Prisoners of Chance - Page 166/233

Over and over I turned such unhappy thoughts in my seething brain, until the faintest sound from without had died away. I may have spent hours thus, while De Noyan slept on peacefully as a tired child. At last a wild desire for action overcame my lassitude, conquered all lingering discretion. There arose before me, clearly as a painted picture, the pleading face of her I loved. I knew that to no other was she looking for aid in her despair. There might be little I could accomplish for her succor, yet it would bring her new courage even to exchange a brief word with some faithful friend, as proof that she was not forgotten. Besides, I longed, as no expression can make clear, to gaze again, if only for an instant, into her clear gray eyes, to listen to the gentle murmur of her trustful voice. In brief, I was in the mood for a desperate venture.

I crept to the open door, peering cautiously forth into the darkness. It was a heavy night, the little basin was wrapped in shadow, and not even a star peeped forth from the rifts of low-scudding clouds. In no direction could I distinguish any twinkling of lights except a single fitful flash from off the altar, where black-robed priests guarded the sacred fire or worshipped before the Puritan. Encouraged by the darkness I crept along the outer wall, unchallenged by the skulking guard, and finally attained the upper corner. Here I observed a second glimmer, which I instantly recognized as coming from the other great house upon the summit of the mound--that house in which I understood dwelt Queen Naladi, and where De Noyan said his wife remained prisoner.

I scarcely know what I hoped to accomplish by such a move, yet helpful circumstances are apt to develop when one attempts boldly to do his own part the best he may. It was in blind faith I crept forward through the dry grass, drawing ever closer toward that beckoning light. It was a long journey and a slow one, as the tribe would guard vigilantly the dwelling-place of their Queen. At every rustle in the grass, every flap of wing overhead, I paused, listening to the pounding of my heart.

I clasped closely in one hand the knife, my sole weapon of defence, and, as my eyes became accustomed to the gloom and could distinguish some things more clearly, I paused often, with uplifted head, to study some indistinct object in the darkness. Thus advancing inch by inch, avoiding with care the least rustling of dry grass, I wriggled snake-like forward, until I began breasting the steeper incline of the mound, its summit now outlined against the lighter space of overarching sky.