God in heaven! What should I do? Can you imagine how my feelings overcame me when I saw Lacelle issue from the sleeping chamber? Her face was white and terrified. She came cautiously, and when she saw the great rift between the plateau and the place where she and Cynthia stood, her lips became bloodless. Her senses did not desert her, however. She laid her finger upon her lip and shook her head at me. Then she reached out one hand and grasped the tree behind Cynthia's standing place. She laid the other hand very, very gently on Cynthia's arm. She slipped her fingers up toward the elbow, and gradually drew the girl toward her. For a moment I thought that Cynthia was gone. She swayed slightly, and I feared to see her open her eyes and, perceiving the great chasm beneath her feet, dash headlong into it. But Lacelle was equal to her task. I have sometimes wondered if she had magnetic power. For in a moment more Cynthia had withdrawn her foot, had placed it on firm ground, and with Lacelle was slowly ascending the gentle slope which led to her retreat. I fell backward upon the rock floor. My strength seemed gone. I lay there limp as a piece of seaweed, my face covered with my hands. The Bo's'n turned over, took a long breath, and opened his eyes. The first thing that he saw was my recumbent figure, and that I was shaking in every limb. He knelt by me and took my hands from my face.

"Why, Mr. Jones, sir," said he, "ef you ain't cryin'!"

Perhaps I was, God knows! The great dread and the sudden relief had shaken me physically and mentally. The Bo's'n brought me some water.

When I could speak, "Bo's'n," said I, "how are we going to get to her?"

"Who, sir?" asked the Bo's'n.

I lifted myself up on my feet like an aged man. The Bo's'n arose with me.

"Look there!" said I, pointing to the abyss; "and she is on the other side."

"Does Mrs. Jones know it, sir?" asked the Bo's'n.

I started. It was some time since I heard the Bo's'n speak of Cynthia in that way.

"No," said I, "I think not. Lacelle does."

"Could you leap it, sir?" asked the Bo's'n wistfully.

"I don't see how I could," said I. "It isn't even like jumping down across a place that is as wide as that. It is not like jumping downward at all. I hardly think I could do it then. It must be anywhere from eight to ten feet wide. And, as you see, it is a little above us. No, I certainly could not do it."

The Bo's'n stepped back and looked critically up over the roof of our shelter. It was growing light—the light of a dull early morning.

"I thought there might be some way of getting to them with the vines on the roof, but I see that it is straight up, up, up, sir. Looks like there was no stop to it."

"Even if we could get up there, what good would it do them?"

"Suppose we go out into the passage and look for help."

"Who would help us? We should perhaps fall into the hands of some of these roaming savages. They might treat us well, and they might not. That is not to be thought of. Suppose we met with some of those—Oh, I forgot you were not with us! Let us consult with the Smith."

The Smith had slept through the entire storm. I now awoke him and told him what had befallen us. He seemed much concerned, and said that it looked serious.

"But don't you be worried, Mr. Jones," said he. "I've been in tighter places than this." This reminded me forcibly of the Skipper.

"You may have been," said I, "but I don't think I have, much."

And now I heard Cynthia's voice calling to me again.

I went to the edge of the chasm. There I found her standing on the other side, holding tight to the sapling.

"Don't come so near, for God's sake!" said I.

She was looking blankly at the great abyss, as if she were dreaming.

"How did it happen?" she said.

"How does anything happen?" asked I. "As if we didn't have enough to worry us without having that piece of rock fall."

"Do you think that we can ever get back to you?" asked Cynthia.

"If you don't, I'll jump off the cliff," said I.

"Don't talk so foolishly, Mr. Jones," said Cynthia, smiling at me. "While there's life, there's hope. Perhaps there is another entrance to the terrace from where we are. If Zalee were only here, he could tell us. He seems to know these mountains as if they were his own home, but I have asked Lacelle if there is any other way out. She says that Zalee said nothing about it."

"Don't you think she might prospect a little?" said I.

"How do you mean?" asked Cynthia.

"Why, walk up your little shelf as far back as it goes, and see if there is no way out for you. I feel so helpless." I wrung my hands nervously. "I can do nothing."

"Don't worry," said Cynthia, looking brightly at me. "I am sure we shall find some way out of it. The only trouble is that I am dreadfully hungry."

"We can throw you some food," said I.

"And water?"

"No, I'm afraid not. But it won't be long, I am sure, until we have devised some means of rescuing you."

Cynthia sat down on the rock and put her hands over her face. I thought that she was crying until I heard the laughter bubbling forth.

"I really can not help it," she said. "Do excuse me, but you look so woebegone. So many things have happened that I really am not at all afraid that we shan't get out of this as we have out of all our other troubles. Now I'll go and send Lacelle to see if she can find any opening."

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?"

"They are the books on snakes and such things, ma'm, which I have read about this da—this island."

"Oh!" said Cynthia. "I'll tell her." She turned to Lacelle and began to talk with lips and fingers, and then turned again to us.

"She says some are and some are not. I'm sure I hope these are not."

"If the snakes are poisonous, those ladies are on the wrong side of the fence," said the Smith.

The Bo's'n now came toward us. He had a small parcel in his hand. It consisted of some birds' eggs, which he had boiled hard and had kept in a cool place within the passage, and some fruit. He made motions as if to throw it toward Cynthia.

"Don't!" said she. "Let me send you my bag."

She stooped and picked from the ground a tough vine—behucca they call it in Santo Domingo; liano, in South America. She tied one end through the handles and prepared to swing the bag down and across the chasm.

"Hold fast to the other end!" shouted I, for an idea had struck me. So soon as I had received the end of the vine I asked:

"How much more have you of the vine?"

"Oh, yards and yards."

"Well, let me have all that you can spare without letting go of the end." Soon I had enough of the vine on my side of the chasm to more than reach back to Cynthia.

"Take your end round the tree," said I, "and then throw it to me." She did as I told her. At first the vine fell short of the terrace, but she bravely pulled it back to her and tried again, and finally I was rewarded by catching the end in my hand.

"Now," said I, "if you can tie those ends securely together, we shall have a sort of endless chain." She did so, I holding the loop. Then I put some food in the bag and fastened it to the vine, and we sent it over by pulling on the loop and letting the knot go round the tree. Had I slipped the handles of the bag over the vine, it would only have slid down to us again.

"I can send you some water in the same way," said I, "if the vine is strong enough."

"There are plenty of vines," said the Smith.

"Go and collect all you can find, you and the Bo's'n," said I, for a new thought had struck me.

The Bo's'n and the Smith now went to the arch of rock which covered our sleeping place and tore down from above great handfuls of the trailing creepers. Some of them were so strongly rooted that we could not move them, but many came easily away from the earth, and soon the floor of the terrace was thickly strewn with them. I stooped over the precipice and tore up all that I could reach.

"Now," said I, "we will make a bridge." I told Cynthia at once what we intended doing, and she seated herself with Lacelle, and together they watched us at our work.

I told the Bo's'n and the Smith to lay many strands of the vine on the floor and weave other vines in and out.

"Why can't we do that up here?" asked Cynthia.

"I am afraid you would not make them strong enough," said I; "but if you think you could, you might try." I felt that it would amuse them perhaps, and would make the time pass more quickly.

We wove busily for an hour or two, and finally we had made eight or ten broad, closely filled mats. They were each about sixteen feet long. We wove them together two and two lengthwise, and then placed some on the top of others, thus making several layers. These we bound securely together, and when we had finished we found that we had woven a broad and strong platform, which I was sure would hold a much heavier weight than that of a slight young girl.

"The most important thing now," said I, "is that you should secure it well on your side. See how we have fastened these strong vines to your end of the bridge. When we send it over you must tie these strands round those trees, two and two. Fasten them very securely."

"No slippery hitches," said the Smith, "if you please, miss."

"No granny knots, Mrs. Jones, ma'm," added the Bo's'n.

Cynthia flushed as she always did when the Bo's'n addressed her thus, and cast her eyes on the ground.

We fastened the bridge to the rope of vine, and together Cynthia and Lacelle pulled it across. They then began to secure it to the tree. We three stood a few feet back from the edge of the chasm, bracing ourselves and holding our end of the bridge level and firm. The proceeding took some time. There were mistakes on their part and much instruction on ours. Finally, however, the platform was ready. Then my heart began to thump as if it would burst through my body. I wondered now if, after all our care, the bridge would hold Cynthia. I suggested this doubt to the Smith.

"Lord, yes!" he said. "You can hang by a single vine of good size. There ain't any fear of that. If they'll only look ahead and not downward, they will be all right."

I need not reprolong my agony. It was wearing enough and anxious enough then. I could not bear to look as Cynthia put her foot on the bridge.

"Try it first," I cried anxiously.

"I am not afraid," said she. "I am sure that you would make it strong enough."

Cynthia then turned to Lacelle, and asked her if she would like to go first, or if she, Cynthia, should do so.

Lacelle was ready to do either. Talk about bravery in men! I never saw anything to compare with those two women. For after all, though most people can usually stand a great and sudden shock, the test is, it seems to me, the bearing up under constant and wearing daily inconveniences, troubles, and anxieties.

"I think I had better come first," said Cynthia, "for if it holds me it will Lacelle. She is lighter than I am." She turned and kissed the Haïtienne and then stepped confidently out on the bridge.

I shall never forget her as I saw her then. She had lost the pins with which she used to confine her hair, and it was constantly tumbling about her shoulders. She had no more than set her foot upon the ladder than down came that splendid golden veil. For a moment I was fearful that this would unnerve her, but, though the wind blew her fine hair about and across her eyes, she started boldly out on the narrow span.

"Hold out your hands," I shouted, "and balance yourself."

She did as I told her. With heightened colour and wide eyes, her hair making a cloak about her lithe figure, she stepped quickly out on the bridge. It seemed ages to me, but it was in reality but a moment from the time that she started until I held her in my arms. She disengaged herself and bound up her hair.

Then Lacelle started, and when she was safe I threw the bridge away. It dangled helplessly from the other side. I had no wish that Cynthia should try it at night in one of those strange somnambulistic moments of hers.

We made for Cynthia and Lacelle a sleeping place, laying down the vines which had remained after we had finished the bridge. After a long day, we ourselves retired within the passage, and all went to sleep early and soundly, thanking God that no greater dangers had come to us.

Our troubles seemed to come upon us usually at night. But I lay down on that evening feeling that for one space of seven or eight hours at least we might hope for rest of mind, if not of body. How delusive are such hopes! I was awakened by a slight exclamation, and turned over to find several figures standing between me and the moonlight, which shone on the terrace. As well as I could see, they were dressed in the costume which we had observed upon the three black men whom we had met on our journey to the cave. I sprang to my feet and rushed out on to the terrace, calling to the Bo's'n and the Smith to awake. They heard the terror in my tones and arose at once, if a little more sleepily than I. I found five men standing on the terrace looking down on Cynthia and Lacelle, who were asleep in each other's arms. I drew my pistol, but only a flash in the pan rewarded me, and I rushed at the men single-handed. I threw my body at one of them who was nearest the edge of the terrace, hoping by this means to push him over the steep fall of rock. He only laughed, and in turn seized me by the wrists. The men were giants, and, though I was accounted an athletic young fellow enough, I soon found myself lying on the ground, bound ankle and wrist, like a trussed chicken. I felt extremely awkward, and dreaded the moment when Cynthia should awake and see me in this ridiculous position. It was an easy matter for the five men to overpower the sleepy Smith and the Bo's'n, and soon we were all lying on our backs, and Cynthia and Lacelle were at the mercy of the black wretches.

Perhaps you can imagine how I felt. I can not bear to think of it! The noise of our scuffling awoke Cynthia, and her moving in turn awoke Lacelle. I shall never forget the look of horror which my poor girl turned upon those five enormous creatures. They must have struck dread to her very soul with their black skins and glittering white teeth. They were armed with heavy bludgeons, such as I had seen in the hands of the three whom we had met on our way to the terrace that first night, and doubtless they were, some of them, the same.

Cynthia sprang at once to her feet, and, pointing to where I lay, demanded that I be released at once. She turned to Lacelle and said:

"Tell them that this is my husband!" It was almost worth being pinioned there to hear that declaration, but Lacelle shook her head as if she had not understood. As Lacelle arose slowly, I heard her give an exclamation of surprise, and saw that she started as she looked toward the men. It seemed to me that a glance of recognition passed between one of them and the girl, but she quickly looked away again, and seemed to be as angry, though not as much terrified, as Cynthia. She stood boldly out in the moonlight and asked the strangers what they wished, and what right they had to subject us to such indignities.

One of them answered her in a rather long speech, in which I heard the name "Christophe" several times. From this I judged that Christophe had sent to capture us. I was quite right in my surmises, and I now found that Zalee was not infallible in his judgment. We had shown ourselves carelessly upon the rock, and, when we least thought it, they had been spying upon us. Orders had been given to search the passage thoroughly, and this was the result. It had always seemed strange to me that Zalee alone should have possessed this secret, but I argued with myself that Christophe was not a native of this country, rather of St. Kitts first and Santo Domingo later, and that many of the people about him were not native Haïtiens, but followers from other islands.

The griffes listened to Lacelle, showing their white teeth and smiling at her rage. Then the biggest and stoutest, evidently the leader, began to speak. He often pointed to us, who were lying on the rock floor of the terrace, and then up toward the mountain or the entrance of the passageway. Finally, Lacelle turned to Cynthia and began to translate. With the aid of the Bo's'n and the Smith, it was explained that some one had reported to King Henry, as he often chose to call himself, that there was a party of foreigners wandering about down by the coast. That the three had been sent out to intercept us on the night that we met them; but, failing of their errand, Christophe had sent them back again, and that now that they had found us, they had no intention of letting us go.

"He told us not to harm the prisoners," said the spokesman. "The King likes to inflict most punishments himself."

This was a pleasant outlook for us.

I glanced at the Bo's'n. His face was swollen to twice its natural size. He was lying on the ground moaning as if in great agony. I saw that he would be of little use to aid our escape, and turned my attention to the others.

"He says that if you men will go quietly he will unbind your ankles, but not your hands. As for us, he knows that we can do nothing, so we are not to be bound at all," explained Cynthia.

Of course, we promised. What else could we do? And so started out through the passage which had been the entrance to our latest home. We found the slab of stone laid carefully on edge along the wall of the passage. It was proof of the quiet manner in which these men had worked that we had heard nothing until they chose that we should be awakened.

We started then, all five, with our five captors. The women stepped freely and at will, but we were told to walk steadily and not venture to turn round, or it would be the worse for us. We had nearly reached the passageway when Cynthia uttered a hurried exclamation and ran back to the terrace. I also turned to rush after her. I feared that her troubles had driven her mad, and that she would throw herself off the cliff; but I was seized and turned to the right about by two strong fellows, while two more ran after Cynthia. The fifth, the torch bearer, remained leaning unconcernedly against the wall. He it was who seemed to have known Lacelle, and I saw his lips move and his eyes roll, as if he had communicated something to her worth knowing.

In a moment or two Cynthia came back, but the guards returned ahead of her. They were laughing, but looking behind them somewhat uneasily. When they came up to us, Cynthia explained.

"I only forgot my bag. I couldn't go without that, you know." She looked very determined, however, and I saw that if she carried her bag in one hand she held her little dagger in the other. The men could, I suppose, have disarmed her, but the little weapon was sharp and thin, and a man might get an ugly stab between the ribs before he had succeeded in subduing our young tigress. For I found that Cynthia seemed to be developing new traits every day, and I felt certain that if one of those creatures had laid a finger upon her he would have been made very uncomfortable for a time, if not killed.

"That's right," called I. "Stick it into the brute if he offers to touch you."

But this did not seem to be the intention of the men. They had been told to bring us to Christophe's palace unharmed, and they evidently intended to carry out their instructions to the letter.

We walked, it seemed to me, all that night; for many hours, at any rate, and by tortuous routes. Cynthia stepped bravely out at first, but, after an hour or so, she seemed to tire. At such times we sat and rested. Our first hour was passed in walking through the tunnel, as well as numerous wonderful rooms and caverns, which made me wonder why the natives of the island do not make these shelters their homes. Then we suddenly emerged upon the mountain side. Here our guides allowed us to take a rest. The slope had been gentle, and we had not the hill to contend with. We then struck steeply downward, and pursued a path which the torch bearer seemed to know perfectly. There was only the light of his torch now to guide us, for the moon had gone down behind a western spur of the mountain, and the stars were effaced by the smoky red flare of the torch. We now entered the side of a hill, through one of those natural tunnels so frequently met with. Here, after walking for a while, our guides stopped suddenly.

"He says that we must have our eyes bound," said Cynthia, when Lacelle had communicated to us the order of the leader.

"What bosh!" said the Smith, turning rudely on the man.

Our captor paid no attention to the Smith's words, which he had not understood, but took from the waist-bands of the guards some cloths. These he proceeded to bind round our foreheads. We knew that resistance was useless, but I wondered if this was only a new form of torture, and if we were to be blindfolded as the pirates had blindfolded their victims, only to be led to some fearful chasm where we should step off into space and eternity. Each man now led one of us. At least I supposed so, for a hand was laid upon my arm and I was led along an uneven path.

"Where are you, Cynthia?" called I, and I pulled up my bandage to look. I caught a glimpse of a prisoner and a captive, four pairs in all. I noticed that Lacelle's guide was the torch bearer, and I took some comfort from this fact. I felt sure that she would be able to communicate with him in some secret way, and so give us all some aid. My bandage was rather roughly pulled down again, and we were halted. The leader made an address to us, which Lacelle translated to Cynthia and she to us. He said that if one of us again attempted to remove the cloth which bound our eyes that it would be much the worse for all of us. He then went round examining us, and tightened the other bandages, until I heard my poor girl cry out that she could not bear the pressure. You may imagine that I promised earnestly not to interfere with mine again.

But before the guard had noticed that I was lifting the cloth I had caught a glimpse of that which no threats or brow beating could efface from my mind. Before us and a little below where we had halted lay a lovely valley. It was now early morn, and a subdued rose-coloured light shed its soft rays adown the smiling vale and lighted up with its marvellous glow a nearer object. I saw a broad terrace, under which arches of marble curved, as if in support. I saw carved pillars and columns and doorways with vistas beyond. I saw open window ways with suggestions of luxury within. I saw fretted balustrades and broad stairways, and graceful statues standing in gardens such as I had read of in tales of Babylonian days. In fact, I had taken in a comprehensive flash of beauty such as the imagination is powerless to conjure up. Far above me, high up on the left, I caught sight of a black and frowning fortress, whose guns, mounted at each bastion and embrasure, gave proof at the initial glance of its utter impregnability. Mine was but a momentary glimpse, and I was seized at once and my eyes bound to the verge of torture; but before them floated a vision of loveliness, with its contrast of grandeur and sublimity, and I knew that I had been gazing, if but for a fleeting moment, upon the palace and the citadel of the great Christophe, King of the gem of the northern Antilles.

CHAPTER XX.
I MEET WITH THE TERRIBLE BLACK KING, AND VOLUNTARILY ASSUME A TASK TO REGAIN MY LIBERTY.

I now felt that we were walking over a bare and more even flooring, and then that the sweet tropic breeze had been exchanged for the cool, damp air of one of those stone interiors to which I had become accustomed. My guide suddenly stopped. I heard the pushing back of a bolt. I listened for more sounds of the same kind. I heard none. Oh, joy! only one door was opened. Then I was not to be parted from Cynthia. My guard removed the bandage from my eyes. I looked up joyfully to welcome the sight of Cynthia once again. She was not there! There was no one with me but the guard himself. I had been separated from my friends, when, I knew not. Oh, misery! What was I to do? How could I bear this of all troubles the greatest? The passageway from which I entered from the outer air was a stone hall rudely made. Along the sides were rough doorways and battered-looking doors. One of these doors was opened, I was pushed inside, and the door was closed upon me. I turned and hammered upon it with my clenched fists.

"Let me out!" I called. "Let me out! You can not mean to leave me here!" But there was no answer, except the retreating footsteps of him who had thrust me into this hateful prison. I pounded until I was weary, more because I was devoured with my rage than because I expected any response, and when I was exhausted with my futile efforts I threw myself on the floor, oblivious to everything but my sorrow.

As I lay there, alternately groaning and raging, I did not at first hear the faint sound which after a long time was made to attract my attention. Scratch, scratch, scratch, it went, but I did not heed it. It might be a rat, or some pestilent animal. I had not heard any footsteps in the corridor. I hoped that I should hear some more footfalls, but none came. All was as silent as the tomb.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, it came again. At last I awoke to the fact that this might be meant for me.

"Who is that?" I called.

"It's me," answered the Skipper's voice, grammarless, but, oh, how welcome!

"Good God!" I said; "it can't be you?"

"But it is me," shouted the Skipper, regardless of other ears, "darned if it ain't."

For a moment I was too amazed to speak.

"He's bagged the whole of us, hasn't he?" said the Skipper.

I looked to the back of the cell, the place where the sound seemed to come from. There I saw that the stone had sagged a little, and gave room for sound, if not for sight.

"God bless you, Captain!" said I. "How glad I am to see you again!"

"You must have better eyes than I have. Say, Mr. Jones, where is Cynthy?"

"She's somewhere near us," said I. And then in whispers, listening for every sound, I told the Skipper what had happened as well as I could.

"My poor little Cynthy!" said the Skipper, with a half sob.

"How did they get you, Captain?" I inquired.

"They never would have had me if you had paid any attention to me. They gathered me up the very day after I waved to you, when you were up there on that cliff."

"Was that you?" I asked. "I never thought it. Cynthia did suggest it, too."

"God bless my girl!" said the Skipper, with a wet voice.

"How were we to know it was you?" said I. "You were as black as any of the blackest here."

"That's so!" said the Skipper in answer. "I forgot that."

"But that man hadn't any clothes on," argued I, as if I must prove that the Skipper had been somebody else.

"Neither had I," said the Skipper. "Naked as a new-born babe. That's proper to-day, I suppose, anyway. It's my birthday, sixty-sixth."

Poor old man!

"What did they want with your clothes?" I asked, for the memory that I carried with me of the Skipper's ancient raiment, worn and soiled with salt water and earth stains, did not make them seem very valuable, even to a Haïtien.

"They didn't want anything with my clothes," answered the Skipper; "'twas me they wanted. But they stripped me to a gantlin' all the same. After that fight I tried to follow you, but three fellows seized me and took my clothes and threw them into the bush, and began to hurry me off to the first temple that we saw, where that little shaver was crying."

"Yes, I know," said I; "and then——"

"Well, the battle was going the other way. I wanted to run after you to the shore, but those men held me between them. In a little while we got near the temple, and I thought my last moment had come for sure, when who should pop out of the trees but some of these big black men, who Christophe has for his body guard."

"Yes, yes," said I, hurrying him on.

"And when they saw me they waved their clubs round their heads, and those forlorn little Haïtiens ran away. Then I gave the black men the slip, but they caught me again."

"If they were so little——" suggested I.

"Yes, yes, I know what you would say, but they were three to one, and when they took away my clothes they took my pistol, my knife, and my machete. I did put a bullet through one fellow. He never kicked, but when I tried to reload they were upon me."

I reflected also that the Skipper was not so young as once he was, and that the night had been as tiresome and exciting to him as to the rest of us.

"My, these stones are cold!" The Skipper sneezed. "Have you got that ring yet, Jones?"

"I haven't thought of it from that day to this." I slapped my hand to my throat. "Yes, here it is."

I took the great circle from the cord which held it round my neck and turned it over and over in my hand. The enormous red eyes shot forth rays like streams of blood. I have never seen anything before or since which shed so strange a light or made one feel so eerie.

"You don't say anything," said the Skipper. "I s'pose you're looking at that devil's ring and feeling all-overish."

"Yes," said I, "that is just exactly what I am doing."

"My, these stones are hard!" The Skipper groaned and sneezed again. "I wonder if they'll let me see Cynthy. But here! Hold on! I can't see her without any clothes."

"Perhaps they'll give you something before then," said I.

I now heard footsteps approaching, and held my peace and feigned sleep. The door was opened and a glass of water and a large piece of cassava bread were pushed into my cell as far as the man's arms could go. Then the door was closed and bolted on the outside. The Skipper's door was then opened, and I heard the same sounds which had heralded the arrival of my breakfast. I heard the Skipper mumbling some words, something between Manhattan-Dutch and Susquehanna-Indian, and he must have made some signs, for he told me that the man nodded his head as if he understood.

We kept up a desultory conversation, the Skipper and I, for an hour or more. I could not bear to hear him complain of the cold and hardness of the stones on which he sat. Northerners imagine, I believe, that one never feels cold in that tropic clime, but in that supposition they are quite mistaken. The heat and the constant exudations from the skin thin the blood, and when one is out of the sun and in the dark interior of the earth a sudden chill comes trembling over one, creeping, creeping, creeping, until the whole body is in an ague, which nothing but a little raiment and plenty of sunshine can relieve.

I judge that I had been in the cell for nearly an hour when I heard some hurried footsteps coming down the corridor. They stopped at my door. The bolt was withdrawn with a loud clatter, and two of the King's body guard stood in the doorway.

"Now I s'pose I'll never see you again," groaned the Skipper. Fearful that they would understand that we had been communicating and that we were friends, I made no reply, but looked round the cell, astonished at the sound of the voice. I addressed myself apparently to the guards in as fierce a tone as I could command. They thought me scolding at them, while my words were really addressed to the Skipper.

"Be quiet, for Heaven's sake!" said I. "They must not know that we are friends." My tone was so sharp and dictatorial, and I looked so squarely in the guard's eyes, that he began in a rough way to answer me, bowing slightly and beckoning me to follow. Then I heard the Skipper's voice in wonder:

"Why, Mr. Jones, are you speaking to me?"

Again I looked above, overhead, and round the walls of my room as if I were daft, and then fiercely at the guard. Again I spoke to the Skipper in my roughest way through these men, who could not understand a word.

"Don't be foolish, Captain," I said, glaring at the guard and shaking my fists in their faces. "They think I am talking to them. I am shaking my fist almost against their black noses, but they don't know that I am talking to you. Be careful, and don't, for Heaven's sake, address me while they are here."

I howled these words and danced up close, and glared at the tallest guard. "They will find us out surely. I'll tell you all about it when I get back, if they ever bring me back."

"Can't you lend me a trouser leg?" groaned the Skipper. But I saw that an answer would be more than foolish, and so turned and followed my guides where they led.

When I emerged from the corridor I found that I was facing toward the north. Our captors had brought us a long way round, so that we should go to the buildings where the offices, prisons, and the like were situated. To go to the palace itself we must walk northward. I had heard of this palace of Sans Souci, but no words had been powerful enough to give me an adequate idea of its wonderful beauty and grandeur. It was situated at the head of its beautiful and fertile valley, surrounded at the back and sides by hills, which, from their immediate rise, seemed to attain to the dignity of great mountains. The grand roads which Christophe had built and was still building ran down into the beautiful valley on their way to Le Cap. At the back of the palace there were gardens filled with rare flowers. Fruits were here, sunny arbours, and shady groves. Cascades of foaming water dashed downward from the neighbouring cliffs, and, caught at the base, were turned into irrigating channels or carried to the palace to supply its various needs. As I walked onward with my guard, I recalled the many facts that I had heard about the delights of this famous garden of the gods, and I wondered what manner of man it could be who could devise all this beauty during one phase of his existence, and fling helpless mortals to birds of prey at another.

At times these phases were not many minutes apart, so that it seemed that the man must have a dual nature, and that two occupants—one an angel and another a devil—must occupy his tenement at one and the same time.

I was thinking these thoughts as I passed onward with the guard. We walked along an open terrace, which would have seemed most grand to me, had not its beauties been effaced at every turn by something still more beautiful, and those in turn by something more wonderful still. We descended a broad flight of steps and came out upon another terrace. The air that blew about that terrace was heavenly. The blue overhead was deep and clear. Trade-wind clouds flecked the sky in every direction. They came like a host of white horses over from the east, sailing steadily along, and disappeared in the west, their places only vacated to be taken by the myriads of others which came moving rapidly after. The breeze was sweet with the scent of fruit and flower. It seemed that with each new breath that came to me, upon its wings was wafted a fresh and delicious odour. The near hills were clad with vernal beauty. The marble balustrades which railed the terrace were overgrown with viridescent plant and flowering vine. Birds sang in the branches of the camaito tree. Such Paradise a setting fit for the greatest and best monarch who ever lived and ruled on earth. It seemed as if some fair queen should inhabit this lovely place, as if even man, no matter how pure he might be, were not worthy of such exquisite surroundings.

These thoughts came to me as I walked forward to the spot where the greatest tyrant of modern times sat awaiting me, in common with his other slaves; for I was a slave, if Christophe chose to consider me as such—the slave of a man whose brutality was the wonder of those who had read tales of the Borgias, of the Cæsars, of Nero himself. I had heard of his chaining human beings to his carriage wheels, I had heard of his throwing his unsuccessful labourers off the great cliff which skirted the citadel, and I had heard the revolting tale of a certain day when his dogs, being hungry, he ordered an arm cut from an unoffending prisoner and thrown to the ravenous beasts. Imagine, if you can, my feelings when I reflected that this was the wretch to whose mercy fate had consigned me, and not only me, but Cynthia. If I had fear for my own safety, imagine, if you can, the horror with which I thought of him as the jailer of Cynthia. If I could only get speech of Cynthia, I thought, I could manage to tell her something—to warn her in some way. But then, after all, what should I tell her other than she knew already? If I frightened her, it would be worse, perhaps, than to leave her some confidence in her captors. She was not in Christophe's presence now, at all events, for I had been told that the King was attending to the business of the day at that moment.

We passed many windows and openings, where I saw men in uniform, secretaries, cooks, coachmen, horses, carriages, and everything that the mind can conceive as necessary to the comfort and well being of a great ruler. We passed by some round towers, that I thought must be sentry boxes, and then the terrace widened out, and again we walked past some very grand and gorgeous apartments. I remember an impression of mirrors and gilding, and in the most spacious of the rooms I saw a throne of velvet and gold, a sceptre lying there, a crown, and everything more splendid than I had ever imagined a white king would have desired with which to adorn his greatness. I looked along the marble esplanade, and at the end of the vista which I was approaching I espied some forms. They were human beings, but they were kneeling upon the ground. The figure before whom they knelt was seated upon a high dais. Over his head spread the famous camaito tree, which gave its name to the terrace. The figure was peculiarly dressed, and on his head he had a strange sort of military hat with fine gold lace binding the brim. In its front, among a tuft of ostrich plumes, blazed a diamond as fine as the one that I had taken from the cave and had unknowingly buried. As we approached, there were curious looks from the more privileged ones, who still had the manhood not to bow the knee to this tyrant King. Perhaps they were favourites, but I noticed that many of those present hid their faces in their hands as if afraid to look upon the evidence of so much magnificence and power. As we approached the throne, the King waved a small gold sceptre which he held. I suppose that he said, "Stand aside!" for the crowd blew apart in two straight lines, as if they were puppets. Then my guard and I walked up between the rows, and I stood in the presence of the redoubtable Christophe himself.

The man was of gigantic stature, and as black as a coal. To see a man who had been nothing more than an African slave seated there, with all the pomp and power that the proudest nation of the earth could confer, caused me to gasp with astonishment.

The King thundered something at my guard, who went down at once upon his knees and tried to drag me down with him, but I made up my mind on the spot that as I behaved so would I be treated, and, to preserve my dignity and make Christophe feel, if possible, that I had a position of my own, I stood more erect than ever. My clothes were torn and ragged, my hair had grown long, my appearance was generally unkempt and wretched, but I stood as straight as would Christophe himself had our positions been reversed.

Again he thundered some words at me, and the guard endeavoured to pull me to the ground; but I straightened myself, folded my arms, and looked proudly at this modern and literal Black Prince.

Then there was a cry for some one, and forty messengers went running. All the while I stood looking at the crowd and surveying the motley garments that they wore. There were prisoners from the South, dressed in rags that scarce covered their nakedness; there was that body guard of Christophe's, garbed as I have described; there were the officers of the King's army, gorgeous in all the buttons and straps and gold lace that could be crowded into the space which their bodies occupied. While I thus gazed, I was conscious that some one had joined me. I did not turn until I heard some words whispered in my ear.

"It's rather awkward for me," said the Bo's'n. "I haven't met many kings."

"Call that nigger a king?" asked the Smith's voice on the other side of me. Here there was a commotion from the throne.

Christophe had arisen and was pointing excitedly at us, waving his arms and foaming at the mouth. He motioned with his hands, and said something which I supposed was intended for "Down! down! kneel before the King! I am the King!"