Prisoners of Chance - Page 168/233

I dreaded any attempt to advance into the unknown, yet I had no intention of withdrawing until I had accomplished that end for which I came. To retreat was foreign to my nature; indeed, I was now so close to Eloise, it required an effort of will to restrain a desire to rush blindly forward. But long training overcame this rash impulse. I rested there, silent as a savage, seeking to trace each detail of what was barely beyond my hand. It was little enough I could distinguish, straining my eyes to the utmost; and finally, despairing of learning more, I advanced my hands, silently groping for something to grasp, when I was instantly frozen into a recumbent statue by a slight movement of something directly in front. This was so faint that, had not my every nerve been tense, I should scarcely have noted it at all. Yet there could be no doubt--some one had given a slight shiver, as though from the chill of the night air; whoever it might be, the person was not three paces from my out-stretched hands, and, as near as I could judge, must be sitting on the very threshold of the entrance.

I was in an awkward position. How I had succeeded in arriving there without attracting attention was little short of miraculous. I durst not venture on any retrograde movement; I even pressed my mouth against the hard earth, the better to deaden the sound of breathing. I know not how long I remained thus; it was until my strained muscles appeared to cord themselves, and I could scarcely keep back a moan of pain. Yet no other sound came from that mysterious presence. Intently as I listened, not so much as the faint sound of breathing reached me. Still I could not have been deceived; there assuredly had been movement; I distinctly felt a consciousness of other presence, so that every nerve tingled, and it required the utmost self-control to hold me still. I fairly throbbed with insane impulses to leap forward and solve the mystery.

Who could be lurking there in such silence? It must assuredly be an enemy, a guard stationed to watch over the fair prisoner within; doubtless, he would remain until relieved by some other. What hope for successful advance held me in such agony of mind and body? I felt that I must relieve my cramped limbs or else scream aloud in spite of every effort at control. Slowly I drew back, my outspread hands searching for some hummock of grass against which I might press, to force my body silently downward, but discovered none. Then there sounded, slightly to my left, the soft rustle of a moccasoned foot, and a low, guttural voice muttered some indistinct sentences. The lurking form in my front appeared to rise, and there was a brief grunt as if in response to command. Then a huge warrior stalked past so close that his moccasoned foot planted itself fairly between my outstretched arms. Instantly he faded away within the enveloping gloom, and with hardly the hesitation of a moment I was on hands and knees creeping toward my goal. With groping fingers I touched the riven trunk that formed the threshold, and, reaching upward, noted with a thrill of delight that merely a heavy curtain of woven straw guarded the interior. There was no time for hesitancy; at any instant the savage guard might return to his deserted post. Pushing the slight barrier noiselessly aside, I gained the interior, dropped the mat behind me, and, for the first time, ventured to pause and survey my surroundings.