“This is like civilization again,” said Christopher Burley, with a sigh.
“We are sure of a comfortable night, at all events,” replied Captain Rudstone.
“The first thing will be supper,” said I. “Baptiste, you and Carteret unpack the sledge. And do you build us a roaring fire, Pemecan.”
I went into another room for a moment—it had been my own in times past—and when I returned the Indian had already started a cheerful blaze. As I walked toward the fireplace, intending to warm my hands, a loose slab of stone that was set in at the right of it was dislodged by the shaking of the floor. It toppled over with a crash, breaking into several fragments, and behind it, on the weatherworn stratum of plaster, I saw a number of hieroglyphics. On pulling down some more plaster I found more lines of them, and they were doubtless an inscription of some sort. The odd-looking characters were carved deeply into the wall, and I judged that they had been made years before.
“How strange!” cried Flora, coming to my side.
The rest also drew near, scrutinizing the mysterious discovery with eager eyes and exclamations of surprise.
“It looks like a cryptogram,” said Captain Rudstone, and his voice seemed to tremble and grow hoarse as he spoke. “What do you make of it, Carew?”
“Nothing,” said I. “You know as much as myself—I never saw it before.”
“Was it put there in your father’s time?”
“Perhaps,” I answered, “but I am inclined to think that it belongs to a much earlier date.”