THE HOUSE OF HORROR
"Me, I have thought never to cook again," said Madame Delchasse,
"but now I shall have the honger. See! if I had the coffee-pot and
the what-you-call the soss_-pan,_ I should make of this the grand
peok_-neek._ This journey through the h'wood, it is fine."
As madame spoke, the little boat was hurrying forward through the
half-submerged forest, and the party had by this time reached a point
some miles distant from their embarkation at what had formerly been
the river-bank. Of shores along the river proper it could hardly be
said that any remained, and at this point of pause, near to one of
the long ridges which still here and there remained above the water,
there appeared small trace of the accustomed landmarks. Here, deep in
the forest, the inset of the main current through the broken levee
was arrested by the forest itself, and by the channels of many
intersecting bayous. It was not a river, but a vast, shallow lake
that lay about them. Water was everywhere, and in this wide expanse
Eddring confessed to himself that he had lost his course and had no
definite knowledge of the way to find it. It gave him pleasure to see
that the spirits of madame were buoyant, and that even Miss Lady,
silent as she was for the most part, seemed to lose a portion of the
apathy which had at first oppressed her.
Hoping that he might at any time reach country familiar to himself,
Eddring sought to maintain the spirits of his companions by pointing
out to them the unfamiliar objects of the world in which they now
found themselves. Explaining that they were quite safe in their
little craft, he showed to them the repulsive moccasin snakes, whose
rusty forms lay wreathed on the logs or on such dry ground as here
and there appeared. Again he showed them the log-like bulk of the
alligator, lying motionless and invisible to the unpractised eye; or
called their gaze to a group of noble wild turkeys, which craned out
their necks from their perch on a tall dead tree.
"The game is all driven to the dry ridges," said he. "You will see
that the birds and beasts are afraid to move. Their fright makes them
almost tame. Do you see that little fellow there?"
He pointed out a wild deer, cowering beside a log on the little
island near which they were passing. Here he stopped, and
disembarking, soon called out to them that he had seen the track of a
bear, fresh in the loam near-by. They being terrified at this, he
returned to the boat, and skirted the muddy edge of the ridge,
showing them the footprints of the raccoon, small and baby-like, the
round tread of the timber wolf, the pointed footmark of the wild hog.
"Look," said he, "here is where an otter has been playing,"--and he
showed them a little huddle of twigs and dirt scraped together at the
end of a log which projected over the water. "Why does he do it?" he
said. "I don't know. It's his way of playing. There are a great many
strange ways in the world of wild things. By to-morrow I shall have
made good hunters of you both."
"To-morrow?" cried Madame Delchasse; and Miss Lady also turned upon
him a startled and supplicating look.
"Yes," said he, "it's no use to promise what one can't be sure of
doing. I know that we are not very far from the Big House station. We
can't miss it, because we can't cross the railroad without knowing
it, and you know the railroad would lead us directly to the place. At
the same time, for us to attempt traveling in the night might mean
that we should get hopelessly lost. I assure you, you have no need to
be alarmed. There is plenty in the boat to keep you comfortable, and,
as madame says, we will just make a picnic of it. I am sure none of
us will be the worse for a night out in the woods."
Eddring bent steadily to his oars. He was forced to admit that their
case showed small improvement as the shadows began to thicken. He
stood up in the boat at length and gazed steadily at a little ridge
of dry land which appeared before him. "I think we'll land here,"
said he, "and make our camp for the night." Miss Lady edged toward
madame and laid a hand upon her arm.
"My shild," murmured madame, "yes, yes, it is the grand peek-
_neek;_ I, Clarisse Delchasse, will protect you." Rejoiced that
matters were at least no worse with his passengers, John Eddring
helped them from the boat, and as he did so caught sight of the tears
which stood in Miss Lady's eyes. The strain of the last few days had
begun to tell, and as she looked into the dense shadows of the forest
in this precarious spot of refuge, it seemed to her that all the
world had suddenly gone dark, and must so remain for ever. Eddring
was wretched enough without this sight, but he went methodically
about the work of making them both comfortable.
"First, the fire," he cried gaily; and presently under his skilled
hands a tiny flame began to light up the gloom. He worked rapidly,
for now night was coming on. "Watch me build the house," he cried;
and soon he was absorbed in his own work of making an out-door
structure, hunter fashion, as he had done many times in his
expeditions in this very region. He cut some long poles and thrust
their sharpened ends into the ground, and bending over the tops, wove
them together. Then he thatched this framework with bundles of fresh
green cane cut near at hand, and in a few moments had a sort of
_wickiup._ On the bottom of this he threw brush and yet more
cane, and then spread down the blankets. The opening of the little
house was toward the fire, and presently both the women were sitting
within, their fears allayed by the sparkle of the cheering flame.
"But, Monsieur, where you yourself sleep?" asked madame.
"Oh, my house is already built," replied Eddring, and pointed to a
giant oak-tree some fifty yards away in the little glade. "You see
how the knees of the big tree stand out. Well, I just get some pieces
of bark, and put them down on the ground, and then I lean back
against the tree-trunk, and the dew doesn't bother me at all. Of
course, the main thing is to keep dry."
"Sir," said Miss Lady, almost for the first time accosting him, "do
you mean to say that you sit up and do not lie down to sleep at all
during the whole night? Why, you would be wretched. You must take one
of the blankets, at least."
"Not at all," said Eddring. "I have sat up that way many a night on
the hunt, and been glad enough of so good a chance. Now, you ladies
begin to get ready for supper, if you please. Madame, I am sure that
to-night you will prepare the best meal of your career. I think we
can promise you that it will be enjoyed. Excuse me now for a while,
and I will go and see about some more wood. An open fire eats up a
lot of wood during a night."
He disappeared down a faint path which he had detected opening into
the cane at the end of their little glade. His real purpose was to
explore this path; for there now came upon him the growing conviction
that he had seen this place before. He found the path to be plainer
than the usual "hack" of the mounted cane-brake hunter, and here and
there he caught sight of a faint blaze upon a tree. Hurrying along
through the enveloping foliage of the cane, he had traversed some
three or four hundred yards of this tangle before he saw a thinning
of the shadows ahead of him, and came out, as he had more than half
expected to do, at the edge of a little opening in the forest.
There, near the edge of the cleared space whose surface showed even
now the prints of many feet, he saw a long, low house of logs. It was
as he had seen it years ago! It was now, as then, the temple of the
tribesmen. Around it now swept, open and uncontrollable, Father
Messasebe, building anew his wilderness.
The white men had spared this temple. Perhaps they knew that sometime
it would serve as a trap. And so it had served.
That there had been fateful happenings at this spot Eddring felt even
before he had stepped out into the opening before him. He was
oppressed by a heavy feeling of dread. Yet he went on, looking down
closely in the failing light at the footprints which marked the
ground.
These footprints blended confusedly, leading up to the door of the
house, disappearing in the rank growth all about. And crossing these
human trails from one side to the other of the narrow island left by
the rising waters, there ran a strange and distinct mark, as though
one had swept here with a mighty broom, or had dragged across the
ground repeatedly some soft and heavy body! In this path there were
marks of feet deeply indented, with pointed toes. This trail, these
foot-marks, horrid, suggestive, led up to the open door. Eddring
hesitated to look in. He knew the tracks of the alligators, but
guessed not why these creatures should enter a building, as was never
their wont to do. It required determination to look into the door of
what he knew was a house of mystery, perhaps of horror.
Within the long room, now lighted faintly by the late twilight which
filtered through the heavy growth about, he saw dimly the long
benches fastened to the walls, as they had been when he first saw
this place years before. In spite of himself, he started back in
affright. The benches were tenanted! He could see figures here and
there, a row of them.
Some of them were bending forward, some sitting erect. But all of
them were motionless, the postures of all were strained, as though
they were bound! The house had its tenantry. But there was no central
figure here now, no leader, no exhorter, no priest nor priestess.
There was no shouting, nor any note of the savage drum. The drum
itself, its head broken in, the drum of the savage tribes, lay near
the door, its mission ended. This audience, whoever or whatever it
might be, was silent, as though sleep had made fast the eyes of all!
Eddring sprang back as he heard the scuffling of feet at the farther
end of the hall. His teeth chattered in spite of himself, as this
Thing, this creature of terror, came shuffling forward in the
darkness, and with clanking jaws pushed past him, to disappear with a
heavy splash in the water which now stood close at hand.
It was a house of horror. It was the place of the black man's savage
religion and of the white man's savage justice. Here the white man
had wrought sternly in the name of his civilization, and his keel,
departing like that of the fierce Norseman in the ancient past, had
left no trail on the waters lapping the shore which had known his
visitation.