Prisoners of Chance - Page 118/233

Our depth of disappointment at facing this barrier was beyond expression. We could but stand in silence, gazing upon the broad, impassable sheet of water, blocking further advance. De Noyan was earliest to recover power of speech.

"Le Diable!" he swore, half unconsciously. "This cursed place is surely damned! Yet it has some consolation to my mind, for that will drive us backward into the lowlands, out of this demon-haunted defile."

"Your judgment is right," I returned gravely enough, not unrelieved myself by the thought. "There is no other course open to us. We shall be compelled to retrace our steps, and if we desire to reach the open before another night, we need be at it. May the good God grant us free passage, with no skulking enemies in ambuscade, for never saw I poorer spot for defence than along this narrow shelf."

Fortunately, the way proved easier travelling as we proceeded downward, and we were not long in passing beyond our haunted camp of the previous night. Below this spot--which was passed in painful anxiety--we entered into that narrower, gloomy gorge leading directly toward the plain beyond. The little river foamed and leaped in deep black waves upon our left, the rocks encroaching so near that we were compelled to pass in single file, picking a way with extreme caution lest we slip upon the wet stones, and having neither time nor breath for speech. The Puritan led, bearing the Spaniard's naked rapier in his hand. Suddenly, from where I brought up the rear, his voice sounded so noisily I made haste forward fearing he had been attacked.

He stood halted, staring like a demented man at a massive rock, a huge monster with sheer, precipitous front, filling every foot of space from the cliff wall to the river, completely closing, as by a wall of masonry, the narrow foot-path along which we had advanced unhindered the day before. It was easy to see from whence that rock mass came; the great fresh scar on the overhanging cliff summit high above told the fatal story of its detachment. Yet how had it fallen so suddenly and with such deadly accuracy across the path? Was it a strange accident, a caprice of fate, or was it rather the hellish work of design?

None knew at that moment; yet we stood there stupefied, staring into each others' despairing faces, feeling we were hopeless prisoners doomed to perish miserably within the gloom confines of that ghastly, haunted hell.