“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