Prisoners of Chance

"What now, brother Cairnes?" I questioned in some anxiety, noting as I came nearer stains of fresh blood on his hose.

"Yonder black-faced cannibal buried his teeth in my calf," he growled gloomily. "Saints of Israel! I did merely lean over seeking another bit of meat, when he fastened on to me in that fashion, and hung there like a bull-dog until I choked him loose. 'Tis my vote we kill the ungodly man-eater, who has already feasted off your hand and my leg."

The energetic movement of his red head clearly evidenced the sincerity of his feelings, yet it was not in my heart to avenge our wrongs upon a helpless prisoner.

"No, friend; we are white, not red. The pain will pass presently, and it would not be a Christian act to dispose thus of one bound in our hands. I will give him other food to chew upon, then make fast his mouth while we go together and search out the secrets of this hole. It will be best to discover early whether this varlet speaks true or false as to the chances of escape. Hand over here the meat and water."

I endeavored to question the fellow further while he sullenly partook of the food offered, but he gave back merely short, uncivil answers, and those of little value. Finally, despairing of learning more from such a source, we securely bucked the sullen fool, rolled his body close against the wall out of sight of any chance visitant, and then made preparation to explore our prison-house and discover for ourselves the mystery of this gloomy cave. The dense blackness showing directly ahead seemed to promise an extension of passageway into the rock; so, lighting a pine knot at the altar fire, and bidding Cairnes follow me closely, I led forward down the narrow tunnel. The floor was uneven, while so irregular and rough appeared roof and walls as to convince me this was a natural excavation, probably the run-way for some ancient watercourse. Yet, as I tested the nature of the stone with the point of my hunting knife, it proved easily workable with tools, and apparently revealed softer material the deeper we progressed into the hill. Slightly beyond the entrance leading from the main chamber, several rudely fashioned steps led into a sort of gallery. This was of considerable proportions, elevated perhaps ten or more feet above the main floor, its outer parapet formed of loose stones, through the chinks of which one might command unseen a wide view of the cavern and its altar. But, to our rather hasty inspection, this gallery contained nothing except bare rock, and, after a single curious glance about we drew back and moved on cautiously in exploration of the lower tunnel. This curved gradually toward the left, and held a rather steep pitch downward. It was not above three feet in width until we had traversed fully fifty paces, when it suddenly broadened, and the fitful glare of the torch, which I held over my head, flashed back rays of light from two horribly gleaming green eyes. For an instant I believed we had invaded the lair of some wild animal, and drew back quickly, my hand on the knife hilt.