' den—loosen my arms that I may smite as with Thy wrath this profaner of Thy most holy name, thus bringing peace unto the smitten heart of Thy faithful servant. O Lord, what have I done to be deserted in this hour of extremity? As Elijah called down fire from Heaven, so I call upon Thee to smite with the terror of Thy might the ranks of these foul idolaters. He who hath boldly proclaimed Thy truth in the wilderness, who hath proven a faithful witness unto these savages, through many years of trial and tribulation, doth now call upon Thee in dire distress. Shall it be in vain, that he thus uplifts his voice supplicating in the wilderness?"

His deep rumbling died away until I could distinguish little except those moans with which he punctuated the conclusion of each sentence. Finally, hearing no other sound to restrain me, I ventured to slightly uplift one corner of the heavy curtain, and peer into the room. The entrance opened upon the back of the rude platform, my position being within less than three paces from the famine-stricken Puritan, who, with low-bowed head and hidden face, was still wrestling in fervent prayer. I was unable, from where I hid, to distinguish the form of the crouching priest, yet knew he could not be far distant, and therefore I durst not speak above a whisper lest the sound awaken his suspicion.

"Cairnes," I said softly, "hush that unseemly racket, man, and give heed to my words."

Three times I was compelled to repeat this warning before I noticed him lift his head, in evidence that the faint sound had finally reached his ears. Unable to turn, he rolled his eyes inquiringly upward.

"What is it, O Lord?" he questioned, with such unbounded faith in a celestial visitant I found it hard to restrain a laugh.

"Don't be a fool," I whispered back hastily. "The Almighty may have guided me here, but 'tis a man in the flesh who speaks."

The sectary made hard efforts to glance behind, but the cords held too firmly, so I merely gained a glimpse of the side of his face.

"Merciful Jehovah! 'tis the voice of Master Benteen," he exclaimed joyfully. "I know not how you could come there unless you descended from the sky."

"From the opposite quarter, my friend," I replied, awake to the humor. "Pray speak with less noise, and pay heed to what I say. Tell me where the priest stands; you are so confounded broad of shoulder I can see nothing beyond."

"He kneels to the right of the altar, the crawling spawn of hell, where he has good chance to fill his lean body with food he makes pretence to feed unto that foul figure of wood. He is a full imp of Satan, the black-faced idolater."

"I care little as to that. Are there others present?"

"None, save the guard, a naked savage. He leans in the doorway, looking without."

"Then be quiet while I cut your bonds; afterwards move back toward me. But mark well you tread lightly along the floor, with no sound to attract attention."

He chuckled grimly.

"Fathers of Israel! it will astound those fellows to discover this place empty—'t is likely they will imagine me gone back to the Sun."

Making no response to this natural conceit, I stretched myself forward the full length of my body, quickly drew the keen knife edge across his bonds, severing them with one stroke, thus setting free his arms. As the sundered cords dropped noiselessly to the floor I drew back into hiding, leaving him to rid himself of whatever might remain. A moment later he joined me, silently as a great shadow, and I cordially extended my hand to him.



CHAPTER XXXI

WE MOUNT THE CLIFF

"May the gracious blessing of the Lord rest upon you, Geoffrey Benteen," exclaimed the old Puritan fervently, as we faced each other in that gloomy passage, and it somehow heartened me to note tears in his gray eyes. There was heart, then, under all his crabbedness. "I have suffered much of late both in spirit and flesh, and the very sight of you is as a gift of mercy unto me. No angel with healing in his wings could prove more welcome, yet I dislike leaving yonder food for the sustenance of that foul idolater."

"You hunger then?" I questioned, amused at the regret with which he glanced backward.

"Is it hungered you call a man who has had but two dry bones to pick since yester-noon?" he groaned, pressing both hands upon his stomach. "I am lean as the Egyptian kine, and fain would welcome even locusts and wild honey."

"Well, friend," I insisted firmly, "if you follow, within fifteen minutes you shall partake of a meal equalling that left behind. I myself know well what a long fast means."

"'T is truly a grievous affliction, difficult to sustain in meekness of spirit," he admitted, yet ever keeping me close company through the increasing darkness of descent; "yet more am I distressed by the loss of all spiritual nurture amid these wild heathen. Perchance, Master Benteen, you might be led to unite with me in a moment's fervent supplication before the throne of grace?"

"Ay; when the right time comes I will gladly join, yet I warn you now not to send your bull voice roaring through these passages, or you will have small opportunity for another meal."

"A time to work and a time to pray has ever been my motto, most worthy youth, but my soul is so filled with gratitude at my providential deliverance from pagan bondage—even as was Daniel from the lions' den—I long to pour forth my joy in songs of praise. Patience, but were I out of here, verily would I venture to uplift a psalm of Zion."

He spoke in such ecstasy I feared lest his zeal might conquer his prudence, although in truth this latter virtue was one never apparent in his composition, and I determined once for all to nip in the bud all such inclination. So I halted in the darkness, and, as he lumbered past, laid a restraining hand upon his shoulder.

"Now hark you, Ezekiel Cairnes," I muttered sternly, "I admire your piety, but this is no conventicle of the elect we are in; rather a place where your life, and those of others, depend on our caution. The echoing of that bull voice along these galleries might cause the blocking of our passage, caging us in here like rats in a hole. So hold quiet, Master Preacher, and let me hear no more about either prayers or psalms."

The grave determination in my voice served to sober him.

"'T is in my blood," he admitted doggedly, "to fight and work better to the holy songs of Israel. It would bring renewed peace to my soul merely to uplift a paean of victory over the discomfiture of my enemies. But I seek no quarrel here, and hence bide in silence until a proper moment to unseal my lips."

"'Twill be well you do. Now follow close at my heels, and I 'll promise a swift diversion to your thoughts."

Thus cautiously we crept toward the distant flickering of the torch, the unsteady light from which already began to yellow the packed earth about us, until we finally emerged into its full glare. I had crawled forth, perhaps half my length beyond the concealment of the wooden pillar, and, knife in hand, was stealthily drawing in toward the motionless form of the still slumbering priest, when the roving eyes of Cairnes encountered the idol, with its flashing gems and widely outspread wings, towering above like an avenging demon. I doubt not the sight was startling to the fellow, terrorized by the underground gloom, and he gave utterance to one gruff cry:

"'T is Beelzebub!"

The sleeping priest leaped to his feet, glaring about in bewilderment. Where I lay outstretched it required an instant to gather myself for action, and, before I could place restraining grip upon him, the fellow saw us both, and, with echoing scream of terror, fled frantically up the dark entry to the right. I made desperate effort to halt him, but my swift-flung knife found bloodless sheath within the soft earth of the wall.

"Zounds! are you a screeching woman with no control over your tongue?" I exclaimed angrily, panting for breath. "'T is likely that priest will rouse the tribe, and we shall have a run for it. What caused you to make such an uproar?"

"Saints of Israel!" he said, repentantly enough, his glinting eyes still roving over the silent, leering image, "never before did I behold such monster as that. For the moment, I believed it Satan himself. But, for the love of the prophets, what is this?" He began eagerly sniffing the air with his great nose like a pointer dog. "'T is food I scent; that which will stay a famished stomach. I beg you, friend, pause shortly while I satisfy in some measure the yearnings of the body. Then shall I be better fitted to withstand the temptations of the world."

"Odds, man, I hope so," I responded gloomily, watching his eager attack upon the supply outspread before the idol. "So far you have acted like a lunkhead, and I begin to regret making you comrade in this adventure. If a full stomach inspires to a man's duty, it would be policy always to bear food about with you."

"Ay, 'tis strange, indeed," he mumbled, his mouth too full for clear speech, "that one who ever strives to live in spiritual exercise should be so completely the bound slave of mere bodily indulgence. Yet I did inherit all such ungodly tendency from my mother who was of Dutch blood, as round of form as a Holland churn, while my father was spare of build, and throve marvellously upon the water of life."

Leaving the engrossed sectary to refresh himself to the full of his capacity, I anxiously set to work searching after some species of cross-tunnel, shrewdly guessing this underground altar masked a junction point, from whence some such branch passageway would lead toward the open air. With diligent care I passed along the walls, testing each separate section, yet discovering nothing to reward my efforts, until, finally creeping between the spreading feet of the effigy, which appeared to sway unsteadily, I lifted the crimson drapery hanging down its back, thus disclosing an opening, barely sufficient to permit the easy passage of a small man while lying flat.

"Most noble scavenger," I said, feeling in better humor from this chance discovery of the means of escape, "are the wants of nature finally satisfied? For if so, I have found a path which will lead us from this hole of iniquity."

"Nay, call it not so while it offers such excellent bodily nurture," he replied with fervor, cocking one eye up at me, yet keeping both hands busily employed in crowding his pockets full of eatables. "Say rather the shadow of a great rock in a weary land, or a well of water in desert places. I shall be ready to accompany you upon a journey after I lay in these few necessaries. The Lord hath given me manna in the wilderness—even as the ravens fed Elijah so hath He succored me—and 'twould be sin to make mock of His mercy."

"Very well; only hurry and follow my lead."

"Will you not carry the torch to help guide?" he questioned, peering doubtfully into the yawning black opening.

"No; the light would serve to betray us to any spying eyes. Perhaps that frightened priest may deem us spirits, and muster courage to come creeping back. If so, it will be best for him to find things here unchanged, although in faith he will scarcely doubt we possess earthly appetites when he notes your onslaught on the sacred food. Come, man, enough of stuffing; your pockets can hold no more, so press on with me."

"It grieves me sorely to leave behind so much good pabulum," he explained, eying still the few morsels left. "It would be well, to my judgment, did you pack the rest of this providential supply."

Never pausing to answer, I crept between the spreading wooden limbs, and, with the expenditure of no small effort, succeeded in wriggling into the narrow hole beyond. It was a cramped passage for a man of my girth, yet, by digging in firmly with both hands and feet, I managed to advance, until I finally emerged, within space of perhaps a yard, into a much larger excavation, resembling the tunnel we had previously traversed.

"Now, Master Cairnes," I spoke back encouragingly, "it is only a short distance to good footing; so take fresh breath and come on."

His massive head completely shut out the faint light of the narrow opening, and I heard heavy breathing as the fellow squeezed his broad shoulders through the hole. There followed sounds of violent struggle during his slow and painful advance.

"By all the prophets and the patriarchs," he groaned wearily, "'tis not in me to make it! Had I endeavored this before eating I could have slipped through, scarcely touching either side. But now I am scraped like a pig for the feast. Baste me, friend Benteen, but I can move neither forward nor back in this accursed place; I am full aground in the centre, and can never hope to progress without aid."

I reached down until I laid firm hold upon his groping fingers.

"Find some projection to push against with your feet," I advised disgustedly.

"Fervently will I endeavor to dig in, and thus render all assistance in my power, yet I feel little to encourage me here in good works. Would it not be wise to test the potency of prayer? Verily the prayer of the righteous availeth much."

"I try earthly power first," I returned testily. "So lay to it, and we will have you out."

I braced my knees against the firm wall, exerting all the strength I possessed. There followed a series of moans and heated expostulations, then the sound of rending cloth, and the disgruntled Puritan came forth with a suddenness of exit which landed us both in a heap on the floor.

"May all the spawn of hell be your playmates," he roared in mad anger. "By the bones of Moses! you have scraped every bit of skin off me, and half my coat is ripped loose and left behind. Thou art an ungodly, blaspheming—"

He gasped wildly for breath as I throttled him, but the grip of my hands stilled his speech.

"It was only that you gorged like a bear preparing for Winter, or you would have passed through even as I did," I muttered, heedless of his effort to release my clutch. "Lie still now, or, by all the devils in the pit, I 'll shut down harder on your throat. Ah, so you can keep quiet, friend? Then I will let you go, for I would be free to explore this passage."

I could perceive, by means of the faint light streaming through the narrow opening, that he was busily engaged in rubbing his sorely lacerated sides, and I noted his brown jerkin had been fairly wrenched off his shoulders.

"Where did you leave your coat?"

"Yonder in that accursed hole! It has store of provisions in its pockets. Lord save me, but was there ever such a time!"

He turned, groping anxiously about in the scene of his late adventure until he finally brought forth the missing garment. Carefully testing the pockets to see their contents remained intact, a smile lit up his leathern face, and he flung it across his shoulders, like a pair of well-filled saddle-bags. I reached in also, lowered the drapery, and then led down the dark tunnel as rapidly as the grim uncertainty of the way would permit.

The passage proved long and tedious; at least so it seemed to us compelled to grope slowly onward through the darkness. However, it ran straight and upon a level, although the numerous supports of the roof gave us occasional foul blows, and proved so confusing we were considerable time in traversing its distance. All I have already pictured as occurring since I departed from the presence of Madame, and first plunged blindly into the underground labyrinths, had required several hours, and it must have been close upon sunset when we emerged from the gloom of the tunnel into the fresh sweet air.

The passage traversed so long terminated abruptly, and with a sheer turn to the left, coming forth between two huge rocks. To all appearances, it ended at the high bank of a noisy stream, and was partly hidden by the overhanging cliff. The latter, devoid of path or chasm, now barred our progress, towering aloft until its ragged summit appeared to press the blue sky. At first view I thought the way ended here, but Cairnes pointed silently toward the right, and then I perceived where a path led upward, along the merest narrow, jagged shelf, skirting the boiling water, yet ever rising higher above it, until, as my eyes followed its serpentine windings from terrace to terrace, I grew dizzy contemplating the possibilities of so mad a climb.

"I suppose it must be tried," I admitted soberly, "for there is apparently no other passage. Doubtless it leads straight to the top of the cliff."

"Ay," with more of indifference than I had expected, "and it will be no easy trick in the night."

"The night?"

"Surely, yes; when else could we expect to compass the path? Is it not plain, friend, that before we rose fifty feet we should be in full view of every eye in the valley with the sun bright upon us? I tell you we must foot yonder rocks amid the night shadows, or else it will be safer to lie hidden here."

I perceived the truth of his words and I confess to a sinking of the heart, as I contemplated the work before us. I was never an adept in clambering, it addles my head; and, bad as it appeared by day, surely doubly bad would it prove by night. Yet there was little help for it, and I made shift to win back my oozing courage by more cheerful speech. "Odds, but that is no such trip as I would seek after, yet needs must if the devil drives," I said. "So, now, brother Cairnes, if you wilt consent to divide your store of food, we shall both front our night's work with stronger bodies."

"Saints' rest! and if we go over the edge," he replied, cheerfully emptying his bulging pockets on the rock, "it will be a comfort to bear loaded stomachs with us. It was ever against my pleasure to die half filled."

We lingered as long as possible over our meal, conversing in such a way as to encourage each other and indulging in frequent draughts from the clear stream. Nothing occurred to disturb us, and, finally, both yielded to the soothing influence of the drowsy evening, and, resting back upon the rocks, dropped asleep. I know not the hour of my awakening, yet it greatly heartened me to be greeted by the sight of a nearly full moon, and to observe how the clear silvery light flooded the rocks, revealing the winding path leading upward. To arouse Cairnes was no easy task, but at last we advanced on our path. The huge rocks overhead appeared to arch us in, while, with utmost caution, we crept along the narrow, irregular ledge, which at times was level, and anon rose abruptly like the steps of a stair; occasionally it wound about projecting rocks and over vast, unknown depths, until my brain whirled, while I hugged the smooth rock wall at my right, and felt cautiously forward for solid foothold.

I imagine we had progressed thus for upwards of three or four hundred yards, and were elevated so far above the stream that scarcely an echo of its noise assailed our ears even in the silence of the night, when suddenly we came to the end of our path. The rocky shelf was so narrow the very conception of turning about smote me with terror. Directly in front, extending to the very edge, stretched a solid wall of rock. My eyes sank to the shelf on which I stood. Lying close against the sheer cliff was the root of a tree, its trunk, perhaps a foot or more in diameter, stretching over the abyss, whose depth I durst not guess. I stooped cautiously, my heart throbbing, and ran my fingers along the bark.

"Oak," I announced soberly, "and feels solid and strong. No doubt those Indians must cross here, but it is a bridge to rack the nerves."

"Will you adventure the passage?" questioned Cairnes, striving to peer across my shoulder. "As for me I would rather attempt the Red Sea."

"Odds, man, the choice is not given. 'T is either turn and go back, or foot the tree; of the two the attempt at turning would addle me worse."

I leaned out over the edge as far as I dared, clinging desperately to the root, and gazed down. It was like peering into the mouth of a great well. Then I nerved myself for the ordeal, and the next moment was fairly launched over the abyss, hanging on grimly to the log, my brain reeling as if with drunkenness. Yet I kept moving inch by inch, for there was now no stopping, and soon felt solid rock once more beneath my groping feet. With prayer on lips I crouched, sick and dizzy, close in against the wall, watching Cairnes where he followed along the same perilous path.



CHAPTER XXXII

CHIEF PRIEST OF THE SUN

The rock shelf we followed became gradually somewhat wider, so I moved forward with greater freedom. The path continued to ascend, winding unevenly along the precipitous face of the cliff, until we must have climbed nearly to the summit of the mighty bluff. But the overhanging crest rendered it impossible for us to do more than guess the situation. We were but ants clinging to a wall and unable to see more than a few yards ahead. Finally we attained a point where the cliff bulged outward in a wide curve, not unlike the rounded bow of a ship, and were compelled to move with renewed caution along the narrowed shelf, which was seemingly unsupported. Creeping fearfully forward on hands and knees around the sharp corner I found myself before the yawning entrance to a cavern. I realized that here was the ending of our toilsome climb, for I could see nothing beyond, excepting a precipitous wall of stone. If the path had continuation, it must pass through the cave.

"Yonder yawns a gloomy-looking hole, Master Benteen," muttered the Puritan, lying at full length beside me, and staring ahead. "Yet my eyes see no sign of life to alarm us."

"The front is unguarded surely," I admitted gravely, "but do not feel confident that there are no occupants within. If I mistake not, we have stumbled upon the very spot whence the priests signal down to the valley the rising and setting of the sun."

"I never witnessed such ceremony, yet to my mind it would be far pleasanter going forward than lying here on the hard rock."

Realizing the truth of his comment, yet muttering over my shoulder a word of caution, I began crawling forward into the interior. No sign of human presence appeared, and I ventured to stand upright. The cavern possessed a wide opening, with a broad platform of rock extending well out beyond the face of the cliff. Along the edge I could observe the rather dim outlines of an immense altar, built of detached stones, rising to a considerable height, and partially blocking the entrance. From below it might serve to conceal the mouth of the cave. This obstruction shut off much of the moon's light, rendering the interior intensely dark. We were compelled to grope our way forward with hands pressed against the walls. I had not advanced more than thirty feet, my every nerve tingling, when I saw the ruddy reflection of a fire, hitherto completely concealed by a sharp turn in the tunnel. Rounding this abrupt point we found ourselves in a large room capable of containing upwards of three hundred persons. This chamber was partly natural in formation, but, as I discovered later, had been considerably enlarged by artificial means. So high was it that, in the dim light, I could scarcely distinguish its vaulted roof, while its length was hidden in the darkness. In the very centre of this apartment arose a great pile of irregular rock, flattened and hollowed along the top, where was burning a vast log, the smoke ascending straight upward, evidently finding outlet above. The light, red and yellow, flared and flickered upon the surrounding bare gray walls, nothing else arresting the eye except a second wide rock platform close to where we crouched. This was partially concealed by a great mat of coarsely woven scarlet cloth, which brought to me a conjecture that here, perhaps, the Queen was throned.

Wherever there was fire burning there must, of necessity, be attendants to feed the flame, but I could detect no sign of life, no sign of any kind, other than the crackling of the blazing log, and the heavy breathing of my companion. The silence oppressed me.

"Go to the right," I advised at last, nervous from inaction, "I will try the left, until we meet again. Keep close against the wall, and move with care."

"'Tis not wholly unlike a visit to hell," he muttered gloomily, "but I am weary of lying shivering here."

I watched the fellow creep forward on his knees, his brilliant head-covering revealed in the glare like a flame. Then I took up my own part of this work of exploration. I had compassed half my distance amid profound stillness, perceiving nothing strange, and constantly feeling more intensely the solemn loneliness of the place, which by now, to my awakened imagination, appeared peopled with bloodless victims of heathen superstition. I felt no doubt this was a torture chamber; that many a hapless slave, or shrieking captive, had yielded up life in agony upon the summit of the gloomy pile, and the haunting spectres seemed to grin at me with distorted faces from every crevice along the walls. I was weakly yielding to such weird dreams, when a wild, shrill scream rang forth from the darkness in front. The cry contained such note of affright that, for an instant, I connected it with the fantasies which thronged my brain. I stood still, rooted to the spot, the blood curdling in my veins, my eyes straining in vain effort to pierce the darkness. Then there arose a roar not unlike that of an angry lion; the sound of a fierce struggle; the dull thud of a blow, and Cairnes's deep voice boomed forth.

"Ye black-faced villain! 'T is the strength of the righteous you have felt this day. Blessed be the name of the Lord, who hath given me the victory! Lie there in your sins, and no longer affront your Maker."

I sprang eagerly forward, but at my first step came into contact with a fleeing figure, which rounded the end of the altar in such blind terror as nearly to hurl me from my feet. I grasped at the floating robe, but missed, and the next instant was rushing blindly after the fellow down the dark passage toward where the moonlight silvered the outer rocks. Fright gave him wings, but desperate determination lightened my feet, and I was nearly upon him when the fleeing man rounded the great rock. One instant he paused, glancing behind. What he saw, or imagined he saw, I have no means of knowing; perchance some shrieking victim of his foul rites risen from the dead. With one wild, echoing cry, which rang in my ears like the scream of a lost soul, he gave a mad leap out into the air, and went plunging down to the jagged rocks at the base. Sick and pulseless I drew back. Trembling in every limb, even in the silence which followed I could detect no sound of his body as it struck the earth. I crept to the edge, lying prone upon my face, and looked over. The moonlight ended a hundred feet beneath me; beyond its line there was nothing but a black void. There could be no question as to what had occurred—the man was dead. I made my way back into the cave seeking to discover what had befallen the Puritan. I found him at the farther extremity of the great altar, calmly enjoying a quantity of cold meat he had discovered. He was squatting upon the floor, in close proximity to the motionless, extended figure of a savage arrayed in the black garments of the priesthood. They formed a picture so startlingly grotesque I could but stare in amazement.

"Jerked venison," he explained, glowering up at me, as I came into the firelight. "'T is of a peculiar flavor not altogether to my taste, yet not a food to be despised in the wilderness. Did you lay hands upon the heathen who fled?"

"No, he escaped me, but only to leap over the outer rock. He lies dead below. Have you slain this man?"

He turned the huddled up body over contemptuously with his foot, and I perceived the wrinkled countenance of an aged man, the eyes bright, the thick hair on his head long and nearly white. The face, thin and emaciated, was so sinister I involuntarily drew back.

"A snake is not so easily killed," he answered in indifference. "I struck but once, and not very hard as I rank blows, yet the fellow has not stirred since. 'T is well for him to remain quiet until I finish this repast, for I am of a merciful disposition when my carnal requirements are properly ministered unto. Faith, had my eyes not fallen on the food I might have got both the fellows."

Paying slight heed to his gossip I bent over the priest, rubbing his limbs until the blood began to circulate. Before the testy sectary had ended his munching, the old savage was sitting up, his back propped against a rock, the firelight playing over his wrinkled face, as he gazed at us, yet dazed and frightened. This was one whom I had never before seen; there was something of distinction about him, both as regards face and costume, which instantly convinced me he held high rank in the tribe—no doubt the chief priest. His sharp, black, malicious eyes wandered unsteadily from the Puritan to myself, as if he sought to regain his scattered senses. Finally he ventured a single word of inquiry:

"Francais?"

"No," I answered shortly, speaking deliberately in French, hopeful he might know something of the tongue. "We are not of that people, yet I speak the language."

"I glad you not Francais," he said brokenly, yet intelligibly, his tone gruff, his accent guttural; "but I talk you some in that tongue."

"How come you to speak French?"

His lean face hardened. As he bent forward, his fingers clinched convulsively. At first I thought he would not answer.

"'T was much time since I learn; when I was young man," he answered slowly, recalling the unfamiliar words. "Then no snow in hair, no lame in leg, and my people dwell beside the great river toward the sun-rising. We were a great nation, with slaves to work our land, warriors to fight our battles, and priests to make sacrifice. Then we had much of treasure from our fathers." He bowed his head, mumbling indistinctly; then continued, as if talking to himself, after the fashion of the aged: "Long time before that there came to our village men in canoes, floating down the great river out of the north. They were of white face, and wore shining things on their bodies and heads, and bore in their hands that which spouted fire and death. This was before I was born, yet I was told it often of my fathers. My people believed them children of the Sun, because of their white faces and light hair; they were made welcome, taken into the house of the altar, fed, warmed, and loved. I know not who they were, or whence they came, yet they spoke this tongue, did point at themselves and say 'Francais,' and told of a mighty King away off, and worshipped before a cross-piece of wood. My people knew not what to make of them; yet they were not afraid, and treated the strangers with kindness, and there was no war between them. He who seemed their leader had one hard hand of metal, and they named him 'Tonty.' Know you such a man of your color?"

"No," I answered, already deeply interested in his simple story. "That was all before my time, nor do I even remember hearing the name till now, yet there were Frenchmen upon the great river full a hundred years ago, I have been told. 'Twas most likely they who came to your people. Did they do harm to your fathers?"

"They passed away in peace," he continued, using the language with greater ease as he proceeded, "for we were then strong, and of courage in battle; the fire bright on our altars. Nor did we look again upon any white face for so long a time that this visit became no more than a tradition among the people. More and more did the fathers believe this Tonty was a visitant from the Sun—many there were who worshipped him as a god. When he left he said he would come again, and with every sunrise the eyes of my people were turned in watching up the river. Then, when I was but a child, there came to our village canoes from below, from the way of the salt water. They did land, unmolested of our people, who supposed Tonty had come back; fair-faced men with yellow hair and beards and dressed in shining metal from head to heel. I was at the shore with the others when they came, and heard them speak in this tongue, and call themselves Francais. Others of that race followed, and we welcomed and fed them all, even as our fathers had done to Tonty. Some were warriors with swords, and fire-sticks, but with these were also some strange, black-robed men, who sought to tell us of another God, greater than the Sun our fathers worshipped. They had pictures, and crosses of wood, and prayed to these as we to the Sun. But we believed not in their God, and tried to drive them away from our village when they put out our fires, for they made much trouble among our people, so that the priests came to hate them—the black-robes. Some among them went, but one would not go, and so we made offering of him in sacrifice to the Sun. Then we thought we were rid of the black-robes, and could again live as we had been taught of our fathers."

He stopped speaking, his head bent low on his breast, his eyes on the altar name. I waited without a word.

"But they were of strong heart," he went on at last, never looking at me, "and returned again, until finally war arose between my people and these white-faced Francais. Many came up the great river from the salt water in big boats, and drove us forth from our village, the home of our fathers, and gave it up to fire, after killing many warriors. We could not fight against their fire-sticks, yet we saved much that we valued, and wandered far toward the sunset, bearing along with us the bodies of our chiefs, and the sacred fire from our altar. The Francais lost us in the wilderness. We came to a little river which flowed down to greet us from out the sunset. Here we stopped once more, built our village, erecting about it a great wall of earth such as our fathers did in those days when we were strong and mighty. We dwelt there in peace for three seasons of sun and cold, having little trouble with those tribes that roamed about us, until one day there came into our new village another Francais, a black-robe. How he got there I know not, but we laid hands upon him,—remembering the past,—bound him before our altar-house, and made of him a sacrifice unto our god, the Sun. Yet it was not well. Even that very night, while we worshipped before the fire which had consumed him, there came upon us many Francais out from the dark woods, with fire-sticks and sharp knives, so that only few of our people escaped, and got away to the north. I was one, bearing ever with me the sacred fire, which I was sworn to guard. We travelled across many rivers, suffering much from want, until those who lived wandered to this place, and here set up once more our fathers' ancient altars. 'T was thus I learned the words of the tongue, this accursed Francais, and learned also to hate those with white faces and black hearts who speak it."

His voice ceased, and his chin sank wearily upon his breast. My ear caught the heavy breathing of Cairnes, and I turned to mark him lying at full length upon the stone floor sound asleep. Admiring his indifference to surroundings, I was yet so deeply engrossed in this tale of the old priest as to be myself insensible of fatigue.

"You are indeed of an old race," I said, hoping to make him talk further, "if the traditions of your people extend to those first Frenchmen who came floating south along the great river."

The old eyes, now scanning my face, gleamed with awakened pride.

"'T is no more than a page out of our history I have related," he exclaimed hastily, evidently aroused by my interest. "We are the oldest and greatest people of the earth. Ay, more; we are children of the Sun, and, ages ago, when our fathers were true to their faith and their God, there were none who could contend against us. We had our great altars on every hilltop, and our villages were in every valley. Our kings ruled from far above the great fresh water down to where the salt sea kisses the white sand; our slaves toiled in the fields to produce us food, and in the rocks to give us store of metal for the chase and war. It was then the Sun shone warm upon his children, and there were none among men who dared to face our warriors in battle. We were masters of all the land we trod; we feared no people, for we were blessed of the Sun."

"How came the end?"

"It was a curse upon us—curse because we made mock of the Sun. The sacred fire died out on our altars, while recreant priests slept, and so there came upon the nation a breath of pestilence from the sky which swept away the people as if by fire. It has been told to me that our dead lay everywhere; that whole villages were destroyed in a single night; that those who survived wandered in the woods foodless, until only a pitiful remnant of those who were once so powerful lived in that tainted air, poisoned by decaying bodies. Then the surviving slaves banded themselves together, fell upon their wandering masters, driving and killing, until the few who were left drew together on the banks of the great river. Here, by lighting the sacred fire again, they made peace and were saved. It was there I was born."

I fail utterly to picture the true solemnity of the scene, as the aged priest, white-haired and evil-eyed, slowly mumbled it forth in his broken, halting French, leaning with his back against the rough stones of the great altar, on the summit of which flamed the sacred fire he had passed his life in guarding. 'T was like a voice speaking from a forgotten past, which looked forth from sunken eyes, and became visible in snow-white hair. A grave yawned to give me a glimpse of all which that grave contained—the hopes, the struggles, the death of a once powerful tribe. Yet it all stands forth perfectly clear to my memory as I write—the vast black chamber lying in shadow and flame; the dark figure of the bulky Puritan outstretched upon the stones at our feet; the ghastly, corpse-like face of the savage old priest, whose eyes gleamed so fiercely, as he dreamed once again of the vanished glories of his race.

"But the woman who now rules over you?" I questioned, waiting vainly for him to resume. "Is she not white?"

He did not answer; apparently he did not hear.

"I ask regarding Queen Naladi—is she also of your people?"

"We are alike children of the Sun," he responded, his tone more sullen. "She is of the Sun and was sent to rule; sent by the Sun to lead us once again unto our own."

"She told you this?"

"We know it by signs, by the prophecy of our fathers; we were long looking for her coming; she was promised us by the Sun. In the hour of deepest need, a woman fair of face with hair of reddish gold, a goddess in earthly form, was to be sent to guide us. She came out of the mystery, and we wait her will."

"Then she is not of your race?"

"I have answered—she came to our people from the Sun."

I have not often felt too secure while in any position of danger, but this feeble old savage rested so helplessly back against the base of the altar, I lost all thought of him as an enemy against whom I needed to guard. Sunk in contemplation of his story, I sat carelessly, my head somewhat lowered as I mentally viewed the picture drawn. Cairnes moved uneasily in his sleep, muttering something indistinctly, and I turned partially so that I might look at him. Instantly, with the leap of a tiger, the priest hurled himself upon me. I flung up one arm, barely in time to intercept a jagged stone aimed full at my head. As we clinched and went down, the incarnate fiend buried his yellow teeth in my hand, and, in spite of his weight of years, I found myself hard pressed in a death struggle. A very demon seemed to possess him; his grip was satanic in its hate. In truth it was Cairnes who seized him by the throat, dragging him off me. He struggled insanely against the two of us, until we bound him so securely that nothing except his eyes could move.



CHAPTER XXXIII

PERE ANDRE LAFOSSIER

"You treacherous, white-headed old villain," I exclaimed angrily, "I am half inclined to kill you for so savage a trick. Odds! but my arm feels as if it were broken."

The fellow grinned at me, showing his yellow fangs.

"I care not if you kill," he answered, with true Indian stoicism. "I am old, and have served the Sun long. Kill, but I will not be unavenged of my people; for, whether I live or die, it matters not—there is no escape for you."

He spoke with such confidence as to stun me.

"No escape? Why?"

His lips curled with undisguised contempt.

"So my words sting. Well, they are true, nor am I unwilling to tell you. You are trapped here. There is no path you can travel, either by night or day, unseen of our people. You have already climbed along the only passage leading here, and you dare not go back. This way you have reached the end. Behind is the village; here the altar of sacrifice—choose either, and you die like the Francais dogs you are."

"Who is here to touch us?" I asked derisively. "There is food in plenty; we can wait our chance."

"Ay, you have grace of this day in which to make ready," his wrinkled face lighting maliciously. "When yonder moon becomes round it will be the night of sacrifice. Know you what will happen then?" he licked his thin lips greedily. "I may not be here to see, but it will be the same. Up that path of rocks will swarm all of my race, and what then can save you from the altar? How they will welcome the victims waiting their pleasure—white-faced Francais."

His old, deeply sunken eyes gleamed so with hatred, I drew involuntarily back, my blood chilled with a conviction that he did not lie.

"Here? Do you tell me the tribe comes here?"

"Ay, here, Francais,—here to make sacrifice of blood, that they may go forth once more, and conquer the land of their fathers."

"'T is your custom to kill slaves?"

"When there be none better, but now we have other victims sent us by the Sun, all Francais, and you two cooped up here to be added to the others. 'T will be a sweet sacrifice, and I should like to live to hear your cries for mercy, and drink of the warm blood."

I stared at him, unable to deny our helplessness.

"You would make us believe there is no upper entrance to this accursed hole!"

"Seek as you please—there is none. You are trapped beyond struggle; you cannot escape the vengeance of the Sun."

I pointed, still incredulous, toward the great burning log.

"Did you grow yonder tree in this cavern? or was it borne here on the back of a slave?"

"It was lowered from above, over the edge of the cliff, by grass ropes."

"I believe you lie," I cried, now thoroughly shaken by his surly contempt; but the fellow only leered at me, and I strode across the great room, where I might reflect beyond sight of his eyes. As I passed to the other side of the altar I observed a little gray daylight flooding the mouth of the cave. The sight recalled to mind another possible danger.

"Cairnes," I called, "it is about the hour of sunrise. Down in the village I have noticed that whenever the sun touches the crest of these rocks the priests up here go forth, waving a flame into the air from yonder platform. I fear if it were missed, the savages below would come swarming up to discover the cause. Take a light from the pile, and wave it yonder."

The stubborn preacher grimly shook his head.

"Nay," he replied. "I have borne part enough in their heathen orgies already; it will take a lifetime to purge my soul. I bow down to Baal no more."

It was useless to argue with such as he, nor had I spirit to do it.

"Then keep close guard over the priest," I retorted; and, grasping a torch from among the burning mass upon the altar, made haste toward the outer stone.

My eyes have seldom gazed upon a grander view of nature than that which greeted me, as I crept around the great rock, and peered over the edge down into that beautiful basin wherein the remnant of the Natchez had established their home. The early sun had not as yet illumined the lower levels, and all beneath my dizzy perch remained wrapped in the sombre gray of promised dawn; the slightly rolling valley was dotted with numerous square-topped huts of yellow straw, surrounded by ponderous walls of gray stone or dun-colored earth, and the irregular green fields were intersected by a silvery ribbon of running water: the whole composed such a fair picture of restful, peaceful beauty, that for the moment it held me at the edge in silent contemplation. It appeared impossible that so sweet, secluded a spot could be the habitation of savages, vengeful and cruel. Yet those black, moving dots down yonder, clustering in front of the various lodges, I knew were naked heathen, blood-thirsty and vindictive. Now that the earliest rays of sunlight were beginning to tinge with gold the crest above me, every expectant face in the tribe would be upturned toward my perch, wondering at the slightest delay in their morning signal. My eyes becoming accustomed to the distance, could even distinguish those faint sparks of light where the priests below gathered before the great altar-house to wave back response. If we would live for even another day there must be no failure now. Nerving myself for the task, I stepped forth on to the narrow shelf—no more than the merest black dot to the watching eyes beneath—and flung forth the flaming torch in fiery welcome to the Sun. A shrill cry from the throats far below reached my ears in the merest thread of sound, yet before I drew back from the edge, I witnessed a responsive signal of flame from the mound summit, and inferred that no suspicion had been aroused in the minds of the guardians of these heathen rites. Satisfied of our present safety I walked back to the great chamber, and beheld the old priest and Cairnes glaring angrily at each other, while the latter nursed his leg so tenderly as to make me apprehensive of further trouble having arisen between them.

"What now, brother Cairnes?" I questioned in some anxiety, noting as I came nearer stains of fresh blood on his hose.

"Yonder black-faced cannibal buried his teeth in my calf," he growled gloomily. "Saints of Israel! I did merely lean over seeking another bit of meat, when he fastened on to me in that fashion, and hung there like a bull-dog until I choked him loose. 'Tis my vote we kill the ungodly man-eater, who has already feasted off your hand and my leg."

The energetic movement of his red head clearly evidenced the sincerity of his feelings, yet it was not in my heart to avenge our wrongs upon a helpless prisoner.

"No, friend; we are white, not red. The pain will pass presently, and it would not be a Christian act to dispose thus of one bound in our hands. I will give him other food to chew upon, then make fast his mouth while we go together and search out the secrets of this hole. It will be best to discover early whether this varlet speaks true or false as to the chances of escape. Hand over here the meat and water."

I endeavored to question the fellow further while he sullenly partook of the food offered, but he gave back merely short, uncivil answers, and those of little value. Finally, despairing of learning more from such a source, we securely bucked the sullen fool, rolled his body close against the wall out of sight of any chance visitant, and then made preparation to explore our prison-house and discover for ourselves the mystery of this gloomy cave. The dense blackness showing directly ahead seemed to promise an extension of passageway into the rock; so, lighting a pine knot at the altar fire, and bidding Cairnes follow me closely, I led forward down the narrow tunnel. The floor was uneven, while so irregular and rough appeared roof and walls as to convince me this was a natural excavation, probably the run-way for some ancient watercourse. Yet, as I tested the nature of the stone with the point of my hunting knife, it proved easily workable with tools, and apparently revealed softer material the deeper we progressed into the hill. Slightly beyond the entrance leading from the main chamber, several rudely fashioned steps led into a sort of gallery. This was of considerable proportions, elevated perhaps ten or more feet above the main floor, its outer parapet formed of loose stones, through the chinks of which one might command unseen a wide view of the cavern and its altar. But, to our rather hasty inspection, this gallery contained nothing except bare rock, and, after a single curious glance about we drew back and moved on cautiously in exploration of the lower tunnel. This curved gradually toward the left, and held a rather steep pitch downward. It was not above three feet in width until we had traversed fully fifty paces, when it suddenly broadened, and the fitful glare of the torch, which I held over my head, flashed back rays of light from two horribly gleaming green eyes. For an instant I believed we had invaded the lair of some wild animal, and drew back quickly, my hand on the knife hilt.

"Hell's kitchen!" I exclaimed nervously, "but the den has an occupant already."

"Ay, and of a kind common enough in these hills, but nothing fit to affright a servant of the true God," echoed Cairnes, striding past me. "I am not wont to fear heathen idols, Master Benteen, nor will I bear back now before those green eyes."

As he spoke he laid rough hand on the thing, and I heard a sharp rattle of metal against wood.

"Come hither friend," he called, with a laugh, "'tis no worse than another painted devil we are called to face. Surely it is you who have the faint heart now."

"The glow of the torch blinded me to all except the green stones," I explained, coming forward and throwing the radiance of the flame full upon the hideous object. "Saint George! 't is of no beauty to my sight even now, and, as you say, of small fear to Christian heart. The saints defend us! What was that? As I live, I heard English speech!"

He was earnestly engaged in an endeavor to detach a bit of dull metal from the throat of the image, and scarcely deigned to glance around.

"Nay, there was no sound other than the chattering of your own tongue. This shining thing is gold, I believe."

"Let it be; 't is of small value here. I tell you I heard a strange voice; so hold still and listen."

For a minute or more we waited in almost breathless suspense, no unusual sound greeting our ears. Then the Puritan sniffed disdainfully.

"You grow childish, Master Benteen," he growled roughly, turning back to his labor. "The dark has overstrained your nerves—"

"I bespeak help of de Englishmen for de sake of God!"

There was no mistaking the truth this time—a strange voice was speaking broken English almost at our very feet. Cairnes clattered to the floor with a rough exclamation of surprise, while I stared vainly at the idol, from which the sound apparently came.

"In Heaven's name, who are you?" I asked earnestly, "and where are you who make appeal to us?"

"I am Andre Lafossier, native of France, for two months past a prisoner to these savages. If you are Christian men I beseech assistance."

"Nor do you ask vainly. Are you behind the wooden image?"

"Ay, in a small room hollowed out from the rock."

"Except for that are you free to aid us in your escape?"

"No, Monsieur; I am lamed in limb, and fastened to the stone by a metal band."

A hoarse growl of rage burst from the throat of the Puritan. "Prophets of God!" he roared. "Surely we are the selected instruments of the Lord sent hither for the salvation of this worthy man; we are the soldiers of Gideon, the chosen of the Most High."

Before I could lift hand or voice in interference he had braced his massive shoulder against the towering figure of wood, and, with a mighty heave sent the monster crashing over upon the rock floor, himself sprawling beside it as it fell. As they came down together in a cloud of dust, an opening was revealed behind the stone pedestal on which the idol had stood. Torch in hand I instantly crept forward. I found myself in what was little more than the merest cell, yet dimly illumined by a single beam of light streaming downward as if penetrating through some slight crevice in the rock. The narrow hole, for it was hardly more, was bare of all furnishing; both walls and floor were damp, but there were remnants of coarse food and a pannikin of water.

Its sole occupant sat cross-legged on the hard floor, bound about the waist with a band of metal. One end of this was attached to the wall in such a manner that the prisoner could neither rise to his feet nor lie down. Never have these wandering eyes of mine looked upon a figure more pathetic. For an instant I stood there, swaying upon my feet as though from sickness, staring at him incredulously. His thin, pale, effeminate face was rendered wonderfully piteous by the depth of suffering so plainly revealed within the great, black, appealing eyes. So peculiarly delicate were the features, so slender the fragile form, about which a frayed and rusty robe clung loosely, that for a moment I actually believed I was looking upon a young girl. So strong was this impression that I drew back, almost abashed. This slight pause enabled Cairnes to regain his feet and press past me. As his eager glance fell upon that slender, crouching figure, I observed how suddenly his eyes hardened, his whole expression changed.

"You are a priest of Rome!" he exclaimed harshly, staring down.

The white, girlish face brightened instantly, the two thin hands plucking forth from some fold in the tattered robe a small silver crucifix. At sight of this the stern-mouthed Puritan drew sharply back, as if he feared contamination from the symbol.

"Oui, Monsieur," answered the soft voice, with an odd note of joy in it. "I am of the Society of Jesus."

"'T is plain to see. What do you here?"

The priest smiled gently, his eyes dimming with tears fixed upon the cross.

"'Tis strange question. Surely Monsieur knoweth little of our Order, or he would not need to ask. We are soldiers of Christ, commissioned for war, even to life or death. We ask nothing but the privilege of service, and the command of our superior. I am named missionary unto the savage tribes of this river. It has been the will of God that I suffer in order that through me some souls born into heathendom may thus be redeemed from the torments of the damned."

The sectary's rough, gray face reddened until it was nearly the color of his hair.

"'Tis false!" he growled, smiting one hand hard upon the other in anger. "You only lead the way straight to hell with your false doctrine. Have you made any converts to the Roman harlot in this tribe?"

"Nay, Monsieur, I cannot lay claim to such reward." His eyes slowly uplifted to the face of his questioner. "Jesu hath not as yet opened before my understanding the way which leadeth to their hearts. I can but work, and pray for guidance. I have only baptised one who was dying of a fever, and sprinkled with holy water an infant, unknown to its mother. It is not much, yet I bless the good Mary for the salvation of those precious souls."