d him to raise his
head; he saw the reptile balancing itself a few paces above him, half
coiled up on the rooks which formed the roof of the cavern.

The colonel recovered his coolness at the sight of this danger;
remaining almost immovable, and using his hands only, he unfastened his
pouch and drew from it a pistol and cocked it. Happily the charge and
priming were intact.

At the moment that the serpent, irritated by the movement of Rutler,
precipitated itself upon him, the latter aimed and fired. The serpent
fell at his feet with his head crushed. It was of a blue-black, spotted
with yellow, and some eight or nine feet in length.

Delivered from this enemy, and encouraged by his success the colonel
made a final effort to clear out the only path by which he could pass.
He glided anew into the passage, but, in spite of his strength, his
efforts were in vain--he could not move the corpse of the sailor.

Returning to the cave, he examined it in every direction but could find
no outlet. He could not hope for help outside; his shouts could not be
heard. At this terrible thought his eyes fell upon the serpent. Here was
a momentary resource; he knew that sometimes the famished negroes ate
this flesh, which, though repulsive, was not poisonous.

Night came, and he found himself in profound darkness. The waves
murmured and broke at the entrance of the cave; the waterspout
precipitated itself with a crash into the lower basin.

A new fear took possession of Rutler. He knew that the serpents went in
pairs and often rejoined each other at night; drawn by the tracks, the
male or female of the reptile which he had killed would come in search
of its mate.

The colonel's vigil became frightful. The slightest sound made him
tremble, in spite of his courageous nature; he asked himself whether, in
case he came through this horrible situation by a miracle, he should
continue the enterprise he had commenced. At first he believed that he
saw, in this adventure, a warning from heaven; then he accused himself
of cowardice, and attributed his mad fears to the feeble condition in
which he found himself.

Leaving the colonel in this difficult strait, we will transport our
reader to Devil's Cliff.

CHAPTER VIII.

DEVIL'S CLIFF.

The moon, brilliant and pure, shed a light almost as strong as the
European sun, and enabled one to distinguish perfectly the top of a very
high rock, and surrounded by woods on all sides of a dwell