"Let it be; 't is of small value here. I tell you I heard a strange voice; so hold still and listen."
For a minute or more we waited in almost breathless suspense, no unusual sound greeting our ears. Then the Puritan sniffed disdainfully.
"You grow childish, Master Benteen," he growled roughly, turning back to his labor. "The dark has overstrained your nerves—"
"I bespeak help of de Englishmen for de sake of God!"
There was no mistaking the truth this time—a strange voice was speaking broken English almost at our very feet. Cairnes clattered to the floor with a rough exclamation of surprise, while I stared vainly at the idol, from which the sound apparently came.
"In Heaven's name, who are you?" I asked earnestly, "and where are you who make appeal to us?"
"I am André Lafossier, native of France, for two months past a prisoner to these savages. If you are Christian men I beseech assistance."
"Nor do you ask vainly. Are you behind the wooden image?"
"Ay, in a small room hollowed out from the rock."
"Except for that are you free to aid us in your escape?"