Prisoners of Chance Part 40

I may have lost consciousness; I do not know. That awful glare, the thunderous report, the speechless terror of feeling myself a mere pygmy in the midst of such tremendous convulsions of nature, shocked me into momentary insensibility. I lay huddled against the rock like a man dead, one arm yet clasping the motionless form of Eloise. Stunned, unable to move a muscle, I believed death had overtaken us all; that out from the very heavens a bolt had stricken us down. I struggled painfully to arouse myself, every nerve in my body appearing paralyzed.

At first I could not even see, but light came back gradually to my blinded eyes, and I staggered to my feet, slowly adjusting my mind to the situation.

I began to understand then what had happened--that deadly bolt had smitten the cliff as by the wrath of G.o.d, yet I was spared. I still lived, as by a miracle. I stared across the chasm and up the steep ascent beyond, still clearly revealed in the lightning flashes. It was vacant; not a human form stood where those pursuing savages had been.

A cry burst from my lips as I gazed--a vast, irregular gash showed clearly in the cliff face, but where the entrance to the cave had yawned was a solid front of rock. I staggered with the shock, reeling on the very edge of the path, and barely saved myself by dropping to my knees. Again I looked, half believing my brain crazed, that I beheld visions. As G.o.d guards me, it was true! Out of the very heavens He had struck, sealing those fiends into a living tomb. Trembling like a frightened child, I bowed my face and sobbed as I prayed for mercy.

I know not how long I lay unable for either thought or action. But at last I was upon my knees again, creeping forward to where a black figure lay at the very edge of the chasm, one arm dangling over the brink. I drew the inert body back to safety, peering down into the white face of the priest. My touch seemed to arouse him into consciousness, his dark eyes staring up into my face. I helped him to sit up and lean back against the wall. An instant he gazed about wildly, like one suddenly awakened from sound sleep, then hid his face in his hands.

"The Puritan--" I questioned--"the man who bore you here--what happened to him?"

He shuddered, and pointed into the black abyss.

"'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends,'" he quoted solemnly.

"He went down?"

He bowed his head silently, his fingers searching for his crucifix. I sat staring at him, crushed into helplessness.

In a few moments I felt the pressure of his fingers.

"The Lord hath preserved us as by fire," he said in low, solemn tone, "He hath ridden upon the flaming skies in his chariot, accompanied by angels and archangels. 'T is ours to bless His holy name."

I gazed into the rapt, boyish face, and said:

"On my knees have I already acknowledged His mercy. I am not ungrateful."

The troubled countenance brightened with a quick smile.

"G.o.d is most good," he murmured; "He hath spared us that we may continue to honor Him, and do His work. The woman--does she also live?"

The question brought me instantly to my feet, wondering how I could have neglected her so long. But before I could advance to where she lay, she sat partially up, her face turned toward us.

"Eloise," I cried, the heart joy apparent in my voice. "Good G.o.d! I had forgotten."

She held forth her hand, her eyes smiling.

"I hold that not strange," she answered, the soft voice faltering slightly. "I saw you groping like a blind man, yet could neither move nor speak. I lay helpless as if paralyzed. Tell me what has happened."

I held her hand, falling upon my knees beside her, my eyes searching her sweet face.

"A lightning bolt smote the cliff," I explained rapidly, "rending the solid rock. Master Cairnes was hurled headlong into the chasm, and our pursuers were swept from the path. The very mouth of the cavern has been forever sealed."

"The cavern?" as if stifled, her eyes opening wide. "They--they are buried alive?"

"I doubt if any lived to know," I answered soberly. "'T is likely those within were crushed to death."

She dropped her face into her hands, sobbing hysterically. Unable to speak, I bowed my head until it touched her shoulder. The crippled priest crept toward us, forgetful of his own pain in the call of duty.

"Daughter," he said tenderly, stroking her brown hair with his slender fingers, "to live or die is as Christ wills. The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord. Be of good comfort, remembering these words of promise, 'Lo! I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.'"

She looked up through the mist of her tears, first into his face, then into mine.

"I have pa.s.sed through much," she confessed simply, "yet 'tis not the spirit but the body which has become weakened. Forgive me, both of you."

"Brave heart!" I echoed, caring nothing for the presence of the father.

"No woman ever upbore grievous burden better. If we rest first, you will regain courage to go on."

Both her hands were resting trustfully in my own.

"With you," she acknowledged softly. "In all confidence with you."

We sat there until the coming of dawn, speaking only seldom, our very thoughts holding us silent. Occasionally I could feel Eloise's hand touch mine as if she sought thus to be rea.s.sured of my presence, and I could distinguish an inarticulate murmur from the priest's lips, as if he continually counted his beads in prayer. The glare of lightning gradually ceased, the storm pa.s.sing away to the westward with distant reverberations. Yet clouds overcast the skies, leaving the early morning hours dark and cheerless. With the first faint glow of day lighting the pathway, I stood up, dizzy at viewing the awful abyss below our narrow shelf. We could perceive now more plainly the terrific havoc wrought above, but our eyes turned away from it in horror. We must linger there no longer, but press forward with whatever of courage remained.

"I must ask you to attempt to walk alone, Eloise," I said regretfully, "as I must bear the _pere_, whose limbs are crippled."

Her startled eyes were filled with womanly sympathy.

"Crippled? Was it done last night in the storm?"

"No, a month ago; he was tortured at the stake in the village below.

Ever since then he has been held prisoner for sacrifice."

"Do not worry, daughter; my wounds are not worthy your tears," broke in the soft voice; "they are but a small part of my debt to Him who perished upon the cross. Yet I think I might manage to walk, Monsieur, without a.s.sistance. Surely, with G.o.d's help, I can master the pain."

"Make no attempt," I said; "your slight figure will prove no burden to me. It was of Eloise I thought."

"Then do so in that way no longer," she burst forth eagerly. "I have been trouble enough to you, Geoffrey. I will not consent to remain helpless. See! I can stand alone--ay, and walk; even this great height does not render my head dizzy."

We advanced slowly and cautiously down the path, feeling yet the exhaustion of the night. The way proved less difficult than we expected. The tunnel was by far the hardest portion, as we were compelled to grope the entire distance through intense darkness, guiding ourselves with hands against the wall. Having little fear that any of the tribe remained to dispute our pa.s.sage, we conversed freely and cheerfully, avoiding all unnecessary reference to the recent tragedy. We emerged from the dark hole somewhat before noon, making use of the entrance leading through the altar-house. The sight of the deserted platform reminded us of the Puritan, and as I glanced aside at Eloise, her gray eyes were filled with tears. A fire smouldered on the altar, waiting replenishment from hands that would labor no more; and we gladly hurried from the gloomy interior to the sunlit slope without.

The desolate, deserted village presented a scene of loneliness impossible to describe; not a figure was moving among the huts, no sign of life anywhere. We discovered an abundance of food, and partook of it in the open. Eloise appeared unwilling to accompany me, so I went alone to explore the mystery of Naladi's house, leaving her a.s.siduously ministering to the needs of the priest. My search was rewarded by the discovery of my lost rifle, with what remained of ammunition, together with a variety of feminine garments with which to replace those sadly soiled and tattered ones Madame wore. The desire was in the hearts of us all to get away as soon as possible, to put behind us that desolate spot, those deserted houses, and the haunting cliff. The _pere_ had constructed, during my absence, a pair of rude crutches for his use; and, so soon as Eloise had more becomingly clothed herself, we departed, bearing such provisions as we could conveniently carry. With the gun in my possession, I expected no great shortness in the food supply. Madame carried it at first, however, as we made swifter progress by my taking the father on my shoulder. He was no great burden, his weight scarcely more than that of a child.

In this manner we tramped steadily forward through the bright sunshine, along ca.n.a.ls filled with clear, cool water, and across fields no longer tilled by slaves, until we discovered the secret path which led forth from this death valley. A moment we paused, glancing back toward the village, and up at the frowning front of rock, the tomb of the Natchez.

Then silently, soberly, as befitted those who had witnessed an act of G.o.d, we pressed on into the labyrinth, shutting out forever that scene, except as a hideous memory. To me the change was like entering upon a new world; I was a prisoner released, breathing once again the clear air of hope and manhood. Burdened as we were, the pa.s.sage through the tangled cedars to where the stream flowed down the canyon proved one of severe exertion. When we finally attained the outer rocks, with the sullen roar of the falls just below, I was breathing heavily from exhaustion, and a flush had come back into Eloise's pale cheeks. Very gladly I deposited the priest in a position of comfort, and the three of us rested in silence, gazing about upon the wilderness scene. We had spoken little to each other regarding the future; under the depressing influence of that dread valley we felt incapable of thought, our minds yet dazed by the tragic events we had experienced. Even now I constantly saw before me the faces of Cairnes and De Noyan, scarcely able to banish their memory long enough to face intelligently the requirements of the present. Yet now it must be done. The _pere_ sat, with crutches lying across his rusty black robe, his girlish features softened by a look of infinite peace; Eloise leaned against the rock in a posture of weariness, her bosom rising and falling with tumultuous breathing. I recalled to mind the leagues of desolate wilderness yet to be traversed. Possibly I indulged unconsciously in outward expression, for the priest gazed across at me.

"The sun is still sufficiently high for considerable travel, my son,"

he remarked quietly, "and you will require daylight for the earlier part of your journey."

"It was upon my mind, but I scarcely knew how best to proceed."

"Possibly my experience may guide you. The way should not prove unduly fatiguing after you pa.s.s the falls," with a wave of the hand downward, and a slight smile. "I wandered here alone up that valley, seeking the Indian village somewhat blindly, discovering much of interest on the way. Would that my own future path led me through such ease; but 'tis mine to go whithersoever the Lord wills. However, my discoveries will be of value. Slightly below the falls, concealed beneath an outcropping rock, you will find several stanch Indian boats. The lightest one will transport safely the two of you, together with what provisions you require. The current runs swiftly, yet a strong, skilful hand on the steering oar should bring you through without mishap."

We both stared at him, greatly puzzled by his strange speech. Eloise was first to speak in protest.

"What do you mean by two of us? Do you deem us dastards enough to leave you here alone?"

He smiled into her face with the tender smile of a woman, and held up his shining silver crucifix.

"Daughter," he said modestly, "my work is not yet done. Upon this symbol I took solemn oath to live and die in faithful service to the heathen tribes of this river. Would you have me retreat in cowardice?