Prisoners of Chance

The grave determination in my voice served to sober him.

"'T is in my blood," he admitted doggedly, "to fight and work better to the holy songs of Israel. It would bring renewed peace to my soul merely to uplift a paean of victory over the discomfiture of my enemies. But I seek no quarrel here, and hence bide in silence until a proper moment to unseal my lips."

"'Twill be well you do. Now follow close at my heels, and I 'll promise a swift diversion to your thoughts."

Thus cautiously we crept toward the distant flickering of the torch, the unsteady light from which already began to yellow the packed earth about us, until we finally emerged into its full glare. I had crawled forth, perhaps half my length beyond the concealment of the wooden pillar, and, knife in hand, was stealthily drawing in toward the motionless form of the still slumbering priest, when the roving eyes of Cairnes encountered the idol, with its flashing gems and widely outspread wings, towering above like an avenging demon. I doubt not the sight was startling to the fellow, terrorized by the underground gloom, and he gave utterance to one gruff cry: "'T is Beelzebub!"

The sleeping priest leaped to his feet, glaring about in bewilderment. Where I lay outstretched it required an instant to gather myself for action, and, before I could place restraining grip upon him, the fellow saw us both, and, with echoing scream of terror, fled frantically up the dark entry to the right. I made desperate effort to halt him, but my swift-flung knife found bloodless sheath within the soft earth of the wall.

"Zounds! are you a screeching woman with no control over your tongue?" I exclaimed angrily, panting for breath. "'T is likely that priest will rouse the tribe, and we shall have a run for it. What caused you to make such an uproar?"

"Saints of Israel!" he said, repentantly enough, his glinting eyes still roving over the silent, leering image, "never before did I behold such monster as that. For the moment, I believed it Satan himself. But, for the love of the prophets, what is this?" He began eagerly sniffing the air with his great nose like a pointer dog. "'T is food I scent; that which will stay a famished stomach. I beg you, friend, pause shortly while I satisfy in some measure the yearnings of the body. Then shall I be better fitted to withstand the temptations of the world."

"Odds, man, I hope so," I responded gloomily, watching his eager attack upon the supply outspread before the idol. "So far you have acted like a lunkhead, and I begin to regret making you comrade in this adventure. If a full stomach inspires to a man's duty, it would be policy always to bear food about with you."