Prisoners of Chance Part 35

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 pa.s.sage 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 gra.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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 ma.s.s 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, cl.u.s.tering 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 fas.h.i.+on, and hung there like a bull-dog until I choked him loose. 'Tis my vote we kill the unG.o.dly 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sageway 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 fas.h.i.+oned 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 c.h.i.n.ks 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.

"h.e.l.l'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 G.o.d," 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 s.h.i.+ning 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 G.o.d!"

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 a.s.sistance."

"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."