"I greatly admire your patience."
"Pah! 'tis but the long practice of a soldier. Yet I am somewhat weary from the night, and, if you have talked enough, will seek rest to dream of Naladi, trusting she may send for me ere long. Did you note the beauty of her eyes?"
"I marked their cruelty."
"Le Diable! I ever admired spirit in a woman; 'tis the greater pleasure to watch them take on softer light. In such orbs love shines the clearer, once awakened."
I sat there some time in silence until he fell asleep. Then, realizing how useless it was for me, wearily as my eyelids drooped, to strive longer in thought, I sought another robe to rest upon, and was soon happily unconscious also.
I presume some unusual noise aroused me, for as I awoke and stared about, unable at the moment to comprehend my situation, I noticed, by evidence of the sun shining through the entrance of the hut, it was already past the noon hour. Consciousness becoming more acute, I perceived, standing barely within the shadows of the interior, the dusky figure of a warrior, unarmed, and motionless except for a gesture of the hand which seemed to command my following him. Retaining concealed within my doublet the sharp knife intrusted to me by Madame, I felt little trepidation at the fellow's presence, nor was there anything about his countenance to foster alarm, he appearing the least ferocious of aspect of all I had observed among the tribe. A moment I hesitated, then believing him a messenger from the Queen, I followed his retreating figure out into the sunlight.
The village reposed in loneliness and silence, nor did I see even child or dog playing before the square huts as we passed them. As we mounted higher along the slope and began climbing the strangely rounded hill on the summit of which perched the altar-house, I glanced back curiously over the plain outspread below. Little clusters of dark figures were scattered here and there throughout the pleasant valley, many of them congregated along the greener banks of the circling water-course, others scattered more widely afield, yet all earnestly engaged in cultivation of the ground. This quiet, pastoral scene was so foreign to all my previous conception of Indian nature that for the moment I paused amazed, gazing upon this picture of peaceful agriculture in the heart of the wilderness. Surely, cruel, revengeful savages though they were, yet here was a people retaining traditions of a higher life than that of the wild chase and desert war. I could perceive no guards stationed anywhere, yet felt no doubt that every entrance leading into this hidden paradise, this rock-barricaded basin amid the hills, would be amply protected by armed and vigilant warriors, confining us as securely within its narrow limits as if a dozen savages followed our every footfall. My silent guide, after one glance across his naked shoulder, to assure himself that I followed, led straight forward up the hill on a dog-trot, soon placing him far in advance. At the entrance of the altar-house he paused, showing disinclination to enter. In obedience to a gesture I passed within, leaving him standing there, as if awaiting my return, a silent statue in light bronze, the glow of the sunshine upon him.
Wondering what my mission might be, I remained a moment motionless slightly within the entrance, my eyes almost totally blinded by the sudden transition from the garish day to that dull interior. Slowly the scene within resolved itself into clearer detail. I began to perceive the crawling red flames licking with hungry tongues along the sides of the huge log resting upon the altar block, and later distinguished the black figure of a priest moving silently from point to point amid the shadows, engaged upon the grewsome functions of his office, his presence ever manifested by the dismal crooning with which he worked his magic spells. Beyond these vague suggestions of life—for they seemed scarcely more—it was like endeavoring to sound the depths of a cavern, so black, still, and void was all within and about. Yet, even as I stood thus, peering uneasily into the gloom, I was thoroughly startled at the sudden booming forth of a voice, apparently issuing from the darkest corner.
"May the Lord God forgive ye, Master Benteen, and be merciful unto ye, for thus placing His minister in such stress. 'T is I, Ezekiel Cairnes, who hath become an abomination unto Israel."
There was a tone of such utter depression in the great roaring voice, I feared some serious mishap had befallen him, and hastened to cross the room, heading toward the corner whence the sound came. As I attained the outer edge of the platform, groping my passage through the dense gloom, I was halted in the midst of a dozen or more savages, lying prone upon the hard floor, evidently in adoration of that grotesque figure perched above, and now clearly revealed by a blazing up of the charred log. Not one among them stirred from his prostrate position at my approach. Forgetting them instantly, my whole attention became riveted upon the marvellous transformation presented by my old Puritan comrade. Odds! what a sight! He sat bolt upright, as though bound in that stiff posture, occupying a low dais, almost at the edge of the platform. This latter had been covered with a glaring crimson cloth, roughly woven, presumably of native manufacture, peculiarly brilliant in its coloring, and hence of rare beauty to Indian eyes. At my approach he began straining at the cords which held him helpless, and I soon saw that his entire body was wrapped about with ropes of grass in such a manner as to render vain any hope of escape. His oddly shapen figure, with the wide, square shoulders and short legs, was likewise-draped in red, above which flared his fiery shock of dishevelled hair, while a face fairly distorted with rage, gray from loss of sleep, and rendered ludicrous by its little snapping eyes, glared down upon me.