Prisoners of Chance Part 34

"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 coa.r.s.ely 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 h.e.l.l," 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 compa.s.sed 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 superst.i.tion. 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 pa.s.sage 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 p.r.o.ne 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 quant.i.ty 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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.d. 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 sh.o.r.e 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.ddess 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 x.x.xIII

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."