The Adventures of Kathlyn

Finally the holy men departed, after having indicated the sacred fire

and the wood beside it. This fire pleased Kathlyn mightily. While it

burned brightly the lion would not prowl in her immediate vicinity.

She wondered where this huge cat had come from, since she knew her

natural history well enough to know that African lions did not inhabit

this part of the globe. Doubtless it had escaped from some private

menagerie.

The fire, then, giving her confidence, she did not get into the

sarcophagus, but wandered about, building in her fancy the temple as it

had stood in its prime. The ceilings had been magnificently carved, no

two subjects alike; and the walls were of marble and jasper and

porphyry. A magic continent this Asia in its heyday. When her

forefathers had been rude barbarians, sailing the north seas or

sacrificing in Druidical rites, there had been art and culture here

such as has never been surpassed. India, of splendid pageants, of

brave warriors and gallant kings! Alas, how the mighty had fallen!

About her, penury, meanness, hypocrisy, uncleanliness, thievery and

unbridled passions. . . . What was that? Her heart missed a beat.

That pad-pad; that sniffling noise!

She whirled about, knocking over an idol. It came down with a crash

and, being of clay, lay in shards at her feet. (Unfortunately it was

the holy of holies in this temple.) How she gained the shelter of the

sarcophagus she never knew, but gain it she did, and cowered down

within. She could hear the beast trotting round and round, sniffling

and rumbling in his throat. Then the roaring of the preceding night

was repeated. The old fellow evidently could not find those other

lions who roared back at him so valiantly. Evidently fire had no

terrors for him. For an hour or more he patrolled the portico, and all

this time Kathlyn did not stir, hardly daring to breathe for fear he

might undertake to peer into the sarcophagus.

Silence. A low roar from the inner shrine told her that for the

present she was safe. To-morrow she must fly, whither did not matter.

Toward four o'clock she fell into a doze and was finally awakened by

the sound of voices raised in anger.

Poor sheep! They had discovered the shattered idol. It did not matter

at all that the return of their ancient goddess was to bring back

prosperity. She had broken their favorite idol. Damnation would come

in a devil's wind that night.

The holy man who had missed the chance of claiming the miraculous

appearance of Kathlyn as a work of his own now saw an opportunity to

rehabilitate himself in the eyes of those who had made his holiness a

comfortable existence. With a piece of the idol in his hand, he roused

Kathlyn and shook the clay before her face, jabbering violently.

Kathlyn understood readily enough. She had unwittingly committed a

sacrilege.