onveniently carry. With
the gun in my possession, I expected no great shortness in the food
supply. Madame carried it at first, however, as we made swifter
progress by my taking the father on my shoulder. He was no great
burden, his weight scarcely more than that of a child.

In this manner we tramped steadily forward through the bright sunshine,
along canals filled with clear, cool water, and across fields no longer
tilled by slaves, until we discovered the secret path which led forth
from this death valley. A moment we paused, glancing back toward the
village, and up at the frowning front of rock, the tomb of the Natchez.
Then silently, soberly, as befitted those who had witnessed an act of
God, we pressed on into the labyrinth, shutting out forever that scene,
except as a hideous memory. To me the change was like entering upon a
new world; I was a prisoner released, breathing once again the clear
air of hope and manhood. Burdened as we were, the passage through the
tangled cedars to where the stream flowed down the canyon proved one of
severe exertion. When we finally attained the outer rocks, with the
sullen roar of the falls just below, I was breathing heavily from
exhaustion, and a flush had come back into Eloise's pale cheeks. Very
gladly I deposited the priest in a position of comfort, and the three
of us rested in silence, gazing about upon the wilderness scene. We
had spoken little to each other regarding the future; under the
depressing influence of that dread valley we felt incapable of thought,
our minds yet dazed by the tragic events we had experienced. Even now
I constantly saw before me the faces of Cairnes and De Noyan, scarcely
able to banish their memory long enough to face intelligently the
requirements of the present. Yet now it must be done. The _pere_ sat,
with crutches lying across his rusty black robe, his girlish features
softened by a look of infinite peace; Eloise leaned against the rock in
a posture of weariness, her bosom rising and falling with tumultuous
breathing. I recalled to mind the leagues of desolate wilderness yet
to be traversed. Possibly I indulged unconsciously in outward
expression, for the priest gazed across at me.

"The sun is still sufficiently high for considerable travel, my son,"
he remarked quietly, "and you will require daylight for the earlier
part of your journey."

"It was upon my mind, but I scarcely knew how best to proceed."

"Possibly my exper