contend against us. We had our
great altars on every hilltop, and our villages were in every valley.
Our kings ruled from far above the great fresh water down to where the
salt sea kisses the white sand; our slaves toiled in the fields to
produce us food, and in the rocks to give us store of metal for the
chase and war. It was then the Sun shone warm upon his children, and
there were none among men who dared to face our warriors in battle. We
were masters of all the land we trod; we feared no people, for we were
blessed of the Sun."

"How came the end?"

"It was a curse upon us--curse because we made mock of the Sun. The
sacred fire died out on our altars, while recreant priests slept, and
so there came upon the nation a breath of pestilence from the sky which
swept away the people as if by fire. It has been told to me that our
dead lay everywhere; that whole villages were destroyed in a single
night; that those who survived wandered in the woods foodless, until
only a pitiful remnant of those who were once so powerful lived in that
tainted air, poisoned by decaying bodies. Then the surviving slaves
banded themselves together, fell upon their wandering masters, driving
and killing, until the few who were left drew together on the banks of
the great river. Here, by lighting the sacred fire again, they made
peace and were saved. It was there I was born."

I fail utterly to picture the true solemnity of the scene, as the aged
priest, white-haired and evil-eyed, slowly mumbled it forth in his
broken, halting French, leaning with his back against the rough stones
of the great altar, on the summit of which flamed the sacred fire he
had passed his life in guarding. 'T was like a voice speaking from a
forgotten past, which looked forth from sunken eyes, and became visible
in snow-white hair. A grave yawned to give me a glimpse of all which
that grave contained--the hopes, the struggles, the death of a once
powerful tribe. Yet it all stands forth perfectly clear to my memory
as I write--the vast black chamber lying in shadow and flame; the dark
figure of the bulky Puritan outstretched upon the stones at our feet;
the ghastly, corpse-like face of the savage old priest, whose eyes
gleamed so fiercely, as he dreamed once again of the vanished glories
of his race.

"But the woman who now rules over you?" I questioned, waiting vainly
for him to resume. "Is she not white?"

He did not answer; apparently he did not h