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?"