CHAPTER XIX.

WE MEET FOR THE SECOND TIME WITH "LE BRUIT DU GOUFFRE," AND I TAKE ANOTHER JOURNEY.

I awoke at the touch which, I believe, would bring me back from death.

It was Cynthia.

"How you _have_ slept!" said she. "I have been here several times to call you."

I did not confess my weakness nor the cause for it. I arose at once, though my knees were weak and trembling, and followed Cynthia out on to the terrace.

"That man has come back," said Cynthia. "I wonder you didn't meet him when you went to get the mangoes. What is the matter? How pale you turned all of a sudden!"

I did not answer, but walked out to the edge of the rocky plateau. I looked downward and could see the man. He was standing in a little grassy glade, and was making motions as if he wished to communicate with us. He was very far below us, and we could hear no sound, although I thought that I saw him put his hands to his mouth as if to make a tube through which to call to us. I did not know what to do. Zalee, our dependence, was gone. We had already been foolhardy in making even the short excursion that we had taken, and I did not dare further to tempt Providence.

As we looked down, the man continued waving. He seemed to have a branch of some kind in his hand. He wore almost no clothing, and limped as he moved about, seeming footsore and weary.

"Can it be Uncle?" asked Cynthia, with that womanly perception which was seldom wrong.

"The Captain is not black," said I. "No, it is not the Captain. Can it be Zalee returned?"

Lacelle shook her head when we asked her this. She said that Zalee would never go down there and make any sign or demonstration to attract the eyes of others to our hiding place. She thought that the stranger was some spy, who was trying to discover how we reached our present retreat. "He may be one of Christophe's men come to seek us," she added.

I still continued to gaze at the man, and he to beckon and wave eagerly at us. I wished in my heart that I knew just who he was--whether we ought to help him, or whether he was an enemy who would betray our hiding place, so that Zalee upon his return would find us gone. And now I saw two men come out of the wood. They were persons of great stature, and carried clubs in their hands, and I recognised them even at that distance as two of Christophe's body guard. As the stranger turned and saw them he started to flee, but they were upon him in a moment, whirling those terrible clubs round their heads and undoubtedly ordering him to stop. This he soon did, when I saw them come up with him and bend over him, for he seemed to have fallen from exhaustion or fright. I saw them busy themselves with him, and finally he was made to stand upon his feet and march ahead, the two driving him as if he had been an animal. They disappeared in the wood, and I saw them no more.

Cynthia was very sad and downhearted after this incident.

"Poor Uncle may be treated in just the way that those negroes treated that black man," said she. Her eyes filled with tears.

I tried to comfort her with the assurance that the Skipper must be far from that spot and in safe keeping. That perhaps he had walked to Cap Haitien; but she did not smile, and I heard her in the recesses of our silent rock sobbing far into the night.

I have said little of the wonderful vines that grow everywhere in this magic land. Like those that grew downward from the centre of our first cave, they trailed long and strong from the rock overhead, reaching almost to the broad, flat surface which now made our floor. They grew downward also from our plateau toward the ground. At the place where they ended others started, I suppose, and I know that the growth was such that they overlapped, and that one standing below could not imagine the nature of the place where we had found refuge. The green of the mountain seemed to have no break. Such was the assurance that Zalee had given Lacelle.

The third evening after Zalee's departure closed in sadly for all of us. It was difficult to be cheerful in our desolate situation, and my night dreams brought to me many a fearful thought and vision. There were distant mutterings of thunder, and again that same rumbling sound that we had heard the day before the hurricane had overcome us.

"_Le bruit du gouffre!_" said Lacelle again, over and over, as she looked anxiously toward the eastward, where the thick clouds were gathering. Before I lay down to sleep I heard Cynthia calling to me. I went under the arch and stepped across the rift in the rock, which by only a few inches separated her from me. But even this was too much. Somehow I was uneasy and nervous, and I met Cynthia with the words:

"I wish that you would come down to the terrace to sleep. Somehow I don't like to have you so far away."

Cynthia's face flushed as she said: "I only wanted some water. I can't see why we are not as well off here as down on the terrace; certainly, as no one can come through the passage, we are all of us safe. But should any one find out our secret, they might take you off without discovering us at all."

"I wonder how you would live then?" said I.

"I wonder, too," said Cynthia, casting down her eyes. I pondered over this, and asked myself whether I could take courage and whether her tone meant more for me than the words implied.

Finding Cynthia stubborn, I went back and lay down again. Some drops of rain had begun to fall, and I got as far back under the shelter of the overhanging rock as I could. Here I was dry, as were the Bo's'n and the Smith. We lay near the western end, that the east wind might not drive the rain under our roof.

I lay awake a long time listening to the storm. The wind had grown much higher, and was soughing and moaning round our eyrie. I had terrible impulses at times. I thought, what if I should crawl near the edge of the rock and throw myself off, and so end all this misery and anxiety! It seemed almost more than I could bear. No one would know but that I had fallen off in my sleep, and then this terrible question of how we were to get home to Belleville, or to any civilized land, would be set at rest forever for me. The desire was so strong at times to end my life in this way, that once I arose and walked halfway to the edge of the cliff. But suddenly I awoke to the horror of what I intended doing. I thought of the cowardice of leaving Cynthia to face the difficulties and dangers alone, and, with a flash of lightning to aid me, I ran back through the darkness to my shelter, and lay down and clutched at the rough projections of the wall and held to them with frantic grip, as if some being stronger than I were trying to drag me away. Thank God, my will vanquished those evil thoughts, and, after giving thanks for my rescue, soul and body, I succumbed, exhausted with the battle which the two combatants had waged within me, and was asleep before I knew it.

The rain poured down, the wind howled, but I slept on. I heard the faint rumblings of the "_bruit du gouffre_" through my dreams; then, all at once, it grew louder, there was a stupendous crash, and I sat up, the terrible sound still splitting my ears. Gradually, with a rattle and a rumble, it died away. I felt a clutch upon my arm.

"For God's sake, what was that?" said the Bo's'n. His hand was trembling, his voice shook with terror. I found myself staring out under the edge of our roof, trying to see something in the darkness. I stood up. I groped about.

"Better keep quiet till we have some light," said the Bo's'n.

I struck my flint, but the flash only showed me the Bo's'n's frightened, drawn face, and made the night blacker than ever. We heard constant rumblings and crashes all around us, but we waited for a few moments, and then during a lull heard Cynthia's voice. I made a light again, and, holding to the rock, I crawled nearer to the place where she and Lacelle were.

"Don't move!" I shouted. "Stay in your cave until we have some light."

"What was that, Mr. Jones?" she called. Her voice trembled.

"I can't tell now," said I. "Try to sleep, and as soon as it is light I will come to you."

"Very well," called back Cynthia, with as confident a tone as if she had been speaking down the stairs of her own house at home. Whether she felt concerned or not she did not show it, and I felt that, whatever happened to us, she would put forth a brave front to the world, whatever world it might be with which she should come in contact.

I did not sleep again. I lay listening to the Bo's'n's snores and the Smith's groans, and wondered when day would break.

I had been lying wide awake for perhaps an hour when I again heard Cynthia's voice. These were the words that she said:

"Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones!" she called; "I don't know where to put my foot. I can't find any place to put my foot."

I arose hastily at her first word. There was now a very faint streak of light in the east, a dull light which betokened a gloomy day. I could, however, see enough to walk safely, though it was like the dusk of a summer evening at home. I groped my way toward where I heard her voice. As I approached her retreat, I heard her call again:

"I don't know where to put my foot!"

I had my suspicion of what the matter might be. I struck my flint, and just in time for myself, for I found that I had come to a halt upon the edge of an open abyss of perhaps ten or twelve feet in width. The small crack which we had crossed with such unconcern had been the weak spot of our structure. The earthquake had torn out a mass of rock and had left Cynthia and Lacelle upon the other side, entirely isolated from the rest of us. The light increased now with every moment, and I saw to my horror that Cynthia was standing on the very edge of the chasm. She had one arm round a young tree and one foot close to its base. With the other foot she was feeling down the side of the chasm, endeavouring to find a foothold. Her fine hair was hanging down over her shoulders, her eyes were wide and staring, and as she felt--felt--felt--with the toe of her poor worn shoe, my heart stopped beating, I am sure, for a few seconds. I knew not what to do. The chasm was too great for me to leap, for she stood some feet above me. I did not dare to speak. My God! if there was ever a worse moment in any man's life, I should like to hear of it.

Again she called:

"Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones! do come and help me. I can't find any place to put my foot."

God in heaven! What should I do? Can you imagine how my feelings overcame me when I saw Lacelle issue from the sleeping chamber? Her face was white and terrified. She came cautiously, and when she saw the great rift between the plateau and the place where she and Cynthia stood, her lips became bloodless. Her senses did not desert her, however. She laid her finger upon her lip and shook her head at me. Then she reached out one hand and grasped the tree behind Cynthia's standing place. She laid the other hand very, very gently on Cynthia's arm. She slipped her fingers up toward the elbow, and gradually drew the girl toward her. For a moment I thought that Cynthia was gone. She swayed slightly, and I feared to see her open her eyes and, perceiving the great chasm beneath her feet, dash headlong into it. But Lacelle was equal to her task. I have sometimes wondered if she had magnetic power. For in a moment more Cynthia had withdrawn her foot, had placed it on firm ground, and with Lacelle was slowly ascending the gentle slope which led to her retreat. I fell backward upon the rock floor. My strength seemed gone. I lay there limp as a piece of seaweed, my face covered with my hands. The Bo's'n turned over, took a long breath, and opened his eyes. The first thing that he saw was my recumbent figure, and that I was shaking in every limb. He knelt by me and took my hands from my face.

"Why, Mr. Jones, sir," said he, "ef you ain't cryin'!"

Perhaps I was, God knows! The great dread and the sudden relief had shaken me physically and mentally. The Bo's'n brought me some water.

When I could speak, "Bo's'n," said I, "how are we going to get to her?"

"Who, sir?" asked the Bo's'n.

I lifted myself up on my feet like an aged man. The Bo's'n arose with me.

"Look there!" said I, pointing to the abyss; "and she is on the other side."

"Does Mrs. Jones know it, sir?" asked the Bo's'n.

I started. It was some time since I heard the Bo's'n speak of Cynthia in that way.

"No," said I, "I think not. Lacelle does."

"Could you leap it, sir?" asked the Bo's'n wistfully.

"I don't see how I could," said I. "It isn't even like jumping down across a place that is as wide as that. It is not like jumping downward at all. I hardly think I could do it then. It must be anywhere from eight to ten feet wide. And, as you see, it is a little above us. No, I certainly could not do it."

The Bo's'n stepped back and looked critically up over the roof of our shelter. It was growing light--the light of a dull early morning.

"I thought there might be some way of getting to them with the vines on the roof, but I see that it is straight up, up, up, sir. Looks like there was no stop to it."

"Even if we could get up there, what good would it do them?"

"Suppose we go out into the passage and look for help."

"Who would help us? We should perhaps fall into the hands of some of these roaming savages. They might treat us well, and they might not. That is not to be thought of. Suppose we met with some of those--Oh, I forgot you were not with us! Let us consult with the Smith."

The Smith had slept through the entire storm. I now awoke him and told him what had befallen us. He seemed much concerned, and said that it looked serious.

"But don't you be worried, Mr. Jones," said he. "I've been in tighter places than this." This reminded me forcibly of the Skipper.

"You may have been," said I, "but I don't think I have, much."

And now I heard Cynthia's voice calling to me again.

I went to the edge of the chasm. There I found her standing on the other side, holding tight to the sapling.

"Don't come so near, for God's sake!" said I.

She was looking blankly at the great abyss, as if she were dreaming.

"How did it happen?" she said.

"How does anything happen?" asked I. "As if we didn't have enough to worry us without having that piece of rock fall."

"Do you think that we can ever get back to you?" asked Cynthia.

"If you don't, I'll jump off the cliff," said I.

"Don't talk so foolishly, Mr. Jones," said Cynthia, smiling at me. "While there's life, there's hope. Perhaps there is another entrance to the terrace from where we are. If Zalee were only here, he could tell us. He seems to know these mountains as if they were his own home, but I have asked Lacelle if there is any other way out. She says that Zalee said nothing about it."

"Don't you think she might prospect a little?" said I.

"How do you mean?" asked Cynthia.

"Why, walk up your little shelf as far back as it goes, and see if there is no way out for you. I feel so helpless." I wrung my hands nervously. "I can do nothing."

"Don't worry," said Cynthia, looking brightly at me. "I am sure we shall find some way out of it. The only trouble is that I am dreadfully hungry."

"We can throw you some food," said I.

"And water?"

"No, I'm afraid not. But it won't be long, I am sure, until we have devised some means of rescuing you."

Cynthia sat down on the rock and put her hands over her face. I thought that she was crying until I heard the laughter bubbling forth.

"I really can not help it," she said. "Do excuse me, but you look so woebegone. So many things have happened that I really am not at all afraid that we shan't get out of this as we have out of all our other troubles. Now I'll go and send Lacelle to see if she can find any opening."

It was clear to my mind that Cynthia knew nothing of her night's peril, and I thought that it was as well not to enlighten her.

She disappeared inside her sleeping chamber, and soon after I saw Lacelle issue from the archway and proceed up the slope. The rock ran back a very little way at this point--fifty feet, perhaps--and then the cliff shot upward again with the same irregular outward slope. I saw Cynthia moving about in her cave. She seemed to be picking up her things.

She looked out once, and nodded down the slope at me.

"I'm packing," she called, a smile on her lips. Poor soul! Packing, indeed! I saw that she had the mortuary bag in her hand, and that she was placing her few belongings within it. She was kneeling down, finishing this work or else trying to make more, when I saw her start. I heard a faint scream, and looked up to see Lacelle come flying down the hillside. Cynthia went to meet her. I could see that they were talking, as was their custom, by signs and a few words.

"She says there are enormous snakes up there," called Cynthia. Lacelle nodded her head violently, and rounded her arms to an enormous circle.

"She says they are so big," said Cynthia, imitating Lacelle.

"I don't believe they are harmful, ma'm," said the Smith, joining me. "The Papalois use 'em, and they are not poisonous."

"What are those, Mr. Smith?" called Cynthia. "Papalois, I mean."

I nudged the Smith.

"She knows nothing of those wretches," I said. "Why under heaven can't you keep your tongue between your teeth?"

"They are the books on snakes and such things, ma'm, which I have read about this da--this island."

"Oh!" said Cynthia. "I'll tell her." She turned to Lacelle and began to talk with lips and fingers, and then turned again to us.

"She says some are and some are not. I'm sure I hope these are not."

"If the snakes are poisonous, those ladies are on the wrong side of the fence," said the Smith.

The Bo's'n now came toward us. He had a small parcel in his hand. It consisted of some birds' eggs, which he had boiled hard and had kept in a cool place within the passage, and some fruit. He made motions as if to throw it toward Cynthia.

"Don't!" said she. "Let me send you my bag."

She stooped and picked from the ground a tough vine--behucca they call it in Santo Domingo; liano, in South America. She tied one end through the handles and prepared to swing the bag down and across the chasm.

"Hold fast to the other end!" shouted I, for an idea had struck me. So soon as I had received the end of the vine I asked:

"How much more have you of the vine?"

"Oh, yards and yards."

"Well, let me have all that you can spare without letting go of the end." Soon I had enough of the vine on my side of the chasm to more than reach back to Cynthia.

"Take your end round the tree," said I, "and then throw it to me." She did as I told her. At first the vine fell short of the terrace, but she bravely pulled it back to her and tried again, and finally I was rewarded by catching the end in my hand.

"Now," said I, "if you can tie those ends securely together, we shall have a sort of endless chain." She did so, I holding the loop. Then I put some food in the bag and fastened it to the vine, and we sent it over by pulling on the loop and letting the knot go round the tree. Had I slipped the handles of the bag over the vine, it would only have slid down to us again.

"I can send you some water in the same way," said I, "if the vine is strong enough."

"There are plenty of vines," said the Smith.

"Go and collect all you can find, you and the Bo's'n," said I, for a new thought had struck me.

The Bo's'n and the Smith now went to the arch of rock which covered our sleeping place and tore down from above great handfuls of the trailing creepers. Some of them were so strongly rooted that we could not move them, but many came easily away from the earth, and soon the floor of the terrace was thickly strewn with them. I stooped over the precipice and tore up all that I could reach.

"Now," said I, "we will make a bridge." I told Cynthia at once what we intended doing, and she seated herself with Lacelle, and together they watched us at our work.

I told the Bo's'n and the Smith to lay many strands of the vine on the floor and weave other vines in and out.

"Why can't we do that up here?" asked Cynthia.

"I am afraid you would not make them strong enough," said I; "but if you think you could, you might try." I felt that it would amuse them perhaps, and would make the time pass more quickly.

We wove busily for an hour or two, and finally we had made eight or ten broad, closely filled mats. They were each about sixteen feet long. We wove them together two and two lengthwise, and then placed some on the top of others, thus making several layers. These we bound securely together, and when we had finished we found that we had woven a broad and strong platform, which I was sure would hold a much heavier weight than that of a slight young girl.

"The most important thing now," said I, "is that you should secure it well on your side. See how we have fastened these strong vines to your end of the bridge. When we send it over you must tie these strands round those trees, two and two. Fasten them very securely."

"No slippery hitches," said the Smith, "if you please, miss."

"No granny knots, Mrs. Jones, ma'm," added the Bo's'n.

Cynthia flushed as she always did when the Bo's'n addressed her thus, and cast her eyes on the ground.

We fastened the bridge to the rope of vine, and together Cynthia and Lacelle pulled it across. They then began to secure it to the tree. We three stood a few feet back from the edge of the chasm, bracing ourselves and holding our end of the bridge level and firm. The proceeding took some time. There were mistakes on their part and much instruction on ours. Finally, however, the platform was ready. Then my heart began to thump as if it would burst through my body. I wondered now if, after all our care, the bridge would hold Cynthia. I suggested this doubt to the Smith.

"Lord, yes!" he said. "You can hang by a single vine of good size. There ain't any fear of that. If they'll only look ahead and not downward, they will be all right."

I need not reprolong my agony. It was wearing enough and anxious enough then. I could not bear to look as Cynthia put her foot on the bridge.

"Try it first," I cried anxiously.

"I am not afraid," said she. "I am sure that you would make it strong enough."

Cynthia then turned to Lacelle, and asked her if she would like to go first, or if she, Cynthia, should do so.

Lacelle was ready to do either. Talk about bravery in men! I never saw anything to compare with those two women. For after all, though most people can usually stand a great and sudden shock, the test is, it seems to me, the bearing up under constant and wearing daily inconveniences, troubles, and anxieties.

"I think I had better come first," said Cynthia, "for if it holds me it will Lacelle. She is lighter than I am." She turned and kissed the Haitienne and then stepped confidently out on the bridge.

I shall never forget her as I saw her then. She had lost the pins with which she used to confine her hair, and it was constantly tumbling about her shoulders. She had no more than set her foot upon the ladder than down came that splendid golden veil. For a moment I was fearful that this would unnerve her, but, though the wind blew her fine hair about and across her eyes, she started boldly out on the narrow span.

"Hold out your hands," I shouted, "and balance yourself."

She did as I told her. With heightened colour and wide eyes, her hair making a cloak about her lithe figure, she stepped quickly out on the bridge. It seemed ages to me, but it was in reality but a moment from the time that she started until I held her in my arms. She disengaged herself and bound up her hair.

Then Lacelle started, and when she was safe I threw the bridge away. It dangled helplessly from the other side. I had no wish that Cynthia should try it at night in one of those strange somnambulistic moments of hers.

We made for Cynthia and Lacelle a sleeping place, laying down the vines which had remained after we had finished the bridge. After a long day, we ourselves retired within the passage, and all went to sleep early and soundly, thanking God that no greater dangers had come to us.

Our troubles seemed to come upon us usually at night. But I lay down on that evening feeling that for one space of seven or eight hours at least we might hope for rest of mind, if not of body. How delusive are such hopes! I was awakened by a slight exclamation, and turned over to find several figures standing between me and the moonlight, which shone on the terrace. As well as I could see, they were dressed in the costume which we had observed upon the three black men whom we had met on our journey to the cave. I sprang to my feet and rushed out on to the terrace, calling to the Bo's'n and the Smith to awake. They heard the terror in my tones and arose at once, if a little more sleepily than I. I found five men standing on the terrace looking down on Cynthia and Lacelle, who were asleep in each other's arms. I drew my pistol, but only a flash in the pan rewarded me, and I rushed at the men single-handed. I threw my body at one of them who was nearest the edge of the terrace, hoping by this means to push him over the steep fall of rock. He only laughed, and in turn seized me by the wrists. The men were giants, and, though I was accounted an athletic young fellow enough, I soon found myself lying on the ground, bound ankle and wrist, like a trussed chicken. I felt extremely awkward, and dreaded the moment when Cynthia should awake and see me in this ridiculous position. It was an easy matter for the five men to overpower the sleepy Smith and the Bo's'n, and soon we were all lying on our backs, and Cynthia and Lacelle were at the mercy of the black wretches.

Perhaps you can imagine how I felt. I can not bear to think of it! The noise of our scuffling awoke Cynthia, and her moving in turn awoke Lacelle. I shall never forget the look of horror which my poor girl turned upon those five enormous creatures. They must have struck dread to her very soul with their black skins and glittering white teeth. They were armed with heavy bludgeons, such as I had seen in the hands of the three whom we had met on our way to the terrace that first night, and doubtless they were, some of them, the same.

Cynthia sprang at once to her feet, and, pointing to where I lay, demanded that I be released at once. She turned to Lacelle and said:

"Tell them that this is my husband!" It was almost worth being pinioned there to hear that declaration, but Lacelle shook her head as if she had not understood. As Lacelle arose slowly, I heard her give an exclamation of surprise, and saw that she started as she looked toward the men. It seemed to me that a glance of recognition passed between one of them and the girl, but she quickly looked away again, and seemed to be as angry, though not as much terrified, as Cynthia. She stood boldly out in the moonlight and asked the strangers what they wished, and what right they had to subject us to such indignities.

One of them answered her in a rather long speech, in which I heard the name "Christophe" several times. From this I judged that Christophe had sent to capture us. I was quite right in my surmises, and I now found that Zalee was not infallible in his judgment. We had shown ourselves carelessly upon the rock, and, when we least thought it, they had been spying upon us. Orders had been given to search the passage thoroughly, and this was the result. It had always seemed strange to me that Zalee alone should have possessed this secret, but I argued with myself that Christophe was not a native of this country, rather of St. Kitts first and Santo Domingo later, and that many of the people about him were not native Haitiens, but followers from other islands.

The griffes listened to Lacelle, showing their white teeth and smiling at her rage. Then the biggest and stoutest, evidently the leader, began to speak. He often pointed to us, who were lying on the rock floor of the terrace, and then up toward the mountain or the entrance of the passageway. Finally, Lacelle turned to Cynthia and began to translate. With the aid of the Bo's'n and the Smith, it was explained that some one had reported to King Henry, as he often chose to call himself, that there was a party of foreigners wandering about down by the coast. That the three had been sent out to intercept us on the night that we met them; but, failing of their errand, Christophe had sent them back again, and that now that they had found us, they had no intention of letting us go.

"He told us not to harm the prisoners," said the spokesman. "The King likes to inflict most punishments himself."

This was a pleasant outlook for us.

I glanced at the Bo's'n. His face was swollen to twice its natural size. He was lying on the ground moaning as if in great agony. I saw that he would be of little use to aid our escape, and turned my attention to the others.

"He says that if you men will go quietly he will unbind your ankles, but not your hands. As for us, he knows that we can do nothing, so we are not to be bound at all," explained Cynthia.

Of course, we promised. What else could we do? And so started out through the passage which had been the entrance to our latest home. We found the slab of stone laid carefully on edge along the wall of the passage. It was proof of the quiet manner in which these men had worked that we had heard nothing until they chose that we should be awakened.

We started then, all five, with our five captors. The women stepped freely and at will, but we were told to walk steadily and not venture to turn round, or it would be the worse for us. We had nearly reached the passageway when Cynthia uttered a hurried exclamation and ran back to the terrace. I also turned to rush after her. I feared that her troubles had driven her mad, and that she would throw herself off the cliff; but I was seized and turned to the right about by two strong fellows, while two more ran after Cynthia. The fifth, the torch bearer, remained leaning unconcernedly against the wall. He it was who seemed to have known Lacelle, and I saw his lips move and his eyes roll, as if he had communicated something to her worth knowing.

In a moment or two Cynthia came back, but the guards returned ahead of her. They were laughing, but looking behind them somewhat uneasily. When they came up to us, Cynthia explained.

"I only forgot my bag. I couldn't go without that, you know." She looked very determined, however, and I saw that if she carried her bag in one hand she held her little dagger in the other. The men could, I suppose, have disarmed her, but the little weapon was sharp and thin, and a man might get an ugly stab between the ribs before he had succeeded in subduing our young tigress. For I found that Cynthia seemed to be developing new traits every day, and I felt certain that if one of those creatures had laid a finger upon her he would have been made very uncomfortable for a time, if not killed.

"That's right," called I. "Stick it into the brute if he offers to touch you."

But this did not seem to be the intention of the men. They had been told to bring us to Christophe's palace unharmed, and they evidently intended to carry out their instructions to the letter.

We walked, it seemed to me, all that night; for many hours, at any rate, and by tortuous routes. Cynthia stepped bravely out at first, but, after an hour or so, she seemed to tire. At such times we sat and rested. Our first hour was passed in walking through the tunnel, as well as numerous wonderful rooms and caverns, which made me wonder why the natives of the island do not make these shelters their homes. Then we suddenly emerged upon the mountain side. Here our guides allowed us to take a rest. The slope had been gentle, and we had not the hill to contend with. We then struck steeply downward, and pursued a path which the torch bearer seemed to know perfectly. There was only the light of his torch now to guide us, for the moon had gone down behind a western spur of the mountain, and the stars were effaced by the smoky red flare of the torch. We now entered the side of a hill, through one of those natural tunnels so frequently met with. Here, after walking for a while, our guides stopped suddenly.

"He says that we must have our eyes bound," said Cynthia, when Lacelle had communicated to us the order of the leader.

"What bosh!" said the Smith, turning rudely on the man.

Our captor paid no attention to the Smith's words, which he had not understood, but took from the waist-bands of the guards some cloths. These he proceeded to bind round our foreheads. We knew that resistance was useless, but I wondered if this was only a new form of torture, and if we were to be blindfolded as the pirates had blindfolded their victims, only to be led to some fearful chasm where we should step off into space and eternity. Each man now led one of us. At least I supposed so, for a hand was laid upon my arm and I was led along an uneven path.

"Where are you, Cynthia?" called I, and I pulled up my bandage to look. I caught a glimpse of a prisoner and a captive, four pairs in all. I noticed that Lacelle's guide was the torch bearer, and I took some comfort from this fact. I felt sure that she would be able to communicate with him in some secret way, and so give us all some aid. My bandage was rather roughly pulled down again, and we were halted. The leader made an address to us, which Lacelle translated to Cynthia and she to us. He said that if one of us again attempted to remove the cloth which bound our eyes that it would be much the worse for all of us. He then went round examining us, and tightened the other bandages, until I heard my poor girl cry out that she could not bear the pressure. You may imagine that I promised earnestly not to interfere with mine again.

But before the guard had noticed that I was lifting the cloth I had caught a glimpse of that which no threats or brow beating could efface from my mind. Before us and a little below where we had halted lay a lovely valley. It was now early morn, and a subdued rose-coloured light shed its soft rays adown the smiling vale and lighted up with its marvellous glow a nearer object. I saw a broad terrace, under which arches of marble curved, as if in support. I saw carved pillars and columns and doorways with vistas beyond. I saw open window ways with suggestions of luxury within. I saw fretted balustrades and broad stairways, and graceful statues standing in gardens such as I had read of in tales of Babylonian days. In fact, I had taken in a comprehensive flash of beauty such as the imagination is powerless to conjure up. Far above me, high up on the left, I caught sight of a black and frowning fortress, whose guns, mounted at each bastion and embrasure, gave proof at the initial glance of its utter impregnability. Mine was but a momentary glimpse, and I was seized at once and my eyes bound to the verge of torture; but before them floated a vision of loveliness, with its contrast of grandeur and sublimity, and I knew that I had been gazing, if but for a fleeting moment, upon the palace and the citadel of the great Christophe, King of the gem of the northern Antilles.