Rvp -^e? w ~W A f***qK A It " **, 
 
 ""|H. HAZAR
 
 The House on Stilts 
 
 A 
 
 BY 
 
 R. H. HAZARD 
 
 Illustrations by 
 J. A. LEMON 
 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 Copyright, 1910, l?> 
 STREET & SMITH 
 
 Copyright, 1910, By 
 6. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 
 
 TTTE BOOSE ON STILTS
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. IN THE CLUTCH OF THE SURF . . 
 
 II. THE YELLOW QUEEN S ORDERS . 
 
 III. THE DOG-MAN S TEETH . . . 
 
 IV. IN VOODOOLAND 
 
 V. THE GOVERNOR-GENERAL LIES . 
 
 VI. AT THE DUELLING GROUND . . 
 
 VII. THE OTHER MAN IN THE CASE . 
 
 VIII. VARNEY REAPPEARS 
 
 IX. THE BATTLE ON THE ROAD . . . 
 
 X. THE YELLOW QUEEN STRIKES . 
 
 XI. THE HOUSE ON STILTS .... 
 
 XII. IN THE COPPER CAVERNS . . . 
 
 XIII. IN DEFENSE OF THE MONASTERY . 
 
 XIV. FROM THE LIBRARY WINDOW . . 
 XV. THE CAVE OF REPENTANCE . . 
 
 XVI. A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE . . 
 
 XVII. THE DAY OF ATONEMENT . . . 
 
 XVIII. FROM THE DOOR OF DOOM . . . 
 
 XIX. A PROPHECY FULFILLED . . . 
 
 XX. THE CABINET STANDS UP ... 
 
 XXI. THE YELLOW QUEEN S LAST JOKE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 9 
 . 12 
 . 39 
 . 64 
 . 89 
 . 116 
 . 127 
 . 135 
 . 149 
 . 165 
 . 184 
 . 199 
 . 214 
 . 231 
 . 254 
 . 274 
 . 280 
 . 290 
 . 301 
 . 311 
 . 330 
 
 H *? ^ 
 
 JL * -. 
 
 JL
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "Please tell me where I am, and who you are?" Frontispiece 14 
 
 The Dog-Man 39 
 
 "Are these the statues of your departed brethren?" . . 206 
 
 "Light your damned fire and get it over with!" snarled 
 Larry 286
 
 The House on Stilts 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 IN THE CLUTCH OP THE SURE 
 
 FOR half an hour we rowed the boat parallel 
 to the black cliffs, looking in vain for a 
 harbor. 
 
 The ill-fated Foam, which had brought us on 
 the wild chase across the Gulf in pursuit of Var- 
 ney, had disappeared soon after we had left her 
 sinking hulk, and with her had gone the bodies of 
 the four men of the crew, who had lost their lives 
 in the explosion that had wrecked the yacht. 
 Only Captain Billings and Engineer Hollis were 
 left to escape, with Larry Sullivan and myself, 
 toward the unknown land now looming, dark and 
 forbidding, before us. 
 
 Discouraging as it was to lose our man just 
 as we were about to overhaul him, it had given 
 
 us some satisfaction to witness disaster also over- 
 
 9
 
 10 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 take the tug, which we had been following for 
 three days and nights. The last we had seen of 
 Varney was when he rowed away from the Belve 
 dere with his three companions and the two big 
 leather bags, which, we knew, contained a million 
 of securities looted from the Planters Savings 
 Bank. 
 
 As Varney s small boat vanished in the swirl of 
 waters, Larry shook his fist after it, and cried : 
 
 "He s got to land on that shore, and I ll have 
 him inside of twenty-four hours." 
 
 "Then you ll get him out of Davy Jones locker," 
 exclaimed Captain Billings, "for I don t believe 
 his boat will live to land." 
 
 "A crook that s bound to be hanged will never 
 be drowned," retorted Larry. 
 
 Suddenly, the black walls of rock ahead parted, 
 and revealed to us the entrance of a little bay, 
 landlocked and palm fringed. A shelving beach 
 sloped down from a crescent-shaped grove of 
 trees, and, as we rowed in joyfully, the sun broke 
 through the scudding clouds and bathed the scene 
 in tropic glory. 
 
 But we had not counted on the breakers. 
 
 Billings and Hollis, who were at the oars, saw 
 the danger, but too late. Although they struggled 
 manfully to evade the rocks, we soon found our-
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 11 
 
 selves in the whirl of froth that beat over a sunken 
 ledge. In another instant, the boat came down 
 with terrific violence upon the submerged rock, 
 poised shuddering in the air, and split in twain. 
 
 We were all hurled into the water, and, as I 
 went down in the foam, I felt the sharp impact 
 of stone against my outstretched hands. I seized 
 the rock with the frenzy of despair, but another 
 wave, of greater bulk, tore me from it and dragged 
 me into the depths. 
 
 I remember striking out wildly with hands and 
 feet. My eyes were blinded by a sudden glare of 
 sunshine; I felt another rock within my grasp, 
 clutched at it frantically, missed it, was caught 
 up once more by the green fingers of the sea 
 and things went black and red as my head struck 
 the reef.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE YELLOW QUEEN S ORDERS 
 
 WHEN I awoke, I was stretched upon the warm 
 sand, and the sun was shining hotly on my face. 
 I raised my hand, to shade my eyes, and, as I did 
 so, uttered a moan of pain. 
 
 "You must have sprained that wrist," said a 
 sweet voice above me. "Perhaps you had better 
 try the other one." 
 
 This time, when I opened my eyes, it was to be 
 hold a vision in a blue-and-white bathing suit. 
 The sun and the breeze playing hide and seek in 
 her golden hair, made the prettiest picture I had 
 ever seen; and I closed my eyes and opened them 
 again, to make sure that I was awake. After 
 blinking at her in this absurd manner for a mo 
 ment, I exclaimed: 
 
 "Are you real ?" 
 
 "Do you think I am stuffed with sawdust and 
 wound up with a key?" she retorted. 
 
 "I m afraid that you came out of the ocean and 
 
 12
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 13 
 
 will go back again," I said, ignoring her warning 
 frown and flashing eyes. "Your face, framed in 
 its halo of gold, is about the stunningest thing I 
 ever saw. In fact, it s too pretty to be true, and 
 I m sure I m dreaming." 
 
 "Then you d better wake up!" she snapped. 
 "When you come to your senses, you may follow 
 the walk up to the consulate, where your friends 
 will be found. I m sure you will arrive there 
 without any trouble, for your assurance will carry 
 you any distance." 
 
 With that, the girl turned abruptly and hurried 
 up the walk. 
 
 "Oh, please come back!" I cried, sitting up 
 right and waving my hands wildly in appeal. 
 "Please don t leave me here all alone. I may be 
 attacked by wild beasts, or sharks, or something. 
 Forgive me for what I said. I was tempororily 
 out of my head, and didn t mean it at all." 
 
 "Oh, you didn t!" she blazed, pausing irreso 
 lutely in her flight. 
 
 "Of course I did," I hastened to correct myself. 
 "That is to say, I did and I didn t. I did not in 
 tend to be impudent indeed, I did not but, you 
 
 see, the fact is, you looked so sweet and I ll 
 
 stop really I will!" This last as she started to 
 flee again.
 
 14 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 At this point I struggled to my feet, but, to my 
 chagrin, staggered unsteadily about the beach, 
 and, but for her lending me a helping hand, would 
 have fallen. 
 
 "Believe me," I exclaimed, in great embarrass 
 ment, "I did not take too much grog before I 
 landed. I think I must be light-headed from the 
 sea water I drank." 
 
 "Or from the pounding you got on the rocks," 
 she said sympathetically. Then she added, as I 
 still held her hand : "Don t you think you can stand 
 alone now? If you cannot, you had better sit 
 down again, and wait for the stretcher that your 
 friends have gone to fetch." 
 
 "Of course I can," I replied, in confusion. "So 
 that is why they deserted me? I was wondering 
 that they left me." 
 
 "Too bad that you were left in such incompe 
 tent hands as mine," she flashed. "You are to be 
 pitied." 
 
 "Yes, I am because every time I speak I make 
 a fool of myself," I cried. "Now, please forgive 
 me again, and let us change the subject. Please 
 tell me where I am, who you are, what happened 
 to Varney, how I was rescued, and all about 
 it." 
 
 "All at once, or in instalments?" she asked,
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 15 
 
 with a smile that showed two marvelous dimples. 
 
 "On the instalment plan, if you please," I said, 
 "and I ll take it as a favor if you will tell me about 
 yourself first. Just imagine that that big palm 
 tree, there, is a mutual acquaintance. Mr. Palm 
 begs to present to you John Smith, a reporter on 
 the World-Union, of St. Louis, who, in company 
 with Larry Sullivan, the best plainclothesman on 
 the force, is in search of Joseph Varney, a crook 
 of the first water." 
 
 "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. 
 Smith," laughed the girl. " This is Miss Norelle 
 Pierson, continues Mr. Palm, the daughter of 
 General Herbert W. Pierson, United States consul 
 at Gabrielle. " 
 
 "Gabrielle !" I cried, in dismay. "Surely, I can 
 not have landed upon that awful island." 
 
 "Why do you call our pretty island awful?" 
 asked the girl. "Can you imagine any scene fairer 
 than this? Did you ever behold more stately 
 palms than those nodding toward the sunlit water, 
 or more dreamy hills than those in the distance?" 
 
 "Gabrielle is a theatre of horrors, which I would 
 not have visited for a fortune," I replied. "It is 
 associated with the darkest page of my life. My 
 father was murdered here." 
 
 "I am so sorry," she said simply. "I regret that
 
 16 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 I was the means of reopening the wounds of grief. * 
 
 "My father was a member of the Baxter expe 
 dition, which was lost here," I continued, my mem 
 ory flying back a decade, and the old sorrow grip 
 ping my heart. "You probably remember the sad 
 story." 
 
 "I knew it long before we came here to live," 
 said Miss Pierson, "and, since our arrival, have 
 heard it repeated by many tongues. Those who 
 joined in the vain search for the explorers have 
 told us. Somewhere over there in the green 
 mountains" she raised her arm and pointed 
 toward the hazy peaks "every vestige of the 
 brave little party vanished. They could not have 
 disappeared more completely had the earth opened 
 and swallowed them." 
 
 "That may have happened," I said. "Some con 
 vulsion of the earth some volcanic disturbance 
 may have overwhelmed them. The most gen 
 erally accepted belief, however, was that they 
 were murdered by the savage blacks of the 
 interior." 
 
 "But there is always hope, so long as there is 
 no proof of death," exclaimed the girl. "Who 
 knows but that your coming was directed by 
 Providence? Who knows but that you may find 
 your father here?"
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 17 
 
 "Impossible," I replied. "It is quite beyond the 
 realm of belief. But do not let me sadden you 
 with my family tragedy. Allow me to escort you 
 back to the consulate ; and, on the way, if you will 
 be so kind, enlighten me further as to my sur 
 roundings and yourself." 
 
 We took up our walk, side by side, along the 
 shell-strewn beach. 
 
 "Can you tell me anything of Varney s where 
 abouts?" I asked. "He must have landed on the 
 island, about half an hour before us. He had 
 three companions with him, and carried two large 
 satchels. Those satchels contained a million dol 
 lars worth of negotiable securities. If you can 
 give me a clue to his whereabouts you will be 
 assisting justice and " 
 
 "And will help a bright young newspaper man 
 to claim a big reward," interrupted Miss Pierson, 
 with mockery in her tone. 
 
 "Of course, both Larry and I hope to get a 
 reward," I admitted, "but we should be here this 
 very minute, just the same, if there wasn t a cent 
 in prospect. Varney robbed an army of poor peo 
 ple. There s no telling how many unfortunate 
 tradesmen went to the wall when the crash came, 
 or how many suicides and robberies followed in 
 the wake of his embezzlement. He is one of the
 
 18 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 greatest villains unhung, and it is to right some 
 of the wrongs that he has done that Larry and I 
 have taken the journey. Varney is a dark-com 
 plexioned man, of about forty-five, and when 
 last " 
 
 "When last seen, was making away with the 
 million dollars in one hand and the beautiful 
 maiden in the other," exclaimed Miss Pierson 
 mischievously. 
 
 "Not exactly," I replied. "As far as we were 
 able to ascertain, there was no woman in the case, 
 at all." 
 
 "Then it is all the more remarkable all the 
 more mysterious," cried Miss Pierson. "I take it 
 that he is handsome, has large, eloquent eyes, and 
 can sing adorably." 
 
 "I do not know about that," I replied. "But 
 have you seen him? We are wasting precious 
 time, if you will pardon me for saying so ; but you 
 know every minute counts, when you are chasing 
 a fugitive." 
 
 "Were the satchels made of leather ?" she asked. 
 "Of strong, durable, waterproof leather?" 
 
 "Of course!" I cried, with rising excitement. 
 "Then you have seen him, sure enough." 
 
 "And did Varney watch his companions oh, so 
 jealously! lest they steal the precious satchels
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 19 
 
 when he wasn t looking?" she went on, her eyes 
 fairly dancing with merriment. 
 
 "Of course, Varney guarded the loot," I cried 
 impatiently. "Now, please tell me the direction 
 in which they were going when you saw them 
 last." 
 
 "And were they all armed to the teeth?" 
 
 "Yes oh, yes!" I cried. "Tell me, before they 
 get too far away. Every moment is worth a thou 
 sand dollars." I was boiling over with excite 
 ment, and, before I realized what I was doing, 
 seized her arm. 
 
 "Well, then, just to satisfy your curiosity," she 
 said finally, "I have not seen them at all, and you 
 will do me a great favor to release my wrist. It 
 must be black and blue, from your frantic grip." 
 
 I dropped her arm, and stammered a blundering 
 apology. 
 
 "I suppose I ought to beg your forgiveness," 
 she went on, "for trifling with your young news 
 paper affections. It was very unkind of me 
 indeed it was! so to treat a stranger upon our 
 shores; but I had no idea that you were so 
 impressionable." 
 
 "I m just a plain, unvarnished fool," I man 
 aged to blurt out. "You gave me only half what 
 I deserved."
 
 20 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "I should not have treated a guest so shabbily," 
 she continued, in tones that had lost all trace of 
 sharpness. "So, if you will agree to forgive and 
 forget, we ll hurry back to the house, and 
 save your friends a useless trip with the 
 stretcher." 
 
 We walked along the beach in the direction of 
 an American flag, which was floating over the 
 grove of palms ; and for a time neither of us ven 
 tured to break the spell of silence which had fallen 
 upon us. Finally, just as we turned to enter the 
 grove, Miss Pierson pointed to the breakers, boil 
 ing at the entrance of the harbor. 
 
 "The waves of Toro Bay," she said, "did their 
 best to keep you out. They always do the Yellow 
 Queen s bidding." 
 
 "The Yellow Queen?" I echoed. "Who on earth 
 is she? I thought that Gabrielle belonged to 
 Spain. What has the Yellow Queen to do with 
 the waves or with us?" 
 
 "More than you dream possible," replied Miss 
 Pierson sombrely. "Spain claims the island, and 
 manages to hold St. Croix, and two or three other 
 towns upon the coast. But over there where 
 you see Mont Lazarre smoking his pipe she 
 holds absolute sway." 
 
 "And who are over there?" I asked.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 21 
 
 "The Yellow Queen s people, and, farther to the 
 west, the Dumb Monks." 
 
 "And the queen s people are " 
 
 "Voodoos blacks savages cannibals !" she 
 replied, with a shudder. "They are as low in the 
 human scale as the aboriginal African stock from 
 which they sprang. Their queen is a woman who 
 possesses strange powers ; she controls the winds 
 and the waves, the volcano, and the wild beasts of 
 the jungle. She sent that storm to drive you away 
 from the island, you know." 
 
 "But I do not know anything of the sort," I 
 retorted. "Do not tell me that you believe any 
 such stuff as that. It s a long time since we 
 Americans burned our witches." 
 
 "I do believe a great deal of it, nevertheless," 
 replied Miss Pierson, her face growing very grave 
 indeed. "How can I help believing, after witness 
 ing some of the awful things that woman has 
 done. She is believed to have killed the last Amer 
 ican consul my father s predecessor." 
 
 "Horrible!" I cried. "Tell me more about her." 
 
 "Not now," she said. "Before you have been 
 here long you will learn more about Joan of 
 Lazarre, as she calls herself, than you will care to 
 know." 
 
 "And the other people that you mentioned
 
 22 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 did I understand you to call them the Dumb 
 Monks?" 
 
 "Yes; they are a sect of sun worshippers, who 
 live in a great monastery, perched on upright tim 
 bers, high above the ground, against the face of a 
 cliff. Most of the islanders call the monastery 
 the House on Stilts. 
 
 "No one seems to know very much about the 
 monks. Some believe them to be the survivors of 
 the Aztecs ; others believe them to be the descend 
 ants of the lost tribes of Israel. They worship 
 the condor as a sacred bird, and all who join the 
 order take the vow of eternal silence. It is even 
 whispered that all who become members of the 
 brotherhood submit to having their tongues torn 
 out." 
 
 "That s cheerful !" I exclaimed. "One of these 
 days I ll pay them a visit. Think what a splendid 
 Sunday story a write-up of the monastery would 
 make." 
 
 "If you will take my advice, you will find a safer 
 subject for your Sunday story," said Miss Pierson. 
 "Those who have attempted to pry into their 
 secrets have invariably met mysterious ends; 
 those who have gone to visit the House on Stilts 
 have never returned." 
 
 "Strange that I never heard of them before," I
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 23 
 
 mused. "I thought I became letter perfect about 
 Gabrielle, ten years ago; but I suppose that the 
 monks, as well as the Yellow Queen, have come 
 into public notice within the last few years ?" 
 
 "The monks have been here for centuries," 
 replied the girl, "but the Yellow Queen s reign has 
 not been of more than seven or eight years." 
 
 After plunging through a belt of trees, we 
 emerged upon a clearing, surrounded by a stout 
 wire fence, and came in view of the consulate. It 
 was a pretty cottage, of the two-story bungalow 
 type, and reminded me of many homes I had seen 
 in Florida and California. 
 
 As we approached the gate, four men emerged 
 from the house and came toward us. In addition 
 to Larry, Captain Billings, and Engineer Hollis, 
 there was an elderly man, of tall and angular 
 build, who, even at thirty yards distance, bore a 
 startling resemblance to President Lincoln. Hol- 
 lis carried over his shoulder a green window 
 blind, which, I presumed, was to be used for my 
 accommodation. The quartette espied us in a 
 moment, and set up a shout. 
 
 "Sure, he s all right, all right!" cried Larry, 
 rushing toward us, and lapsing into the Irish 
 brogue which he often used when under stress of 
 excitement. "General, you can go back to your
 
 24 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 biscuits, for the boy doesn t need the stretcher, at 
 all, at all." 
 
 Lincoln s likeness hurried down the walk, with 
 outstretched hand. "Please do me the honor," he 
 exclaimed, "of introducing me to your companion, 
 that I may congratulate him upon his providen 
 tial escape and welcome him to our humble 
 abode." 
 
 "This is Mr. Smith," exclaimed Miss Pierson, 
 not waiting for Larry to perform the ceremony. 
 "Mr. Smith my father. You see, daddy, he came 
 to almost immediately after you left; and, of 
 course, we had to get acquainted. Very luckily 
 for the conventions, Mr. Palm was there to make 
 the introduction in proper form; so, even mother 
 can have no occasion for criticism." 
 
 "Mr. Palm?" echoed the consul, meanwhile 
 shaking hands with me most vigorously. "Who 
 on earth is Mr. Palm?" 
 
 "Mr. Cocoanut Palm, down by the water s 
 edge," continued Miss Pierson, with a mischie 
 vous laugh. The introductions had to be made in 
 due form by some one ; and, really, he was the only 
 introducer in sight. But he was a pronounced 
 success wasn t he, Mr. Smith?" 
 
 "The grandest introducer I ever met in my 
 life," I agreed warmly.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 25 
 
 "I am afraid you are incorrigible," said the con 
 sul, beaming upon his beautiful daughter. "But, 
 dear me!" he exclaimed. "This will never do. I 
 must go back to my biscuits, or Mrs. Pierson will 
 never forgive me." 
 
 With this, he hastened back toward the house, 
 and we followed him, at a more leisurely pace. 
 
 Then it was that I noticed, for the first time, 
 that my three shipmates had strangely altered 
 their appearance since last I had seen them. 
 Each was garbed in the long, black clothes of 
 half a century ago ; each was dressed like Lincoln. 
 When they had arrived, dripping, from the sea, 
 the consul had evidently outfitted them. The 
 effect was decidedly antique. 
 
 A little, gray-haired lady appeared upon the 
 porch as we ascended the steps. 
 
 "This is Mr. Smith, mother dear," said Miss 
 Pierson, as we reached the top of the steps. "He 
 had the narrowest escape of all, you know, and 
 has come to join the Abraham Lincoln party." 
 
 "Let me congratulate you, sir," began Mrs. 
 Pierson, in a high-pitched, though not unpleasant, 
 voice. I am so glad that you escaped from that 
 dreadful ocean. Anybody who ventures upon it 
 and escapes with his life is to be felicitated, I am 
 sure; and one who has been shipwrecked more
 
 26 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 than most. Now, gentlemen, I do hope that you 
 will make yourselves at home; and I trust, more 
 over, that you will forgive the general topsy- 
 turviness of things about the house. Celeste, our 
 cook, has not returned; and goodness knows how 
 the general is getting on with the biscuits. He is 
 out in the kitchen, wrestling with the baking pow 
 der and cornstarch now." 
 
 "Not cornstarch, mother, dear!" corrected her 
 daughter, with a laugh. "Who ever heard of 
 cornstarch in biscuits?" 
 
 "Well, I m sure I don t know," went on Mrs. 
 Pierson plaintively. "You see, when I was a girl, 
 I never so much as looked inside the kitchen. 
 Now I almost wish that I had learned to do some 
 sort of work; for the negroes nowadays are such 
 an incompetent, trifling set not at all to be com 
 pared with those we used to have before the 
 war. I tell you, gentlemen, the times have sadly 
 changed. When I was a young girl my mother 
 would no sooner have allowed me to learn to cook 
 than she would have allowed me to go out alone 
 with a young gentleman. Now, I am sorry to 
 say, girls do both, and nothing is thought or said 
 of it." 
 
 "And they are none the worse for it," said Miss 
 Pierson.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 27 
 
 "And none the better," retorted her mother, 
 with a toss of her head. 
 
 "I must agree with Mrs. Pierson," observed 
 Larry, with a sly wink in my direction. 
 
 I was about to champion the daughter s cause, 
 when she abruptly changed the subject. 
 
 "Don t you think, mother, it would be a good 
 idea to find Mr. Smith something to wear?" she 
 said. "You know he has not changed his clothes 
 since his ducking." 
 
 "Oh, by all means. A thousand pardons, Mr. 
 Smith!" cried the little lady, all of a flutter. "I 
 wonder what you can think of me, and of my 
 bringing up. You will forgive me, won t you? 
 You know we have been so much disturbed lately, 
 with all these mysterious Voodoo things going on 
 about us, that it is really a wonder that I have 
 retained my senses. Now, won t one of you gen 
 tlemen be good enough to take charge of Mr. 
 Smith, and see that he finds a change of raiment?" 
 
 "I will," volunteered Larry, arising from his 
 chair and leading the way. 
 
 "Oh, thank you so much !" exclaimed Mrs. Pier- 
 son. "You see, the general is right busy just now, 
 with his hands in the baking powder and salt 
 petre, or he would show you the way himself." 
 
 "I suppose father is making gunpowder," said
 
 28 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Norelle, with a laugh, as we left the room. 
 
 "It might not be a bad idea if he did make a lot 
 of gunpowder, for we may need it," said Larry, 
 in my ear, as we ascended the stairs to the gen 
 eral s bedchamber. "If I m not greatly mistaken, 
 there s going to be need for all the arms and 
 ammunition that we can scrape together, before 
 long." 
 
 "What s all the trouble about, and what kind 
 of trouble is it?" I asked, as Sullivan dived into 
 the clothes closet and began tossing forth gar 
 ments, as though he owned the establishment. 
 
 "I haven t figured it all out yet," replied Larry, 
 as he brought out another suit of black. "But, as 
 near as I can diagnose the case, this here Yellow 
 Queen is at the bottom of all the trouble. For 
 some reason or other, she has, apparently, got it 
 in for us. She predicted a week ago that we were 
 coming, and stirred up a storm on the sea to send 
 us to Davy Jones locker." 
 
 "Oh, say, now, you re joking!" I cried. 
 
 "It s likely to be a serious joke before we get 
 through with it," replied Larry, very soberly. 
 "After you talk with the Piersons a bit, you ll 
 change your mind about the yellow lady. She s 
 some punkins around these parts, let me tell 
 you."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 29 
 
 "But who is she, and why has she got it in 
 for us?" 
 
 "Ask me something easier. Both questions too 
 hard for the witness. She seems to be the whole 
 thing on the island. The blacks worship her, and 
 the whites have a very wholesome respect for her 
 powers, which are not to be sneezed at. In some 
 unaccountable way, you and I seem to have riled 
 her majesty; and, if you d believe the dear old 
 lady downstairs, our lives are not worth more 
 than four bits apiece." 
 
 "You don t really mean to say that we are in 
 danger?" I asked, stopping abruptly, with one leg 
 thrust into General Pierson s trousers. "Why, 
 we never even saw the woman, or heard of her, 
 before this day." 
 
 "I m not worrying a little bit," replied Larry, 
 with a hearty laugh at my evident consternation 
 of spirit. "The Yellow Queen is evidently a pretty 
 good weather prophet, and when she sees a storm 
 coming or a volcanic eruption on the way, she 
 hustles around and predicts them, and thereby 
 gains a great reputation. As long as I ve got my 
 forty-fives with me, I m not afraid of a whole 
 island full of Voodoos." 
 
 "Still, the general s daughter, as sensible a girl 
 as she seems to be, evidently takes a whole lot of
 
 30 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 stock in the Voodoo queen s powers," I said. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I haven t a doubt of it," agreed Sulli 
 van. "I never saw a woman yet, bright and intel 
 ligent and sensible as she might be on every other 
 subject, that couldn t be scared stiff by a little 
 Hindoo fakirism, or black art/ as the Voodoos 
 serve it up. You ll probably see some tricks down 
 here that will keep you guessing for a time ; but, 
 when you understand em, they re all simple 
 enough. Now, Jack, whatever you do, don t 
 worry. We ll not let all the Yellow Queens this 
 side of Hades prevent us from getting Varney and 
 taking him back home. All dressed? Then let s 
 go down and see how the general is getting along 
 with the biscuits." 
 
 When we reached the lower floor, General Pier- 
 son was just emerging from the kitchen. His 
 face was flushed and perspiring, and one hand 
 was wrapped in a towel. 
 
 "The grandest biscuits you ever saw in all your 
 days, mother," he cried. "Captain Billings is cer 
 tainly a wonderful chef. He came to my rescue 
 just at the crisis of my culinary career. I really 
 don t know just what he did to make the pesky 
 things rise, but rise em he did ; and you ll all glory 
 over the result." 
 
 "He merely left out the baking powder, that
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 31 
 
 was all," laughed the captain, who followed the 
 general into the living room. "But honor to whom 
 honor is due. Miss Pierson discovered that he 
 hadn t used any risin I really had nothing to do 
 with it. But I promise I ll go my share at the table." 
 
 "But what is the matter with your right hand, 
 my dear?" cried Mrs. Pierson, on the verge of 
 tears, as she noticed the towel tied around his 
 wrist. "Oh, my dear, you have not hurt yourself ! 
 Tell me, you did not gash it with the biscuit 
 cutter?" 
 
 "It is nothing nothing at all," replied the gen 
 eral, with a wave of the bundled member. "You 
 see, I poured off the water from the potatoes, and, 
 in my hurry to prepare the meal, forgot all about 
 steam being hot. But it s wrapped up in baking 
 soda, and the sting is almost all gone in fact, it s 
 almost well now. But, come, we are wasting 
 precious time. The fare, such as it is, awaits 
 your pleasure. I trust you will forgive our failure 
 to ma"ke more elaborate preparations for your 
 entertainment. Although we were expecting you, 
 our cook failed us at the psychological moment, 
 and you, therefore, find us just a little bit dis 
 organized in the culinary department." 
 
 "You say you expected us?" echoed Captain 
 Billings, as we took seats at the table.
 
 32 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "The Yellow Queen said we would have stran 
 gers in the house, and I ve got so I generally rely 
 on what she says," replied the general. 
 
 "Tell us about her," I begged. 
 
 "If you do, I shall not eat a morsel," cried Mrs. 
 Pierson petulantly. "I have heard so much about 
 that terrible woman that I am now on the verge 
 of nervous prostration. Still, my dear, perhaps it 
 would be just as well to put them on their guard 
 against her. In fact, I think it would be very 
 inhospitable of you if you did not, general." 
 
 "She s a sort of prophetess in bronze, I believe," 
 remarked Sullivan. 
 
 "She s almost everything," began our host. 
 "She is a witch, a doctor, a preacher, a tax col 
 lector, and an executioner. She runs the volcano 
 over there to suit her moods, brings on drouths 
 when she is in a bad humor, and slaughters a few 
 dozen of her black subjects to fetch back the rain. 
 She poisons wells and sows crops of snakes about 
 the villages that are not loyal to her. In fact, to 
 make a long story short, and to use a slang 
 expression, she is It on the Island of Gabrielle; 
 and, if you want to keep out of trouble, let the 
 Yellow Queen have her way. Perhaps the fact that 
 Mr. Thomas, my immediate predecessor in the 
 consulate, died by poison, supposed to have been
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 33 
 
 administered by the Yellow Queen s orders, gives 
 me an unusually wholesome respect for the lady." 
 
 "I am surprised that Spain doesn t put a stop 
 to her crimes," I exclaimed. 
 
 "After two Spanish governor-generals had met 
 mysterious and painful deaths trying to do what 
 you suggest, old Mother Spain gave it up as a bad 
 job," continued the general. "The last one to go 
 had sentenced her to the garrotte at noon of the 
 very day he died. She was on the way to the 
 prison yard, where the execution was to take 
 place, when the proceedings were brought to an 
 abrupt close by the announcement of the governor- 
 general s sudden taking off. 
 
 "The orderly who went to his office, to notify 
 him that Joan of Lazarre was awaiting his pres 
 ence, to be garrotted, found the governor-general 
 seated at his desk, stone dead. There were marks 
 of fingers about his throat, and the physicians 
 who were summoned declared that he had been 
 strangled. Yet the guards, stationed at his door 
 and beneath his window, had seen no one enter 
 or depart. 
 
 "The commandant of the prison ordered the 
 execution to be postponed until the following day, 
 then changed his mind about killing the Yellow 
 Queen, and allowed her to depart in freedom at
 
 34 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 midnight. What happened between noon and 
 midnight to cause him to take this action is not 
 known. He succeeded the official who was stran 
 gled to death, and you may guess that he d rather 
 cut off both his hands than order her arrest." 
 
 "She s got em all pretty well bluffed, that s 
 evident," commented Larry. "It s a good thing 
 for the lady of color that she doesn t live where 
 Old Tige Corrigan could get his hands on her. 
 She wouldn t last long in any city with him acting 
 as chief." 
 
 We all pronounced the dinner a distinct suc 
 cess. The biscuits were especially good; and the 
 general, his daughter, and the captain all came in 
 for their share of compliments. 
 
 "Well, it certainly does my heart good to look 
 upon honest American faces again, after seeing 
 nothing but black and yellow visages for weeks at 
 a time," said the general, as he gallantly cut the 
 meat upon his wife s plate and spread butter upon 
 her yams. "You see," he continued, as though we 
 had remarked the unusual attention, "I really can 
 fix her food better than she can." 
 
 "Before the war," remarked the lady, in a 
 plaintive tone, "my maid used to cut my meat and 
 feed me. If I had only known what was in store 
 for me, in these later years, I really believe I
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 35 
 
 would have learned to do more. As it is, I can 
 not even bake a potato or boil an egg. I assure 
 you, ladies were ladies, before the war." 
 
 The sound of sobbing in the adjoining room 
 interrupted the conversation at this point. 
 
 "What is that?" asked the general, laying aside 
 his knife and fork. 
 
 "It is Celeste crying," said Norelle, arising and 
 going through the door. 
 
 In another moment she returned, leading a 
 good-looking young mulatto woman, who, in her 
 turn, held the hand of a boy, four or five years 
 old. 
 
 Both the woman and the child were crying bit 
 terly. The youngster was visiting us with evident 
 reluctance, for he struggled and held back with 
 all his strength. When he was finally dragged 
 well within the dining room, he plumped himself 
 upon the floor, and sobbed louder than ever. 
 
 "What on earth is the matter?" demanded the 
 general. "Stop that bellowing, Celeste, this very 
 minute, and tell us what ails you." 
 
 The mulatto woman s only reply was another 
 wail. She caught the child in her arms, and 
 began kissing it fiercely, meanwhile sobbing an 
 incoherent string of French and Spanish phrases. 
 
 "They are going to take the boy from her,"
 
 36 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 explained Norelle, whose face, I now observed, 
 was pale as death. 
 
 "Well, why not, if they treat him kindly ?" asked 
 Mrs. Pierson. "Celeste is really in no position to 
 care for him properly, anyway." 
 
 "The Yellow Queen demands the boy!" con 
 tinued Norelle, in a scarcely audible whisper. 
 
 There was that in her tone which filled me with 
 terror, although I did not then realize the full 
 .tragic significance of the news she brought. 
 
 General Pierson arose from his chair. "Do you 
 mean," he began, "that she wants the child for 
 her infernal sacrificial rites that she intends to 
 kill it?" 
 
 "Yes!" cried the yellow mother, in Spanish. 
 "They are to kill the Calf to-night, and they want 
 my Alphonse. Oh, dear, good, kind General 
 Americano, save my little baby ! He is all I have. 
 He is my breath of life; he is my world. If he 
 dies, I die. He is my heart, my blood and soul, my 
 precious angel. The queen says you take the 
 strangers from the sea into your house, and from 
 your house must come the blood to wash the sin 
 away. If I do not bring him to the mountain 
 to-night, they will come and get him, and kill you 
 all. Oh, Holy Virgin, save my Alphonse!" 
 
 "Never mind, Celeste. There there, girl!"
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 37 
 
 said the general soothingly. "She shall not get 
 your boy. We will save him. The great flag of 
 the United States is waving over him, and no 
 power on land or sea shall take him away." 
 
 Celeste, unconvinced, shook her head, and 
 pressed the child closer to her bosom. 
 
 "The queen made a prophecy," said Miss Pier- 
 son. "She predicted that the strangers who came 
 from the sea to live in the consulate would destroy 
 the Island of Gabrielle. The blacks are consider 
 ably worked up over it, and are threatening 
 trouble." 
 
 "Yes, they will come and kill you all, and eat 
 my Alphonse, too; for the queen has ordered it 
 done!" wailed the negro woman. 
 
 "Are they cannibals, too?" I asked, with a 
 shudder. 
 
 "They are the lowest of human beasts, when 
 they start on their orgies," answered the general. 
 "But, by Jove, they must stop their horrors when 
 they reach the United States consulate." He 
 shook his fist as he spoke, and the old-time fire of 
 battle blazed in his eyes. "Poor old Spain may 
 not be able to put a stop to Voodooism," he con 
 tinued, growing more angry as he went on, "but 
 the United States will, and can, draw the line at 
 human sacrifice in her domain. This spot is
 
 38 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 American soil, and they who seek refuge here are 
 protected by the star-spangled banner. I ll defend 
 them from all the Yellow Queens and Voodoo doc 
 tors this side of perdition, if I have to spill every 
 drop of blood in my veins !" 
 
 "I am with the general to the last ditch," cried 
 Sullivan, arising at the opposite side of the table, 
 and reaching his hand across the board. 
 
 The general clasped Larry s hand in a strong 
 grip; and, as they stood thus, Captain Billings 
 and I, who were facing each other, arose and 
 gripped fists across the table, over the handclasp 
 of the other two. 
 
 "Look !" cried Norelle, the fighting blood of her 
 father showing red in her cheeks. "Look! It is 
 the sign of the cross the emblem of Christianity 
 and the doom of the Yellow Queen !"
 
 THE DOG MAN. 
 
 Pag?. 39.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 THE DOG-MAN S TEETH 
 
 BY DINT of questioning, we finally learned from 
 the frightened woman that the Yellow Queen was 
 to send for the boy at the rising of the moon. 
 This would be about eleven o clock. Celeste had 
 every reason to believe that her son was to be 
 taken to a temple of Voodooism in the mountains, 
 and slaughtered as an offering to the fiendish gods 
 worshipped by the savages. 
 
 Although she was a convert to Christianity, like 
 many of the other negroes on the island, she 
 thought it best to be on the safe side of the reli 
 gious question ; so, she had attended the meetings 
 of the Voodoo doctors and other high priests of 
 the Yellow Queen, which were held periodically 
 in the interior. The Voodoos held out present 
 physical punishment, as well as future torture, 
 for backsliders; so, perhaps, it is not to be won 
 dered at that the orders of the queen were often 
 
 39
 
 40 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 more obediently followed than those of the priests. 
 
 "We shall have plenty of time to prepare for 
 them," said General Pierson, with decision. "And 
 I ll teach these people here, as I taught those sav 
 ages down at Zanzibar, when I was consul there, 
 that it isn t healthy to monkey with the Stars and 
 Stripes. 
 
 "We ll hoodoo any of the black rascals that 
 show up around here to-night," he continued; 
 "but I do not believe they will dare make an open 
 demand for the child. They ll probably sneak 
 around and try to steal him from his mother. If 
 they fail in that, they ll likely give it up." 
 
 "Yes, they will come for my Alphonse," sobbed 
 the colored woman. "The Yellow Queen she say, 
 Go get calf/ and him nigger with bark like dog 
 and eyes like fire, him come. If he no get child, 
 him dog-man come with thousand niggers, and 
 house burn. So say Yellow Queen." 
 
 "I ll give your dog-man something to bark 
 about, if he comes sneaking around here!" cried 
 the general angrily. "What would the immortal 
 Lincoln have done in such an emergency? He 
 would have fought to the last ditch for that little 
 yellow boy; and it shall never be said of Herbert 
 W. Pierson that his resemblance to the martyred 
 President was a resemblance in form alone. It s
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 41 
 
 about time this Yellow Queen was taught her les 
 son, anyway. I d hate to kill any of the benighted 
 creatures; but, if it comes to the sticking point, 
 I ll send a regiment of them to Hades, before they 
 shall have the boy." 
 
 "How are you fixed for ammunition?" asked 
 Larry. 
 
 "We haven t quite enough to send an army into 
 action," replied the general, "but I think we can 
 scrape together enough to give any attacking 
 party a real sensation. Now for action. Norelle, 
 my dear, will you be good enough to run upstairs 
 and get from my trunk what cartridges you can 
 find? I think there are a hundred rounds or so 
 in a pasteboard box in the top tray. I believe 
 you ll also find some Winchester shells." 
 
 "We have some arms, but are rather shy on 
 ammunition," said Larry. "I ve a couple of guns, 
 and so has Jack." 
 
 "I have a revolver that will do its share of exe 
 cution," added Captain Billings. 
 
 "Not so badly off, gentlemen," cried the general 
 enthusiastically. "It might also be a good idea 
 if the ladies prepared some lint and bandages. I 
 hardly think we will need any, but we must make 
 all proper preparations before going into battle." 
 
 "Oh, my beloved husband!" cried Mrs. Pierson
 
 42 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 hysterically, at the picture of carnage which the 
 mention of lint and bandages conjured up in her 
 mind s eye. "If you should be wounded, or killed, 
 I should never forgive myself for allowing you 
 to come to this dreadful place. I feel sure I am 
 going to faint." 
 
 "If you faint, you will make me lose my nerve," 
 quickly replied the general. "And if I lose that, 
 the battle will go against us. So, for the sake of 
 Norelle for my sake, for all our sakes brace 
 up, my dear." 
 
 The good lady braced herself visibly, choked 
 back a few sobs, and released her frantic clasp on 
 her husband s neck. "I will be brave, for my 
 hero s sake," she cried. 
 
 "You are my heroine," he declared, kissing her 
 upon the forehead, in a fatherly sort of way. "I 
 have a brilliant idea," he continued incongru 
 ously. "Norelle, where are those fireworks?" 
 
 "In the east bedroom," replied the girl, who 
 came in at that moment, bearing several boxes of 
 cartridges. "Don t you remember, they were put 
 up there, with the box belonging to Doctor Strong, 
 so they might be out of the way?" 
 
 "To be sure," agreed her father. "Now, Mr. 
 Smith and Mr. Sullivan will probably be good 
 enough to bring the box downstairs."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 43 
 
 "Indeed, we will," cried Sullivan. 
 
 Miss Pierson piloted us upstairs to the room 
 wherein the box was stored. "This is a sort of 
 baggage room and storehouse combined," she 
 explained, as she threw open the door and revealed 
 an apartment crowded with a miscellaneous 
 assortment of boxes, barrels, and packages. 
 
 "You see, there is no end to the number of 
 things that are sent to American citizens down 
 here in care of the consul," continued the young 
 woman, as she waved her hand at the assortment. 
 "If a shipper isn t just sure where his consignee 
 is located, he sends the goods to the consulate, and 
 expects the consul to hunt up the man. It makes 
 no difference to the shipper whether the customer 
 is within one mile or a thousand of the con 
 sulate. 
 
 "If a new patent-medicine concern starts busi 
 ness, and desires to reach out for foreign trade, 
 the consul is the man expected to push the busi 
 ness along; if a long-lost child is sought by sor 
 rowing parents, the consul must find him; if Bill 
 Jones comes in on a trading ship, spends all his 
 money, gets drunk, and misses his boat, the consul 
 is called upon for the price of his ticket back to 
 Duluth, Minnesota. If the consul doesn t fill the 
 bill in all these particulars, and do it in a cheerful
 
 44 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 tone of voice, charges are preferred against him 
 at the state department, and he is likely to lose his 
 job. Oh, I tell you what, there s nothing like 
 being in the diplomatic service. 
 
 "You might take along a bottle of soothing 
 sirup," continued Miss Pierson, pointing to a case 
 marked "Glass." Then she added : "The box you 
 are after is on top of the pile, over there, to the 
 left." 
 
 Before we could reach the box she indicated, 
 we had to move a large hardwood case, marked: 
 
 DOCTOR HOWARD STRONG, 
 Care American Consul, St. Croix, Gabrielle. 
 
 "You might fetch that box, too," commanded 
 Miss Pierson. "We may need that, before the 
 night is over." 
 
 "It looks as though it might be burglar proof," 
 I said, examining its well-made, mortised lid, its 
 stout hasp, and patent lock. 
 
 "I happen to have the key," said Norelle. "Doc 
 tor Strong has gone into the interior on some 
 sort of a bug-hunting expedition. He expected to 
 be gone several months, and, as he thought he 
 might possibly need something in the case during 
 his absence, he left the key at the consulate. Just
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 45 
 
 another one of the little duties of the consul, by 
 the way." 
 
 "What s in the box?" I asked. 
 
 "Nothing that will make news," she retorted 
 quickly. 
 
 "I beg pardon," I exclaimed. "Of course, it s 
 none of my business." 
 
 "None whatever," she laughed; "but I don t 
 mind saying that there are a few surgical instru 
 ments, a few boxes of pills, a few bones, and some 
 bugs and beetles on cards. You may not know it, 
 but Doctor Howard Strong is one of the most 
 famous beetle hunters in the world. Why, he has 
 discovered no less than eight new species, and 
 every one of them bears the proud title of Strong- 
 ibus, or something like that, in the books." 
 
 "How interesting!" efcclaimed Larry. "I sup 
 pose he wears green goggles and long hair, and 
 runs about with a net at the end of a long 
 pole." 
 
 "And puts salt in his tea, mustard in his coffee, 
 and forgets to come in when it rains," I added. 
 
 "On the contrary," exclaimed Miss Pierson, 
 flaring up, quite unnecessarily, I thought; "he is 
 very much of an up-to-date young man. His hair 
 is as short as yours ; he does not wear glasses at 
 all; he can shoot a quarter out of your fingers at
 
 46 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 fifty paces, is a mighty good boxer, and stands 
 six feet one inch in his stockings." 
 
 "I beg his pardon," I exclaimed, and forthwith 
 decided that I did not like Doctor Strong. "He s 
 altogether too vigorous for a bug hunter," I said 
 to myself, and fell to wondering why she had 
 defended him so warmly. 
 
 We carried the two boxes downstairs, and 
 found the general, Billings, and Hollis engaged in 
 oiling up the firearms. When placed in a row 
 upon the table, the weapons made quite a formi 
 dable-looking arsenal. 
 
 "What are you going to do with Doctor Strong s 
 case?" asked General Pierson. 
 
 "Nothing, at present," replied his daughter. 
 "But I thought we might make use of one or two 
 things it contains, if the worst comes to the 
 worst." 
 
 "I think we ll find a few negro startlers in 
 here," said the general, as he went at the box with 
 a screw-driver. "I decided, before I came down 
 here, that I d give the natives a real, old-fash 
 ioned American Fourth of July. When I was in 
 Zanzibar, I made excellent use of them upon sev 
 eral occasions." 
 
 It had grown dark, and as we all gathered 
 around the general while he worked at the box,
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 47 
 
 we heard a low rumble, as of distant thunder, 
 coming from the north. 
 
 "Hear him mountain!" cried Celeste, who was 
 huddled in one corner of the room, hugging her 
 child. "Him mountain speak for Yellow Queen." 
 
 "What mountain?" asked Billings. 
 
 "Mont Lazarre," replied the general. "During 
 certain seasons of the year, it becomes semi- 
 active; and, of course, this woman, who is pretty 
 sharp, presses it into service as an additional 
 bugbear, to strengthen her hold upon the 
 blacks." 
 
 He had by this time removed the boards from 
 the top of the box, and now began to take out the 
 sawdust in which the fireworks were packed. "I 
 hope you will forgive me, my dears," he said to 
 his wife and daughter, "if I make a litter upon 
 the floor. To-morrow, Celeste can sweep it up." 
 
 "No to-morrow come for Celeste!" sobbed the 
 yellow woman, at mention of her name. 
 
 "Now, see here, Celeste," cried the general, 
 turning on her sternly, "I want you to stop this 
 blubbering and foolishness! If you keep up this 
 sort of music, we ll begin to think we are in dan 
 ger, sure enough. If you don t dry up, by golly, 
 I ll take that boy of yours and hand him over the 
 fence to the first dog-man that comes after him."
 
 48 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "Oh, general, you know you wouldn t do any 
 thing of the sort you know you would not!" 
 remonstrated his wife. 
 
 "See if I don t," snapped the consul, as he pro 
 ceeded to open the small packages of fireworks 
 and lay them on the table. "We ve got to have 
 military discipline here. I ll just declare martial 
 law this minute, and the first one that whimpers 
 I ll order thrown outside the breastworks by the 
 provost guard." 
 
 The sobs in the corner ceased very suddenly, and 
 the general chuckled. 
 
 "Here is a fine lot of Roman candles for you, 
 Mr. Smith," he said, handing me half a dozen of 
 the familiar tubes. "Also a few firecrackers and 
 nigger chasers. I wonder if the fellow who 
 invented them ever had an idea that they d be 
 tested on the real article? Now, there are enough 
 firearms to go round, of course, but, unless it is a 
 matter of life and death, I must ask you not to 
 use bullets. We don t want to shed human blood, 
 unless it is absolutely necessary. We will, there 
 fore, see what persuasion there is in the noise and 
 light producers, first. Set them off, therefore, as 
 accurately as you can, in the first bunch of blacks 
 that appears with hostile intent." 
 
 "If you have no objections, father," said his
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 49 
 
 daughter, "I would like to secure the help of Cap 
 tain Billings for a few minutes, before you take 
 him out with the army of defense. I think I have 
 a plan that will help the cause." 
 
 "I am yours to command," said the captain. 
 
 I should have preferred to enlist under Miss 
 Pierson s orders; but, as the commander-in-chief 
 had mapped out my work, I could see no excuse 
 for volunteering. Even had I offered my services, 
 the chances are that the young lady would have 
 declined them with fine scorn. 
 
 Lanterns were found and lighted; the shutters 
 and doors of the house were all securely fastened ; 
 and Mrs. Pierson, Celeste, and her boy were sent 
 upstairs, for greater safety. 
 
 "As soon as you can, you will join your mother, 
 on the second floor," said the general to Norelle. 
 "Lock yourselves in securely; and, if you need 
 help, fire this revolver out of the window. As 
 soon as you can spare the captain, we need him 
 in the yard. Come on, now, my comrades ; we will 
 see what measures we can take to repel the 
 enemy." 
 
 The general handed his daughter one of the 
 revolvers, saw the other women ascend the stairs, 
 and then led us out into the darkness. "Remem 
 ber," he continued, his voice taking on an imperi-
 
 50 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 ous ring, as though he were again at the head of 
 his old command, "it is very important that we 
 keep the sneaking wretches away from the house. 
 If they get near enough to touch a match, they ll 
 fire it, sure as fate, for if there s one kind of dev 
 iltry they like more than another, it is arson." 
 
 He led the way down the path, his swinging 
 lantern causing the shadows of his legs to make 
 giant strides against the grove of palms. 
 
 "Don t you think it would be a good idea to 
 put out that light?" asked Larry. "We are mak 
 ing the finest kind of targets, this very minute." 
 
 "There s no danger," replied the general. "In 
 the first place, they will not come before moonrise, 
 and that s half an hour from now. In the second, 
 they ll make no attack until after a formal demand 
 for the child. 
 
 "There are two probable points of attack," he 
 continued, as we reached the fence that bounded 
 the consulate grounds on the north, or landward 
 side. "This is one of them. Along here, you see, 
 runs the road from St. Croix to the sugar planta 
 tions, west of us. The western boundary of the 
 grounds is pretty well protected by the jungle. 
 The other likely point for them to strike is on the 
 eastern side of the reservation, where the road 
 from Mont Lazarre terminates. Of course, if
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 51 
 
 they wished, they could approach and attack from 
 the brush; but it would not be easy going for a 
 crowd. Again, they might attack from the sea. 
 The Carib negro, however, is not a good sailor, 
 especially that variety which works the planta 
 tions and follows the Yellow Queen." 
 
 The general held his lantern at arm s length, to 
 throw its rays down the green aisle which formed 
 the road to St. Croix. Not a breath of air stirred 
 the leaves of the palms and the palmettos droop 
 ing over the path; and only the incessant gleam 
 of the fireflies, and the low hum of insects, gave 
 token of life in the neighborhood. 
 
 "We will leave you on guard here, Smith," said 
 General Pierson, after we had surveyed the 
 approach for a minute. "Don t use your revolver 
 unless you get into a tight place, for we wish to 
 avoid international complications, if possible. If 
 you think your life is in danger, however, do not 
 hesitate for a minute, but turn loose any and all 
 of the ammunition you have about you. 
 
 "I ll place Sullivan at the dangerous eastern 
 fence, and Hollis at the west. I ll divide my own 
 energies between the various places, and when 
 the captain comes from the house, will place him 
 where he can be most useful. I think that, with 
 this disposal of our forces, we can give a good
 
 52 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 account of ourselves; and if the negroes do suc 
 ceed in breaking into the consulate, they will know 
 they have been in a fight, anyway." 
 
 He started away with the others, then came 
 back, to add : "If they attack in any numbers, send 
 up a rocket or fire off your revolver, to notify us. 
 Should you hear a shot in the direction of any 
 of the other outposts, follow the path back to the 
 consulate, and then to the threatened point, as 
 fast as possible, to lend a hand. Whatever you 
 do, don t lose your nerve. Remember, you are 
 fighting for the ladies and the flag, as well as for 
 that little black boy up there. If they do attack, 
 and their onslaught were to be successful, you 
 may imagine the result." 
 
 "For the flag!" I exclaimed fervently, adding, 
 under my breath: "And for Norelle." 
 
 The consul and his companions moved away in 
 the darkness, and, as the dancing rays of the lan 
 tern grew fainter and fainter, to flash themselves 
 out, at last, in the distant shrubbery, I became 
 oppressed with an overpowering sense of loneli 
 ness. I seemed to be in a vast wilderness, miles 
 and miles from human habitation. In the still 
 ness, I could hear the throbbing of my own heart, 
 and the moments dragged until they seemed 
 hours.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 53 
 
 As I waited, and grew more accustomed to the 
 quiet of the night, I began to distinguish other 
 sounds. The jungle thicket seemed to be filled 
 with a whispering multitude. The beetles and 
 bugs were all very much awake; and now and 
 then, far off up the mountain slope, I could hear 
 the hoot of an owl. The mournful beating of the 
 surf on the ledge at the entrance of Toro Bay, 
 where we had so nearly ended our lives, added 
 weirdness to the spell; and, in spite of the 
 mosquito stings, and the realization of the danger 
 that threatened, I seemed about to be thrown into 
 a hypnotic trance. 
 
 Perhaps it was the flashing of the fireflies, 
 which seemed, to my overwrought imagination, 
 to be the red eyes of Voodoo doctors, circling 
 round me in a crazy dance. 
 
 Something soft and velvety struck me a blow 
 on the right cheek. 
 
 I dropped my fireworks, and struck out blindly 
 at the thing. 
 
 I tried to shout for help, but fear gripped my 
 throat. I would have fainted, I think, then and 
 there, had not another blow, this time on the 
 forehead, and the flutter of wings above my head, 
 told me that my unseen enemy was a bat. 
 
 "A vampire !" I exclaimed, hugely relieved, but
 
 54 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 still shuddering. "Perhaps it is as badly scared 
 as I am." 
 
 It is no pleasant job to stand in the dark, on 
 strange ground, and await the attack of an 
 unknown foe. The rustling of leaves sounds like 
 the low-breathed consultations of hidden conspir 
 ators; the lapping of the waves, down on the 
 beach, like the patter of feet hurrying to the 
 attack. An uneasiness, born of the nervous 
 strain, takes possession of you after a while, and 
 you feel that you must shout aloud. I longed to 
 send up one of the rockets or to fire off a Roman 
 candle to do anything to end the horrible 
 suspense. 
 
 An owl croaked down the road. The note was 
 answered by a hoot, hollow and loud, not thirty 
 feet to my left. I felt, rather than heard, the 
 presence of a multitude of human beings, some 
 where beyond the wire fence. I could then dis 
 tinguish the padding of bare feet and the heavy 
 breathing of a score of lungs. 
 
 "The Yellow Queen s people, at last," I said to 
 myself; and, as I became convinced that I had 
 to deal with tangible, flesh-and-blood opponents, 
 much of that nameless dread, which had clutched 
 my heart, deserted me and I began to tingle 
 with the eager excitement of battle whicK
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 55 
 
 flows, unheeded, in all our Anglo-Saxon veins. 
 
 A voice spoke in the dark: 
 
 "The Yellow Queen has sent for her own. The 
 woman in the house of the American will bring 
 the child to the mountain. The moon is about to 
 rise. The Calf must be killed. The Blood must 
 run. The Spirit of Father Mountain commands." 
 
 I answered the voice : 
 
 "Go tell the Yellow Queen she cannot have the 
 boy, for he is under the protection of the Ameri 
 can flag, and the great nation of the north will 
 not give him up. If the Yellow Queen wants 
 blood, let her kill a calf in the field." 
 
 "The Yellow Queen must be obeyed," said the 
 voice. "She will have the boy, and those who try 
 to keep him from her will be killed. The island 
 will run red with blood, and the American stran 
 gers will die." 
 
 "The American flag is striped with red," I cried. 
 "It is red from the blood of those who have died 
 to defend it and those who have died while trying 
 in vain, to tear it down. Let the Yellow Queen 
 beware the fate of those who have failed." 
 
 "Joan of Lazarre never fails. If you will not 
 give the boy to her messengers, she will send the 
 man with eyes of fire and bark like dog. He never 
 returns empty-handed."
 
 56 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "Send on your dog-man," J shouted, "and we 
 will shoot him as we do mad dogs in the 
 north." 
 
 A rush of bare feet upon the path, a babel of 
 strange tongues shouting unintelligible cries, a 
 clashing of steel weapons, all warned me that the 
 time for action had come. 
 
 With nervous haste, I applied the glowing end 
 of my cigar to three of the rockets, which I had 
 previously placed horizontally upon the top of one 
 of the fence posts, and stepped aside as I did so, 
 to avoid the back fire. My heart sank to see one 
 of the three sputtering fuses die and disappear. 
 The pattering of bare feet was now within a rod 
 of the barrier. 
 
 Two hissing streams of fire leaped from the 
 fence to meet them. As the rockets sped into the 
 darkness, cutting a pathway of light through the 
 tropic foliage, my enemies were revealed. 
 
 There were fifty or more of them big, black 
 fellows, armed with machetes, old-fashioned guns, 
 and murderous-looking knives with crooked 
 blades. 
 
 One of the rockets shot harmlessly over their 
 heads, and lost itself in the tangle of leaves and 
 vines beyond. But the other plowed into the mid 
 dle of the attacking party; and, as it struck, a
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 57 
 
 chorus of fierce screams awoke the echoes of the 
 forest, and set the night fowl and monkeys to 
 screeching in wild, unearthly chorus. 
 
 Hastily lighting a bunch of firecrackers, I threw 
 them into the mob of yelling blacks. 
 
 As the fiery snappers landed in the midst of the 
 throng and began to spit flame and smoke, all the 
 fight that was in them left the queen s followers. 
 Many were hopping up and down, in an agony of 
 pain; others were frantically fighting the flames 
 which had been kindled about their garments; 
 still others the majority of them started back 
 along the pathway to the village, as fast as their 
 legs would carry them. 
 
 I lit a Roman candle, and stood in the midst of 
 a shower of sparks, whirling the stick. In a 
 moment, I realized the unwisdom of the move, for 
 one of the blacks, less frightened than the rest, 
 availed himself of the fine mark I presented, and 
 aimed his musket at my head. 
 
 Before he could pull the trigger, however, the 
 first ball of fire burst from the candle s end, and, 
 by the sheerest luck, caught him under the chin. 
 His musket went off in the air as he turned a com 
 plete somersault, and when he picked himself up, 
 he ran away, howling like a dervish. 
 
 "Obeah, obeah!" cried the retreating negroes.
 
 58 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Five or six more balls of fire from the Roman 
 candles followed them, as they fled down the road, 
 and lit the pathway for them. Many of the 
 blacks continued to utter howls of pain long after 
 the patter of their feet had died away in the 
 distance. 
 
 "Obeah, obeah, obeah!" came faintly back 
 from the direction of the village. 
 
 General Pierson, Sullivan, and Captain Billings 
 came running up. 
 
 "Where are the black rascals?" asked the gen 
 eral, as he joined me. "We heard a shot down 
 here, and came along as fast as we could." 
 
 "They seem to have had business elsewhere," I 
 replied. 
 
 "What did they do? What direction did they 
 take? How many of them were there?" asked the 
 general, all in a breath. 
 
 "I don t know where they ve gone," I said, 
 lighting a fresh cigar to steady my nerves. 
 
 "But didn t you see them?" asked Larry. 
 
 "Got a pretty good view of about fifty of them, 
 when the rockets went off and the Roman can 
 dle hit em." 
 
 "Then you ve had a battle down here," cried 
 the general, boiling over with excitement. "Why,
 
 59 
 
 you young scoundrel, you must have put them to 
 rout single-handed." 
 
 "After the last Roman candle ball landed in 
 their midst," I said, "I don t think there was much 
 fight left in them. The firecrackers helped a lit 
 tle, too." And, as I recollected the fire dance given 
 by the poor wretches, I burst into a half-hysterical 
 laugh. 
 
 "By gad, sir, I congratulate you !" cried General 
 Pierson, groping for my hand in the dark. "You 
 are a credit to the flag, and, if my appropriation 
 was large enough, I d appoint you vice consul." 
 
 "Obeah, obeah, obeah!" 
 
 As the general ceased speaking, the weird cry 
 of the negroes sounded again from the far depths 
 of the woods. The words were echoed and 
 reechoed from the distant mountain; and, sud 
 denly, a light, unearthly pale and green, illumined 
 our faces. As I looked into the ghastly counte 
 nances of my friends, a rattling, as of dry bones, 
 disturbed the silence of the night. 
 
 I turned fearfully around, to see the source of 
 the strange light, and beheld, high in air over the 
 tops of the palms, a livid skeleton, dancing in 
 space. It waved its arms, kicked its bony legs, 
 and opened and shut its fleshless jaws. The flick 
 ering light paled slowly, as we gazed, and, finally,
 
 60 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 went out. But the rattle of bones continued in the 
 dark. 
 
 "What unearthly trick is that?" I asked. "Can 
 the Yellow Queen cause skeletons to dance in the 
 sky?" 
 
 "Our little white queen can," replied the gen 
 eral, with a laugh. "That, I think, is Norelle s 
 vaudeville act. Those anatomical specimens of 
 Doctor Strong came in handy to-night. But, come 
 let us return to the house. The women folks 
 are probably in a state of nerves by this 
 time." 
 
 "By the way," I asked, as we walked up the 
 path, "what does obeah mean?" 
 
 "Most anything the negroes cannot understand 
 witchcraft, sorcery, Voodooism, for instance," 
 replied the general. "When anything is obeah, 
 it s charmed. A piece of good luck is obeah; so 
 is a run of bad luck. An automobile, a telephone, 
 the telegraph, all are obeah to the Carib negro. 
 Students of African folk lore tell us that the word 
 comes from obi, which is the word for snake in 
 several of the dialects. Obeah is the most con 
 venient word imaginable. It fits anything and 
 everything." 
 
 "What was that?" asked Sullivan. "I thought 
 I heard a woman scream."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 61 
 
 "Some parrot or monkey in the woods, I guess," 
 suggested the general. 
 
 We listened for a moment, and then all started 
 on a dead run for the house ; for now we all heard 
 it a long, despairing wail. Following closely 
 upon the woman s cry was the short, sharp bark 
 of a large dog. 
 
 We dashed up the steps, and ran plump into the 
 arms of Captain Billings, who was about to leave 
 the house. Mrs. Pierson was seated in a chair in 
 the hall, wringing her hands and sobbing hys 
 terically. 
 
 "What s up?" demanded the general, striding 
 in. "What on earth is the trouble?" 
 
 Another deluge of tears from Mrs. Pierson. 
 
 "But the danger is over," exclaimed the gen 
 eral. "The negroes have all gone. Young Smith 
 fired a few rockets and things into their faces, and 
 they are running yet. You need have no fear, 
 my dear, that they will come back." 
 
 "Why should they come back?" wailed Mrs. 
 Pierson. "They got what they came for." 
 
 "What do you mean?" demanded her husband. 
 
 "The child they got him right under our very 
 noses!" sobbed Mrs. Pierson. "But how they 
 managed to do it is more than I can tell. They 
 are now taking him up to the mountain, to kill
 
 62 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 him. Oh, why did we ever, ever come to this 
 horrible island?" 
 
 "There, there !" soothed the general, advancing 
 and placing his arm about her. "The boy isn t 
 dead yet not by a long sight. Where is 
 Celeste?" 
 
 "Upstairs, where you told her to go," replied 
 Mrs. Pierson, a little more calmly. "This is the 
 way it happened, so far as we know: She had 
 locked herself up in the back room with the boy. 
 I was in the next room, and Norelle and the cap 
 tain were on the roof, fixing up the skeleton. 
 Then Celeste screamed, and, with the scream, I 
 distinctly heard the barking of a large dog, 
 although I am positive no animal could have 
 gained entrance to the room. I called to Celeste 
 to admit me, but she did not answer. When the 
 captain came downstairs, I got him to break into 
 the room, and found Celeste on the floor in a faint, 
 and the boy missing." 
 
 "The outside window of that room is twenty 
 feet from the ground," exclaimed General Pier- 
 son. "That beats me. Let us see the woman." 
 He led the way upstairs, and we followed. 
 
 The colored woman was still prostrate upon the 
 floor, but had recovered from her faint, and was 
 weeping convulsively.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 63 
 
 "What s the matter, Celeste?" demanded the 
 general. 
 
 "My Alphonse is gone!" cried the woman. 
 
 "Who took him?" 
 
 "Him nigger with eyes of fire and bark like 
 dog." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense!" cried General Pierson impa 
 tiently. "There hasn t a soul entered this place 
 since we left it. Your youngster is larking about 
 the house somewhere. You ve just gone to sleep 
 and dreamed that he was stolen." 
 
 "Did Celeste dream that dog-man bite her arm, 
 like this, when she held Alphonse from him?" 
 As she spoke, she bared her right arm to the 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Her arm is bleeding!" cried Larry. 
 
 There was a lacerated wound, fully three inches 
 long, in the brown flesh above the elbow.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 IN VOODOOLAND 
 
 DILIGENT search of the house and grounds failed 
 to reveal any trace of the missing child. The 
 broken leaves of a huge vine, growing up the side 
 of the house and past the window of the room 
 from which the boy was abducted, offered a very 
 plausible explanation of the dog man s entry and 
 exit. 
 
 Larry Sullivan solved the riddle. Standing 
 beneath the window, he grasped the vine, and 
 climbed hand over hand to the sill, to prove the 
 strength of the ladder used by the queen s uncanny 
 messenger. 
 
 "If there s nothing more spooky about the boy s 
 disappearance than that," exclaimed Larry, "I m 
 willing to try to get him back. All we ve got to 
 do is to follow the negroes to the meeting place, 
 and take him." 
 
 "And be murdered and offered up as a sacrifice, 
 for your pains," cried Miss Pierson. 
 
 64
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 65 
 
 "It would be almost certain death," said the 
 general. 
 
 "Oh, save my Alphonse, my precious Alphonse!" 
 cried Celeste, who had been wandering, weeping, 
 around the grounds. 
 
 "It does seem a shame to have the little rascal 
 chopped up and eaten by those heathens," con 
 tinued Sullivan, "and I m convinced we could save 
 him, if we started early enough. How far is it to 
 the place where you black devils meet?" he 
 demanded, turning to Celeste. 
 
 "Six seven miles," replied the woman. "I take 
 you. I know way. But you need big, whole army, 
 or Yellow Queen kill you sure." 
 
 "All we need is a little nerve, some giant pow 
 der, and two or three short pieces of gas pipe," 
 said Larry briskly, his mind evidently made up. 
 
 "Oh, you surely are not thinking seriously of 
 going?" cried Mrs. Pierson. 
 
 "I sure am thinking of it," exclaimed Larry. 
 "I suppose we ll have to move quick, won t we? 
 What time do they usually kill off their their 
 calves?" 
 
 "When the moon is right so up," explained 
 Celeste, pointing to the zenith. 
 
 "Then we ve got about three hours, I judge," 
 said Sullivan. Turning to the general, he asked :
 
 66 
 
 "Is there any dynamite or blasting powder within 
 easy reach? I d like to play anarchist to-night, 
 but can t, unless I have some bombs." 
 
 "Not a grain this side of St. Croix, and the 
 stores there are, of course, closed at this time of 
 night," replied the general. 
 
 "How would some nitroglycerine do?" asked 
 Miss Pierson. 
 
 "Fine, if we could get it/ replied Larry, with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 "I think I can find about a dozen cans," said the 
 girl. 
 
 "If you mean that which belonged to the Del 
 Oro Company," said the general, "that was all 
 thrown into the sea." 
 
 "Yes," assented Norelle. "It was dropped into 
 the sea, but I took the precaution of tying a string 
 to it, and think it can be fished out without the 
 least bit of danger. I thought it might come in 
 handy some time." 
 
 "I am inclined to think that the eloquent eyes 
 of young Herbert had something to do with your 
 saving that stuff," bantered the general. "How 
 ever, I m right glad you saved it." 
 
 Miss Pierson led the way down to the beach, to 
 a point where the explosives had been submerged. 
 Larry, the general, and I followed in her footsteps.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 67 
 
 "You see," explained the general, as we pro 
 ceeded down the shadowy pathway, "that nitro 
 glycerine was sent here by Charlie Herbert, man 
 ager of the Del Oro Mining Company, which, you 
 may remember, went up the financial spout a lit 
 tle while ago." 
 
 "Of course, there is no gold in Gabrielle," I ven 
 tured. "The island, being of volcanic origin, 
 probably has no gold-bearing quartz." 
 
 "Wrong like a great many other eminent 
 authorities," said the general. "Whether it is 
 quartz of the right kind or not, the Del Oro peo 
 ple struck a mother lode of marvelous richness. 
 Ore assaying three thousand dollars to the ton 
 was taken out, and there was, apparently, no end 
 to the deposit. Herbert and his backers had 
 every prospect of becoming millionaires within a 
 few months, and were going ahead swimmingly, 
 when they had to quit." 
 
 "Who made them quit?" 
 
 "The Yellow Queen. She sent Herbert and his 
 men back to the States on the double-quick. It 
 was go home or die, with them; so they went 
 home." 
 
 "But why did she object to their mining 
 operations ?" 
 
 "She was wise enough to know that, if it became
 
 68 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 noised about the world that gold was here, the 
 whites would flock to Gabrielle by the thousands. 
 It would be another Klondike. Voodooism would 
 be wiped out, and the reign of the Yellow Queen 
 would be at an end. Voodooism doesn t flourish 
 in a white man s country. It needs the super 
 stitious soil of a black man s brain to grow upon." 
 
 By this time, we had reached a point upon the 
 beach some two hundred yards east of the reef 
 where our small boat had come to disaster. The 
 sea was like a mirror, and the rising moon, now 
 lifted well above the edge of the Caribbean, shone 
 so brightly on the pebbles and shells that you could 
 have counted them one by one. 
 
 Miss Pierson proceeded to a spot where a ven 
 erable palm, bent with the weight of years, leaned, 
 at an angle of forty-five degrees, over the surface 
 of the water. Before we reached the tree we 
 could see a line stretching from the trunk out 
 into the bay. Norelle laid hold of the line, and 
 begaji hauling it in, hand over hand. 
 
 "If you don t mind," exclaimed Sullivan, taking 
 the rope from her hands rather unceremoniously, 
 "I ll just take charge of this fish myself. I don t 
 like the way you are jerking it in. If it should 
 strike a stone, at the rate you were hauling it, 
 there d be an explosion and a tidal wave that
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 69 
 
 would swamp the consulate; and our little crowd 
 here would be up in the vicinity of the Milky 
 Way." 
 
 Sullivan brought the cans to shore in a gingerly 
 manner, selected one from the bag which held 
 them, and laid it carefully upon the sand. Then 
 he replaced the others in the bag, and, wading out 
 into the water, sunk the death-dealing canisters 
 from view. 
 
 "It won t take ten minutes to prepare our little 
 torpedoes," he said, as we hurried back toward 
 the house. "And another thing we need," he 
 added, "is some make-up." 
 
 "What do you want make-up for?" asked the 
 general. 
 
 "I m going to do a black-face turn. What do 
 you think of me as a successor to the late lamented 
 Haverley? To do the act right, I ll have to organ 
 ize a troupe. Jack, are you going to take part in 
 the opening performance?" 
 
 "I received orders to follow you wherever you 
 went," I replied; "so start the show, Mr. Inter 
 locutor." 
 
 "Of course you ll have to black up, if you go 
 after that poor little boy," said Norelle. "How 
 stupid of me not to think of that at first !" 
 
 "I suppose a white man wouldn t get very far
 
 70 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 in the direction of that Voodoo show," said Gen 
 eral Pierson. "I only pray they will not detect 
 your masquerade. Boys, take my advice and give 
 up this theatrical affair; for that is what it is, 
 pure and simple. It sounds heroic, and all that, 
 to try to rescue that child from the hands of its 
 savage executioners ; but you ll find that planning 
 the expedition, and going through with it success 
 fully, are altogether different propositions. The 
 chances are ten to one that you ll be killed in the 
 attempt, and you haven t one chance in one hun 
 dred of getting the boy back alive." 
 
 "I ll take that chance," protested Larry warmly. 
 "Sure, I d never be able to sleep soundly again if 
 I didn t. Every time I waked up in the night, I d 
 see that kid s face and hear his mother s cry." 
 
 "That s the way I like to hear a man talk," cried 
 Norelle. "I only wish I wore trousers. If I did, 
 I d go with you." 
 
 "Well, I m wearing a pair that s going to fol 
 low Sullivan," I cried, fired with enthusiasm. 
 With her eyes upon me, I felt that I could over 
 come all the Voodoos in the tropics. 
 
 "That s the way I feel about it, too," said Cap 
 tain Billings, who was waiting for us at the foot 
 of the steps. "I m anxious to go, and if it is 
 necessary, I d just as soon kill a dozen Yellow
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 71 
 
 Queens, before I d let them cut up that child and 
 make soup of his bones." 
 
 "I think it will be wiser for some of the party 
 to remain here to guard the consulate," said Sul 
 livan. "If Smith and I can t do it, a dozen would 
 fail. If we went in force, we would probably 
 attract attention, and would be almost certain to 
 spoil the whole thing. No matter how many of 
 our party we took along, we could not gather 
 enough to overcome the mob we will find on 
 the mountain. We must work the affair as 
 a surprise, and get away before they wake 
 up." 
 
 "There s a good deal of sense in that argument," 
 observed the general. "If Mr. Sullivan is deter 
 mined to undertake the perilous expedition, it is 
 better that he go about it in the manner that suits 
 him best. The captain, Mr. Hollis, and I will 
 remain and act as the defenders of the home and 
 the flag." 
 
 Mrs. Pierson and the sobbing Celeste entered 
 the hall as we were speaking. 
 
 "Oh, do not leave us !" cried Mrs. Pierson trag 
 ically. "You have defended us so nobly till now; 
 please do not leave us to the mercy of the 
 savages." 
 
 "I am still here, Mrs. Pierson," cried the gen-
 
 72 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 eral, drawing himself up to his full height, and 
 folding his arms. 
 
 "Of course, dear, you are always my very brav 
 est soldier," his wife hastened to say, while 
 Norelle and the rest of us laughed, in spite of the 
 gravity of the situation. "But you know," she 
 continued, "in union there is strength, and we 
 need all the strength we can get just now. There 
 is no telling how soon those dreadful negroes 
 will come back again." 
 
 "There isn t much danger of their coming 
 this night," said General Pierson. "They have 
 their ceremony on the mountain to pull off, and, 
 after that is over, they ll not be in a condition to 
 do much of anything." 
 
 "Why not?" I asked. 
 
 "They ll all be drunk. These Voodoo soirees 
 usually wind up in a free-for-all debauch. They ll 
 consume enough alcohol and rum to float the State 
 of Missouri, between now and sun-up." 
 
 Larry, in the meantime, had adjourned to the 
 kitchen, where we could see him bending over 
 the table, his head in very close proximity to the 
 deadly canister of nitroglycerine. 
 
 "Any danger of that stuff going off, out there?" 
 asked General Pierson. "Perhaps we had better 
 all adjourn to the garden."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 73 
 
 "None in the world, for I ve got it all safely 
 dampened, except a little bit I m saving for my 
 detonator," replied Sullivan. "Don t worry about 
 this part of the job, for I ve made bombs before. 
 Jack, while you are about it, why don t you hunt 
 up some stuff for your make-up, and put it on?" 
 
 "I ll make him up if he ll let me," volunteered 
 Norelle. 
 
 "Will I? Well, I guess I will," I hastened to 
 say, and was tempted to add that nothing would 
 give me more pleasure than to have her make 
 me up daily through life. 
 
 In less time than it takes to tell it, she had 
 found three or four corks, had burned them over 
 a candle, had scraped off the charcoal thus formed, 
 and had mixed it with some cold cream, to form 
 a paste. The result, when applied to my counte 
 nance, was certainly a pronounced success, if 
 lustre and blackness counted at all. I do not 
 think the Island of Gabrielle ever harbored quite 
 as black a man as I was, when Miss Pierson fin 
 ished her task. Then Sullivan s face received 
 similar treatment, and we were ready to sally 
 forth. 
 
 "Your hands look pretty white, Mr. Sullivan," 
 said Norelle. "Don t you think you d better have 
 them treated, too?"
 
 74 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "No; but if you have any of your father s old 
 gloves lying around, we ll borrow them," said 
 Larry. 
 
 The girl knew exactly where to find the articles 
 required, and soon we had each donned a pair. 
 
 "All aboard for Voodooland!" cried Sullivan. 
 "Come on, now, you, whatever your name is. 
 Stop crying, and step lively." This to Celeste, 
 who was whimpering at the door. 
 
 "Fse ready," sobbed the woman. "But I se 
 ready to die, too. The Yellow Queen she get us 
 all. But I no want live if my Alphonse die." 
 
 "Well, it s a sure thing he ll be killed, unless 
 you hurry mighty fast," exclaimed Sullivan. 
 "We ve got to beat that moon to the top of the 
 mountain." 
 
 "Shake hands all around before you go," said 
 the general, his voice trembling a little. "Remem 
 ber that we Americans are few and far between 
 down here in Gabrielle. God grant that the 
 number be not diminished this night." 
 
 "Have no fears for us," replied Larry cheer 
 fully, gripping hands with the consul, and then 
 with Mrs. Pierson and Norelle. "We ll do our 
 best, and if we don t bring back the boy, we ll 
 have a mighty good excuse." 
 
 "We will pray for you," said Mrs. Pierson. "I
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 75 
 
 think you are both brave and grand to do it." 
 She curtsied over my hand, and I bowed low over 
 hers. 
 
 "This reminds me of the good old days of the 
 Revolution, the minuet, and the snuffbox," said 
 Norelle, with a laugh. "Really, Mr. Smith should 
 have lived in our great-grandfathers time. He 
 would have made a splendid dancing mas 
 ter." 
 
 "This is no time for levity, my child," reproved 
 Mrs. Pierson. "Do you realize, Norelle, that these 
 two brave young men are starting upon a noble, 
 self-sacrificing mission, which may lead them to 
 their death?" 
 
 "Indeed, I do," replied the girl. "They will 
 forgive me, I hope, for appearing to make light 
 of the expedition. But they know that smiles 
 are often mere cheerful masks, to hide the tears 
 we want to shed." 
 
 She placed her hand in mine as she spoke j 
 and, looking into her eyes, I could see that her 
 tears were perilously near the brink. 
 
 "The moon is climbing mighty fast," urged 
 Sullivan; and I realized that I was holding No- 
 relle s hand longer than the occasion warranted. 
 So, reluctantly, I released it, and mumbling some 
 thing about "duty to humanity," which sounded
 
 76 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 very flat, hurried out of the door. Celeste walked 
 between us. 
 
 Just before leaving the consulate grounds, 
 Larry paused, and handed me two cylindrical 
 objects, which might have weighed a couple of 
 pounds apiece. 
 
 "Take this junk," he said, "and be mighty 
 darned careful with it. If you drop either one 
 of them, you are a dead man, and we will follow 
 you into the beyond." 
 
 "But what shall I do with them?" I asked, 
 nervously clutching the bombs, my hair fairly 
 standing on end at the thought of letting them 
 fall. 
 
 "When we get ready for our part of the show, 
 fire them against a rock, or a tree, or a negro s 
 head against anything hard. They will do the 
 rest. I have a couple more just like yours; and 
 with four first-class blow-ups at our command 
 we ought to make things interesting for our 
 friends in Voodooville." 
 
 As we hurried along the lane of palms and 
 reached the rising ground of the foothills, Larry 
 chuckled aloud. 
 
 "Seems to me this is pretty serious business," 
 I said. "I, for one, do not see anything to laugh 
 about."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 77 
 
 "I was just thinking how near Voodooville is 
 like vaudeville," he said. "I wonder if you couldn t 
 work that into a sketch for stage use the Voo 
 doos of Vaudeville or something of the sort." 
 
 "I don t feel a bit like writing stage stuff now," 
 I retorted. "But, s-sh! Here comes a crowd of 
 blacks." 
 
 As I spoke, a dozen negro men and women 
 stalked silently out of a side path, and turned 
 northward, in the direction of the smoking moun 
 tain. At first, they walked fifty yards or so ahead 
 of us, and four abreast; but as the pathway 
 narrowed and steepened, they strung out in 
 Indian file. Soon we three were compelled to 
 follow their example, and Sullivan took the lead, 
 Celeste followed, and I brought up the rear. 
 
 Before we had proceeded far, we heard a shuf 
 fling of feet behind, and, looking back, saw a 
 troupe of shadowy forms following in our wake. 
 
 The traveling soon became more difficult, for 
 the pathway resolved itself into the crudest kind 
 of a trail, and jagged rocks, fallen trees, and 
 and trailing, twisting vines opposed our progress. 
 The sky, which earlier in the evening had been 
 ablaze with lunar and stellar light, became over 
 cast with scudding clouds, and the wind came in 
 from the sea, to sob hysterically in the treetops.
 
 78 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 A flaming light burst above us; then another, 
 and another. Instinctively, I gripped the handles 
 of my revolvers, but, in another moment, dropped 
 them, when I saw that the lights were only torches 
 lit by those ahead to guide them on their upward 
 way. In a few minutes, I counted eight lights 
 above us; and, looking backward and downward, 
 was amazed to see twice that number in our 
 rear. 
 
 The torches revealed a procession of blacks, 
 which wound and twisted its way down the hill 
 for a mile, until the flickering lights grew as small 
 as the restless lamps of the fireflies. Where they 
 all came from, and when they had joined us, 
 were equal mysteries ; but there they came, toiling, 
 sweating, panting up the long hill, to join in the 
 ghastly ceremony of murdering a child. Shadowy 
 and unreal they looked, like a procession of black 
 demons from the pit ; but every torch flare caught 
 the glister of steel, to tell us that the followers of 
 the Yellow Queen came armed. 
 
 "Papaloi and Mamanloi go to the mountain; 
 White calf s blood run like a fountain." 
 
 A huge negro torchbearer, only a few feet 
 ahead of us, burst into this piece of doggerel, his
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 79 
 
 heavy tones sounding hollow and sepulchral as 
 they reverberated through the wooded aisles. In 
 a moment, a hundred voices took up the refrain, 
 and repeated it over and over again. After a time, 
 when the weird choir had, apparently, wearied 
 of the first verse, the leading voice added two 
 more couplets, which ran, as nearly as I can recol 
 lect, like this: 
 
 "Yelloiv Queen she sit up on her throne, 
 And call all niggers what she own. 
 
 We re comiri and dimbiri because you call; 
 We re yours, feet and hands and all." 
 
 The singers seemed to forget the toilsome climb, 
 as they shouted the verses louder and louder. 
 Some of them sang well in unison, while others 
 paid little attention to. what their fellows were 
 chanting, but repeated the words to tunes of their 
 own making. 
 
 Celeste joined in the singing, with a shrill, 
 piping voice ; and I believe that, for the time being, 
 she even forgot the peril of her child. Many of 
 the marchers had bottles, from which they drank, 
 and, by the time we reached the end of the 
 journey fully half of them were drunk.
 
 80 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "I m glad to see em warm up," said Larry, 
 over his shoulder; "for, the drunker they are, 
 the easier it is going to be for us." 
 
 We finally reached a table-land, or shoulder 
 of the mountain, five or six acres in extent, and 
 almost denuded of trees. Here and there, charred 
 upright trunks served to show where once a 
 forest had stood, and in the centre of this group 
 of gaunt skeletons rose a flat rock. 
 
 This stone was about thirty feet square, and 
 its level top stood possibly ten feet from the 
 ground. A flaming torch, planted at each corner 
 of the rock, would have revealed plainly the actors 
 on the stage, even without the assistance of a 
 larger green flame, which blazed behind a man 
 and two women standing near the centre. A 
 crowd of at least three hundred negroes, of both 
 sexes, was massed around the rock, absorbed 
 in the ceremony, which had evidently just 
 begun. 
 
 Our arrival with the other blacks attracted no 
 attention ; and, as we pressed forward to get with 
 in earshot of the altar, the mob broke into a chant, 
 half French, half Spanish. The actors on the 
 stage were waving their arms, and the man occa 
 sionally pounded a kettle-drum. 
 
 "Look!" whispered Celeste, pointing toward
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 81 
 
 the platform. "Yellow Queen in middle. In 
 minute she see us and kill us dead." 
 
 "Shut your mouth, if you ever want to see your 
 boy again," hissed Larry; and Celeste subsided. 
 Her face looked chalky with fear in the green 
 light. 
 
 The queen stepped to the edge of the rock, 
 and waved her hands for silence. 
 
 "Bad men have come to Gabrielle," she cried, 
 in Spanish, and in a loud, but not unmusical, 
 voice. "If they live, Father Mountain will kill 
 all his children. He has told his daughter that 
 these white men must die. Their blood must 
 go into the ground, to make the cane grow and the 
 bananas ripen. If Father Mountain is not given 
 this blood, he will spit out fire and ashes, and 
 Gabrielle will be burned like a stick in the flames." 
 
 She paused, and the mob chanted again, louder 
 than before. 
 
 We moved closer, and managed to gain a point 
 within ten yards of the stage. 
 
 The Yellow Queen was, to my surprise, a woman 
 of considerable beauty. She was a very light 
 mulatto, taller than most of her Carib sisters, 
 not more than thirty, I should judge, and graceful 
 and shapely of form. She was dressed in a many- 
 colored skirt, and wore about her a strange assort-
 
 82 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 ment of decorations. These seemed to consist, 
 for the most part, of tufts of feathers, beads, 
 bones, and pieces of glass. In one hand she held 
 a small snake and in the other a toad. 
 
 Her companions upon the platform were both 
 aged negroes a man and a woman whose rags 
 revealed rather than concealed their bones and 
 parchment skin. Their function during the 
 ceremony seemed to be to keep the torches alight ; 
 for at intervals they dropped into the flames 
 something which caused them to flare upward, 
 and, at times, to change color. The man frequent 
 ly turned his attention to the ancient drum, and 
 beat it vigorously. 
 
 "Bring forth the white cock and the white 
 goat," cried the queen. "Let Papaloi and Maman- 
 loi spill their blood as an offering to angry Father 
 Mountain." 
 
 There was a struggle and a flutter in the crowd 
 before the platform, and almost immediately a 
 white goat and a white rooster were brought into 
 view. The old man took charge of the goat, and 
 the woman of the fowl, and each produced a knife 
 for the execution. 
 
 "If Father Mountain has enough blood, he will 
 sleep on," cried the Yellow Queen, pointing dra 
 matically toward the plume of smoke which floated
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 8a 
 
 lazily from the funnel of the slumbering volcano. 
 
 "But if he wants more he will say so. Papaloi 
 and Mamanloi, give us the blood." 
 
 She uttered a shrill cry at the conclusion of 
 her speech, and the knives held by the old man 
 and woman were buried simultaneously in the 
 breasts of the struggling victims. The blood 
 gushed from the wounds, and the goat bleated 
 piteously in its death agony. The old priest and 
 priestess executed a hideous dance around the 
 platform. 
 
 "The God of the Mountain speaks ! Hear him ! 
 Hear him!" screamed the Yellow Queen. 
 
 As if in obedience to her command, there was 
 a low rumble in the bowels of the volcano, and the 
 base of the smoke plume at its summit glowed 
 fiery red. 
 
 "He must have more blood more blood!" 
 shrieked the queen. "He is still angry with his 
 children." 
 
 As another and louder reverberation came from 
 the roots of the mountain, scores of the blacks 
 in the crowd began to sob wildly, while many 
 threw themselves upon their faces. 
 
 "More blood!" screamed the queen. "Whose 
 shall it be?" 
 
 "The blood of the White Calf," responded Papa-
 
 84 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 loi and Mamanloi, gesticulating and bending their 
 bodies in strange contortions. 
 
 "Where is the White Calf?" cried the mistress 
 of ceremonies. 
 
 "He is waiting for the knife," shrieked the 
 old woman. 
 
 "Then bring him forth," cried the Yellow 
 Queen, tossing the snake and toad upon the rock. 
 "Father Mountain shall have all the blood he 
 wants." 
 
 A hideous, misshapen creature leaped upon the 
 platform. 
 
 "The dog-man !" gasped Celeste, and fell, faint 
 ing, to the ground. 
 
 "He does look more like dog than man," ex 
 claimed Sullivan. "I don t blame the woman for 
 throwing a fit." 
 
 The creature upon the platform was hairy, 
 apelike, and absolutely devoid of clothing. His 
 legs were short, his arms long, his skull flattened ; 
 and, through the long gash which served him as 
 mouth, two tusks protruded from the lower jaw. 
 After he had executed a sort of jig to the beats 
 of the drum, the monster leaned over the edge of 
 the platform, and dragged up the form of Celeste s 
 boy, Alphonse. 
 
 The child was evidently exhausted from the
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 85 
 
 long climb up the mountain and from fright, and 
 could scarcely stand alone. 
 
 "Bring me the sacred knife," cried the queen, 
 as she surveyed the child. "Where is the knife 
 that was sent us by the God of the Mountain?" 
 
 "It is coming it is coming," shrieked the old 
 man. 
 
 "Yes, and trouble is coming," muttered Larry, 
 drawing one of the bombs from his pocket. 
 
 "You ll kill the child, if you throw it up there," 
 I exclaimed, imitating his action, and producing 
 one of the nitroglycerine missiles from my pocket. 
 
 "I m not going to throw it on the stage," re 
 plied Larry. "I am going to try to hit that tree 
 over there, at the left of the rock. There s a ledge 
 of rock behind it; and, if we miss the tree, the 
 bomb will be certain to go off, anyway." 
 
 "Here is the sacred knife !" screamed the queen, 
 brandishing a wicked-looking blade, which was 
 handed to her from below. She approached the 
 spot where Alphonse was held in the hairy arms 
 of the dog-man. 
 
 "This blood is for you, Father Mountain," be 
 gan the Yellow Queen, as she lifted the knife 
 above her head. 
 
 She did not finish the sentence. 
 
 A tremendous, ear-splitting explosion rent the
 
 86 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 air and threw her flat upon the rock. Larry s 
 bomb struck the base of the tree trunk, and the 
 great stick was shivered into toothpicks. A 
 shower of stones and dirt fell all around us; and 
 as a second explosion from my bomb, which 
 struck the ledge split the ears of the crowd and 
 hurled many from their feet, panic took posses 
 sion of them, and they scattered like geese. 
 
 "The mountain is on fire ! Run for your lives !" 
 yelled Larry, imitating the Carib negro s Spanish 
 intonation. As he spoke, he threw his second 
 bomb against a tall, dead tree. 
 
 This explosion seemed to come from the mouth 
 of the angry volcano itself; and those of the panic- 
 stricken blacks who had not fainted or plunged 
 into the jungle for safety, bolted for the pathway 
 by which we had come. 
 
 By this time the queen had recovered her feet, 
 and was vainly trying to reassemble her wor 
 shipers. "He wants more blood more red 
 blood!" she screamed, evidently badly frightened 
 herself, but resolved, nevertheless, to go on with 
 the ceremony. "Hold the calf while I use the 
 knife." 
 
 The dog man, who had clung to Alphonse in 
 spite of the force of the explosions, dragged the 
 boy toward her.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 87 
 
 "Fire off another torpedo," cried Larry, "while 
 I give the dog boy a pill from my gun." As he 
 spoke, he aimed his revolver at the hairy thing, 
 and fired. 
 
 The creature turned a somersault in the air, 
 and tumbled from the platform, with the boy still 
 in his arms. 
 
 The queen whirled round and faced us. "There 
 are white devils here!" she screamed. "That was 
 one of their shots. Kill them! Kill them!" 
 
 Obeying Sullivan s command, I threw my re 
 maining bomb at another tree, near the altar. 
 Larry, at the same moment, made a dash in the 
 direction of the place where Alphonse and the dog- 
 man had fallen. I followed at his heels. 
 
 Either the force of the last explosion had thrown 
 the queen from the platform or she had fled with 
 her followers. Old Papaloi and Mamanloi were 
 frenziedly running about the platform with their 
 rags on fire. 
 
 "Here s the boy, but where s the dog-man?" 
 cried Larry, as we reached the side of the rocky 
 altar and found the little fellow unhurt, though 
 weeping bitterly. 
 
 "I could swear that I hit his dogship squarely 
 on the head," continued Larry, much mystified. 
 "Perhaps some of the others carried him off."
 
 88 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 On the way to the path leading down the moun 
 tain, we found Celeste, but could not revive her. 
 "We will have to leave her here," decided Larry, 
 after assuring himself that she was alive and un 
 hurt. "We can take the boy with us. She knows 
 the way home. The Yellow Queen and her people 
 may be back most any minute, so I suggest that 
 we hike out in a hurry." 
 
 We stumbled through the darkness to the edge 
 of the plateau, and began our descent, unmolested. 
 Below us, crashing down the tortuous pathway in 
 their terror to escape from the wrath above, we 
 heard the Voodoo worshipers running, stumbling, 
 falling as they went. 
 
 "No wonder I didn t kill the brute," said Larry 
 suddenly, after we had accomplished half the 
 journey. "I should have had more sense than to 
 fire at his head."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 THE GOVERNOR-GENERAL LIES 
 
 THE rays of the morning sun reached the consu 
 late before we did. Our progress down the moun 
 tain path was even slower than our ascent, for 
 we took turns at carrying Alphonse. He weighed 
 probably no more than fifty pounds; but, before 
 we were halfway down the slope, I could have 
 sworn that he tipped the scale at two hundred. 
 
 The terror of the last few hours had so preyed 
 upon the little fellow s mind that he was in a high 
 fever when we started, and, by the time we 
 reached the foothills, three miles from the con 
 sulate, he was delirious, and fighting imaginary 
 kidnappers in his dreams. Sometimes we had 
 the utmost difficulty to keep him from leaping 
 out of our arms. 
 
 After a while, however, he dropped into a sleep 
 which was as unnatural as it was deep. To make 
 my labor the harder, the pounding I had received 
 
 89
 
 90 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 * 
 
 on the rock, when I was spilled from the boat, 
 was recalled by the aching of my bruises, which 
 gave me acute torture at every step. Had the 
 journey been a mile longer, I am sure I should 
 have dropped in my tracks. 
 
 The Stars and Stripes, floating over the con 
 sulate, its colors shining brightly in the morning 
 sun, made one of the prettiest pictures I had ever 
 seen; and I am sure I never saw a house that 
 looked as homelike and cozy as the pretty, 
 thatched cottage, set in its frame of emerald. 
 
 The consul was in the front yar.d, with his rifle 
 over his shoulder, when we turned up the path 
 leading into the grounds. He observed us at once, 
 and came running in our direction, with a shout 
 of joy. 
 
 "Hooray, hooray!" he cried. "They ve come 
 back safe, and they ve got the boy." 
 
 He took the sleeping child from Sullivan s arms, 
 and shook our hands vigorously. "My brave 
 boys ! Thank God, you are safe ! Did you have a 
 fight? Did you see the Yellow Queen? Aren t 
 you hungry as bears ? Here wife, Norelle, every 
 body! The rescuers have returned." 
 
 With a rattling fire of questions and exclama 
 tions, and a torrent of congratulations, he led the 
 way to the house.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 91 
 
 "And how did you get through the night?" 
 asked Larry, after the general s bubbling joy had 
 boiled down, and we had assured him that we 
 were safe and sound. 
 
 "We got along famously," replied the counter 
 part of Lincoln. "I m proud of my little army 
 proud of them ! Every one s a soldier to the back 
 bone. Captain Billings and Mr. Hollis made 
 grand sentries, and my wife and daughter are 
 brave as a regiment. We didn t get much sleep, 
 as you may imagine, for we were afraid the black 
 rascals might come back; but we came through 
 the ordeal in fine spirits." 
 
 Mrs. Pierson and Norelle came running to the 
 porch, in response to the general s shouts, and the 
 captain and Hollis made their appearance soon 
 afterward. Mrs. Pierson took Alphonse from 
 the general s arms, and at once put him to 
 bed. 
 
 "To think of the perils you have braved!" she 
 cried, coming from the room w r here she had left 
 the child. "You brave, heroic, noble young men! 
 I feel as though I could embrace you both." 
 
 "Sure, you may begin this minute," was Larry s 
 gallant response. 
 
 "I suppose you had to kill just hundreds of 
 those poor blacks before they would give up their
 
 92 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 sacrificial victim," said Mrs. Pierson, beginning 
 to weep at the thought. Then, to my dismay, 
 Norelle, who had not spoken since our arrival, 
 broke down, too, and joined her tears with those 
 of her mother. 
 
 "Oh, please don t, ladies!" I cried, as a lump 
 rose in my throat. 
 
 "We ll cry just as much as we want to!" 
 snapped Norelle, her eyes flashing through her 
 tears. "And you needn t flatter yourselves that 
 we are crying about you, either; for we aren t. 
 We re just crying to think of the poor, innocent, 
 misguided negroes that you slaughtered you 
 brutes !" 
 
 "Why, Norelle, dear!" cried her mother, in 
 shocked amazement. 
 
 "They re both about unnerved and unstrung," 
 said the general, "and it s little wonder, when 
 you think of what they have gone through during 
 the last twenty-four hours." 
 
 "To set your minds at rest, ladies," said Larry, 
 "we did not kill a single one of the black devils, 
 though they needed killing, goodness knows. We 
 just treated them to a good scare, sent them racing 
 down the hill in a hurry, grabbed the kid, and 
 here we are." 
 
 "But where is Celeste?" asked Mrs. Pierson,
 
 93 
 
 noticing for the first time that the colored woman 
 had not returned. 
 
 "Safe and sound. She ll be here soon," I said. 
 
 "We are wasting time," said General Pierson. 
 "You know, dear, that our heroes must be half 
 starved. They haven t had a drop or a bite since 
 they left on their perilous journey, last evening." 
 
 "You bet we re hungry," exclaimed Larry, "and 
 I ll give you fair warning that, unless you give us 
 something to eat pretty soon, I m going to begin 
 on the doorknobs." 
 
 While we were doing justice to what seemed to 
 me the best breakfast I had ever tasted, Larry 
 and I told the company the incidents of the night. 
 Mrs. Pierson, as was her wont, shed a few tears 
 here and there during the recital; but Norelle s 
 eyes were ablaze with interest. 
 
 "I never wanted to be a man so much in all my 
 life," she exclaimed, after we had finished the nar 
 rative. "Just think of all the fun I ve missed." 
 
 "Such language!" reproved Mrs. Pierson se 
 verely. "I do not consider that at all decorous, 
 my dear." 
 
 "Can t help it, mother mine," replied the girl. 
 "It s not my fault. The times are to blame. 
 They ve got out of joint with decorum, that s all." 
 
 When we had concluded the meal, the general
 
 94 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 arose, with the announcement that he was going 
 to town, as soon as he had completed the prepara 
 tion of a note to the state department at Wash 
 ington. 
 
 "I intend to make a peremptory demand for a 
 war ship at St. Croix," he said. "Our lives are no 
 longer safe here. We are likely to be butchered 
 at any moment by the fanatical followers of this 
 yellow woman, who seems to be running the 
 island. If Spain cannot protect the lives of those 
 whom she is bound to safeguard under inter 
 national law, it is high time for the United States 
 to take a hand. If the administration refuses to 
 send me a ship, by George, there ll be a vacancy in 
 my post ! I d stick it out without asking for help, 
 if I were a single man; but I owe it to my wife 
 and daughter to demand protection from this 
 Voodoo woman s fiendishness. Do you not agree 
 with me, gentlemen?" 
 
 "We do!" I exclaimed warmly. "But you may 
 count on us as long as we can be of the least assist 
 ance to you." 
 
 "We ll be with you as long as we ve a drop of 
 blood left," added Larry. 
 
 "That s my sentiment, to a T.," said the captain. 
 
 "I 0. K. all of that," exclaimed Hollis. 
 
 "It s ever so good of you, gentlemen, and I
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 95 
 
 appreciate it to the full," said General Pierson. 
 "You are all brave and gallant fellows, but for 
 that you do not deserve especial praise. You are 
 all good Americans, and, as such, cannot help toe 
 ing the mark to the fighting line, when woman 
 hood is in danger. Just the same, there are plenty 
 of men who would have decamped and left us to 
 our fate. Believe me, my wife, my daughter, and 
 I thank you from the bottom of our hearts." 
 
 We all looked somewhat embarrassed under this 
 open praise, and Larry hastened to change the 
 subject, by asking the consul if he could accom 
 pany him to town. 
 
 "You know," he said, "there is a certain Ameri 
 can tourist, now in Gabrielle, whom I am very 
 anxious to meet. It is just possible that he is now 
 taking in the sights of your capital." 
 
 The general agreed readily, and I made a faint 
 effort to join the party also; for I believed it to 
 be my duty to go along, if there were any chance 
 of meeting Varney. At the same time, I was 
 nearly dead on my feet. Aching and weary as I 
 was, I marveled at the force of will and muscle 
 that drove Larry to further exertion. 
 
 "I think, Jack, you had better stay here," said 
 Larry. "The ladies need your protection. You 
 are not in fit shape to do any more walking to-day.
 
 96 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Stay here and get a good rest, old man. You 
 needn t fear that I ll bag the game without you. 
 The very best I can hope to do is to locate him. 
 We ve corralled him on the island, where he can t 
 get away from us ; so we needn t worry over the 
 outcome of the chase. We ll get him." 
 
 "While the general is preparing his note for the 
 state department, I will write a dispatch for the 
 World-Union," I said. "Will you be good enough 
 to see it aboard the steamer, Larry?" 
 
 "I ll swim with it to New York, if necessary," 
 asserted the warm-hearted detective. 
 
 In spite of my weariness, I wrote more than a 
 column, detailing Varney s movements from the 
 time when he left New Orleans to the landing on 
 Gabrielle. "I devoted considerable space to the 
 manner in which he outwitted the police of the 
 Crescent City, the chase across the Gulf, and 
 the storm and fire which forced him to abandon his 
 tug and land at St. Croix in a rowboat. I ad 
 dressed the dispatch to the superintendent of the 
 telegraph company at New York, the first Amer 
 ican port touched by the departing steamer, and 
 inclosed a request that he wire it to the World- 
 Union from the metropolis. I also gave Larry a 
 ten-dollar gold piece for the purser of the boat, 
 who, with this as an accelerator, would probably
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 97 
 
 see that the manuscript was delivered to the 
 office of the telegraph company without delay. 
 
 "This will score beat number one, if it gets 
 there," I exclaimed, with some satisfaction, as 
 Larry placed the dispatch in his pocket. 
 
 "I haven t one bit of curiosity, Jack, my boy," 
 said Larry, "but I m hoping that you didn t put 
 the people wise to the way Varney slipped through 
 my hands, on the way." 
 
 "You don t suppose I could afford to miss a 
 good story like that, do you ?" I asked, with a wink 
 at the general. 
 
 "Then you can carry your own blooming dis 
 patch to St. Croix!" exclaimed Sullivan, looking 
 as though he had lost his last friend on earth. 
 
 "I wouldn t write that for a thousand dollars 
 indeed, I wouldn t !" I protested, with a laugh. 
 
 After the general and Larry had started for the 
 village, Mrs. Pierson and Norelle went to their 
 rooms for a much-needed rest. Captain Billings 
 and Mr. Hollis insisted that I follow the example 
 set by the ladies; and, after a feeble resistance, 
 I obeyed. 
 
 "We ll stand watch while you get a couple of 
 hours sleep," said the captain. 
 
 When I awoke it was dark, and I could hear 
 the voice of Celeste crooning over her boy in some
 
 98 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 room on the lower floor. I arose softly, and, going 
 
 to the top of the stairs, looked over the banisters. 
 i 
 
 Norelle was turning the gloom into bright 
 ness, downstairs; and I said to myself that she 
 was the sweetest little lamplighter in all the 
 world. 
 
 As I descended the stairs, Celeste ran out into 
 the hall, and, dropping on her knees, kissed my 
 hand. "You save my Alphonse; I die for you 
 I die for you!" she cried. 
 
 "If you want to die for any one, die for Sulli 
 van," I said. "He saved your boy, not I." 
 
 "What on earth do you think has happened to 
 the general and Mr. Sullivan?" asked Mrs. Pier- 
 son, in an anxious tone of voice, as I entered the 
 sitting room. 
 
 "Why, haven t they got back yet?" I asked. 
 
 "They should have returned two or three hours 
 ago," continued Mrs. Pierson. "Norelle and I are 
 dreadfully worried." 
 
 "I don t wonder at it a bit," I said incautiously ; 
 then added, to reassure her : "But, after all, there 
 is nothing to be alarmed about. They can take 
 very good care of themselves, never fear. If you 
 say so, however, I ll be glad to go in search of 
 them." 
 
 "Where would you search?" asked Norelle,
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 99 
 
 whose pale face and anxious eyes cut me to the 
 heart and made me yearn to comfort her as only 
 a lover can. "You know nothing about St. Croix 
 in the daytime much less at night." 
 
 "We might hunt at the steamship offices, and 
 other likely places," suggested Billings, who en 
 tered from the yard at that moment. 
 
 "And leave us all alone, at the mercy of the 
 Voodoos!" wailed Mrs. Pierson. At the very 
 thought of such a fate, the good woman burst into 
 tears. She stifled her sobs in a moment, however, 
 as the sound of a revolver or rifle shot was heard 
 in the distance. 
 
 "It was a shot!" exclaimed Norelle. 
 
 Billings and I dashed out of the house, drawing 
 our revolvers as we ran. 
 
 "Where did that shot come from?" I asked 
 Hollis, who was standing guard outside the door. 
 
 "From down the road toward town," he replied. 
 
 We strained our eyes through the darkness, but 
 could see nothing save the shadowy forms of the 
 trees ; nor could we hear anything more suspicious 
 than the droning of insects, and the calls of night 
 birds in the jungle. 
 
 Then we heard a voice. 
 
 "Hallo hallo!" The shout came from down 
 the road.
 
 100 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "It s the general!" I exclaimed, and halloed in 
 reply. 
 
 "Bring a lantern," came a faint command, this 
 time in Larry s voice. 
 
 I rushed back into the cottage, seized the lan 
 tern from its peg on the wall, lighted it, and ran 
 out again. "They are both back safe and sound," 
 I cried reassuringly to the ladies. "Haven t any 
 idea what they want with the light; am going to 
 find out," I added, as they besieged me with ques 
 tions. 
 
 I hurried down the pathway into the road. 
 
 "Straight ahead, Jack," I heard Larry call, and 
 was at their side in the space of two or three 
 minutes. 
 
 They were both bending over a dark object. It 
 was evidently the form of a man, either grievously 
 hurt, or dead, for it did not stir when I came up 
 with the lantern. 
 
 "Who is he?" I asked, handing the lantern to 
 Larry. 
 
 "That s what we d like to know," replied Gen 
 eral Pierson. 
 
 Larry held the lantern so that its rays illumined 
 the swarthy, mustached visage of a man of forty. 
 A long, dirk-like knife was lying beside the pros 
 trate figure, and, as I gazed curiously at the
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 101 
 
 weapon, I was horrified to see a thin, black stream 
 creep from beneath his arm, and make its silent 
 way to the edge of the path, where it formed a 
 slowly widening pool. 
 
 "Heavens!" I cried. "The man is bleeding to 
 death. Who stabbed him?" 
 
 "He ought to die, the thug," said Sullivan. 
 
 "But who stabbed him?" I repeated the ques 
 tion with a shudder. 
 
 "He wasn t stabbed. I shot him," replied Larry 
 shortly. 
 
 "Let us see how seriously he is wounded," said 
 the general, opening the unknown s vest, as he 
 spoke, and revealing a black, powder-burned hole 
 in his shirt bosom. The bullet had entered about 
 two inches below the shoulder. 
 
 "Not likely to prove fatal," observed the gen 
 eral. "It was too high to strike the lung; so it s 
 only a flesh wound, after all. Let us get a shutter 
 from the house, and put him to bed." 
 
 "But what did he do?" I asked, completely mys 
 tified over the gruesome proceeding. 
 
 "He tried to kill me, and would undoubtedly 
 have succeeded, but for the quickness of Mr. Sul 
 livan," explained General Pierson. 
 
 "He waylaid you as you were coming home?" 1 
 I asked, horrified.
 
 102 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "Just so. There were a couple of them," con 
 tinued General Pierson. "They sprang out upon 
 us, one from either side of the road, but, luckily 
 for us, they misjudged their distance in the dark 
 ness. Sullivan floored one of them with a blow of 
 his fist, and then turned his attention to the other 
 fellow, who was attacking me. How on earth he 
 managed to shoot the assassin without blowing 
 my brains out, is more than I can understand, but 
 the fact remains that he did it and mighty 
 quickly, too." 
 
 "What an experience!" I exclaimed, looking 
 down at the figure in the road. 
 
 "Oh, that s only one of a number of interesting 
 little events that have happened this day," re 
 marked Larry cheerfully. "Haven t we had a fine 
 time of it, general?" 
 
 "I hope I ll never put another such a day over 
 my head," said the consul fervently. 
 
 "What else happened?" I asked 
 
 "Oh, a whole bunch of things, first and last," 
 said Sullivan. "Met our mutual friend, for one 
 thing." 
 
 "What! Varney?" I cried. 
 
 "Just so. Didn t I tell you that I d locate him? 
 Well, I did." 
 
 "We d better hurry home and get that
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 103 
 
 stretcher," interrupted General Pierson. "The 
 sooner he gets attention, the better it will be 
 for him. We can tell our experiences to the 
 whole company at supper. For my part, I m 
 ready to do justice to almost any sort of a 
 meal." 
 
 "I can hold up my end at the table, I guess," 
 remarked Larry, picking up the lantern and start 
 ing in the direction of the house. 
 
 "Why didn t you arrest Varney, when you had 
 the chance?" I asked, as we hurried along. I was 
 consumed with impatience to hear the story. 
 
 "Who said I had a chance to get him?" asked 
 Larry testily. 
 
 "You said you met him, didn t you?" 
 
 "Yes, I did ; but meeting a man and putting him 
 behind the bars are not one and the same. I 
 didn t arrest him, because I couldn t. And, what 
 is more, we may run into a whole lot of difficulty! 
 before we do land him." 
 
 "Just unhinge one of those blinds, captain," 
 said the general to the river man, as we reached 
 the gateway; then, to Mrs. Pierson and Norelle, 
 who were upon the porch, he called : "We ll join 
 you in a few minutes. We re all right, and happy, 
 but hungry as wolves." 
 
 I carried the blind which Billings brought, and
 
 104 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 we proceeded back over the road to get the 
 wounded man. 
 
 "Well, this is queer!" exclaimed Larry, after 
 we had walked quite a distance. "We have cer 
 tainly passed the spot where we left the scoun 
 drel." 
 
 We searched diligently up and down the road, 
 and finally came to the pool of blood. 
 
 "He was playing possum, and decamped just 
 as soon as our backs were turned," said the 
 general. 
 
 "Or his companion in crime dragged him away," 
 I suggested. 
 
 "I think it would be wise to give up the search," 
 said Sullivan; "for one or both of those chaps may 
 take it into their heads to pot at us from the 
 bushes. We don t need the fellow, anyway, and 
 I m rather relieved than otherwise, to think we 
 are rid of him so easily. Had we kept him, we 
 would have been obliged to prosecute him in court, 
 and that would have made us a lot of trouble." 
 
 "That s a very sensible way to look at it," 
 agreed General Pierson. 
 
 So we abandoned the hunt and hastened back 
 to the consulate. 
 
 Mrs. Pierson threw herself into her husband s 
 arms. "My hero!" she cried. "I feared you
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 105 
 
 would never return. What on earth detained you 
 so long?" 
 
 "When you hear all the harrowing details, you 
 will agree that this has been our busy day," re 
 plied the general, patting his wife s head as he 
 would that of a little child. "We have brandished 
 revolvers, have had various and sundry encoun 
 ters with bad men, and have had a most thrilling 
 time generally." 
 
 "Oh, tell us about it!" cried Norelle, clapping 
 her hands ecstatically at the prospect. "If these 
 sensations continue, Mr. Smith will never be able 
 to do justice to the assignment. It will take a 
 whole staff of journalists to tell half the story. * 
 
 "Not a word until we get something to eat, my 
 dears," said the general decisively. "We cannot 
 tell our thrilling story on such empty stomachs 
 as ours." 
 
 "Then I ll help Celeste dish up, so that we can 
 eat the sooner," said Norelle. "But, mind you," 
 she added, as she paused at the door, "not one 
 word of the adventures until I get back; for I 
 don t want to miss a syllable." 
 
 "That s a promise," said Larry. 
 
 "Did you meet any Voodoos?" asked Mrs. Pier- 
 son, after Norelle had left the room. 
 
 "Not one," said the general.
 
 106 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "I guess," remarked Sullivan, "the Yellow 
 Queen has about concluded that she ll run her 
 religious show without the assistance of Celeste s 
 boy. She had better reach that conclusion, if she 
 knows what s good for her eh, Jack?" 
 
 "Don t be too sure that you have her beaten," 
 admonished General Pierson. "Joan of Lazarre 
 is vindictive, and has a long arm. Do not under 
 estimate her strength; for, as I told you before, 
 she is the real, dominating power on the island." 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," exclaimed Norelle, 
 with a flourish, appearing at the door, "supper 
 is now being served in the dining room. Passen 
 gers who change cars at Voodoo Station will 
 please step lively." 
 
 "That means us, Jack," said Larry, springing 
 to his feet. "Madam, permit me." As he spoke, 
 he offered his arm to Mrs. Pierson, who accepted 
 it with a low bow. 
 
 I was about to offer mine to Norelle, but, to my 
 disappointment, she seized her father s coat sleeve, 
 and led him into the dining room, favoring me 
 with a mischievous glance, however, which half 
 recompensed me for my loss. 
 
 As soon as we were seated at the table, she 
 exclaimed: "Now, daddy, commence. I just can t 
 eat a mouthful until I hear the news."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 107 
 
 "Well," began the general, with a flourish of 
 his knife. "I ll give you the most important and 
 thrilling piece of news at the start. Mr. Sullivan 
 is to fight a duel with the governor-general at 
 sunrise to-morrow." 
 
 "What !" we all cried. "A duel ?" 
 
 "A duel," repeated General Pierson, enjoying 
 the sensation he had created. "A duel with forty- 
 five-calibre revolvers; so you may know that it 
 is no play affair." 
 
 "Oh, do not do it, Mr. Sullivan, I beg of you 
 do not do it!" cried Mrs. Pierson. 
 
 "Go on, daddy go on," said Norelle, ignoring 
 her mother s flutter of terror. "Now, what did 
 Mr. Sullivan do to make the governor-general 
 challenge him? I know that Mr. Sullivan must 
 have had the choice of weapons, for no Spaniard 
 would ever choose forty-fives." 
 
 "Quite right, little girl," agreed her father. 
 "Why, Mr. Sullivan really didn t do very much to 
 him. He simply jammed his hat down over his 
 nose, slapped him in the face two or three times, 
 and then kicked him out of the door really noth 
 ing that any gentleman should object to, I m sure." 
 
 "Well, of all things!" cried Norelle. Then she 
 turned to Larry, and asked: "Why did you treat 
 the gentleman so harshly?"
 
 108 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "He prevented me from taking the thief I was 
 after," replied Larry. "Besides that, he made a 
 number of very impolite remarks in my presence, 
 and lied outrageously to the United States consul." 
 
 Lary then turned his attention to the soup, and 
 began to eat with evident relish. 
 
 "Oh, go on please go on!" exclaimed Norelle 
 impatiently. "You know we are just dying to 
 hear all the rest of it. What did you do? What 
 did Varney do? And what did the governor- 
 general do?" 
 
 I do not think that poor Mrs. Pierson was able 
 to recover her breath during the remainder of 
 the meal. All she could do was to gasp occasion 
 ally, as one sensation after another was sprung 
 and explained. For my own part, I must confess, 
 I was so much astonished at the unexpected chain 
 of events that you could have knocked me down 
 with a feather. 
 
 "That s all there is to it," said Larry, in answer 
 to Miss Pierson s demand. "The gentleman with 
 the plug hat challenged me; I accepted, very 
 naturally ; and we will have it out in the morning." 
 He ended his remarks in a matter-of-fact tone, 
 and resumed his meal, as though the whole ac 
 count were finished. 
 
 "That is not all there is not by a long sight,"
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 109 
 
 cried General Pierson, now gesticulating wildly 
 with both knife and fork. "If you ll not do the 
 story justice, Sullivan, I ll have to tell it myself." 
 
 "Oh, go on, daddy go on!" cried Norelle. 
 "Mr. Sullivan is altogether too modest. What s 
 the use of doing things, I d like to know, unless 
 you tell people about them?" 
 
 "This is how it came to pass," began the con 
 sul. "After we had visited the steamer at the 
 dock, and had left Mr. Smith s article for the 
 paper and my note for the state department, Mr. 
 Sullivan and I started out on a little hunting 
 expedition for the banker. We soon ran across 
 two or three very promising clues, but all of them 
 seemed to fizzle out. 
 
 "We learned that Varney had been to the Hotel 
 Madrid, but had left the place, bag and baggage. 
 The driver of the cab which had taken him to the 
 hotel assured us that he had driven him to the 
 palace of the governor-general and had left him 
 there. So to the palace of the governor-general 
 we went, posthaste. 
 
 "It took us some little time to obtain an audi 
 ence with his excellency; but when we finally 
 landed in his sanctum sanctorum, he slobbered 
 over us as though we were the President, the su 
 preme court, and both houses of congress all
 
 110 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 rolled into one. The usual amount of blarneying 
 on both sides being disposed of, we finally got 
 down to business, and I explained Mr. Sullivan s 
 mission. Mr. Varney, we told him, had been last 
 seen entering his palace ; and if he wanted to play 
 the part of a real friend of the United States, it 
 was up to him to tell us where we could find the 
 gentleman." 
 
 "Did he tell you?" asked Norelle as her father 
 paused for breath. 
 
 "He lied like a thief," continued the narrator. 
 "Said he had never seen or heard of such a man. 
 Did he but know anything of his whereabouts, 
 however, it would give him the most superlative 
 pleasure to put us on the track. He would give 
 us his sacred word of honor, which he prized sev 
 eral times more than life itself, or his hope of the 
 hereafter, that he would at once order his captain- 
 general of police to apprehend the man instanter. 
 And he further assured us, on the memory of his 
 sainted mother and of his honorable ancestors, 
 that twenty-four hours should not be allowed to 
 pass over our heads before we should have the 
 fugitive under lock and key. After some more 
 of the same sort of tommyrot of the Spanish diplo 
 matic brand, we left, with mutual expressions of 
 undying affection.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 111 
 
 "By the merest good luck, on the way back to 
 the hotel, we passed by the cab stand in the plaza, 
 and one of the jehus hailed us. It was the man 
 who had taken the banker to the governor-gen 
 eral s palace. Did our excellencies desire to know 
 more about the gentleman of whom we were in 
 quiring? We guessed we did, about one peso s 
 worth. Then he told us that he had seen Varney 
 entering the Plaza Restaurant, not ten minutes 
 before that selfsame moment. 
 
 "So into the Plaza Restaurant we went. No 
 trace of Varney was there, however. As we were 
 somewhat weary from our long hunt, we decided 
 to remain in the restaurant for some refreshment, 
 and took seats at one of the tables. While we 
 were waiting for our order, who do you suppose 
 entered the place?" 
 
 "Varney," I cried, breathless with excitement. 
 
 "Wrong. The governor-general," said the gen 
 eral, pausing to allow the sensation to work its 
 proper effect. 
 
 "He had come to meet Varney by appointment, 
 to make a deal of some sort with him," cried 
 Norelle. 
 
 "Just so ; or, at any rate, that is the way Sulli 
 van figured it out," continued General Pierson. 
 "I, myself, was too thick-headed to see through it
 
 112 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 at first. Well, anyway, to resume : The governor- 
 general sailed into the restaurant, followed by five 
 or six of his gold-laced young officers. As soon as 
 he laid eyes on us, he changed color, I thought, but 
 carried it off pretty well ; for he bowed very low, 
 smiled beatifically, and passed on through the 
 room. When he reached the far end of the place, 
 a door closed after him and his party." 
 
 "And then Mr. Sullivan went in after Varney," 
 said Norelle, her eyes ablaze. "Oh, I just know 
 that is what he did !" 
 
 "He did, and I followed him," agreed the gen 
 eral. "The waiters tried to oppose our progress, 
 but Sullivan tripped up one, and shook his fist in 
 the face of a second so fiercely that he lost all 
 desire for further interference." 
 
 "And Varney was in there?" I cried. 
 
 "He was, as large as life. So was the governor- 
 general, and his gold-laced officers, but their pres 
 ence did not disconcert Sullivan one iota. Varney 
 and the governor-general were just clinking 
 glasses as we entered, unannounced. Sullivan 
 had both his revolvers out in a wink ; and Varney, 
 who was facing us, was the first to see our en 
 trance. As his eyes took in the revolvers, he 
 dropped his glass of wine on the floor, with a 
 crash.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 113 
 
 "The governor-general showed a good deal more 
 pluck than I thought he possessed, for he quietly 
 put his glass upon the table, turned around, and, 
 springing at Sullivan like a cat, caught both his 
 wrists in his hands. 
 
 " Arrest the American dogs ! he cried to the 
 young officers of his staff. But they were not 
 made of the same sort of stuff that he was, and 
 all wilted. 
 
 "I had my revolver out, by this time, and was 
 covering a couple of the pretty boys in gold lace. 
 They backed into the corner of the room, and held 
 up their hands, as though they expected me to 
 go through their pockets. Probably, down there, 
 every time a man pulls a gun, the other fellow 
 expects to be robbed." 
 
 "Yes, yes! Go on, daddy go on!" cried No- 
 relle, as her father paused and very deliberately 
 took out his handkerchief to wipe his spectacles. 
 
 "What happened to Varney?" I asked. 
 
 "Varney disappeared through the back door, 
 during the excitement, and we haven t seen him 
 since," continued the general. "It took Sullivan 
 just about half a minute to put the governor- 
 general s fighting apparatus out of commission. 
 He could no more hold Sullivan s wrists than he 
 could a locomotive.
 
 114 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "In less time than it takes to tell it, he had the 
 governor-general s two hands held in one of his 
 like a vise, had backed him up against the wall, 
 and was talking to him like a Dutch uncle. 
 
 "I was almost sorry for his excellency, for it 
 must have been very humiliating to his Castilian 
 pride. Jamming his excellency s head against the 
 wall, with his two hands shoved up under his chin 
 so that his face made an attractive mark, Sullivan 
 slapped his excellency s right cheek. 
 
 " Take that/ he said, for lying to the United 
 States consul this afternoon. And that, for lying 
 to me/ he continued, slapping his excellency s left 
 cheek. 
 
 " Take that for refusing to give up a fugitive 
 from American justice another slap and that, 
 for having such a worthless lot of officers on your 
 staff shoving his excellency s hat down over his 
 nose and that, for daring to lay your hands on 
 the representative of the greatest chief of police 
 in North America. With the last remark, Sulli 
 van turned his excellency around, and kicked him 
 out of the door, through which Varney had made 
 his escape." 
 
 "And what did the poor fellow do?" asked No- 
 relle. "I think he was treated just brutally. My 
 sympathies are on the other side."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 115 
 
 Larry looked a little crestfallen at this unex 
 pected reproof, but said nothing. 
 
 "What could he do?" replied the general. "By 
 this time, half his fighting force had disappeared, 
 and the other half was helpless in the corner, with 
 their hands up over their heads. His excellency 
 picked himself up as quickly as he could, shook 
 his fist at Sullivan, and demanded satisfaction. 
 
 " I challenge you to meet me at daybreak to 
 morrow! he hissed. 
 
 " I m yours at sun-up ; we ll use forty-fives at 
 ten paces/ said Sullivan. 
 
 "That ended the affair, and we came home." 
 
 "And, on the way, two friends of the governor- 
 general met you in the dark!" I exclaimed, my 
 blood hot with indignation at the thought. 
 
 "By George, I never thought of that!" cried 
 General Pierson. 
 
 "I did," said Larry. "A little more of that fish, 
 if you please."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 AT THE DUELLING GROUND 
 
 THE end of another night of anxious vigil found 
 the little band at the consulate in a highly nervous 
 state of mind. 
 
 The General was irritable, and Mrs. Pierson 
 was even more prone to tears than usual, if such 
 a condition were possible. Norelle had become 
 wan and pale, but her beauty was more radiant 
 than ever. Larry, Billings, Hollis, and I were all 
 pretty well fagged out, and, when the ladies were 
 out of hearing, indulged in more profanity than 
 was necessary, meanwhile planning various hor 
 rible modes of execution for the Yellow Queen, 
 should she ever fall into our hands. 
 
 Things had been bad enough before the General 
 and Larry had visited St. Croix; but now, with 
 the added peril of the duel hanging over our heads, 
 I most heartily wished that Mr. McCalla, my edi 
 tor in St. Louis, had selected some other promising 
 
 116
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 117 
 
 young newspaper man for the star assignment of 
 jthe year. 
 
 I had not slept more than two hours that morn 
 ing, when Sullivan waked me. "Are you going 
 to act as one of my seconds, or are you going to 
 sleep all day?" he demanded, shaking me by the 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Oh, the duel!" I cried, rubbing my tired eyes, 
 and looking out of the window into the dull gray 
 dawn. "What time is it?" 
 
 "Four-thirty, and the sun will be up in an 
 hour," he replied. "If you want a cup of coffee 
 before you start, you d better be moving." 
 
 "I don t want anything to eat or drink," 
 I replied, "and shouldn t think you would, 
 either," 
 
 "Don t worry about me," laughed Larry cheer 
 fully. "Save your sympathy for the other fellow. 
 He needs your prayers not I." 
 
 "But he may shoot you, just the same!" I ex 
 claimed apprehensively. 
 
 "He hasn t the ghost of a chance," retorted Sul 
 livan. "I ll kill him at the first shot, if I want to. 
 I wonder if he has a family? I think I ll find out 
 before the affair comes off, and, if he has, will 
 merely break his pistol arm or his leg. I really 
 don t care to send him over the divide, for he s
 
 118 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 no coward, even if his pretty officers are sissy 
 boys." 
 
 "But he ll kill you, if he can." 
 
 "I wouldn t be at all surprised," chuckled Larry. 
 
 General Pierson was at the breakfast table when 
 we got down. "If you are as prompt in shooting 
 as you are in rising," he said to Larry. "I ll have 
 no fears for the outcome." 
 
 "I m not worrying at all, at all," said Sullivan, 
 seating himself. Then he asked: "Any trace of 
 the blacks during the night?" 
 
 "Not a sign," replied the general testily. "By 
 George, I m getting so sick of this night-watch 
 business that I wish they would come and have it 
 out. I m beginning to think they have abandoned 
 the game. Still, we must not relax our vigilance. 
 The very first night we took off the guard would 
 be the time they d pay us a visit. Nevertheless, 
 I m somewhat encouraged with the situation ; and 
 if the governor-general was off my mind, I could 
 really begin to view the future with an optimistic 
 eye." 
 
 "You can use that eye right now," exclaimed 
 Larry. "But where is the captain? He was to 
 act as my other second." 
 
 "Outside, squinting at the weather, I believe," 
 said the general. "But, to return to the duel
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 for I can t think of anything else do you know, 
 Sullivan, I wish I was a private citizen, so I could 
 attend the function in person. I do not approve 
 of duels as a general thing; but when they can t 
 be avoided without injury to a gentleman s stand 
 ing in society, and especially, when the challen 
 ging party resorts to the hiring of assassins, I say 
 let them be real fights. Your choice of forty-fives 
 stirred my blood as it has not been stirred these 
 thirty years." 
 
 "But you can go along and see it, can t you?" 
 asked Larry. 
 
 "It s absolutely out of the question. Think of 
 the scandal it would make the United States 
 consul present at the duel in which his excellency 
 the governor-general was wounded or killed ! The 
 President would order my recall by the first 
 steamer." 
 
 "You re sure going to miss the fun of seeing a 
 hot-tempered Spanish gentleman get hurt," re 
 marked Larry gravely. "But I guess, after all, 
 that wouldn t be such a pleasant sight. Before 
 we start, general, I wish you would give us steer 
 ing directions. Where did his excellency say it 
 was to be pulled off?" 
 
 "In the grove beyond the cathedral cemetery," 
 replied the consul. "You can t miss the way.
 
 120 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Just follow the road we took to town yesterday, 
 and turn to the right at the second intersecting 
 street. The cathedral is on the brow of the hill 
 at the end of the street, and the cemetery is on 
 the high ground east of the building. Here s a 
 map of St. Croix and suburbs and here, at this 
 point, is the cathedral." 
 
 General Pierson produced a map, and pointed 
 out the spot and the street we should take to 
 reach it. 
 
 Captain Billings entered as we were examining 
 the map. 
 
 "That s right sail by chart!" he exclaimed ap 
 provingly. "No matter where you are going, on 
 sea or dry land, it s always a grand plan to work 
 by chart." 
 
 Just as the first rays of the sun tipped the caps 
 of the mountains with silver, we started for the 
 trysting place of death. I ll omit a description of 
 Mrs. Pierson s tears, and her remarks upon the 
 occasion, which were as hysterical as usual. I 
 would, if I could, tell you of the lovelight I thought 
 I saw in Norelle s eyes, and describe for you the 
 thrill in our handclasp at the door. 
 
 "Remember, the honor of the Stars and Stripes 
 must be upheld !" cried General Pierson after us, 
 as we walked rapidly down the path.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 121 
 
 When we reached the second road leading to 
 the uplands, and turned our faces toward the tall 
 spire of the cathedral, a great bell tolled dismally 
 from some church in the city. After a brief space, 
 another bell rang out upon the morning air and 
 yet another, and another. Soon, the deep tones 
 from the cathedral above us joined in the sonor 
 ous refrain. 
 
 "They seem to be tolling for the dead," re 
 marked Captain Billings. 
 
 "I think it is some feast day," said Larry. 
 
 "It sends the chills up and down my back," I 
 exclaimed. "I don t like to hear it, especially upon 
 an occasion like this." 
 
 We were the first to reach the duelling ground, 
 and I was glad of the opportunity thus afforded to 
 admire the beautiful scene spread out below us. 
 
 A crescent of pearls in a setting of emerald, St. 
 Croix nestled between the mountains and the sea. 
 Her white houses glistened prettily in the rays of 
 the new sun; and, high over our heads, like a 
 feather in a woman s hat, the plume of smoke 
 from Mont Lazarre s smoldering fires stretched 
 miles out over the silent sea. Eastward and west 
 ward from Mont Lazarre were other peaks, 
 rising blue and hazy into the fleece-flecked 
 sky. Save for the tolling of the bells, all was
 
 122 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 quiet on Gabrielle; for the island was yet abed. 
 
 But, even as we stood spellbound by the scene, 
 a change came over the town below. The roll of 
 drums and the blare of bugles were lifted to our 
 ears; and, as the sounds floated upward, around 
 the corner of the governor-general s palace, and 
 into the great public square, swept line after line, 
 and company after company, of marching soldiers. 
 
 "Pretty early for military manoeuvres, don t 
 you think?" commented Larry. 
 
 "There must be fully two regiments of them," 
 exclaimed the captain, as the troops continued to 
 pour into the square. 
 
 "The governor-general is late," I said. "It be 
 gins to look as though he was not going to keep 
 the engagement." 
 
 "There s a horseman coming this way," cried 
 Larry, pointing down the road up which we had 
 come. 
 
 "And at a pretty good clip, too," remarked the 
 captain. 
 
 The rider was urging his steed as though he 
 were charging an enemy s battery, and came up 
 the incline at a pace that would have killed any 
 ordinary horse. 
 
 "It s one of Plug Hat s young staff officers," 
 said Larry. Then he added: "But there s no
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 123 
 
 dodging the fact that he can ride like a cowboy. * 
 
 The horseman dashed up to where our little 
 group was standing, and drew rein so suddenly 
 that the big bay came to his haunches. 
 
 "Bad news deplorable news, senors!" he ex 
 claimed with a salute. 
 
 "What is it?" we cried in a breath. 
 
 "His excellency, the governor-general " He 
 
 began, then stopped and crossed himself. 
 
 "Is not ill, I hope?" exclaimed Larry. 
 
 "Is dead!" cried the officer. "He was found 
 strangled in his bed this morning. He was mur 
 dered during the night." 
 
 "Then there will be no duel this morning," said 
 Larry, "unless you, seiior, have come to take his 
 excellency s place." 
 
 "I? No, thank you, senor!" exclaimed the of 
 ficer, with a laugh. Then, sobering at once, he 
 continued: "I can serve my dead commander far 
 better, I think, by trying to discover and punish 
 his murderer." 
 
 "Then you do not even know who killed him?" 
 I ventured. 
 
 "No," he admitted. "We do not know by whose 
 hand he died, but we do know who ordered the vile 
 deed done." 
 
 "Who?" asked Larry.
 
 124 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "The Yellow Queen the Voodoo scourge, of 
 course. But I swear by the Virgin that, if the 
 Lord gives me strength for a few days, we will rid 
 the island of this blight! See the troops down 
 there ? General Bolero is now preparing to march 
 into the mountains, for the purpose of exterminat 
 ing that she-devil and all her followers. He has 
 declared war to the death against the Voodoos. 
 Every negro, not a Christian, who is found upon 
 the island from this day forth, is to die. The 
 whites are being called in from the suburbs, and 
 the town is under martial law. Messengers have 
 been sent forth to carry the warning to all out 
 lying dwellings. The American consulate is out 
 side of the protected zone ; and it was for the pur 
 pose of giving the consul and his family timely 
 notification, as well as to explain his excellency s 
 unavoidable non-appearance, that I rode this way. 
 Remember, it is death to all blacks who are not 
 vouched for by the priests. Adios, senors." 
 
 The young officer rode away, and we hastened 
 back to the consulate with all possible speed. 
 
 When we reached the house, we found that the 
 grim news had preceded us. General Pierson and 
 his family were already busily engaged in pack 
 ing up their belongings, for removal to the city. 
 Hollis was assisting them in the role of Chief
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 125 
 
 mover. By good luck, he had managed to secure 
 a pony and cart, and was shouldering trunks, 
 boxes, and valises with the adroitness and speed 
 of an expressman. 
 
 "Perhaps I ought to stay and fight it out," said 
 General Pierson doubtfully, "but I am convinced 
 that, in this crisis, discretion is of valor the bet 
 ter part. Even President Lincoln, I feel sure, 
 would do just as I am doing, if his dear ones were 
 threatened as mine are now. But you wait until 
 they send me that war ship ! With two or three 
 companies of marines from the Texas, I could 
 stand off all the Voodoos in the West Indies." 
 
 The sun set, that night, in a bath of blood, and 
 Mont Lazarre s menacing rumblings shook the 
 earth so that the very walls of the Hotel Madrid, 
 where we had sought temporary quarters, rocked 
 upon their foundations. 
 
 But redder than the skies, and redder than the 
 tongues of flame that licked the volcano s mouth, 
 were the streams that poured from the thresholds 
 of the negro huts in the environs of St. Croix. 
 When the troops returned that night, dusty, 
 weary, and sickened with their day s work, they 
 reported to General Bolero that three hundred 
 heathen blacks had fallen before their rifles and 
 machetes.
 
 126 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "Did you get the Yellow Queen?" demanded 
 Bolero of the officer who brought him the report. 
 
 "No, general not yet," was the reply. 
 
 "Then you will kill six hundred Voodoo wor 
 shipers to-morrow, and a like number every day 
 thereafter, until that wench is caught!" cried 
 General Bolero. "Thus will I avenge his excel 
 lency s foul murder, and put an end to Voodoo- 
 ism in Gabrielle." 
 
 At ten o clock that evening, a messenger came 
 to the hotel and asked for General Pierson. When 
 the consul returned to the parlor, where Larry 
 and I were seated in the company of the ladies, he 
 said: 
 
 "Let us go upstairs. The consulate is on fire, 
 and we may see the flames from the upper bal 
 cony."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE OTHER MAN IN THE CASE 
 
 You will thank me for dismissing the terrible 
 events of the next two weeks as briefly as possible. 
 
 The town was an armed camp, and every day 
 the screams of tortured negroes in the square 
 made an awful accompaniment to the tramp of 
 soldiers and the beat of drums. In retaliation for 
 the slaughter of her people, the Yellow Queen 
 prosecuted throughout the island a campaign with 
 knife and torch. Every white man s home was 
 burned, and hundreds of valuable sugar, tobacco, 
 and coffee plantations were laid waste. 
 
 In spite of the utmost vigilance on the part of 
 the soldiers in spite of thick walls and double- 
 bolted doors three other prominent Spanish 
 officials were murdered in their beds. The prose 
 cutor, who prepared the informations and ap 
 peared at the trials of several hundred Voodoo 
 worshipers, was found one morning with the 
 handle of a dirk protruding from the bosom of his 
 nightshirt. 
 
 127
 
 128 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 The judge who presided over the same court 
 and sentenced the blacks to death was discovered 
 with his hands and feet bound together, hanging 
 by his neck from the headpost of his bed ; and, to 
 complete the ghastly trilogy, Colonel Aguilas, who 
 for ten days had led General Bolero s soldiers on 
 their merciless pursuit of the Voodoos, was dis 
 covered, at dawn, gagged and strapped to the cot 
 in his tent. His orderly, who went to awake him, 
 thought at first that the colonel was asleep, but 
 ran out of the tent, screaming with terror, when 
 he turned down the coverlet and found the cot 
 swarming with centipedes! 
 
 Nearly every square inch of the colonel s body 
 bore a sting, and his sufferings before death must 
 have been horrible beyond description. 
 
 General Bolero himself, it was whispered, had 
 received warning from the Voodoo Queen that the 
 fate in store for him was to be more terrible than 
 that of any of the others. If such a message had 
 been conveyed to him, it did not swerve him one 
 inch from the bloody path he was pursuing. On 
 the contrary, he hunted down the Voodoo people 
 more relentlessly than ever, drove their bands 
 deeper into the mountains, and put to death, with 
 even more fiendish methods of torture, those who 
 fell into his hands.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 129 
 
 It was said that General Bolero never slept ; and 
 when I chanced to meet him, one day, surrounded 
 by his armed guards, I said to myself that I could 
 well believe the story for he looked like Death 
 himself. His coal-black eyes, burning from yel 
 low, hollowed cheeks, glared restlessly about, as 
 though momentarily expecting to meet the queen s 
 avenger. His head was forever wagging from 
 side to side, and he started and trembled at the 
 least unusual sound. 
 
 Although our movements were necessarily ham 
 pered by the exactions of military rule, Larry 
 and I searched industriously for Varney. But 
 our hunt was vain, and, after two weeks had 
 slipped by without bringing forth the faintest 
 trace of the missing man, we were forced to the 
 conclusion that he had either left the island or 
 had been killed by the blacks. If he had taken 
 refuge in the mountains as was more than likely, 
 after our encounter at the restaurant it was al 
 most certain that he was dead ; for, in their frenzy 
 for reprisals, the Voodoos had murdered every 
 man, woman, and child of Caucasian blood upon 
 whom they could lay hands. 
 
 General Pierson was nearly as unhappy as 
 Larry and myself. The old gentleman chafed un 
 der the collar of idleness which events had forced
 
 130 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 upon him, and, although he established his office 
 in the hotel and attempted to carry on the busi 
 ness of the consulate, he found practically noth 
 ing to do. Commerce stood still in the city, and 
 throughout the island; the government was in a 
 state of chaos, pending the appointment of a new 
 governor-general; and, with military rule within 
 the city, and black anarchy without, the situation 
 was discouraging in the extreme. I wrote a num 
 ber of articles for my paper, and shipped them 
 north by the infrequent steamers; but I realized 
 that, unless something turned up soon, I should 
 be obliged to return empty-handed to the States. 
 
 Although I was not acquitting myself with much 
 credit in the news or in the detective line, I was 
 making great progress in another direction. I 
 was falling so deeply in love, that, I told myself, 
 I should never be able to reach the surface again, 
 and look upon the world with the same eyes that 
 I had used before coming to Gabrielle. 
 
 But, as day by day I became more and more 
 the abject slave of Norelle s slightest whim, I 
 found, to my distress, that she was growing fickle 
 as a summer breeze. Often, when I called to take 
 her upon our daily walks around the military 
 lines, or up to the cathedral for a view of the city 
 and the sea, she would send ms word that she was
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 131 
 
 busy writing letters, or was sewing, and did not 
 care to go. 
 
 Then I learned of another man in the case. 
 
 Until the appearance of the green-eyed monster, 
 I had borne my rebuffs with some measure of 
 philosophy ; but as soon as I became convinced that 
 there was a good-looking Spanish gentleman on the 
 Piersons visiting list, I was beside myself with 
 rage. I lost my appetite, grew morose, and even 
 threatened to take the next steamer for New York. 
 
 But when the ship weighed anchor, I was not 
 found upon the purser s list. Wild horses could 
 not have dragged me from the spot where my lit 
 tle tormentor was housed ; and, had I received per 
 emptory orders to go home without delay, I feel 
 certain that I would have sent back my resigna 
 tion and remained to be tortured. 
 
 "You re making a fool of yourself, Jack," said 
 Larry, one day. "If this thing goes on, your 
 friends won t dare to speak to you, for fear of 
 having their noses bitten off. Come, now; cheer 
 up. She s got eyes for none but you, my lad." 
 
 "Then she s got a mighty odd way of showing 
 it," I retorted. "Running around town with that 
 Spanish fellow! Didn t she take luncheon with 
 him yesterday and didn t she make one of his 
 box party, the night before?"
 
 132 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "But the party was given in honor of her 
 father," said Sullivan. 
 
 "In his honor fiddlesticks!" I exclaimed. "He 
 gave the party solely to get her to go to the thea 
 tre with him, and you know it. Who the devil 
 is the fellow, anyway? Do you know anything 
 about him, Larry?" 
 
 "Not very much," he admitted. "Except that 
 his name is Sagastor, and that he s got no end 
 of money. He s been around town for two or 
 three weeks, and seems to be hand in glove with 
 all the Spanish officers. But don t let him spoil 
 your digestion, old fellow. You ve nothing to fear 
 from him. Norelle Pierson is a sensible girl 
 altogether too sensible to think of hitching her 
 self to some foreigner because he happens to have 
 a title and a little money." 
 
 A day or two later, I gritted my teeth with 
 anger when I read in the papers the annoucement 
 that this same Sagastor had been appointed to the 
 vacant governor-generalcy. Even the subsidized 
 papers of St. Croix were unable to tell their read 
 ers anything definite concerning the new official. 
 They spoke in the vaguest terms about his dis 
 tinguished lineage, of his great executive ability, 
 and of his unlimited wealth. 
 
 But throughout the city one heard little praise
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 133 
 
 for Sagastor. When his name was spoken in the 
 cigar stores and restaurants, he was called an up 
 start, an importation, an imposition upon the 
 island and its people. His sole qualification for 
 the place, the gossips said, was the price paid the 
 home government for the place. In these days, 
 when the administration at Madrid is so hard 
 pressed for cash, Mr. Moneybags can have any 
 thing he wants. It is disgusting. However Sa 
 gastor came by his office, there was no belittling 
 the brilliance of his inauguration. A magnificent 
 pageant of soldiers and civilians, of churchmen 
 and municipal dignitaries accompanied him to the 
 cathedral, where he received the blessing of the 
 archbishop, and made oath of allegiance to the 
 church. Following the religious ceremony, Sa 
 gastor took the legal oath of office at the palace, 
 and announced the members of his cabinet. 
 
 "The new governor-general is starting out 
 mighty well, I think," observed General Pierson, 
 at supper, that evening. "He has issued a proc 
 lamation abolishing martial law, and has granted 
 a full pardon to the Yellow Queen and all her 
 followers." 
 
 "There aren t many Voodoos left to pardon, are 
 there?" I asked. "I shouldn t think the queen had 
 a corporal s guard left, to-day, after all the
 
 134 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 thousands that have been wiped out by Bolero." 
 
 "There are twenty thousand of them left, if 
 there s one," replied the general. "You have no 
 idea of the density of the negro population in other 
 parts of the island. Bolero s soldiers never 
 marched more than ten or fifteen miles from the 
 city during all their negro-killing campaign." 
 
 "What do you think of the new official?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "I think he will make a first-rate executive," re 
 plied the general. "You see, I ve been acquainted 
 with him for some little time. He was a guest at 
 the hotel for several days, while waiting for the 
 formal announcement of his elevation to the 
 office." 
 
 "And I knew he was to be governor-general a 
 week ago," put in Norelle, with a toss of her head. 
 
 "You appear to have a very confidential ac 
 quaintance with him," I snapped viciously. "I 
 suppose you like him pretty well." 
 
 "I think he is perfectly grand," she replied, with 
 a dazzling smile. 
 
 "It takes only a little gold lace to turn a girl s 
 head," I blurted out, getting up from the table 
 with murder in my heart. 
 
 "And it takes nothing at all to make fools of 
 some young men," retorted Miss Pierson.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 VARNEY REAPPEARS 
 
 LARRY rushed into our room and began throwing 
 articles of clothing into his valise. He was evi 
 dently in a state of high excitement; for he ex 
 claimed : 
 
 "Jack, we ve got him we ve got him dead to 
 rights!" 
 
 "Got whom?" I asked. 
 
 "Who do you suppose? Varney, of course." 
 
 "Why don t you lock him up, then?" I asked. 
 "Are you packing your things to go home?" 
 
 "I m going to lock him up before the day is 
 over," replied Larry, continuing his hurried pack 
 ing; "for I m going after him with the bracelets 
 this very minute." 
 
 "Then I m going, too," I cried, taking on a 
 measure of his excitement, "I ve got to be in at the 
 finish of this hunt, you know. Where is he ? Who 
 gave you the tip? How are you going to take 
 him?" 
 
 135
 
 136 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 As I sent in a rapid fire of questions, I pulled 
 my valise from under the bed, and began to toss 
 things inside, in imitation of Sullivan. 
 
 "He s hiding over at Angeles, on the other side 
 of the island. Been there for two weeks, the 
 crook, and is to sail for Spain to-morrow. But 
 I m sorry to say, old man the fact is, I ve got to 
 do this job alone." 
 
 "What!" I cried. "You mean to tell me that 
 I m not going with you? Oh say I call that 
 pretty shabby ! Why can t I go ?" 
 
 "Because I had to promise to go alone, or not 
 at all," explained Larry. "It was a case of take 
 the tip that way, or not get it at all." 
 
 "And who gave you this wonderful informa 
 tion?" I asked sourly. 
 
 "The captain-general of police," replied Larry. 
 "His secret service men located Varney over 
 there, and are to help me take him when I reach 
 Angeles. As far as that is concerned, though, I 
 don t need any help. I could take him myself, 
 any day he ever drew breath. Now, don t you be 
 cut up over it, old partner. You know that you ll 
 be in on the glory and the cash, share and share 
 alike. You really ought to be glad to be spared 
 the trouble." 
 
 "But it is just as important for me to be in at
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 137 
 
 the death as it is for you !" I exclaimed. "I have 
 my orders as well as you have, and I ve just got 
 to go that s all there is to it." 
 
 My face must have reflected the keen dis 
 appointment I felt; for Larry hastened to say 
 sympathetically : 
 
 "I d like best way to have you along, Jack; but 
 just can t take you. That s the final word. If you 
 act ugly, and insist, I ll be obliged to call the thing 
 off, and we ll never get him. As I said before, I ve 
 got to go alone, or not at all. I ve given my word." 
 
 "Well, it looks mighty suspicious to me !" I cried 
 bitterly "They just want to get you out in some 
 God-forsaken place and put you out of the way. 
 You ll be ambushed on the road, mark my word. 
 I wouldn t go a step. It looks crooked, and you 
 know it." 
 
 "Gee, but you re a suspicious young person, 
 aren t you?" cried Larry, with an assumption of 
 spirits which I do not believe he felt. "Now, what 
 possible motive could the captain-general have for 
 giving me the wrong steer ? His bread is buttered on 
 the other side ; for I ve promised him five hundred 
 dollars if he gives me the tip that lands our man." 
 
 "Well, I ve said all I can," I retorted sulkily. 
 "But you just look out for yourself that s all I 
 have to offer. You ll, at least, go heeled, and leave
 
 138 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 the bulk of your coin with me for safekeeping." 
 I tossed my clothing back into the chest of 
 drawers, and kicked the satchel under the bed. 
 
 "Say, what do you take me for a kid?" de 
 manded Larry. "Any joker that wants to hold 
 me up on the road is welcome to try it, but I d 
 advise him to order a headstone first." 
 
 Heavy, indeed, was my heart when I looked out 
 of the window, ten minutes later, and watched 
 Larry drive away in a two-wheeled cart. He was 
 accompanied by a man whose face I could not see, 
 but whose shoulders were as square as his, and 
 who seemed to be even taller than he. 
 
 Still filled with misgivings, I went downstairs, 
 and had a talk with the clerk of the hotel. An 
 geles, he told me, was a small fishing town on the 
 northern side of Gabrielle, and was reached from 
 St. Croix by a tortuous trail leading over the 
 shoulder of Mont Lazarre. 
 
 "What sort of a harbor has Angeles?" I asked. 
 
 "None to speak of," replied the clerk. "It can 
 accommodate a few fishing boats, but none of any 
 draught. St. Croix has the only harbor worthy 
 the name in Gabrielle." 
 
 "How often do ships clear Angeles for Spain?" 
 I asked. 
 
 The man laughed aloud. "Just about as often
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 139 
 
 as they do for heaven," he replied. "I told you 
 that ocean-going vessels could not be accommo 
 dated in the harbor." 
 
 "Thanking the clerk, I hurried upstairs, and 
 packed a few articles in a hand bag; then ran up 
 the flight of steps to the floor above, to enlist the 
 services of Captain Billings and Hollis. I was 
 resolved to follow Larry to Angeles, with all pos 
 sible haste. Had I heard the conspirators plot 
 ting Sullivan s death on the road, I could not have 
 been more certain that he was running into a 
 trap. 
 
 The information about the harbor at Angeles 
 proved the captain-general of police a liar ; and all 
 that I lacked in the way of information about the 
 attack which I knew would be made upon Larry, 
 was the exact location of the spot. If I could not 
 reach the scene in time to prevent the ambush, I 
 might at least rescue him, if he were taken pris 
 oner, or avenge his murder, if he were killed. 
 
 With the detective out of the way, Varney 
 would be safe in Gabrielle. He could pay the 
 captain-general of police one hundred thousand 
 dollars for Sullivan s head, just as easily as the 
 latter could offer five hundred dollars for his. 
 The embezzler, doubtless, figured that, after he 
 had removed the detective, it would be an easy
 
 140 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 matter to snuff out the newspaper man, if the lat 
 ter should fail to take the hint and leave the 
 island. Sullivan was the man to be feared, and 
 Sullivan had obligingly walked into his net. 
 
 As I hurried by the Piersons suite, on the floor 
 above, I was startled to encounter a Spanish cap 
 tain of cavalry standing outside the door. I 
 halted in front of him. 
 
 "What are you doing here at the door of the 
 United States consul?" I demanded hotly. 
 
 "I have my orders, senor," he replied mildly. 
 
 "Orders to watch the consul, eh?" I cried. "By 
 Jove, you ll not stand here long! This espionage 
 won t be tolerated a moment longer." 
 
 I was fast working myself into a passion, and 
 had half a notion to thrust my revolver down the 
 young man s throat. 
 
 "Senor has no cause for anger," he said, in a 
 conciliatory tone. "Believe me, senor, I am not 
 spying, or performing any other unpleasant duty. 
 I am the governor-general s aide. His excellency 
 is making a call upon the consul, and I am merely 
 waiting for him to conclude his business." 
 
 The captain was so decent about it all that I 
 would straightway have apologized, had his last 
 words not aroused the tiger of jealousy within 
 my breast.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 141 
 
 "Oh, ho! He s calling upon the consul, is he?" 
 I sneered. "You had better say upon the consul s 
 pretty daughter. It may not be polite, but, by 
 gad, I m going to take part in that tete-a-tete, 
 myself. I ll put my oar right into this pond, now; 
 and I don t care a rap whether the boat tips over 
 or not. I might just as well have it out now as 
 later." 
 
 "Senor is unduly excited, and had better retire 
 to his apartment," advised the captain, not un 
 kindly. "Possibly he was up late with his 
 friends." 
 
 "I don t blame you for thinking me tipsy," I 
 said, a little more calmly. "Pray, pardon me, cap 
 tain ; but the thought of the governor-general, of 
 all men, visiting here thus early in the morning, 
 upsets me more than you can imagine." 
 
 "I have had affairs of the heart, myself," he 
 said sympathetically. "But do you not think it 
 would be wise to wait until his excellency departs, 
 and you are in a calmer mood?" 
 
 "I am calm perfectly calm !" I cried, my anger 
 leaping to the boiling point to belie my words. 
 "And, what is more, I wish to meet the governor- 
 general, face to face." 
 
 "Just as the senor deems best," said the cap 
 tain, with a bow, stepping aside to let me pass.
 
 142 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "I assure you I have no warrant to bar his pas 
 sage. Nevertheless, I believe my counsel wise." 
 
 Not deigning to answer him, I threw wide the 
 door, and strode into the little hallway upon which 
 opened the various rooms of the suite. Proceed 
 ing to the door of General Pierson s office, directly 
 ahead, I knocked, and, receiving word to come in, 
 obeyed the order. 
 
 The general was alone, as I had surmised. He 
 looked up in a preoccupied manner from a pile 
 of documents, and asked : 
 
 "What can I do for you, Smith? Nothing? 
 Well, then, you ll pardon me if I go ahead with 
 my work. You ll find the women folks in the sit 
 ting room. Walk right in." And he buried his 
 nose in the papers. 
 
 I did as he bade me, and entered the sitting 
 room, but realized on the instant that I had ar 
 rived at a most inopportune moment. 
 
 The governor-general was evidently in the 
 midst of an impassioned declaration; for he was 
 clasping Norelle s hand, and was pouring a tor 
 rent of words into her ear. She was seated in a 
 chair, and he was bending over her; and, in the 
 momentary survey I took of the tableau, it seemed 
 to me that she was yielding to his suit. If she 
 were not, why did she allow the man to hold her
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 143 
 
 hand without protest? Why did she suffer him to 
 proceed with his odious love-making? 
 
 Neither heard me open the door ; and as I stood 
 there upon the threshold, my hand instinctively 
 sought the rough grip of my revolver; for there 
 was murder in my heart, and I should have de 
 lighted in sending a bullet crashing through that 
 black crown, so near the sunny curls I loved. 
 
 There was something strangely familiar in the 
 governor-general s voice. Surely I had heard 
 those tones before. But where? 
 
 I slammed the door behind me, to give the 
 lovers due notice of my presence, and as the man 
 whirled round, to glare fiercely at me, his iden 
 tity was revealed. 
 
 "Do you not see that we are engaged?" he de 
 manded, in hoarse, angry tones. 
 
 Norelle had risen to her feet, with a gesture 
 of impatience; but I observed that the man still 
 grasped her hand. 
 
 "I beg the young lady s pardon/ I exclaimed, 
 with a bow to Norelle. 
 
 "And mine, senor, as well," said the governor- 
 general, in a still more angry voice. 
 
 "I think you might have the politeness to 
 leavG," Norelle finally said, her face suffused with 
 blushes, but her firm lips and darkening brow
 
 144 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 showing that she regarded my appearance as an 
 unpardonable intrusion. 
 
 "Leave you with him ?" I cried, advancing into 
 the room, and pointing my finger at the man. "I 
 wonder if you know who he is? If you had the 
 faintest idea of his identity and character, you 
 would no more allow him to touch you than you 
 would the deadliest snake in Gabrielle." 
 
 "Have a care!" cried the governor-general 
 threatingly. 
 
 "He is my friend, and my father s friend," said 
 Norelle; "and while he is in our house, he shall 
 be protected from insult. I, therefore, ask you, 
 Mr. Smith, to leave the room at once." 
 
 "Not until you hear me through !" I stormed, in 
 still louder tones. "Not until I tear the mask from 
 that man s face." 
 
 "I shall hold you responsible for every word 
 you utter," hissed the governor-general. 
 
 "I know what I am saying, Joe Varney," I cried. 
 "I also know your black record. Your face is in 
 the rogue s gallery of every town in the States, 
 and, by Jove, I m going to take you back there, 
 you thief, to stand trial for robbing a city full of 
 widows and orphans!" 
 
 "You lie!" he shouted, his face livid with rage. 
 "For this I shall have you whipped within an inch
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 145 
 
 of your life in the public square. I ll teach you to 
 insult me in the presence of the young lady who 
 is to become my wife." 
 
 "Liar !" I screamed, fairly beside myself. "Be 
 fore I d see her your wife, I d see her in her grave, 
 and put her there myself. Any woman were bet 
 ter dead than linked to a creature like you." 
 
 "By God, I ll kill you for that!" cried the mas 
 querading embezzler, whipping out a dagger and 
 rushing at me. Norelle screamed; General Pier- 
 son and the Spanish captain burst into the room 
 through one door, and Mrs. Pierson through 
 another. 
 
 "Stop! This is American territory," cried the 
 consul. But Varney bore down upon me, with his 
 knife upraised, and, just as the blade was about 
 to descend, he felt the chill muzzle of my revolver 
 thrust against his throat. 
 
 "Drop the knife," I cried, "or, by the eternal, 
 I ll blow daylight through your neck !" 
 
 The dagger fell with a rattle to the floor ; and, 
 as I glared into his eyes, I could see the blood re 
 ceding from his veins, and his face take on a 
 sickly, greenish hue of fear. 
 
 "Stand where you are, captain," I cried, over 
 my shoulder, to the advancing Spanish officer. 
 "Another step by you means his excellency s death."
 
 146 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "No farther, captain, I beg of you!" pleaded 
 Varney, whose trembling knees now threatened 
 to let him to the floor. "Please leave the room at 
 once, captain; for I think Seiior Smith and I can 
 settle our little differences without your aid." 
 
 I heard the captain s footsteps receding rapidly, 
 and was certain that he had gone to summon help 
 for his commander. Within a few minutes, I 
 knew, the hotel would be surrounded by a cordon 
 of soldiers, and I should be caught like a rat in a 
 trap. 
 
 "If it were not for making a mess on the floor, 
 and distressing Miss Pierson and her mother, I d 
 end your career right now!" I exclaimed, boring 
 the revolver barrel deep into Varney s throat, un 
 til he whined with pain. "But I ll spare you, for 
 their sakes. Now, I m going to join Sullivan on 
 the wild-goose chase you sent him on. But we ll 
 come back soon and get you, you thief mark my 
 words; we ll get you! Good-by, Miss Pierson; 
 good-by, Mrs. Pierson; good-by, general. You 
 had better revive your guest. His excellency has 
 developed a sudden weakness." 
 
 As I spoke, Varney s legs gave way, as though 
 some one had struck him in the middle, and he 
 crumpled up on the floor. 
 
 I turned and ran out of the room at full speed.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 147 
 
 The hotel lobby was almost deserted, and only 
 the clerk, and one or two loungers, looked up as 
 I dashed out of the door, and down the street, in 
 the direction of the nearest carriage house. I was 
 thankful that the livery stable was located on a 
 side street; for, when I turned the corner, I was 
 out of sight from the hotel, and, unless I had been 
 observed, I was beyond danger of immediate pur 
 suit. 
 
 "A horse a saddle horse, at once!" I cried, 
 rushing into the stable, and shaking the propri 
 etor, who sat dozing in a chair. 
 
 "Going for the doctor?" he asked, arising and 
 hurrying to the stalls. 
 
 "More urgent than that," I exclaimed. "I ride 
 for the priest. Even now, the poor man may be 
 passing away, with all his sins upon his head." 
 
 "Holy Virgin !" he cried, crossing himself. "I 
 pray you may get him in time. Pay me when 
 you return. You are at the hotel, are you not; 
 with the American consul?" 
 
 "Yes many thanks," I replied, throwing my 
 self into the saddle. "But you had better take 
 your money now." And I dropped a gold piece 
 into his hand, as I dug my heels into the horse s 
 sides and dashed out of the door. 
 
 "Peace to the soul of the dying!" cried the stable
 
 148 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 keeper piously, as he again crossed himself, and 
 settled into his chair for a continuation of his 
 nap. 
 
 As I rode down the street, I could hear the 
 clank of arms and the marching of men in front 
 of the hotel, around the corner on the other street. 
 One square I rode toward the sea, then westward 
 for four. I then deemed it safe to head for the 
 north, in the direction of Mont Lazarre. Cross 
 ing the street of the plaza and the Hotel Madrid, 
 I cast a hurried glance to the east, and saw that 
 the thoroughfare was filled with soldiers. 
 
 "Guard the hotel well, my men !" I cried exult 
 antly, as the fresh breeze from the sea filled my 
 lungs, and the tingle of battles to come coursed 
 through my blood. 
 
 The good little horse beneath me seemed to be 
 charged with some of my spirit; for he sniffed 
 the air joyfully, and broke into a gallop that put 
 five miles of rough mountain road between us and 
 the hotel within the hour. 
 
 By and by, we came to a clearing, from which 
 we had a magnificent view of the city and the bay. 
 The plaza was filled with marching soldiers, and 
 a bell was clanging from the governor-general s 
 palace.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE ROAD 
 
 IT WAS mid-forenoon, and I had not encountered 
 a person on the upward journey. 
 
 As I drew nearer to Mont Lazarre s mouth, the 
 breeze from the sea shifted the great smoke plume 
 over my head, and the horse and I were soon cov 
 ered with an impalpable coat of lava dust. 
 
 A weird, crooning chorus from above broke 
 upon my ear, and seemed to approach. Fearing 
 that it was some troop of Voodoo worshipers on 
 the way to one of their orgies, I forced the horse 
 into a thicket beside the road, and waited for the 
 singers to pass. Although the new governor-gen 
 eral s proclamation of peace and amnesty had 
 ended the wholesale butcheries on both sides, I 
 deemed it still unsafe to meet a considerable num 
 ber of the blacks alone ; so it was with some anxi 
 ety that I watched for their coming. 
 
 You may guess my relief, when, instead of a 
 
 149
 
 150 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 fierce band of warriors, armed with machetes and 
 firearms, there emerged from the narrow road 
 way in the trees, half a dozen negro women, bear 
 ing baskets of bananas and yams upon their heads. 
 They were doubtless on their way to the market 
 place at St. Croix. 
 
 Sallying from my place of concealment, I 
 created some little consternation in their ranks, 
 but soon reassured them by holding my empty 
 hands aloft and calling to them that I was a 
 friend. They answered in kind, and chattered 
 volubly when I asked them if they had met two 
 white men riding toward Angeles. 
 
 They had indeed met the white men, and the 
 white men had paid them an unheard-of price for 
 bananas. One of the white men was red of hair, 
 and the other black. 
 
 I pushed on as rapidly as possible. 
 
 In another hour, I reached the shoulder of the 
 mountain, and, as I stood at the top of the rise, 
 could view the sea on the north as well as on the 
 south. The city of St. Croix was a white patch, 
 no larger than half a button, down by the water s 
 edge, and the sails of the biggest ships in the 
 harbor were mere specks. On the northern coast, 
 I could see another town, much smaller than St. 
 Croix, which I decided must be Angeles.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 151 
 
 The beauty of the scene did not hold me long; 
 for I felt that Larry s safety perhaps his very 
 life depended on the speed I should make. The 
 horse, though still panting from the long climb, 
 started at a brisk pace on the downward journey. 
 
 After making about three miles, I halted the 
 horse, and listened; for I thought I heard a dis 
 tant shot. While I was straining my ears for a 
 repetition of the sound, a series of screams or, 
 more correctly, squeaks awoke the echoes of 
 the forest below. Then there came a patter of 
 bare feet; and a black boy, clad solely in a straw 
 hat, came dashing up the incline. The regularity 
 of his squeaks and hops reminded me of a mechan 
 ical toy. 
 
 The inky apparition had made exactly nine hops 
 and three squeaks before his eyes encountered my 
 figure. The sight brought him up suddenly, and 
 he turned, as though to go back again. But fear, 
 or weariness, or both, put escape out of his power ; 
 and he threw up his hands, to collapse in a little 
 heap on the road. I shouted to him, but he made 
 no answer or motion ; so I rode down to where he 
 lay, and slapped him smartly with my hat. But 
 he still lay as though dead, and I might have be 
 lieved him so, but for a slight motion of his closed 
 eyelids.
 
 152 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "White man kill black boy if black boy does not 
 get up," I cried, in Spanish. 
 
 The black youngster leaped to his feet, and 
 threw himself on his knees beside the horse. 
 "Peppit be good! White man no shoot!" he 
 wailed, in terror. 
 
 "Well, see that you are good," I commanded. 
 "Now, tell me what you are running and yelling 
 for?" 
 
 "Him big fight down there," he replied, begin 
 ning to sob hysterically, and pointing down the 
 mountain as he spoke. "Him big fight. Shoot 
 blood machete !" 
 
 "Who are fighting white men, or black men ?" 
 I demanded. 
 
 "One, two t ousand white men. Big fight. 
 Shoot machete blood !" he cried. 
 
 "You re a little liar," I exclaimed, reaching 
 down and shaking him roughly by the shoulder. 
 "There aren t a thousand white men in Gabrielle." 
 
 "Peppit no lie Peppit tell truth. Him big 
 fight," he said stubbornly. 
 
 "Are you going to tell me the truth, you little 
 rascal, or will I have to use this?" As I spoke, 
 I drew my revolver and brandished it threaten 
 ingly. 
 
 "No shoot, white man no shoot!" he yelled.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 153 
 
 "Peppit tell truth when he say more than two 
 white men in big fight. Here all men in fight." 
 
 He held up both hands as he spoke. The right 
 one was open, with all the fingers outspread; and 
 the left had only the index finger displayed. 
 
 "There were six? You are sure of that, are 
 you?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes white men, like this," he agreed ; and, as 
 he spoke, he seized a twig that lay beside the road, 
 broke it into six pieces, and placed them side by 
 side in the dirt. 
 
 "Good!" I exclaimed approvingly. "Now, tell 
 me, Peppit did you see a wagon down there 
 where the men were fighting a thing with 
 wheels, round, like this?" I made a ring in the 
 air with my fingers. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, nodding vigorously. "Him 
 wagon at big fight." 
 
 "How many wheels on wagon?" I asked. 
 
 "Round things like that? So?" He held up 
 two fingers. 
 
 "Good boy, Peppit!" I cried, throwing him a 
 peso. "Go home now, and buy yourself some 
 molasses, or candy, or whatever you black kids 
 like. I m going to^get into that scrap, and make 
 it two to five, instead of five to one." 
 
 As I spoke, I dug my heels into the horse s
 
 154- THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 flanks, and slapped him on the ears with my hat. 
 
 Down the road galloped the animal, every leap 
 promising to be our last ; for broken pieces of rock 
 were strewn thickly upon the pathway, and here 
 and there, deep holes and ruts had been worn by 
 tropic rains. The game little saddler must have 
 had chamois blood in his veins ; for he raced down 
 six hundred yards of treacherous incline, as sure 
 footed as a goat, and, almost before I had time 
 to draw my revolver, had hurled me into the midst 
 of my enemies. 
 
 I had scant time to look at the tableau presented 
 upon that narrow mountain trail scant time to 
 see Larry, bound hand and foot, beside the road 
 way, or to note the fact that one of his foes was 
 stretched dead, with mouth and eyes wide open 
 to heaven, while another lay moaning a few feet 
 away, his face crushed in as though from the kick 
 of a mule, and his head soaking in a pool of blood. 
 
 With a shout, I galloped into that open slaugh 
 terhouse, shooting as fast as I could pull trigger 
 at a trio of Spaniards, who leaped to their feet 
 to return my fire with a rain of bullets. 
 
 One of the fellows threw up his arms and 
 pitched forward on his face before I had gone 
 twenty yards, his shrill cry proclaiming the fact 
 that one of my bullets had found a vital mark. A
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 155 
 
 second of the fighting trio must have stopped a 
 projectile with his leg, for he dropped like a crip 
 pled dog, but continued shooting from the ground. 
 
 I was now almost upon them, and dug heels 
 into the horse, with a triumphant cry, intending 
 to ride down the third marksman, whose barking 
 revolver was spitting fire in my face. 
 
 "You can t hit a barn door!" I yelled exult- 
 ingly, and in another second my horse s hoofs 
 would have ground him into the earth. 
 
 There was a crash as of big buildings crum 
 bling, and a singing in my ears, such as I heard 
 one day when I stood in the path of a cyclone and 
 saw the havoc wrought by the monster of the 
 air. Then I knew nothing. 
 
 When I reopened my eyes to consciousness, I 
 was pitching and jolting in a cart, my hands and 
 feet bound, and my body doubled up like a jack- 
 knife. My head was splitting with pain, and I 
 suffered excruciating agony in one shoulder. 
 
 "You sure put up a fine scrap, but why the 
 devil did you butt in the way you did?" asked a 
 voice at my elbow. 
 
 It was Larry, beside me in the cart. One glance 
 showed me that he was pinioned as I was, while 
 above us on the seat was an ugly fellow, who 
 scowled darkly at us as we spoke. Another
 
 156 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Spaniard was walking along beside the horse. 
 
 "Where are we?" I asked. 
 
 "On the road to trouble, as near as I can make 
 out," replied Larry. 
 
 "But where s my horse? They ought to fetch 
 him along, too." 
 
 "That horse of yours is just now too full of 
 holes for a pepper box. I don t see, for the life 
 of me, how you ever got as far as you did with 
 those three dagoes pumping lead into you." 
 
 "Are you hurt?" 
 
 "Not much, except in the vanity department," 
 replied Larry. "Oh, I am the prize mark! 
 There s no getting around that fact. Why, I acted 
 just like a kid walked into their trap just as 
 though I was a trained pup !" 
 
 "But you must have made things hot for them," 
 I said as soothingly as I could. 
 
 "Lots of good that did!" he retorted bitterly. 
 "And lots of good you did, too. They did me up 
 to the queen s taste, and now they ve got us both. 
 Why the devil didn t you show a lick or two of 
 sense, and make a sneak on the camp, instead of 
 sailing in just as though you had the whole United 
 States Army at your back? But, then, what s the 
 use of talking? We re both too young and unso 
 phisticated to leave our mothers, anyway."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 157 
 
 We rode along in gloomy silence for a mile or 
 two. Every stone encountered by the wheels of 
 the cart caused us to groan as our hurts were 
 jarred, and whenever he received an unusually 
 severe jolt, Larry would turn loose upon the 
 Spaniard a picturesque volley of American oaths. 
 
 "Where do you suppose they are taking us?" 
 I asked, after a time. 
 
 "Back to St. Croix, I suppose," replied Larry. 
 "Back to where Varney will probably show his 
 hand in some devilish way or other." 
 
 "He s likely to have us garrotted in the public 
 square, or order his soldiers to throw us from 
 the walls of Morro Castle," I added cheerfully. 
 
 "His soldiers?" echoed Larry, with scorn. "I d 
 like to know what soldiers that crook can mus 
 ter? All he can do is to work some dirty under 
 hand game with the governor-general, and he s 
 quite equal to that." 
 
 "Unfortunately, he can call out every yellow 
 coat on the island," I exclaimed. 
 
 "What on earth are you talking about? The 
 bumps you got on your head must have knocked 
 a few bricks loose in your upper story." Larry 
 looked at me as though he really thought me 
 crazy. 
 
 "I know just what I am talking about," I con-
 
 158 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 tinned. "I d feel a good deal better if I did not. 
 Why, don t you know who Varney is now? But, 
 of course, you don t; for I didn t find out about 
 it, myself, until after you left." 
 
 "Well, come out with it!" cried Larry impa 
 tiently. "Say, you yellow-bellied pirate, if you 
 don t drive that horse more carefully over these 
 ruts, I ll bend your nose to the back of your neck 
 and hang our suspenders on it!" The last part 
 of his speech was delivered to the Spaniard in the 
 cart, who only scowled more fiercely than ever, 
 and gave the horse a vicious cut with the whip. 
 
 "Go on, Jack go on!" groaned Larry, as the 
 wheels struck another deep rut. "Put me wise to 
 the works." 
 
 Between my own exclamations of pain, I gave 
 him as clear an explanation of past events as I 
 could. Had the conditions of travel been more 
 pleasant, I should have enjoyed hugely the chang 
 ing expressions of amazement, anger, and self- 
 reproach that came to his face during the recital. 
 When I told him of the personal encounter with 
 Varney in the hotel, he chuckled heartily. 
 
 "Good boy good boy!" he cried. "I couldn t 
 have done it as well, myself. I ll bet you made a 
 great hit with the girl, when you turned that 
 trick."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 159 
 
 "Hit!" I exclaimed derisively. "So much of a 
 hit that she ordered me from the room." 
 
 "All the better, my boy," cried Larry. "Now 
 you can be sure she loves you. Oh, I know the 
 dear creatures like a book." 
 
 "You don t know Norelle," I retorted. "No 
 rule applies to her." 
 
 "Now, let me tell you, my son" began Sulli 
 van. Then he broke off with : "Well, what do you 
 think of that?" 
 
 The cart came to a sudden stop, and the driver 
 uttered a loud Spanish oath. 
 
 It was the last curse his lips ever framed; for, 
 like a gleam of light through a riven cloud, a 
 short-handled spear whizzed through the air above 
 our heads, and buried itself in the Spaniard s 
 breast. The hand he had raised, to point a re 
 volver in the direction of his foe, fell inert upon 
 his lap ; but the other hand still clutched the reins, 
 and stiffened over them with the grip of death. 
 
 In another moment, the road was filled with 
 chattering negroes; and the Spaniard afoot was 
 overwhelmed by a dozen stalwart blacks, who tied 
 his hands behind him and led him from our 
 sight. 
 
 A tall, copper-colored woman whom I at once 
 recognized as the Yellow Queen directed the
 
 160 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 movements of the negroes. She was accompanied 
 by the aged Voodoo priest and priestess Papaloi 
 and Mamanloi who had assisted in the sacrificial 
 ceremony on that long-to-be-remembered night 
 upon the mountain. 
 
 "It needs only the sweet face of the dog-man to 
 make the picture complete," remarked Larry, in 
 an undertone. 
 
 "Out of one trouble, into another," I said. 
 "Now, I d like to know what will happen to us." 
 
 "We ll probably be eaten alive," replied Larry 
 cheerfully. "I ought to be, too, for making such 
 an ass of myself." 
 
 Meanwhile, the Yellow Queen had issued a num 
 ber of imperious commands to her followers, dur 
 ing which she waved her supple arms frequently 
 in the direction of the volcano. About half the 
 crowd, men as well as women, hurried up the 
 path to do her bidding, while the others remained 
 as an escort to her majesty. 
 
 The Yellow Queen came toward us. "Release 
 the white strangers," she commanded, in Spanish. 
 "If the dogs of Spain have made them prisoners, 
 that is sufficient to secure their pardon from Joan 
 of Lazarre." 
 
 "Thanks awfully, your majesty," exclaimed 
 Larry, bowing low to the woman. "Now, if you ll
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 161 
 
 only add to this favor a bite or so to eat, we ll vote 
 you all to the good." 
 
 "You shall eat, Red Head," replied the queen. 
 "You and your friend, Fair Hair, shall eat soon 
 with me. Joan of Lazarre will be hospitable to 
 the Americans, even though it is against the will 
 of Father Mountain. Hear him! He is angry 
 with his daughter. One of these days, he will 
 punish her." 
 
 A mighty rumbling of the earth answered her 
 words; and some of the negroes, terrified at the 
 thunderous threat, wailed aloud. 
 
 "Come," ordered the queen. "The feast is be 
 ing prepared. Fair Hair will ride with Joan of 
 Lazarre. Red Head will walk beside us." 
 
 "No, no," I objected. "I m not as badly hurt 
 as my friend. I will walk, and he will ride." 
 
 "Joan has spoken. You will ride. Help Joan 
 into the cart, Fair Hair," was her decision ; and I 
 obeyed, although I detected a grin on Larry s face. 
 In the woman s voice, and in her flashing sloe- 
 black eyes, there was a spell which I was power 
 less to resist. The hand that clasped mine when 
 I helped her into the cart was like a coal of fire. 
 
 Joan spoke a few additional words of command 
 to her followers, and we started up the mountain 
 ous path.
 
 162 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Larry trudged beside the cart, and the negroes 
 surrounded and preceded us, marching to the time 
 of a funereal dirge, droned by several of the 
 men. 
 
 As we proceeded up the grade, Larry made 
 several ineffectual efforts to draw from the queen 
 some hint as to our destination. To all of these, 
 however, she said : 
 
 "Joan acts first, and talks afterward. Red 
 Head shall learn when Joan is ready." 
 
 "Well, I guess that Red Head doesn t care 
 where you re going, old lady," exclaimed Larry, 
 after the last rebuff of this sort. "I heard some 
 time ago that what you said goes here on the 
 island, but I never thought till now that I d go 
 when you said : March ! " 
 
 Several times during the journey, I discovered 
 the brilliant eyes of the queen regarding me fix 
 edly. They seemed to bore into my innermost 
 heart. 
 
 "When will Fair Hair marry the American 
 girl?" she asked suddenly, after we had gone on 
 in silence for a time. 
 
 "I do not know that I shall ever marry her," 
 I replied, feeling the blood mount to my temples 
 as I spoke. 
 
 "Have you asked her to be your wife?"
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 163 
 
 "That is none of your affair, Joan of Lazarre !" 
 I retorted angrily. 
 
 "Perhaps there is another who has a tighter 
 hold upon her heart than Fair Hair," she con 
 tinued, with quiet effrontery. 
 
 "She has a perfect right to marry whom she 
 pleases!" I blurted out, in a passion. "I have 
 claim neither on her hand nor on her heart." 
 
 "Why didn t you tell her what she wanted to 
 know in the first place?" exclaimed Larry. "I m 
 beginning to think the yellow lady isn t such a 
 dummy, after all." 
 
 If Joan felt any elation over the victory of her 
 wit, she did not show it; her face was as serene 
 as the surface of the Caribbean, which we were 
 soon to view again. Occasionally she turned her 
 gaze upon me ; and, strive as I might to overcome 
 the feeling, I began to fear the power that lay 
 behind the brilliant orbs set in the tawny frame 
 of her strange face. 
 
 I noticed that she wore a necklace of rubies. 
 The red gems seemed to break into jets of flame 
 as the jolting of the cart caused them to move 
 about over her throat and bosom a bosom that 
 would have shamed no sculptor who might have 
 given it to his bronze Juno or marble Venus. 
 
 In time, we reached the shoulder of the moun-
 
 164 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 tain, over which I had passed earlier in the day, 
 and again beheld the northern and southern pic 
 tures of the sunlit sea. Lazarre s great smoke 
 veil hung directly over St. Croix, and the shadow 
 cast by the sun seemed to blot out the city. 
 
 The queen observed the omen; for she cried, 
 waving her arm at smoke and town: 
 
 "Some day, Father Mountain will go down to 
 crush St. Croix, just as his shadow now cuts off 
 the light. He will avenge the murder of his chil 
 dren by the Spanish devils." 
 
 A rumble in the remote bowels of the earth 
 low, but distinct and menacing seemed to an 
 swer the prophecy. I shuddered in spite of my 
 self, and glanced at Larry, to see if he, too, had 
 been touched by the chill finger of premonition. 
 
 He was standing with his elbow resting on the 
 cart, and his eyes lost in the far north distance, 
 as though trying to pierce the space that separated 
 him from home. He started and changed color. 
 
 "It ll be a bad day for those dagoes down 
 there," he muttered, "when the mountain goes 
 down to St. Croix. And when it happens, I ll bet 
 a dime that the yellow girl, here, will be in at the 
 death."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE YELLOW QUEEN STRIKES 
 
 INSTEAD of descending from the shoulder of the 
 mountain by the road to St. Croix, as I had 
 expected they would, the negroes turned to the 
 west, plunging through a thicket of stunted 
 pines. 
 
 The cart was laboriously hauled through the 
 trees by the negroes lending hand at shafts and 
 wheels; but soon the going was easier, for we 
 reached more open ground, and discovered traces 
 of an abandoned road. After we had traveled 
 possibly two miles; we heard shouts ahead, which 
 were immediately answered by members of our 
 own party. 
 
 Within a few minutes, we came to what ap 
 peared to be a blank cliff, which lifted its rocky 
 face perpendicularly to a height of four or five 
 hundred feet. We still heard the voices that had 
 been calling to us ; and, at first, I thought that my 
 ears deceived me, for no human beings were in 
 
 165
 
 166 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 sight. But the path took a sudden turn, and, 
 passing around a corner, led into the yawning 
 opening of a cavern, around the mouth of which 
 were grouped half a hundred negro men and 
 women. 
 
 The opening in the mountain was twenty feet 
 high, and fully as wide, and, inside, its inky black 
 ness was revealed rather than dispelled by numer 
 ous flickering yellow lights. 
 
 At sight of us, the negroes set up a shout of 
 welcome, which the Yellow Queen acknowledged 
 with a wave of her arm and a word of greeting. 
 
 "We have arrived, Fair Hair," she exclaimed, 
 turning to me. 
 
 I leaped from the cart and helped her down; 
 and, when she had alighted, she still clung to my 
 hand with her burning grip. 
 
 "We will enter," she said, in tones even more 
 imperious. 
 
 I attempted to drop her hand; but she refused 
 to release my fingers, and we walked into the cave 
 side by side, Larry following closely at our heels. 
 
 As soon as my eyes became accustomed to the 
 gloom, I saw that a long table had been set in the 
 centre of the cave. Upon huge wooden platters 
 and leaves of tropic plants was spread a feast of 
 meats, fish, fowl, bananas, and yams. Nor was
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 167 
 
 liquid refreshment lacking; for in great earthen 
 crocks was what I afterward discovered to be a 
 supply of rum and native spirits, made from the 
 dregs of the sugar crop. 
 
 "Bow to the queen bow to the queen!" cho 
 rused a hundred voices, and half a dozen black 
 performers began a crazy medley of discord upon 
 native drums and reed instruments. 
 
 Nimbly preceding us, in spite of their great 
 age, Papaloi and Mamanloi ran to the right side 
 of the cave, each seizing a light from one of the 
 torch bearers. 
 
 "The Daughter of the Mountain is here," cried 
 the old man. 
 
 "The Daughter of the Mountain is here," 
 echoed the woman. 
 
 All the negroes in the gloomy tunnel threw 
 themselves upon their faces, and, in answer to a 
 signal from the queen, the old priest and priestess 
 hurled their torches into a heap of inflammable 
 material against the wall. A crimson flame, forty 
 feet long, and as high as the roof of the cave, 
 burst forth and illumined the grotesque scene. 
 
 Instinctively, I made a step as though to run 
 for the cavern s mouth. 
 
 "Fear not, Fair Hair," said the queen, still hold 
 ing my hand with her fierce grasp. "The flame
 
 168 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 is only a bright light set to guide our hands to 
 our mouths at the feast. It will not burn." 
 
 I could well believe her; for, although we were 
 within six feet of the great sheet of flame, I could 
 scarcely feel its warmth. 
 
 "Be seated here at my right hand, Fair Hair," 
 continued the queen. "And you, Red Head, take 
 the place at Fair Hair s right. Papaloi and 
 Mamanloi will be at my left." 
 
 Thus we seated ourselves, with our backs to that 
 weird blaze, which, as long as it continued to 
 burn, cast our monstrous shadows over the faces 
 of the hungry blacks on the opposite side of the 
 table, and played strange pranks in the sooty cor 
 ners of the cavern. 
 
 "Eat, my children !" cried the queen. "Eat and 
 drink of the bounty which Father Mountain has 
 given us. Eat, that you may be strong; drink, 
 that you may be full of courage, to cast the Span 
 ish devils from the land that was given to your 
 fathers." 
 
 A roar of cheers and curses, mingled with the 
 clash of steel, answered her words. Many of the 
 negroes waved machetes above their heads, while 
 others drew from their tattered garments gleam 
 ing daggers and rusty revolvers. 
 
 The warlike demonstration did not last long,
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 169 
 
 however; for in another moment the black mob 
 was at the food and drink, with hoggish eager 
 ness. They seized great portions of meat, tear 
 ing them apart with their white teeth, and stuffed 
 down whole yams at a gulp. The gourds, which 
 served as cups for the rum and spirits, circulated 
 with increasing rapidity; and, as the feast pro 
 gressed, quarrels and blows were of frequent 
 occurrence. 
 
 "Eat, Fair Hair!" cried the queen, leaning 
 toward me, and throwing her arm around my 
 neck. "I would that my guest displayed more 
 appetite,." 
 
 I tried to shake off her arm. It seemed like the 
 coil of a snake. 
 
 "I am not hungry," I exclaimed, but poorly dis 
 guising the loathing I felt. 
 
 "Joan is not hungry, either, Fair Hair," she 
 replied, holding me still closer with her bare arm. 
 "Joan is not hungry for food. She is famished 
 for love." 
 
 "Don t fast on our account," said Larry, who 
 had overheard only the first part of the Yellow 
 Queen s remarks. "Get busy and dig in, if you 
 want to. If you don t, there won t be enough left 
 for you to put in a hollow tooth." 
 
 Finding that my efforts to shake off Joan s arm
 
 170 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 were unavailing, I made no further protests; for 
 I realized that one word from her might bring 
 serious consequences to us both. 
 
 The sounds of fighting increased along the 
 table as the liquids sank in the earthen jars, and, 
 more than once, the queen was forced to rap 
 sharply upon the board in front of her and 
 threaten the disturbers with punishment. Now 
 and then, one of the mob, sated with drink, would 
 fall from his or her seat, and would be uncere 
 moniously kicked aside by the others. In this 
 manner the ranks were thinned considerably, and 
 only those with stronger heads and bodies re 
 mained upright. 
 
 "Where is the dog-man?" asked Larry. 
 
 It was an unwise question, for the queen re 
 leased me long enough to shake her finger at him, 
 while her eyes blazed with anger. "He is here!" 
 she cried. "Here, and well enough to do my bid 
 ding, in spite of the bullet that you sent against 
 him. You were a fool, to think you could harm 
 the queen s messenger." 
 
 As she concluded, she pointed toward the end 
 of the table. The misshapen creature was there 
 devouring the mass of victuals in front of his 
 hairy chest. As we looked, he uttered an angry 
 snarl, snatched the hand of a woman who sat
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 171 
 
 beside him, brought it to his mouth, and tore it 
 with his tusks. 
 
 The woman uttered a shriek of pain. 
 
 "Serves her right," cried the Yellow Queen, 
 with a laugh. "She should not be fool enough to 
 try to steal the dog-man s food." 
 
 "You are a wonder!" exclaimed Larry, resum 
 ing the subject, which had been interrupted by 
 the exhibition of ferocity. "So you were wise to 
 the game we played, that night on the mountain?" 
 
 "I know everything that takes place on Gabri- 
 elle," she retorted boastfully, "and I warn you, 
 now, that Joan of Lazarre is not to be cheated of 
 what is hers by Red Head or any other stranger 
 from the north. If he still opposes her, she will 
 cast a spell upon him that will twist his bones, 
 turn his blood to water, and cause his flesh to rot 
 with leprosy." 
 
 "Cheerful, I must say," replied Larry, smiling 
 in spite of the gruesome threat, which sent a 
 shudder to my heart. "I d rather be friends than 
 enemies with you, young lady; but you can bet 
 your last toad charm on one thing and that is, 
 when you start to chop up little kids and I hear 
 of it, I ll stop it if I can. I haven t a thing against 
 you, personally, but I must say I think you were 
 brought up wrong."
 
 172 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Another and fiercer altercation took place 
 among the negroes, at this time, to put an end to 
 our conversation; and, as peace was once more 
 restored by the queen, a tall, hooded figure stalked 
 majestically into the cavern and stood at the other 
 side of the table, in front of Joan, with folded arms. 
 
 "Welcome to our feast!" cried the queen, in 
 tones more respectful than I had ever heard her 
 use. "Be seated with us, Dumb Brother. We 
 welcome you." 
 
 The stranger bowed, and silently took seat in 
 front of us. During the remainder of the meal, I 
 felt his eyes peering steadily at me from beneath 
 bushy brows. He was a man of perhaps fifty, 
 with a face scarred by smallpox, as nearly as I 
 could discern ; but he kept his hood so far over his 
 eyes, and his chin so deeply buried in the folds of 
 his gown, that it was impossible to gain a fair 
 view of his features. Once, I tried to engage him 
 in conversation; but, as he only shook his head, 
 I came to the conclusion that he was, indeed, with 
 out power of speech. He partook of but little re 
 freshment, only occasionally tasting a banana, 
 and did not touch the liquors. 
 
 Old Papaloi and Mamanloi kept the crimson 
 flame behind us burning to the end of the meal. 
 As the last of the meats disappeared, the queen
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 173 
 
 arose from her seat and stretched her arms out 
 over her people. 
 
 "The time has come," she cried, "when the chil 
 dren of the mountain shall drive the Spaniards 
 from Gabrielle. Too long have they been allowed 
 to kill our people; too long have we been faint 
 hearted. We must strike at once, or suffer the 
 anger of Father Mountain. Even as we wait, like 
 cowards, the sacred fires in our father s heart are 
 being kindled. A few more days, and he will 
 send them to sweep us into the sea. Is that not 
 so, Father Mountain?" 
 
 A deep rumble came from the bowels of the 
 earth in direct answer to the queen, and I felt my 
 blood go chill at the omen. Surely, this awful 
 woman must have command over the sleeping 
 volcano; for did it not speak when she willed? 
 Had it not been silent, and then, at her command, 
 had it not replied? 
 
 "It is so, O queen. Kill the Spanish devils!" 
 shrieked the drunken negroes. 
 
 Machetes, daggers, and firearms were again 
 drawn and brandished in air. A score of the 
 blacks began a diabolical dance at the end of the 
 cave, the women joining with the men in per 
 forming wild gyrations, keeping time, the while, 
 with an uncanny Carib song.
 
 174 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "What must we do to turn away our father s 
 anger?" cried the queen. 
 
 "Give him blood !" screamed Papaloi and Mam- 
 anloi. 
 
 "Whose blood?" 
 
 "White man s blood!" yelled priest and priest 
 ess. 
 
 "What else do Papaloi and Mamanloi read in 
 the signs from the mountain?" asked the queen. 
 
 "The signs say that Joan of Lazarre must take 
 a mate," spoke the old man. "Father Mountain 
 says she must not give the blood sacrifices alone." 
 
 "Whom shall she marry?" asked the queen. 
 
 "A white man, not of the evil Spanish blood," 
 replied the priestess. "One who has not been long 
 in the land." 
 
 "Then here I choose!" cried the yellow woman, 
 suddenly turning upon me, and again throw 
 ing her snakelike arm about my neck. "This 
 fair-headed man shall be the lord of Joan of 
 Lazarre. To-day we saved him from the Spanish 
 devils. To-morrow he will help us destroy them 
 all." 
 
 I struggled to my feet, anger, dismay, disgust, 
 humiliation, and amazement struggling for ex 
 pression. My throat seemed to be paralyzed, and 
 I could not speak above a whisper. But I shook
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 175 
 
 my head with all the determination and emphasis 
 that I could put into such primitive action. 
 
 "Then you love another!" she cried, her voice 
 shrilling with anger. "You love the doll-faced 
 daughter of the bearded American." 
 
 "If you know everything, why ask for light 
 from me?" I cried. "I do love another, and I 
 intend to marry her, if I live." 
 
 The moment after, I wished that I had torn out 
 my tongue before uttering those words. 
 
 "You shall live, but you shall never marry her !" 
 cried the Yellow Queen, rising to her feet, and 
 striking the table a blow with her clenched fist. 
 "You shall not marry her, because you shall marry 
 me to-morrow, and she shall be here to witness 
 the ceremony. I shall send for her." 
 
 "I will not marry you, and she will not come at 
 your bidding," I retorted, now half beside myself 
 with rage. "And, what is more, I give you warn 
 ing that you had best leave all American citizens 
 alone. We are not harming you, and you will 
 regret the day that you laid hands on any of us. 
 Don t think you are playing with poor, old crip 
 pled Spain." 
 
 The queen laughed shrilly. "I care not for 
 America," she cried, snapping her fingers dis 
 dainfully. "Let them come with their soldiers,
 
 176 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 and Father Mountain will burn them up ; let them 
 come by the thousands, and the sea shall swallow 
 them. What Joan of Lazarre says, she means. 
 She will marry you to-morrow, Fair Hair; and 
 the pale-cheeked girl at the Hotel Madrid shall 
 be here to dance at the wedding. I will send the 
 dog-man for her; and, after we are married, the 
 dog-man shall have her." 
 
 "What!" I cried, in horror. "You will do noth 
 ing of the sort. You cannot get her, anyway ; for 
 the soldiers of the governor-general are guarding 
 the hotel, and your evil messenger will only meet 
 his death." 
 
 "Did the messenger I sent to the last governor- 
 general fail me?" sneered the queen. " Go to St. 
 Croix/ I said to him, and strangle his excellency 
 in his bed. Did the guards and the doors and the 
 bolts save his clean throat? His faithful sen 
 tinels found him, the next morning, with his eyes 
 open and his tongue out of his mouth. 
 
 "Did the messenger fail that I sent to the prose 
 cutor and the chief judge, and to Colonel Aguilas? 
 To-morrow, after our wedding, I will send for 
 General Bolero; for I hear that he is like to lose 
 his wits from fear. I wish him to possess all his 
 little brains when he faces the god of the moun 
 tain. So, you see, Joan of Lazarre makes no
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 177 
 
 threats she cannot fulfill. She will have the doll- 
 faced girl here in time for the wedding, and the 
 dog-man who gets her for me shall have her as 
 his reward." 
 
 "What has the poor girl done to you?" I cried, 
 in desperation. "She has never harmed a living 
 being. Surely, you cannot have the heart to do 
 such a terrible deed as that. What you do to me 
 is of little consequence. Have mercy on that inno 
 cent child." 
 
 "Innocent child faugh!" cried the queen. 
 "She is no child, who can rob Joan of Lazarre of 
 the love she demands. She is a woman grown, 
 with all a woman s wiles and tricks ; and she shall 
 pay in full for winning that which is Joan s by 
 right. If she will not live with the dog-man after 
 she is married to him, she shall be given as a sac 
 rifice to Father Mountain. But the dog-man shall 
 have her first." 
 
 "But she does not love me she loves another !" 
 I exclaimed, hoping by this plea to change the 
 cruel woman s mind. 
 
 "But you love her?" 
 
 I stammered a denial. 
 
 "The blood in your temples betrays you, and 
 proves you a liar. It also seals her fate." 
 
 "Have a care!" cried Larry. "That girl is the
 
 178 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 daughter of the American consul, a powerful offi 
 cial; and, if you harm her, a thousand soldiers 
 will be sent to wipe out Voodooism as with a 
 sponge." 
 
 "France sent her legions to Santo Domingo and 
 Gabrielle three hundred years ago," retorted the 
 queen. "They too, came to sweep Voodooism into 
 the sea. What became of those soldiers? They 
 did not return to France. But Voodooism sur 
 vived. I have decided, I tell you. The man with 
 bark like a dog shall get the girl." With that, she 
 clapped her hands, and uttered a sharp command 
 in a guttural tongue. 
 
 As she finished speaking, the hideous, hairy 
 monster at the other end of the table arose to his 
 feet, displayed his white tusks in a frightful grin, 
 and slunk from the cave. 
 
 As with one impulse, Larry and I leaped to our 
 feet. Before we could take a stride toward the 
 entrance before we could put hand on pistol grip 
 we were surrounded by a swarm of blacks, 
 were thrown to the rocky floor of the cavern, and, 
 within the space of half a minute, found ourselves 
 tied hand and foot. Larry swore a string of oaths 
 that would have incited a mob to violence in any 
 white man s country, but neither the queen nor her 
 followers paid the slightest attention to his tirade.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 179 
 
 "If we could only get some word to the Pier- 
 sons!" I exclaimed. "They might be prepared 
 for the yellow woman s messenger." 
 
 "Perhaps the dumb monk will carry a message 
 for us," suggested Larry; but the words were 
 scarcely out of his mouth before he uttered an 
 exclamation of dismay. 
 
 The dumb monk was gone. 
 
 Neither of us had seen the mysterious stranger 
 leave; and, as the queen at that moment issued 
 an order which sent a score of blacks running 
 from the cave, I believe that his sudden dis 
 appearance caused her some uneasiness, too. 
 
 "God grant that he has gone to warn them!" 
 I exclaimed; and Larry added: "Amen to that." 
 
 The negroes kept up their drinking for an hour 
 or two after we had been made prisoners; and, 
 long after the final vestige of meat had disap 
 peared, they continued gnawing the bones and 
 sucking the dregs of the rum crocks. The number 
 of drunken forms upon the floor increased; and, 
 being no longer fed by the old priest and priest 
 ess, the fire at our backs died down to a long bed 
 of smoldering embers, which sent up only infre 
 quent red flames, to fill the corners of the cave 
 with splotches of blood. 
 
 Finally, the Yellow Queen herself prepared to
 
 180 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 retire. "You shall learn to love me," she said, 
 leaning over and placing her hot cheek against 
 mine. "You shall drink of a love potion that will 
 make you forget the world, and remember only 
 Joan. Good night, my king, niy lord good 
 night." 
 
 She went to a far corner of the cave, and I could 
 see her there, outstretched in the dim light cast 
 by the flickering torches. For two hours, I 
 watched her fearfully, not daring to go to sleep. 
 I could see, or thought I could see, her eyes shin 
 ing through the gloom like the fiery orbs of a 
 tiger, waiting for his prey to close its eyes. At 
 last, sheer exhaustion forced my eyelids shut. 
 
 Larry was kicking me with his pinioned feet 
 when I again returned to consciousness. "Be 
 aisy and quiet," he whispered, as I opened my 
 eyes, "and push that machete over this way." 
 
 By the light of the dying fire, I could make out 
 the shape of a long-bladed knife near my feet. 
 With infinite caution, lest I make a noise that 
 would bring the negroes upon me, I pushed it over 
 in Larry s direction. It finally reached a point 
 where he could make use of it ; and, in the course 
 of another minute, he had managed to cut the 
 bonds that held his hands. Then he released his 
 feet, and crawled stealthily over to my side.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 181 
 
 "The whole bunch is asleep," he whispered, as 
 he went to work to free me. "Now is our chance 
 to make our break for the open." 
 
 "But the queen is watching us," I objected, with 
 the memory of those terrible eyes still burning 
 into my brain. 
 
 "Not so that you can notice it," he replied, with 
 confidence. "I ve been watching her; and she s 
 been asleep, good and sound, for more than an 
 hour. We can crawl and roll out of this place, 
 just as easy as you please." 
 
 "Suppose they wake?" I asked. 
 
 "Then it may be a case of fight," he replied. 
 "But a quiet getaway beats spilling blood, every 
 time. Hello! What s this?" 
 
 Uttering a suppressed exclamation of surprise, 
 Larry picked a piece of white paper from the 
 floor. 
 
 "It s got writing on it," he continued, as he 
 tried to read it. "But I m hanged if I can make 
 it out. We ll look it over later. In the meantime, 
 say good night to your yellow lady friend, and 
 let s get a move on." 
 
 Alternately rolling and crawling, we made for 
 the entrance, and had almost reached the goal 
 when, unluckily, my hand fell upon the upturned 
 face of a sleeping black man. His jaws closed
 
 182 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 like a steel trap; and, as his teeth met in the 
 fleshy part of my hand, I uttered an exclamation 
 of pain. 
 
 My cry was echoed by a dozen screeches one, 
 high pitched above the rest, coming from the Yel 
 low Queen, whom we could see dashing toward 
 us through the gloom. 
 
 Larry and I leaped to our feet, and ran with all 
 speed for the entrance. Two black men arose, to 
 block our flight, and we dropped them with blows 
 of our fists. Several pistol shots were fired in our 
 direction, but all went wild; and we dashed, un 
 harmed, out of the cave. 
 
 A dozen negroes, carrying torches, staggered 
 out of the cavern in our wake ; but all were stupid 
 from drink and sleep, and we were soon able to 
 leave them far behind. The Yellow Queen, prob 
 ably the only sober one in the crew, followed us 
 for a few hundred yards, with arms waving and 
 voice uplifted ; but she was no match for us as en 
 durance runners, and soon fell hopelessly to the 
 rear. 
 
 To put our enemies as far behind us as possible, 
 we kept up a brisk pace for a quarter of an hour, 
 before we sat down for a rest. 
 
 "Now, what on earth shall we do?" I asked, as 
 the discouragement of our position suddenly
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 183 
 
 overwhelmed me. "I suppose we ve got to make 
 for St. Croix with all possible speed, dangerous 
 as such a proceeding will be?" 
 
 "We sure have," agreed Larry. "We ve got to 
 go and save that little girl from the dog-man, or 
 die in the trying. Damn his skin! I ll bet the 
 next time I plant a bullet in him, he ll know he s 
 been hit." 
 
 "We might go into town disguised as Span 
 iards," I suggested. 
 
 "Or we might go to some second-hand store 
 and buy an old sailor s suit or two. We might 
 make up as pretty good Dutch sailors, don t you 
 think?" 
 
 "You d make a fine Dutch sailor, with that map 
 of Ireland that you re carrying about," I laughed. 
 
 "Oh, by the way," exclaimed Larry, beginning- 
 of a sudden to search his pockets, "I think I ll 
 take a peep at that bit of paper that I found back 
 there in the cave." 
 
 He found the white slip, and I held a match 
 over his shoulder while he read it. 
 
 "It s English, or I m a lobster!" he cried; then 
 he whistled softly, and handed the paper to me, 
 lighting a match in his turn, so that I might read 
 the following message: 
 
 "You will find her at the House on Stilts."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 LARRY and I stared blankly at each other through 
 the gloom. 
 
 "Why !" I cried. "The House on Stilts is the" 
 
 "The monastery of the dumb monks!" he ex 
 claimed, finishing the sentence for me. 
 
 "How the mischief could she get there?" I 
 asked, my brain in a whirl of perplexity over the 
 strange turn of affairs. 
 
 "Easy enough," replied Sullivan briskly. "It s 
 just as transparent as glass. Old Brother Mum, 
 at the feast in the cave, wrote the message to us. 
 He saw the way things were going, and beat a 
 quiet sneak to the door when no one was looking, 
 and got away unnoticed during the excitement. 
 He must have had a quarter of an hour s start of 
 the dog-man; and, as he probably knows the 
 mountain paths just as well, if not better, he will 
 beat him to the hotel. Dumb as he is, he ll prob- 
 
 184
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 185 
 
 ably be able to convince the general and Mrs. 
 Pierson that the safest place for the girl is in the 
 monastery. Once inside the House on Stilts, all 
 the Voodoos in the West Indies couldn t get her; 
 and she ll be as safe as if she were in the White 
 House at Washington." 
 
 "I hope your theory is correct," I said doubt 
 fully. 
 
 "It isn t a theory at all it s a fact," retorted 
 Larry. "I haven t been on the detective force for 
 five years for nothing. Now, it s a case of hike 
 to the House on Stilts for us. We haven t any 
 business at St. Croix yet a while. I judge you d 
 like to see a certain young lady before doing any 
 thing else." 
 
 "You re a good judge, Larry," I replied grate 
 fully. 
 
 Neither of us knew the exact location of the 
 House on Stilts; and all that we had to guide us 
 at first was the vague direction of "over yonder," 
 or "up in the mountains," that we had heard since 
 our arrival on the island. But we knew the gen 
 eral direction in which the monastery lay, and set 
 off north by west. 
 
 The stars and the moon guided our footsteps 
 quite clearly ; and, after walking an hour or more 
 through the region of stunted pines, we struck a
 
 186 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 well-defined trail which, luckily, led in the direc 
 tion we wished to take, and we made more rapid 
 progress. 
 
 We trudged on until morning; and as the sun 
 blazed over the hills, we met a native who agreed 
 to guide us to a point whence we could view the 
 monastery. It is not my purpose to lead you over 
 the toilsome path we followed all that day. Suffice 
 it to say, that, an hour before the sun dropped 
 over the smoking crest of Mont Lazarre, we came 
 to the edge of a valley which brought us in sight 
 of the House on Stilts. 
 
 The valley was, possibly, three miles across; 
 and the monastery, situated at the other side, 
 looked like a doll s house on straws. Its walls and 
 gables, glistening in the slant rays of the sun, 
 showed white as marble against the black bulk of 
 the cliff, that rose hundreds of feet above its roof. 
 The timbers supporting the house against the 
 wall of rock had their footing in the dense jungle 
 at the mountain s base. Even at that distance, 
 the monastery looked large enough to house an 
 army. 
 
 "So far, so good, Menelik," said Larry, address 
 ing the black guide, as the latter stopped short. 
 "Why don t you go ahead?" 
 
 The negro shook his head. "Valley belong to
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 187 
 
 Sun God and men without tongues," he said. 
 "Yellow Queen s- people him no go there." 
 
 "You don t say!" exclaimed Larry. "So there 
 are other spook raisers on the island besides your 
 old yellow girl? Well, if you quit, you quit, I sup 
 pose. Still, as long as you ve brought us within 
 sight of the bungalow we re looking for, I guess 
 I ll have to pay you off, and let you go." 
 
 The guide was paid, and quickly slipped out of 
 sight on the back trail. Larry and I then plunged 
 into the valley. 
 
 It proved to be a longer walk than either of us 
 had imagined; and it was rapidly growing dark 
 when we toiled up the narrow pathway leading to 
 the cliff, against which was propped the house 
 of mystery. We had encountered no one on our 
 journey through the valley; and, as we now looked 
 upward at the monastery, we could detect no sign 
 of life about its silent walls. 
 
 No smoke rose from its roof, and no sound 
 came down from its inner regions. It seemed 
 still as the tomb, and, had we not known that the 
 black shadow we were regarding had been placed 
 there by human hands, we might well have be 
 lieved it part of the dark cliff that towered above 
 us. As nearly as we could estimate, the monastery 
 was planted on a platform fully two hundred feet
 
 188 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 above the ground. It was a two-story structure, 
 provided with numerous windows and gables, and 
 was a rectangle of about two hundred feet long 
 by fifty feet wide. 
 
 After we had quenched our thirst from a bub 
 bling stream which poured from the base of the 
 cliff, we surveyed our surroundings, with a view 
 to reaching the monastery. 
 
 Larry shook his head dubiously. "Were you 
 ever a sailor?" he asked. 
 
 "I sailed across the Gulf," I replied. 
 
 "Well," he continued, "unless you re a mighty 
 fine climber, I don t see how you are ever going 
 to shin up those big posts." 
 
 "They ll be hard climbing," I replied, "for 
 they re bigger than telegraph poles." 
 
 "It looks plumb hopeless to me," decided Sulli 
 van, after we had walked the entire length of the 
 forest of posts, and had examined every one, in 
 the vain hope of finding a ladder. All the posts 
 were smooth as the wear of years could make 
 them, and, until they reached a point sixty feet 
 above our heads, where the first crosspieces were 
 laid, offered not the slightest foothold for a 
 climber. 
 
 "Hello hello!" cried Larry, at last. "Monas 
 tery ahoy! Hello!"
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 189 
 
 His voice was echoed back from some far-dis 
 tant rock, but no sign came from the abode 
 above. 
 
 "I guess the house is for rent," said Larry, in 
 disgust. "Guess we ll have to go downtown and 
 see the agent, to get the keys." 
 
 As we stood peering up at the black block 
 above, a smaller fragment of darkness seemed to 
 separate itself from the mass and come gradually 
 toward the earth. 
 
 Larry saw the thing at the same time that I 
 did, but was evidently equally at a loss for an 
 explanation. 
 
 When the object had descended to a point some 
 thirty feet above the earth, we saw that it was a 
 boatswain s swing chair. When it settled to the 
 ground, we found that it was suspended by a 
 chain of brass. 
 
 "Hello, up there!" cried Larry, as the chair 
 came to a stop and the chain tightened. "Do you 
 want us to come up ? Shall we get in ?" 
 
 No reply came to his question. Only the echoes 
 answered mockingly from the distant cliff. 
 
 "They re evidently not wasting words on stran 
 gers, up there," observed Larry. "But then, come 
 to think of it, how can they, if they re dumb ? If 
 we get up there, we ll have one consolation we ll
 
 190 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 not be talked to death, no matter what else may 
 happen to us." 
 
 "Shall we get in?" I asked, dubiously survey 
 ing the chair, which now swung a couple of feet 
 from the ground. 
 
 "Sure," replied Sullivan. "You ll never be 
 h isted by an elevator when you re outside of it." 
 
 "But there s scarcely room for two," I objected, 
 the coward within me prompting the words. 
 "Besides that, it doesn t seem to me as if the chain 
 was very strong." 
 
 "That s true," he assented briskly, seating him 
 self in the chair. "I really don t believe it would 
 lift more than a ton." Then he called aloft : "Hey, 
 up there heave ahead ! All set." 
 
 There came no answering call from above ; but, 
 slowly, the brass links strained, a faint creaking 
 was heard aloft, and Larry began to ascend 
 through the gloom. 
 
 "Good-by, old fellow!" I cried, as his figure was 
 lost in the darkness overhead. "I ll join you next 
 trip. Sing out when you get to the top." 
 
 "Don t know if they allow singing in that 
 church up there, but I ll holler, anyway," he re 
 plied. 
 
 The three or four minutes that elapsed before 
 I heard his voice again seemed an hour. With
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 191 
 
 the regularity of clockwork, there sounded the 
 creaking of the windlass that was hauling up the 
 chair; and from afar off in the jungle came the 
 fretful, querulous cry of some creature but 
 whether human, beast, or fowl, I could not deter 
 mine. High above the hills beyond the valley tow 
 ered the cone of Mont Lazarre, still faintly gray 
 from the last efforts of the sun. The smoke from 
 the volcano rose heavenward in the breathless air ; 
 and so black it was, and so sharply defined against 
 the lighter sky, that it looked like another moun 
 tain, inverted and balanced over the crater. 
 
 "All right, up here." Larry s welcome tones 
 came floating down from the great height. 
 
 It seemed another age before the bo s n s chair 
 descended again. 
 
 I seated myself, and cried, in tones as brave as 
 I could muster: "Heave away!" 
 
 The chair tightened; my feet swung clear of 
 the ground ; and I gripped the links on either side, 
 shutting my eyes, meanwhile, to hide the sight of 
 the lowering treetops and the deepening chasm. 
 The creaking sound above my head grew louder 
 and louder, and I began counting, to distract my 
 mind from my body s peril. Once, when I took a 
 momentary glance at my surroundings, I almost 
 fainted to find the chair whirling and swinging.
 
 192 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 The view of crisscrossed beams on one side and 
 yawning space on the other made me sick; and I 
 began to count once more, with a frantic resolve 
 not to lose my presence of mind and relinquish 
 my hold on the chains. I had reached three hun 
 dred in this desperate attempt to regain my men 
 tal poise, when a cheery voice, almost at my elbow, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "Fine and dandy! You are a sailor, after 
 all." 
 
 Opening my eyes, I found that the chair was 
 swinging three feet above what appeared to be 
 the dooryard of the monastery. It was consider 
 ably lighter than it had been down below, and I 
 could easily make out a low fence running round 
 the border of the inclosure. The last glimmer of 
 twilight faintly outlined the walls and openings 
 of the structure, and revealed above my head the 
 shape of a huge crane, which had swung my chair 
 clear from the chasm and over the monastery 
 yard. 
 
 Larry and I were the only persons within the 
 inclosure. 
 
 "Where are the monks?" I asked, in wonder 
 ment; for I had expected to find a numerous com 
 pany of the silent brotherhood. 
 
 "You can search me ; I haven t any of em con-
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 193 
 
 cealed in my pocket," replied Larry. "You see 
 now as much as I ve seen. When I landed, the 
 old apparatus up there started itself going again, 
 went down after you, brought you up and here 
 we are." 
 
 "We must find Norelle," I exclaimed. "As far 
 as we are concerned, we are evidently safe enough, 
 for the present ; but we are not so sure about her." 
 
 "If she s here, you bet we ll find her," replied 
 Larry. "All there is to do is to hunt." 
 
 But we soon discovered, to our keen disappoint 
 ment, that our search was to be bounded by very 
 narrow limits. Opening upon the yard at the 
 front of the house were six doors, and all but one 
 of these were closed against us. 
 
 Entering the only open door, Larry struck a 
 match, and revealed a small apartment, possibly 
 twelve feet square, containing nothing but two 
 bunks. There was a door leading from this room 
 into the interior of the monastery, but it was shut 
 and fastened securely on the other side. 
 
 At first, Larry was for attacking this door with 
 the machete he had brought from the Voodoo 
 cave, but he abandoned the notion at the first 
 stroke upon the solid wood. "I might work a week 
 without making an impression upon this door!" 
 he exclaimed, in disgust.
 
 194 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "The only thing to do is to wait for daylight, 
 unless we return to the earth by the way we 
 came," I said. 
 
 "We ll do well at that job," replied Larry. "The 
 fellows that run the elevator have moved it out of 
 reach and shut down the power." 
 
 Sullivan was right. The crane had picked up 
 the bo s n s chair again; and now it hung sus 
 pended over the abyss, far beyond the reach of 
 our hands. Even supposing that we could have 
 laid hold of the chair, we could have done nothing 
 with it, without control of the unseen mechanism 
 which caused the drum to turn and pay out or 
 take in the chain. 
 
 "I don t know when I ve felt so much like a 
 weak, sick kitten," exclaimed Larry bitterly. 
 "Here we are, like helpless children, crying to be 
 let into the house, and nobody will come to open 
 the door! Why, any second-story worker ought 
 to turn the trick, or get out of the business." 
 
 "We might get into one of the second-story 
 windows," I suggested. 
 
 "Yes, we might, if we had a ladder and an axe," 
 growled Sullivan. "If you ll find the ladder and 
 chopper, I ll do the rest." 
 
 We made another trip around the building, try 
 ing each door, and finding them all as unyielding
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 195 
 
 as the rock against which the monastery was 
 built. 
 
 "They evidently want these two kids to be good 
 and go to bed early," cried Larry, in disgust, 
 after we had exhausted all our ingenuity in vain 
 efforts to enter the forbidden doors. "I give up. 
 I m beat, and I admit it." 
 
 "Things will look better by daylight," I said, 
 more hopefully than I felt. 
 
 "Or worse," added Sullivan. 
 
 "But Norelle!" I exclaimed. "What about her? 
 Is she safe here at the monastery, under the pro 
 tection of the monks ; or is it possible that she is 
 even now being dragged through the jungle by 
 that hideous creature of the Voodoo queen ? Per 
 haps it would have been better had we remained 
 to protect her from the queen." 
 
 "Huh !" retorted Larry, in scorn. "A fine sam 
 ple of protection we could have given her. They 
 handled us like babies the two babes in the wood 
 that we are!" 
 
 "I know I ll not be able to sleep, from worrying 
 about her," I said. 
 
 "Don t make a fool of yourself," he answered. 
 "You just will sleep, too. It won t do the girl a 
 bit of good to sit up all night, tearing your hair 
 and moaning about her. What you want to do is
 
 196 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 to turn in and get a good night s sleep, so that you 
 can put up a good fight for her to-morrow, if a 
 fight is needed." 
 
 "That sounds like pretty good advice, I said, 
 "and I guess I ll try to follow it. But when the 
 girl you love is in danger is perhaps being done 
 to death, or suffering tortures worse than death > 
 I tell you, it drives Mr. Sleep away." 
 
 "I know that," said Larry sympathetically. 
 "But you ll find, after a while, that the girl is all 
 right. In fact, I ve come to the conclusion that 
 things in life are never quite as bad or quite as 
 good as you think they re going to be." 
 
 Just before turning in for the night, I looked 
 out of the door, and was startled to observe sev 
 eral dark, motionless figures upon the fence sur 
 rounding the yard. 
 
 "Look!" I cried, in dismay. "Look over there! 
 Are those some of the monks?" 
 
 Together, we approached for closer inspection., 
 
 "They re turkeys gone to roost," said Larry, 
 when we got within ten feet of the nearest silent 
 form. "I ve a good notion to spear one of them 
 with my knife, so as to be sure of a good break 
 fast." 
 
 "Don t for Heaven s sake, don t!" I cried, in 
 terror. "They re not turkeys at all. Don t you
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 197 
 
 see that they are vultures of some hideous breed? 
 If you molested one of them, the whole flock 
 might attack us, and there are enough of them 
 to put up a nasty fight." 
 
 "Guess you re right, Jack," said Larry. "I can 
 see more than a dozen of them now, and they all 
 look as though they needed a square meal." 
 
 It was with more than one shudder of dread 
 that I threw myself upon the couch in that strange 
 room. As I tried to pierce the gloom of my sur 
 roundings, I imagined that I could see the evil 
 eyes of the loathsome birds glaring at me from 
 the threshold. I seemed to hear the rustle of their 
 huge wings as they beat the air, and could detect 
 the odor of carrion flesh that reeked from their 
 cruel talons and hooked beaks. 
 
 I awoke with a start. The moon was shining 
 through the doorway, full upon my face. A dark 
 figure, gowned and hooded, stood beside my bed. 
 
 "Who are you?" I cried, so startled that I could 
 feel the cold perspiration come to my forehead. 
 
 The dark figure made no answer, but glided 
 silently and swiftly through the door. 
 
 I jumped to my feet, and ran out of the build 
 ing. 
 
 No one was in sight. The moonlight bathed 
 the monastery yard and walls with almost the
 
 198 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 brilliance of day. The only living things in view 
 were the hideous vultures, perched like sentries 
 along the fence. 
 
 "What s the matter, Jack?" asked Larry, in 
 sleepy tones, from within. 
 
 "The monk!" I cried, reentering the apartment. 
 "He was here just a moment ago. Then he van 
 ished. Didn t you see him?" 
 
 "No, I didn t, and I don t believe you did," re 
 plied Larry peevishly. "You re dreaming things. 
 Go to bed."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 IN THE COPPER CAVERNS 
 
 DAWN was creeping into the doorway, and the 
 sound of shuffling feet fell upon my ear, when I 
 once more became conscious of things. Shadowy 
 forms were passing and repassing in the monas 
 tery yard. 
 
 "Our hosts are early risers," remarked Larry, 
 who was already awake and sitting up in his 
 bunk. 
 
 "Who the monks?" I asked. 
 
 "Who do you suppose the New York fire de 
 partment?" he retorted. "They ve been out there 
 these fifteen minutes, cutting figure eights and 
 playing with the chickens. I ve got an idea, Jack, 
 that we ve landed in a bughouse." 
 
 It was, indeed, a remarkable sight that greeted 
 our eyes, as we peered through the open doorway. 
 The big wooden platform held some one hundred 
 and fifty of the monks, all gowned and hooded 
 
 199
 
 200 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 like the one who had been at the Voodoo feast, 
 and the one whom I had seen in the moonlight. 
 They were marching round and round, waving 
 their arms in the air ; and whenever they reached 
 the outer, or eastern, side of the inclosure, they 
 made low bows to the rising sun. 
 
 The ceremony was conducted by one whose 
 great age was evidenced by feeble steps, and by 
 the snow-white beard which fell to his knees. 
 
 Circling over the heads of the monks was the 
 flock of vultures that we had seen roosting on the 
 fence the night before. The great birds swooped 
 down, one by one, to receive pieces of raw meat 
 which the white-bearded monk doled out to them 
 from a basket. As each vulture received his por 
 tion, he flapped his wide wings, wheeled a few 
 times in the air above the monastery, and sailed 
 majestically away. 
 
 As the last bird was fed, the sun burst in full 
 glory over the smoke-capped crest of Mont La- 
 zarre, and all the monks prostrated themselves in 
 the dust. They remained thus for the space of 
 a minute, and then, at a signal from the high 
 priest, who was the first to rise, reformed in 
 line, marched three times around the yard, and 
 filed into the monastery through one of the doors 
 that had been closed to us, the night before.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 201 
 
 After his followers had gone, the venerable 
 monk came toward the door of our chamber, and, 
 reaching a point five or six feet beyond the 
 threshold, stood with folded arms, as though wait 
 ing for us to come out. Accepting the hint, we 
 approached him; and he bowed with the greatest 
 dignity, spreading out his hands toward the mon 
 astery, as though to indicate that we were wel 
 come. 
 
 "Good morning, sir," said Larry, in Spanish. 
 "We hope you are well this fine day." 
 
 The monk bowed and smiled. 
 
 "We came in search of a young lady," I said, 
 coming directly to the subject uppermost in my 
 mind. "May we see her?" 
 
 The old monk shook his head. 
 
 "If not now, when?" I asked. 
 
 Once more he shook his head; and, as he 
 shrugged his shoulders, my heart sank. 
 
 "Surely, she is here!" 1 cried. 
 
 For the third time, he gave the negative sign. 
 
 "But she is expected!" I cried, in an agony of 
 apprehension. "Oh, tell me, reverend sir, that she 
 is expected ! Surely, you must have some tidings 
 of her? You know her whereabouts, and she is 
 safe?" 
 
 This time, to my great joy, he bowed his head.
 
 202 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 I could have embraced him for the load he lifted 
 from my heart. 
 
 Then, Norelle was safe with friends! Of that 
 I could feel assured. The good monks had her 
 under their protection somewhere ; and I had but 
 to possess my soul in patience for a little while, 
 and we would meet again. 
 
 While we were standing thus, another member 
 of the brotherhood approached, and remained 
 with eyes bent upon the ground until our inter 
 view was ended. The elder monk then indicated 
 that we were to accompany the newcomer. 
 
 Bidding farewell to the aged man, we followed 
 the younger into the monastery, and entered a 
 passageway which led to an apartment situated 
 at the far end of the building. In this room we 
 found a table spread with an appetizing display 
 of fruit, grain cakes of some sort, honey, and milk. 
 The monk invited us to partake of the edibles, and 
 left the room as we took our places at the 
 table. 
 
 "They re not planning to starve us to death, 
 that s one thing certain," said Larry cheerfully. 
 "As long as they feed me as well as this, I ll not 
 admit they re loony, even though they do funny 
 stunts with the buzzards." 
 
 We made a hearty meal; and when the monk
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 203 
 
 returned, half an hour later, we were quite ready 
 to take a more optimistic view of life. Our guide 
 then took us on a tour of the monastery building, 
 and a very interesting place it proved to be. 
 
 I had expected to be shown great halls of wor 
 ship, relics of hoary antiquity, and, possibly, gods 
 graven in stone and ivory and gold ; but the house 
 seemed, for the most part, to consist of sleeping 
 apartments, provided with bunks similar to those 
 upon which we had slept. Stranger still, there 
 were no monks to be found about the building. 
 All the members of that great crew, whom earlier 
 in the day we had seen worshipping the sun, had 
 apparently vanished into thin air. 
 
 The only apartment not used as a bedchamber, 
 save the dining room in which we ourselves had 
 eaten breakfast, was filled with a collection of 
 manuscripts. This room the library, I took it 
 to be was located in one of the gables of the 
 building; and the great window which gave it 
 light overshot the lower floor so far that it was 
 flush with the outside fence of the inclosure. 
 Thus one might have dropped a pebble from 
 the window to the ground, two hundred feet 
 below. 
 
 The walls of the library were provided with 
 rows of shelves, reaching from floor to ceiling.
 
 204 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 These shelves were nearly all filled with parch 
 ments, many of which were bound in brass, after 
 the form of our volumes nowadays, while hun 
 dreds of others were contained in copper cylin 
 ders. 
 
 Reclining upon a couch, near the big window, 
 was the only monk we had encountered in our 
 inspection of the building. Him I took to be the 
 librarian; for, when we entered, he arose, bowed 
 courteously, and waved his hand, as though to 
 make us welcome. Cordial enough though his 
 smile appeared to be, there was about the man 
 something that I did not like. 
 
 His face was dark, almost, as a negro s; and 
 his large, hooked nose and piercing black eyes lent 
 to his countenance a look of cruelty which struck 
 me as unpleasant in the extreme. 
 
 He very politely showed us a number of the 
 manuscripts. Many of these, I was surprised to 
 find, were in Spanish ; but the great majority were 
 limned in a character which I could not read and 
 did not even know by name. Many of the brass- 
 bound books were handsomely embellished with 
 illuminated script. 
 
 After we had visited all the rooms in the monas 
 tery, our guide conducted us along a hallway 
 which brought us to a door built into the face of
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 205 
 
 the cliff. This door he opened, revealing, to our 
 amazement, a tunnel hewn out of the solid rock 
 of the mountain. 
 
 Imagine a great passageway, with arched ceil 
 ing, extending into the cliff as far as the eye could 
 reach, and illuminated with myriads of brass 
 lamps, planted at intervals of twenty-five or thirty 
 feet. From the number of lights, which sparkled 
 back into the mountain until they looked no larger 
 than the stars of the Milky Way, I judged that 
 the tunnel was several miles in length. 
 
 "Well, this beats the Mammoth Cave!" ex-: 
 claimed Larry, in admiration. "I m glad I did 
 not have the contract of digging out the rock." 
 
 We started down the tunnel at a brisk pace, 
 and, at the end of twenty minutes, came to an 
 octagonal chamber, fully one hundred feet in 
 diameter, and half as high again to its groined 
 ceiling. This great cathedral, at first sight, 
 seemed to be peopled by a throng of monks ; but, 
 upon nearer view, the figures proved to be bronze 
 statuary. 
 
 All the figures save one were kneeling, and 
 faced a raised platform in the centre, upon which, 
 with his arms outstretched in a protecting man 
 ner over the throng, was the form of another 
 monk. Although he was dressed in the same garb
 
 206 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 as the kneeling figures, this monk was of heroic 
 stature; and, over his head, suspended by a wire, 
 was poised a bronze vulture, with wings out 
 stretched. 
 
 There must have been at least three hundred of 
 the kneeling bronzes grouped around the central 
 figure; and, as I came upon this strange assem 
 blage without warning, a most uncanny feeling 
 clutched my heart. 
 
 Larry evidently felt it, too; for he exclaimed: 
 "Of all the rum sights I ever saw, this beats the 
 bunch !" Then he turned to our guide, and asked : 
 "Are these the statues of your departed 
 brethren?" 
 
 The young monk nodded his head. 
 
 "They are lifelike enough to be the dead them 
 selves," I exclaimed, as I approached for a closer 
 view of the kneeling figures. 
 
 As though divining my wish, the monk tapped 
 one of the statues lightly on the forehead, and in 
 dicated that we might do likewise. A closer ex 
 amination revealed the fact that each face con 
 tained its lines of individuality. 
 
 "They are the dead themselves!" I exclaimed. 
 
 The monk nodded in acquiescence. 
 
 "In short, they are marvelous pieces of copper 
 plate," said Larry, in an awestruck whisper.
 
 L ARK THE^E THE 8TATUK8 OF YOUR DEPARTED BRETHREN ?" 
 
 Page 206.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 207 
 
 "They must have some wonderful process of 
 electroplating the bodies," I suggested. 
 
 "I take it that the one in the centre of the 
 group was the founder or patron saint of the 
 order," said Larry, looking at the guide. 
 
 To this the young monk agreed, with an inclina 
 tion of his head. 
 
 We had just time to note the fact that from the 
 other sides of the octagonal chamber radiated tun 
 nels similar to the one we had traversed from the 
 monastery, when our guide led the way into one 
 of them. We had proceeded for possibly half a 
 mile along the lamplit way, when we heard the 
 ring of hammers on metal. The din grew louder, 
 as though we were approaching a huge boiler 
 shop; and, suddenly, a sharp turn in the tunnel 
 brought us to the scene of activity. 
 
 It was the monks foundry. Glowing furnaces, 
 puffing bellows, and monstrous hammers were at 
 work in a room that must have measured one 
 hundred feet from side to side. Brethren of the 
 order, to the number of sixty or seventy, were en 
 gaged about the shop ; and as the forges, melting 
 pots, and great, glowing ingots of metal threw 
 out an intense heat, I was not surprised to observe 
 that all the smiths were stripped to the waist. 
 
 There may have been other metals in the pots
 
 208 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 or on the anvils, but I saw none but copper and 
 brass in the hands of the workmen, who were 
 fashioning all sorts of implements of offense and 
 defense, and of everyday use. Cooking utensils, 
 swords, hoes, axes, spears, brackets for lamps, 
 hinges for doors, shields, helmets, hammers, 
 plates, sickles, chains in fact, a wondrous array 
 of things was being made by the silent brothers. 
 
 Three or four of the monks acted evidently as 
 foremen; for they were not handling the metal 
 themselves, but were here, there, and everywhere, 
 directing the others. 
 
 I should willingly have lingered for hours in 
 that interesting place, but our guide was evi 
 dently bent on showing us other sights; so we 
 hurried on. From the copper shop, we proceeded 
 to a third tunnel, where we found another gang 
 of workmen engaged in mining the copper ore. 
 
 The mountain was evidently wonderfully rich 
 in this useful metal so rich, in fact, that the 
 monks were able to dig a definite system of tun 
 nels, and, at the same time, to be rewarded with 
 the precious copper at every step of the work. I 
 doubt if the Montana hills or the lake region of 
 Michigan could produce an equal quantity or qual 
 ity of copper. 
 
 A journey through a fourth tunnel brought us
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 209 
 
 to the bakeshop and kitchen, while the fifth, sixth, 
 and seventh revealed the looms on which their 
 cloth was woven; the joiners shop, where the 
 workers in wood made tables, chairs, and other 
 articles of daily need; and the tailors quarters, 
 where cloth and leather were fashioned into 
 things of wear. 
 
 "It s a wonderful city!" exclaimed Larry ad 
 miringly, after we had left the seventh hive of 
 industry. "The only thing I regret is that we 
 have not seen them copper-plate the dear de 
 parted." 
 
 "Horrible !" I cried, with a shudder. "I wouldn t 
 see it done for a farm." 
 
 "Well, I would," retorted Larry, "because I 
 want to learn the secret, and take it back to the 
 States. It beats our burial system all hollow. 
 Just think how nice it would be to have your cop 
 per-plated ancestors assisting at a reception? 
 They would give an air to the function that no 
 amount of vulgar wealth could hope to touch." 
 
 "Oh, shut up !" I exclaimed, in disgust. 
 
 "Why not?" continued Larry, with fiendish en 
 thusiasm. "If you didn t care about showing off 
 great-grandfather and grandfather, you could 
 have them put snugly away in a spare bedroom. 
 And then, think how neatly you could even up
 
 210 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 scores with those ancestors you did not like. The 
 old fellows who had squandered the money that 
 you should have inherited, or who disgraced the 
 family by marrying the cook you could square 
 accounts with them by dumping- them in the coal 
 bin, or planting them out in front as hitching 
 posts. Oh, I tell you, there s no limit to the possi 
 bilities of the scheme. If you became rich, you 
 could give your forefathers a coat of silver plate 
 over the copper; and, if you joined the real pluto 
 crat class, you could gold-plate em. And every 
 coat of metal you gave them would make em more 
 durable and weatherproof." 
 
 Our guide was evidently shocked at Larry s 
 gruesome levity; for he scowled fiercely, and held 
 up his hand warningly, as though to stop the Irish 
 man s tongue. But Larry either did not observe 
 the sign, or did not care, for he continued glibly : 
 
 "Second-hand dealers would do a rushing busi 
 ness in ancestral antiques; and it would be only 
 a question of time when the department stores 
 would be advertising bargain sales in gold, silver, 
 and copper-plated ancestors." 
 
 With an inarticulate cry of rage, the monk 
 sprang at Larry, and landed a heavy blow upon 
 his neck. 
 
 Had the blow found the point of the jaw, an
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 211 
 
 inch or two higher, my detective friend would 
 have been down and out ; for the monk was of gen 
 erous build, and owned a fist like a ham. As it 
 was, Larry was little the worse for the blow, and 
 came back at his dumb antagonist, hammer and 
 tongs. A very pretty battle was in prospect; for 
 they were about evenly matched as to height and 
 reach, and, I judged, as to age. 
 
 But I rushed in between them, at the imminent 
 risk of my own features, crying: "Stop stop! 
 
 "Now, you apologize to our friend," I said to 
 Larry, after I had broken them apart. "You 
 should have had more sense than to talk like that 
 about the dead, right here in the tomb of the 
 brotherhood. I m ashamed of you. If you haven t 
 any respect for the memory of your fathers, 
 others have. Our guide was right. You deserve 
 a licking." 
 
 At first, Larry glared at me like a tiger at bay. 
 "I ve a good notion to teach you a little lesson, 
 son," he began fiercely. But at the next moment 
 his old-time, sunny smile broke out, and he held 
 out his hands to both of us. "I ll take back every 
 thing I said," he exclaimed. "I really meant no 
 harm at all, at all. It was all a joke indeed it 
 was. Will you forgive me, sir, for offending 
 you?"
 
 212 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 The look of loathing with which the monk had 
 been regarding Larry gradually disappeared ; and 
 he, too, smiled as he took the proffered hand. 
 
 The awkward situation ended there and then; 
 for at that moment came the clanging of a deep- 
 toned bell then another, and another, until the 
 caverns were resounding as if all the fire alarms 
 in a big city had been turned loose together. 
 
 A gasping, choking cry came from the tongue- 
 less mouth of our guide, and he seized my hand, 
 to start full speed in the direction of the octagonal 
 chamber. 
 
 Sullivan followed close upon our heels; and, as 
 we raced along, we were soon joined by other 
 monks. The bells kept up their clangor, and in 
 the far distance somewhere I heard a series of 
 shots or explosions. 
 
 "Must be a fire," yelled Larry. 
 
 Through the chamber of kneeling statues we 
 dashed with the running throng of coppersmiths, 
 bakers, miners, and other craftsmen, and then 
 started down the tunnel that led to the monastery. 
 We were quite breathless when we reached the 
 end of the passageway, and rushed pell-mell out 
 into the light of day. 
 
 The great inclosure of the monastery was 
 crowded with monks. Those on the side of the
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 213 
 
 yard nearest the house were rolling huge stones 
 and lumps of ore toward their brethren on the 
 outer edge, while the latter, who were near the 
 fence, were lifting and hurling the heavy missiles 
 into the abyss. 
 
 "What s the matter?" I cried, looking upon the 
 strange scene with bewildered eyes. 
 
 "Matter hell!" vociferated Larry, as he joined 
 the force of stone throwers. "The Voodoos are 
 storming the monastery, that s all."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IN DEFENSE OF THE MONASTERY 
 
 FROM far below came a babel of cries, mingled 
 with the sound of gun and pistol shots. Running 
 to the fence, I looked over. I drew back quickly, 
 however, as half a dozen quick reports and a pat 
 ter of bullets on the fence warned me that every 
 head exposed was a target for the negroes. 
 
 Even in the brief glance I had taken, I was 
 able to see that the blacks were in force, and that 
 the Yellow Queen was directing the attack from 
 the two-wheeled cart which she had seized from 
 our Spanish captors. As nearly as I could judge, 
 the rocks and chunks of ore which the monks were 
 hurling to the earth had, thus far, not been very 
 effective. None of the negroes seemed to have 
 been injured or killed, but the missiles served 
 the purpose of keeping the Voodoo people so busy 
 dodging that they found little time in which to in 
 flict any real injury upon the monastery or its 
 occupants. 
 
 214
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 215 
 
 Half a dozen revolvers and muskets barked at 
 irregular intervals; but, luckily for the defense, 
 the negroes were poor marksmen. 
 
 Larry and I hastened to take an active part in 
 the battle, and assisted the monks in throwing 
 fragments of stone and ore over the top of the 
 wooden wall. At Larry s suggestion, I secured 
 an axe, and chopped several holes in the wooden 
 floor of the inclosure, in order to give us lookouts 
 or, more accurately speaking, "lookdowns" at 
 the enemy. 
 
 "This reminds me," said Larry, "of the days 
 when I was a youngster in Kerry Patch, heaving 
 brickbats at the dog catchers." 
 
 "But why are they attacking the monastery?" 
 I asked. "I thought there was peace between the 
 Voodoos and the monks." 
 
 "Perhaps it was because I have become one of 
 your lodgers." A sweet, familiar voice behind 
 me uttered the words. 
 
 Whirling around, I beheld Norelle, and could 
 scarcely believe my eyes. 
 
 "You here!" I gasped. "Well, how on earth 
 did you reach this place, and when?" 
 
 "I came by the elevator, ten minutes ago," she 
 replied, pointing to the bo s n s chair swinging 
 from the crane. She spoke as lightly as though
 
 216 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 the perilous ascent was of no more moment than 
 a trip by trolley, or a walk around the block at 
 home. 
 
 "But the dog-man and the other devilish ne 
 groes " I began. 
 
 "Arrived here just three minutes too late to 
 get me," said Norelle, with a nervous little laugh. 
 "My good guide, the brother who does not talk, 
 brought me here by the most direct route ; and we 
 had no adventures by the way." 
 
 "I am surprised that your father and mother 
 would consent to your coming," I exclaimed. 
 
 "The good monk had little difficulty in convinc 
 ing them that I would be safer here than at the 
 hotel. The whole city of St. Croix is in a state 
 of terror, and almost every one dreams of the 
 Yellow Queen and her plots. But tell me, if you 
 can, why has the Yellow Queen conceived a grudge 
 against me? What have I ever done to her?" 
 
 "I do not know," I lied unblushingly, "but have 
 no fears. We will protect you here with our 
 heart s blood." 
 
 "You look too pale to spare much just now, 
 Mr. Smith," replied Norelle, with another laugh. 
 Then, her smile vanishing on the instant, she 
 added : "I want no blood shed for me. I did not 
 want to come, and would not have moved a step,
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 217 
 
 if it had not been for the insistence of father and 
 mother. I saw no reason in it then, and see none 
 in it now. Why is this battle going on? What 
 have I done to be the cause ? I never intentionally 
 harmed that woman, or any other human being I" 
 
 All of a sudden, she buried her face in her 
 hands, and burst into sobs. I would cheerfully 
 have given five years of my life to have been able, 
 at that moment, to clasp her in my arms, and 
 console her. Yet I dared not. 
 
 But Larry, impudent Irishman that he was, had 
 no such delicacy of feeling at all, apparently; for 
 he threw his arm about her in a fatherly way, 
 and drew her into the open door of the monastery. 
 She sobbed more than ever, but made no effort 
 to remove his arm. I followed them into the 
 building, feeling even more wretched, I am sure, 
 than the poor girl herself, although my heart was 
 probably wrung by a different set of emotions. 
 
 "There, there, little girl!" exclaimed Larry 
 soothingly. "We are all going to leave this place 
 for good just as soon as we kill off a few more 
 negroes." 
 
 "I don t want any of the poor wretches mur 
 dered!" wailed Norelle. "I don t want anybody 
 hurt on my account. I just want to leave this hor 
 rid island forever. It s no place for white people,
 
 218 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 anyway. Oh, papa, papa! Why did you ever 
 come to this dreadful place?" She was now fast 
 approaching the hysterical stage of her grief. 
 
 Larry bent over her, and, I think, came very 
 to kissing her. If he had dared such a thing, I 
 am sure I would have brained him on the spot. 
 Instead of doing so, however, he merely stroked 
 her sunny hair, and said: 
 
 "You just came down here, little girl, so that 
 you could find out what a brave young champion 
 you have in Jack, here. Now, don t be after get 
 ting despondent, mavourneen, for everything is 
 going to pan out all right. We ll have the Voo 
 doos on the run in a jiffy; then we ll fix the busi 
 ness of the thieving governor-general, and we ll 
 sail back home, to be happy ever after, as they 
 say in all the story books." 
 
 Here Larry probably observed my black looks, 
 and took pity on me; for at the next moment, he 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "Take good care of her, Jack. I ve got to get 
 busy and help that talkative crowd out there, or 
 we may have no roof over our heads." Thereupon, 
 he left the room, and I turned to console Norelle. 
 
 But think you she needed consoling? Not a 
 bit of it. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" she cried, with
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 219 
 
 flashing eyes, and in a tone of fine scorn. "Why 
 are you hiding in here, when those brave monks 
 and that splendid hero, Larry Sullivan, are fight 
 ing for their lives against that mob of inhuman 
 
 > 
 
 blacks ? Are you altogether a coward ? 
 
 I bowed, and left the room, feeling like a 
 whipped puppy; for I had little expected such 
 treatment at her hands. She had not acted like 
 that with Larry. She had not called him a coward 
 when he left the fight to comfort her. Women 
 are strange creatures, and Norelle the strangest 
 of the sisterhood. 
 
 The noise of battle had waxed louder when I 
 returned to the open. The blacks below had evi 
 dently adopted new tactics, and were now trying 
 to break down the stilts which supported the 
 monastery, using the trunks of trees as battering- 
 rams. Fifty or sixty of the negroes would pick 
 up a huge log, and come on with it at full speed, 
 until they brought it against the upright beam 
 with force sufficient to beat down a fortress. But 
 the great uprights were planted so deeply in the 
 ground, and were of such sturdy timber, that they 
 did not yield. Again and again, the wooden ham 
 mers were hurled against the posts, and again 
 and again they failed. 
 
 "You ll have to do better than that, my heart-
 
 220 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 ies," cried Larry, exhorting half a hundred of the 
 enemy, who went sprawling to the ground as 
 they brought another log crashing against a 
 timber. 
 
 "That seems to be exactly what they are pre 
 paring to do," I said, watching the blacks through 
 one of the loopholes in the floor. "They are now 
 going to try to dig up the posts." 
 
 "And some of the scoundrels are making a 
 fire," added Larry. "By heck, it looks as though 
 they might make things interesting for us, after 
 all." 
 
 A score of Voodoo men came running over the 
 open space, with bundles of faggots upon their 
 backs. These they heaped around several of the 
 supporting posts; and, in spite of the shower of 
 rocks cast down by the monks, they managed to 
 set the wood ablaze. When they were directly 
 underneath the building, the negroes were, in a 
 large measure, protected from the missiles by the 
 overhang of the structure itself. Only an occa 
 sional fragment of ore found a mark; and, real 
 izing that at last they had hit upon a plan which 
 promised our destruction, the negroes set up a 
 shrill shout of triumph. 
 
 A dozen red tongues of flame shot upward, and 
 licked the monastery s stilts. It seemed but a
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 221 
 
 matter of a few minutes when the big timbers 
 themselves would be ignited from the kindling 
 wood at their bases ; and, if they burned, the build 
 ing was, of course, doomed to fall. The new dan 
 ger at first seemed to paralyze the energy of the 
 defense, and the monks ceased their efforts, to 
 gather piteously around their venerable leader, 
 and, with signs which even we could read, indi 
 cate that they believed the battle lost. 
 
 "Here!" cried Larry, elbowing his way into 
 the crowd, and addressing himself to the white- 
 bearded leader. "Where s the fire department of 
 this outfit? Water is what we need. Bring on a 
 little of it, and we ll put out that blaze in no 
 time." 
 
 His abruptness seemed to inspire the monks 
 with renewed hope, for the venerable brother is 
 sued a number of orders, which caused a dozen 
 of the priests to rush into the building; and the 
 rest renewed their attacks upon the black mob 
 below. 
 
 Within two or three minutes, the monks who 
 had entered the monastery reappeared, rolling be 
 fore them several great, copper-hooped hogsheads. 
 Axes were wielded, and the heads of these casks 
 were soon beaten in. Out gushed, not water, but 
 great streams of amber-colored wine or beer.
 
 222 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 The liquid flowed in streams over the wooden 
 floor of the inclosure, and, finding the crevices 
 between the boards, as well as the several loop 
 holes we had made, poured through. Spreading 
 as it fell, it descended upon the blazing piles like 
 heavy rain. 
 
 "Fine business," cried Larry approvingly. 
 "But what a wicked waste of beer!" 
 
 By the time a dozen of the casks had been 
 broached, the fires below were quenched. The 
 negroes set up a howl of rage when they saw their 
 incendiary designs go for naught. Then, with re 
 newed energy, they proceeded to dig like moles 
 around the feet of the supporting timbers. 
 
 "They will tear the house down over our heads, 
 in spite of all we can do!" I cried, in despair. 
 "Our only refuge is the tunnel." 
 
 "Not by a jugful," replied Sullivan, who stood 
 watching the operations of the blacks. "I have an 
 idea that I m going to try, if I can get a little 
 help." 
 
 Striding over to the side of the venerable high 
 priest, Larry whispered a few words into his ear. 
 The old man had been standing, the picture of 
 dejection, in the corner of the yard; but now, at 
 Larry s first words, he brightened up perceptibly, 
 and issued a number of rapid sign orders to his
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 223 
 
 followers. Larry ran into the monastery, fol 
 lowed by a score or more of the monks. 
 
 In the meantime, Norelle had emerged from the 
 building, and I was overjoyed to see that she had 
 dried her tears. But when she saw me regarding 
 her, she deliberately turned her back which I 
 took to be a hint that she did not wish to talk with 
 me. I therefore continued to watch the negroes, 
 who were working so far below that they seemed 
 to be little larger than ants. 
 
 They had succeeded, by this time, in actually 
 digging to the bottom of one of the big pillars; 
 and, when they had freed its foot of earth, they 
 wound round it the snakelike length of a great 
 vine, torn from the jungle. Seizing hold of either 
 end of this improvised rope, the Voodoos had no 
 difficulty in uprooting the beam. As it toppled 
 and fell, the platform upon which the monastery 
 was built shuddered, as though smitten by a 
 blow. 
 
 In vain the monks redoubled their efforts to 
 harass the attacking party; but the overhang of 
 the building acted as an effective shield to the 
 negroes, and few of the shots took effect. When 
 a second and a third of the great posts fell be 
 neath us, despair was written plainly upon the 
 faces of the dumb defenders. Their bravery dur-
 
 224 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 ing the battle had been all that any soldiers could 
 have shown. None of them had hesitated at any 
 task assigned by their leader, and all had seemed 
 willing enough to display their forms above the 
 wooden wall, while heaving their ammunition at 
 the enemy. 
 
 Not the least marvelous part of the whole affair, 
 to my mind, was the fact that not a word had been 
 spoken except those uttered by Larry, Norelle, 
 and myself. Here were three hundred men, who 
 had been fighting for their lives in silence. They 
 had hurled tons of rock down upon their foes ; and 
 now, after the madness of the conflict seemed to 
 be over, they were resigning themselves to defeat 
 and the loss of their home, without a syllable es 
 caping their lips. The dumbness of their grief 
 made it pitiful to behold. 
 
 The eaves of the monastery now showed a de 
 cided sag in the centre, and the removal of only 
 two or three more of the posts must inevitably 
 cause the structure to break in two and go crash 
 ing into the chasm. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Smith Jack cannot something be 
 done?" cried Norelle, at this juncture, approaching 
 me with fear-drawn face. "Have you not fire 
 arms with which to disperse those negroes?" 
 
 What did I care whether the monastery fell, or
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 225 
 
 flew away to the clouds? She had called me 
 "Jack," and I was tempted to tell her that the 
 Voodoos might have the house, and welcome to 
 it, if she would only repeat the name. Instead, 
 however, I replied : 
 
 "There s nothing resembling firearms about 
 this place. Larry and I lost ours yesterday. But 
 have no fear. Even if they pull down the build 
 ing, we can still escape into the mountain." 
 
 "Into the mountain!" she echoed, in surprise. 
 "How can you get into the mountain?" 
 
 "Easy, indeed," I replied. "Back of the monas 
 tery the monks have constructed a wonderful sys 
 tem of tunnels, which extend for miles into the 
 rock. They have their forges, their kitchens, 
 their mines, and their tombs in there ; and it would 
 be a matter of little consequence if the building 
 did fall. As far as Larry and I have learned, 
 there are no apartments in the house, except such 
 as are used as sleeping and eating rooms and the 
 library." 
 
 "How wonderful!" exclaimed Norelle. "I had 
 an idea that the monks did nothing but pray to 
 the sun, or something like that." 
 
 "They are the hardest workers you ever saw 
 in all your life," I said. "But there goes another 
 post. One or two more will finish the monastery,
 
 226 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 and I think we had better be getting ready to 
 make a dash for the tunnels." 
 
 "Where is Mr. Sullivan !" asked Norelle. 
 
 "He ran into the mountain a few minutes ago 
 to fetch some new engine of war, I believe. But 
 I fear that nothing can save the monastery now. 
 It does seem a shame that a structure which must 
 have cost such tremendous effort to build, and 
 which has stood for ages, should be torn down 
 by a lot of ignorant blacks within an hour or 
 two." 
 
 The Voodoos were evidently preparing to make 
 an assault upon three of the posts at once. The 
 three selected were grouped under the centre of 
 the building. With machetes, knives, and pointed 
 sticks, they dug furiously; and the shrill voice of 
 the Yellow Queen, who still maintained her posi 
 tion in the cart, could be heard at intervals, urg 
 ing them on to more rapid effort. Some of the 
 negroes, who were not digging, brought branches 
 of trees, which they held over the backs of the 
 workers, to protect them from the fragments of 
 ore and rock dropped by the monks. 
 
 Larry came from the monastery door, with his 
 followers, just as I was about to lead Norelle into 
 the tunnel. He and all his assistants were sweat 
 ing like haymakers and little wonder, when one
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 227 
 
 saw the burdens which they had brought from 
 the bowels of the mountain. 
 
 Swung upon long bars of brass, supported at 
 either end by five men apiece, were three huge 
 kettles of molten copper. Although we stood fully 
 twenty feet from the nearest pot, I could feel the 
 torrid breath from its glistening surface. 
 
 "Bring on the axes," cried Larry, "and chop 
 some holes over the spots where they are digging 
 down below." 
 
 A dozen monks ceased hurling rocks, to lay hold 
 of axes and obey. One big hole was cut in the 
 floor of the inclosure, and two within the building 
 itself. 
 
 "That ll do!" shouted Larry, wiping the per 
 spiration from his forehead and chin. "Now 
 we ll see what we can do toward making it hot for 
 them down below." 
 
 Acting under his orders, the kettle bearers 
 brought their burdens to the apertures cut in the 
 floor, and let them through carefully. The brass 
 bars were then resting on the floor ; and the pots, 
 filled with molten metal, were swinging under-i 
 neath. 
 
 "Now pull out the bars," cried Larry. 
 
 Three golden balls dropped through space, as 
 the rods were pulled through the handles of the
 
 228 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 pots. They caught the rays of the sun, and looked 
 like pretty toy balloons, as they plunged toward 
 the black diggers, two hundred feet beneath. 
 
 Two of the kettles tipped over before they had 
 made half the drop, and their red contents had 
 spread out in feathery showers, fifty feet in diame 
 ter, by the time they struck the Voodoo people. 
 
 The third pot dropped true as a plummet, 
 landed in the midst of the largest group of dig 
 gers, upset, and poured its crimson soup over 
 their backs. 
 
 A scream as of lost souls in the Pit came up 
 from the negroes. The leaves of their tree shields, 
 and the rags of their garments, sprang into flame, 
 to add to the tortures inflicted by the spattering, 
 molten copper. Dozens of the blacks fell writhing 
 upon the ground ; more than a score lay struggling 
 in pools of the liquid fire ; while the few who were 
 able picked themselves up, to run, limping and 
 whimpering, to the edge of the wood, where Joan 
 of Lazarre sat in her two-wheeled carriage of 
 state, a frenzied witness of the havoc wrought 
 among her people. 
 
 For a moment, the Yellow Queen stood upright 
 in the cart, transfixed with horror. Then she 
 waved her arms wildly, and launched a curse 
 against the monastery and all within its walls.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 229 
 
 We could not hear her words, and might not have 
 understood them had we been able to hear; but 
 it was easy to divine her meaning. Then she 
 gathered the remnant of her force about her, and 
 harangued with the evident purpose of sending 
 them back to the assault. But, from the gestures 
 made by the black men and women, it was easy 
 to surmise that they refused to obey. All heart 
 for fight was gone from them. At last, Joan gave 
 up the attempt, and ordered them to collect the 
 dead and injured. 
 
 Dejectedly, they went to the assistance of their 
 fellows who still lived, and bore them into the 
 forest beyond our view. With rude stretchers of 
 interwoven boughs, they removed the dead, while 
 the hungry vultures from the monastery wheeled 
 in circles above their heads, in anticipation of a 
 horrid feast. 
 
 When I withdrew my gaze from the loophole in 
 the floor, I saw that Norelle was regarding Larry 
 with horrified eyes. 
 
 "You brute!" she exclaimed, at last, with a 
 shudder. "To think that a white man would be 
 responsible for a thing like that." 
 
 "Thank you," he retorted, with a forced laugh. 
 Til admit it is a shabby trick, to pour hot copper 
 on the backs of a crowd ; but you should not for-
 
 230 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 get, my little lady, that they were trying good and 
 hard to kill us all. And you might also remember 
 that the fight started over your own sweet self." 
 "I hate you!" she exclaimed, with eyes ablaze. 
 As she spoke, she placed her hand on my arm, and 
 drew me to the other side of the inclosure.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 FROM THE LIBRARY WINDOW 
 
 THE next two weeks were the happiest, and, at 
 the same time, the most miserable, within my 
 recollection. I was in Norelle s company during 
 the better part of each day which in itself is 
 enough to account for my happiness. But she led 
 me such a dance, with her whims and caprices, 
 that I was often plunged from the seventh heaven 
 of bliss to the pit of despair three times an hour. 
 At one moment she clung to my arms, and gazed 
 into my eyes with all the tenderness of steadfast 
 love ; at the next she was calling me "Mr. Smith," 
 and ordering me from her presence. 
 
 I could have forgiven most of her ill treatment 
 by laying it at the door of overwrought nerves. 
 What she had gone through, within the last few 
 days, was quite enough to upset the strongest and 
 cloud the sunniest of natures. The Voodoo peo 
 ple were still threatening us from below, although 
 .they had not renewed active hostilities; and we 
 
 231
 
 232 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 momentarily expected them to emerge from the 
 jungle, with some new plan of attack. 
 
 We had expected General and Mrs. Pierson to 
 join us in our exile, but had been disappointed in 
 this through the occurrence of certain events in 
 St. Croix. The general and his wife both wrote 
 encouraging letters to Norelle, but even these 
 written words of cheer scarcely served to dispel 
 the gloom which the shadow of death had cast 
 over the little party in the monastery. 
 
 We learned that the governor-general had de 
 clared both Larry and myself outlaws, and had 
 placed a price upon our heads. In his proclama 
 tion calling upon all true and loyal citizens to re 
 fuse us aid and shelter, and give us up to justice, 
 we were described as escaped murderers from the 
 United States of America, and criminals danger 
 ous to the peace of Gabrielle. 
 
 All these circumstances, I say, would have been 
 enough to ruffle the spirits of any one; and I 
 should have not complained had Norelle merely 
 played me hot and cold. But when she deliber 
 ately coquetted with one of the monks, and caused 
 him to fall desperately in love with her, I thought 
 it was high time to remonstrate, and did so. 
 
 The monk in quesion was Pietro, the librarian 
 he of the hooked nose and glittering eyes, to
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 233 
 
 whom I had taken such a violent aversion upon 
 first acquaintance. Possibly it was because she 
 knew I disliked the man that Norelle singled him 
 out for favor. If she had sat out with the deliber 
 ate purpose of rendering me insanely jealous, she 
 could have chosen no surer or swifter method 
 than by smiling upon Pietro. 
 
 More times than I now care to remember, I 
 found them together in the great hall of manu 
 scripts, beside the wide window overlooking the 
 abyss. Once, when I entered the library, Pietro 
 was holding her hand. When he heard my foot 
 step, he dropped it, with a guilty look; and No 
 relle blushed to the roots of her hair. She avoided 
 me during the rest of that day, but toward even 
 ing I was fortunate enough to encounter her in 
 the hall. 
 
 "There is something about which I should like 
 to speak with you," I said, planting myself 
 squarely before her. 
 
 "But I do not care to speak with you, Mr. 
 Smith," she retorted, with a toss of her head. "I 
 can imagine nothing from you that would interest 
 me in the least." 
 
 "Nevertheless, you shall hear me," I went on. 
 
 "If you do not let me pass, I will scream," she 
 exclaimed.
 
 234 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "Scream to your heart s content," I retorted. 
 "I shall wait until you are through screaming, 
 and will then have my say. I will tell you, then, 
 if I cannot tell you now, that you are making the 
 saddest mistake of your life in leading on that 
 fool of a librarian. I will tell you that you are 
 playing with a fire of which you know but little 
 a fire that is certain to burn you, if you persist. 
 Where do you think your affair with him will end ? 
 Will you have him for a husband ? Will you take 
 him, mutilated and tongueless, back to the States ; 
 or will you fly from the monastery with him, pur 
 sued by the brethren whose vows he will violate, 
 to live with him here on the island, among the 
 Spaniards and negroes? Where, I ask, is this 
 affair to end?" 
 
 "Quite melodramatic, Mr. Smith," she retorted 
 saucily. "I can see you, at no distant day, a most 
 successful writer of penny dreadfuls." 
 
 "Sarcasm will not excuse you, Norelle," I cried, 
 "and you know it as well as I. If you will not 
 answer my question, I will answer it for you. 
 There can be but " 
 
 "You are impudent and insolent, Mr. Smith!" 
 she interrupted angrily. "I am of age, fully able 
 to take care of myself, and will have none of your 
 advice and none of your preaching. If it pleases
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 235 
 
 me to spend an hour or two a day in the library, 
 I shall do so and I need no chaperon, I assure 
 you. I find Brother Pietro a very agreeable com 
 panion. He has one redeeming quality which you 
 do not possess he minds his own business, and 
 keeps quiet." 
 
 With this heartless shot, Norelle turned, and,, 
 entering her room, slammed the door. I did not 
 see her again that day. 
 
 The next morning, to my surprise and gratifica 
 tion, she was as friendly and cordial as though 
 no cloud had ever passed between us. 
 
 Nearly two weeks passed without incident or 
 note. Several times, Larry and I descended to 
 the ground for the purpose of reconnoitring ; and 
 on these occasions were accompanied by a body 
 guard of monks, all armed to the teeth, and pro 
 vided with coats of mail and helmets, to protect 
 them against the knives and spears of the Voo 
 doos. When it was necessary for several persons 
 to make the trip between the earth and the monas 
 tery, the boatswain s chair was replaced by a cage, 
 not unlike those used in the coal mines of the 
 States. The drum which wound and unwound the 
 chain was turned by hand, the cogs and cranks 
 of the apparatus being concealed in the second 
 story of the building. Although the power was
 
 236 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 primitive, the character of the machinery was, 
 to my eyes, as up-to-date as any in a modern 
 machine shop. 
 
 In spite of my repugnance for Pietro, I spent 
 considerable time in the library, and within a week 
 had learned much of historical interest concern 
 ing the strange brotherhood among whom we 
 were sojourning. 
 
 According to the ancient Spanish manuscripts, 
 the monastery was built upon the face of the cliff 
 soon after Cortez conquered Mexico. Izaquil, a 
 priest of the sun, had fled from Yucatan with four 
 faithful followers. When they reached the coast, 
 closely followed by their enemies, the five had put 
 to sea in a raft. Before escaping from the 
 clutches of the Spaniards, however, Izaquil had 
 been horribly tortured, because he refused to re 
 veal the location of the treasure owned by the 
 priests in the Temple of the Sun. After trying in 
 vain to compel him to betray his trust, the Span 
 iards tore out his tongue. 
 
 The sun god conveyed IzaquiPs raft safely to 
 the Island of Gabrielle, where he was, for a time, 
 sorely beset by new foes. Had he not taken 
 refuge with his followers in a great tree, to which 
 they were led by the sun god, the savage tribes 
 on the island would surely have killed them ; and,
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 237 
 
 had their patron deity even then deserted them, 
 the barbarians would have starved them to 
 death. 
 
 But, as in all their travels, the sun god had be 
 friended them, he did not forsake them now, but 
 sent a flock of condors to their assistance. These 
 great birds brought them food for many days; 
 and the savages, at last realizing that the stran 
 gers were under the protection of a powerful 
 spirit, abandoned the attack, and made terms of 
 peace with Izaquil. To signify their devotion to 
 their leader, Izaquil s four faithful followers cut 
 out their tongues; and thus the sect of dumb 
 monks was founded. Thereafter, all who joined 
 the brotherhood were obliged to submit to the 
 same terrible ordeal. 
 
 Since Izaquil landed on Gabrielle, the records 
 stated, no word had ever passed the lips of a wor 
 shipper of the sun. In remembrance of the aid 
 brought when they were in such sore need, the 
 monks made the condor a sacred bird, and, as 
 long as they had been upon the island, had fed the 
 vultures daily. 
 
 In time, the monks gained many recruits; and 
 the quarters in the great tree, although enlarged 
 and rendered habitable by the erection of a huge 
 structure among the branches, became too small
 
 238 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 for the silent colony. So, they set about building 
 the House on Stilts. Twenty years were con 
 sumed in this great task; and, by the sun god s 
 favor, Izaquil was spared to direct the labors of 
 the builders, and to lead the devotions of the sect 
 from the lofty platform facing east. He was even 
 granted the supreme joy, before he departed, of 
 offering holy blood and ashes to the sun god from 
 the rock of sacrifice. 
 
 The marvelous tunnels in the mountain were 
 also planned by Izaquil ; and, although he did not 
 live to see them far advanced, the discovery of the 
 process of preserving the dead had been made 
 before he went to take his place in the Chariot of 
 the Sun. It was also written in the records that, 
 so long as Izaquil stood in the great octagonal 
 chamber, all would prosper with the Island of 
 Gabrielle. But the day which dawned and found 
 him not with his protecting arms outstretched 
 over his faithful disciples, would mark the fall of 
 the monastery, and the triumph of the unholy 
 fires which smouldered beneath the roots of Mont 
 Lazarre. 
 
 The writer of the manuscript dwelt at length 
 upon the sanctity of Izaquil s life, and described 
 in detail the manner in which he offered sacrifices 
 to the sun god on the altar of rock, which jutted
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 239 
 
 from the face of the cliff eight or ten feet above 
 the floor of the inclosure at one end of the monas 
 tery building. 
 
 There were annual offerings of human beings, 
 it seems ; the council of seven choosing the victims 
 and prescribing the mode of their death. Fire 
 seemed to be the favorite means employed, al 
 though, under certain conditions, the priests were 
 to cut the victims into fragments, and feed the 
 pieces to the condors. 
 
 This history was but one of many curious works 
 which I found on the shelves in the great room 
 wherein Pietro spent his days. He was engaged, 
 when we arrived, in making a translation of one 
 of the old books of law which Izaquil had written 
 for the guidance of his followers ; and I must say 
 for him that he was a rapid and beautiful pen 
 man. As to the accuracy of his translations from 
 the ancient Aztec I know not, although he was 
 accounted the most deeply versed of any in the 
 brotherhood, and was often consulted by Xaca, 
 the high priest. I was not surprised, therefore, 
 to learn that he exercised a powerful influence 
 over the old man; and, as the high priest s word 
 was law under the monastery roof and in the tun 
 nel workshops, Pietro was surely a man whose 
 good will was worth possessing.
 
 240 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 We soon became fairly proficient in communi 
 cating with the monks by signs; and, when we 
 wished to ask questions, or desired replies which 
 the hand and head were unable to convey, we 
 found that most of them wrote and read a fair 
 sample of Spanish. We, therefore, carried writ 
 ing pads with us when we went about the monas 
 tery or caverns, and got along quite comfortably. 
 
 One day it was the sixteenth after our coming 
 I entered the room of manuscripts, and found 
 it empty. The ever-present Pietro was nowhere 
 to be seen, so I helped myself to one of the old 
 Spanish records, and pored over it for an hour. 
 Wearying of the study, I replaced the copper tube 
 upon the shelf, and walked to the window, where 
 I stood for some time, lost in contemplation of the 
 magnificent scene spread out before my eyes. 
 
 The day was glorious overhead, and, with its 
 foreground of tropic verdure and background of 
 towering mountains, it was none the less mag 
 nificent below. Mont Lazarre was belching srnoke 
 like a battle ship getting under way. Indeed, I 
 had never seen Father Mountain show such vio 
 lent signs of activity ; and, in spite of the bright 
 ness of the day, I was sure I could see the glare 
 of fire bronzing the smoke where it poured from 
 the crater s mouth.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 241 
 
 A stealthy footfall struck my ear, as I stood 
 gazing out of the window; and instinctively I 
 whirled around. Pietro was standing behind me 
 in a half -crouching attitude, his long fingers work 
 ing convulsively, and his face distorted with hate. 
 The moment I turned, he straightened up, and a 
 smile replaced the scowl upon his evil face. 
 
 "You were going to push me out of the win 
 dow, you hound!" I blazed. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders in a deprecating 
 way, and shook his head, while he smiled curi 
 ously. Then he reached for my pad, and wrote: 
 "See Mont Lazarre. Trouble is coming." 
 
 "By Gad!" I exclaimed. "If I had not heard 
 you behind me, you d have ended my troubles by 
 dropping me out of the window." 
 
 "You are mistaken !" he wrote on the pad. 
 
 "There s no use in arguing the thing," I said. 
 "But I ll keep a sharp watch on you after this, 
 my friend." 
 
 I told Norelle and Larry of what I believed to 
 be my narrow escape from death, and Larry 
 agreed with me that the librarian would bear 
 watching. Norelle, on the contrary, hurried to 
 his defense. 
 
 "The excitement has preyed on your nerves, 
 Mr. Smith," she exclaimed. "I d take something
 
 242 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 for it, if I were you. Go to the apothecary, and 
 get some bromide." 
 
 "I thought you d side with him," I retorted bit 
 terly. 
 
 "Isn t it possible that you are angry with him 
 because I prefer his company to yours, at times?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind!" I replied. "I d distrust 
 any man whom I found sneaking up behind me, 
 with his body bent for a spring, and his hands 
 outstretched." 
 
 "Nerves nerves only nerves!" she laughed. 
 Then, turning to Larry, she suggested that he 
 should take her to the copper foundry. 
 
 I was evidently dismissed, and walked moodily 
 out of the monastery to the yard, where I stood 
 for some time, gazing at the smoking mountain in 
 the distance. I had been there possibly ten min 
 utes, when there was a whirring of wings above 
 my head. Looking quickly upward, I beheld one 
 of the condors wheeling in narrowing circles 
 toward me. At first, I thought the great bird was 
 preparing for an attack, and glanced hastily 
 around for a weapon. Before I could pick up any 
 thing, however, the condor dropped at my feet, 
 and I saw that a roll of white paper was attached 
 to his right leg.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 243 
 
 To stoop and cut the string which held the 
 little cylinder to his horny shank was the work 
 of an instant. The condor at once flew to the top 
 of the fence, and then sailed off into the jungle. 
 First looking cautiously around, to make sure that 
 no one was in sight, I unrolled the paper, and read 
 the following mystifying message : 
 
 One who loves you from the dead past warns 
 you to beware of the librarian. If you would save 
 your own love from a fate worse than death, seize 
 and destroy the book of laws. 
 
 Instinctively, I swept the monastery roof and 
 the towering cliff with my eyes, hoping to catch 
 a glimpse of the person who had sent the carrier 
 bird to me. Perhaps my imagination conjured 
 the form of a monk, leaning over the rock, a thou 
 sand feet above my head. Perhaps the figure 
 stood there for the briefest part of a second. If 
 it did, it disappeared like a fleeting shadow. I 
 thrust the paper into my pocket as quickly as pos 
 sible, and went about with a sinking heart during 
 the rest of the day. 
 
 Was Norelle in real danger, I asked myself a 
 thousand times? If so, what was the peril that 
 threatened her? And who was the one that loved 
 me "from the dead past."
 
 244 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 At the first opportunity, I showed the writing 
 to Larry. 
 
 "The little girl is in danger, and that s enough 
 for us," he exclaimed, his Hibernian fighting 
 blood at once warming to the boiling point, "and 
 it s plain as day what we ve got to do." 
 
 "What get the book of laws?" I asked. 
 
 "Sure thing," he replied. "But how the devil 
 are we going to get it? Where do you suppose 
 the horse thief keeps the pesky book?" 
 
 It was a question which I was not prepared to 
 answer, nor had I any ideas to suggest. The up 
 shot of the matter was that Larry and I both be 
 came insatiate readers of manuscripts in the li 
 brary for the next two days One or the other of 
 us was in the great hall every instant; but, to 
 our intense chagrin, we could find no trace 
 of the book of laws. This was the volume which 
 Pietro had been translating when we came; 
 but immediately our search for it began, both 
 the ancient Aztec parchment and the translated 
 sheets were concealed by the black-browed 
 monk. 
 
 "Perhaps he has finished the job," I suggested 
 to Larry, at the end of the second day of dis 
 couragement. 
 
 "Not at all likely. He smells a mice," replied
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 245 
 
 Sullivan. "I suppose all we can do is to lie low 
 and wait." 
 
 Nor had we long to wait for startling develop 
 ments. 
 
 On the second night afterward, I was awakened 
 by a hand upon my forehead. When I opened my 
 eyes, I found the room almost as light as day 
 from the rays of the moon shining into the win 
 dow. A monk, hooded and gowned, stood beside 
 my couch. 
 
 "Who are you?" I gasped, after conquering my 
 first impulse to awaken Larry, who was snoring 
 loudly not ten feet distant. 
 
 The monk shook his head. 
 
 "Are you the one who knew me in the dead 
 past?" I asked, remembering the strange phrase 
 in the message brought to me by the condor. 
 
 This time the monk inclined his head. As he 
 did so, he held out his hand. I stretched mine 
 forth, expecting to meet his in friendly clasp ; but, 
 instead, I received a little roll of paper. As soon 
 as my fingers closed around it, the monk glided 
 from the room, and I was left staring, open- 
 mouthed and open-eyed, at the moonlight. With 
 the aid of a match for the writing was too 
 faint to be deciphered in the moonbeams I 
 read:
 
 246 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Too late. Xaca has the law. Flee with the one 
 you love. 
 
 I aroused Larry, and read him the message. 
 He was quite as much mystified, even if not as 
 much alarmed, as myself. 
 
 "Well, suppose he has the law what of it?" he 
 asked. "I m willing that he have all the law he 
 wants. He can t get too much law for me. But 
 what I don t tumble to is, how the devil old Xaca 
 having the law cuts any ice with us." 
 
 "I suppose we ll see, one of these days," I re 
 plied, "if we don t follow our friend s advice, and 
 move. It s all right for him to tell me to run away 
 with the young lady ; but if I can t get away, how 
 the mischief am I going to flee?" 
 
 "The elevator won t run without the assistance 
 of half a dozen of the monks," said Larry. "If 
 you ll tell me how we can get down without the 
 lift, you ll be a wonder." 
 
 "I m no wonder," I admitted sadly. "About 
 the only thing I can suggest is to catch half a 
 dozen of the condors, and make them take us to 
 earth. It might be rather risky, but I think it 
 would work." 
 
 "Fine plan!" sneered Larry. "And, when you 
 got down to the bottom, what would happen?
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 247 
 
 Why, the Yellow Queen and her little black boys 
 would chop you into bits, and eat you for dinner. 
 Don t forget that the yellow lady is still waiting 
 for you down there. I believe she has hopes of 
 marrying you yet, Jack." 
 
 "We might hitch up enough bird power to 
 carry us a long way off," I went on, loath to aban 
 don the idea of the living air ship. 
 
 "And be dumped into the crater of Mont La- 
 zarre, or into the Caribbean. Excuse me from 
 any such scheme as that," said Larry. "I guess 
 I ll run my chances where I am now. If some 
 thing s going to happen to me, I want it to take 
 place when my feet are on dry land." 
 
 "They are some distance from dry land now," 
 I remarked. 
 
 "Well, they re dry, anyway," exclaimed Larry; 
 "and this board floor is a pretty good imitation of 
 earth." 
 
 It was midafternoon of the day following, and 
 I was wandering about the monastery inclosure, 
 greatly depressed in spirits. I had not slept for 
 a moment, the night before, and was almost un 
 nerved. The mysterious warnings had preyed 
 upon my mind to such an extent that I would have 
 welcomed almost any real physical danger, as a 
 relief from the strain of waiting for that which,
 
 248 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 as yet, had no form or substance. Sullivan, on 
 the contrary, had slept all night as soundly and 
 peacefully as a child. His life on the plains and 
 on the police force had instilled into him a con 
 tempt for danger which I would have given 
 worlds to possess. Besides that, Larry had no 
 nerves. Moreover, he was not head over ears in 
 love with the girl whom danger threatened. 
 
 In my walk, I passed from end to end of the 
 monastery yard, and, as usual, found the place de 
 serted. All the monks were busy with their vari 
 ous vocations, and I thought to myself how easy 
 it would have been then for the Yellow Queen s 
 people to have stormed the lofty fortress. They 
 would have had ample time to scale the high posts, 
 and overrun the place, before the monks could 
 have been summoned from their work in the tun 
 nels. During my solitary promenade, I walked 
 several times beneath the rock of sacrifice, which 
 I had seen mentioned in the ancient writings, and 
 as none of the monks were about to resent my 
 curiosity, I seized upon the occasion thus offered 
 to make an inspection. 
 
 The rock was a peculiar formation, some ten 
 feet square, jutting out from the face of the cliff 
 like a mantel or bracket shelf from the wall of a 
 room. In thickness the shelf was about two feet ;
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 249 
 
 it had been planed and shaven by the elements of 
 the ages until its sides were as smooth as though 
 sand-papered. A well-constructed stairway of 
 planks made ascent easy from the floor of the in- 
 closure, and I stood upon the rock within half 
 a minute after I had taken the notion into my 
 head. 
 
 If I had expected to discover any gruesome 
 signs of the human sacrifices which, in times gone 
 by, had been offered upon that ancient altar, I 
 was doomed to disappointment. The winds and 
 rains had washed all vestiges of ashes from the 
 ledge, and beyond some dark stains, which might 
 have been caused by blood, or might have been 
 the mark of some mineral agent in the rock when 
 it was. formed, there was nothing to be seen. I 
 quickly descended the stairs, and resumed my 
 moody pacing of the yard. 
 
 Twice I made the circuit of the building, and 
 was about to start on another, when I halted, with 
 every nerve tense, and my heart almost at a stand 
 still. 
 
 I had heard from above a sound which I verily 
 believe would arouse me from my grave. It was 
 the sound of Norelle sobbing. 
 
 Looking swiftly around and above, I found that 
 the sobbing came from the overhanging gable
 
 250 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 window of the library. Then I dashed into the 
 monastery, and up the stairs. 
 
 As I reached the top of the steps, my sweet 
 heart cried again, and this time, I was sure, she 
 called my name. 
 
 The door of the library was shut and bolted. A 
 crevice, two or three inches in width at the top 
 of the door, caused by the warping of the struc 
 ture when the Voodoos made their attack, allowed 
 the sounds of an awful struggle to reach my ears. 
 
 I dashed my full weight against the door, but 
 it would not yield. 
 
 Swearing, crying, grinding my teeth, I raced 
 down the hallway, looking for some implement of 
 destruction some axe or hammer, with which to 
 beat in the door. 
 
 At the turn of the corridor, beside a window, I 
 found a copper flower pot. How I lifted it I know 
 not. It must have weighed, with its earthen con 
 tents, more than a hundredweight, but I seized it 
 with the frantic strength of desperation, and stag 
 gered back to the library door. 
 
 I do not remember lifting the weight above my 
 head, or hurling it against the timbers of the 
 door; nor do I remember how the stout boards 
 crashed inward, or how I burst into the room 
 after the great copper pot.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 251 
 
 But, Lord help me! I do remember the sight 
 which then met my eyes my love, Norelle, strug 
 gling in the arms of that brute, the librarian. 
 
 Like an avenging angel, I fell upon him, and my 
 fingers closed about his throat. The poor girl 
 swooned at that moment, with my name upon 
 her lips. 
 
 Like a tiger robbed of his prey, Pietro met my 
 attack, and I realized in an instant that he was 
 more than my match in strength. But I found 
 that I could outbox him, and, releasing my grip 
 upon his throat, when I knew that he would surely 
 overpower me, I felled him with a blow in the eye. 
 He was up again, and at me, like a flash, his long 
 arms thrust out to catch and twine around me like 
 the coils of a boa constrictor. Again I brought 
 him to the floor, and again he leaped up to renew 
 the combat. My foot struck against the side of a 
 table, and, before I knew what had happened, I 
 was down, and he was on top of me. 
 
 I expected him to try to throttle me, as I had 
 attacked him; but, instead, he threw his arms 
 around my body, and began dragging me toward 
 the window. 
 
 In an instant, I saw his design. He would throw 
 me into space. 
 
 Have you ever fought for your life ? Have yoq
 
 252 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 ever battled with a power stronger than yours, 
 and felt yourself dragged, inch by inch, foot by 
 foot, toward certain death? Have you put forth 
 every muscle, every ounce of strength, until the 
 veins in your forehead stood out like ropes, and 
 your heart seemed about to burst, yet all to no 
 avail ? 
 
 I saw the big hall of manuscripts slip by me, 
 and the yawning window approach. Now we 
 were within four feet of the sill now three 
 now two. Now he is raising me, in another mo 
 ment the struggle will be over, and he will be 
 alone with Norelle. 
 
 Perhaps it was the horror of the thought that 
 gave me back my wits, that put new steel into my 
 arms and caused me to remember a certain jiu- 
 jitsu hold, which I had learned when the fad was 
 at its height in the States. Perhaps it was the 
 way in which he extended his claw-like fingers, 
 for an instant, while shifting his hold to lift me 
 to the window ledge. 
 
 Like a flash, I clutched the long fingers, bent 
 them upon his hand, swung his arm around to his 
 back, then up, up to the nape of his neck, until 
 the shoulder bones cracked and he uttered a whine 
 of pain. He clutched wildly at the air with his 
 free hand, while trying to release the agonizing
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 253 
 
 hold, and then fell limp as a rag upon the sill, as 
 I dislocated his shoulder. 
 
 Then I raised him clear of the window, and 
 pushed him over. I watched him turning odd 
 somersaults in the air until he landed, no larger 
 than a good-sized pin, all in a heap at the foot of 
 one of the pillars.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE CAVE OF REPENTANCE 
 
 XACA and several of his monks rushed into the 
 room, two minutes after the librarian s spinning 
 body struck the ground. I was trying vainly to 
 comfort Norelle, who had revived, in the mean 
 time, sufficiently to witness the tragic end of the 
 struggle. Larry strode into the library on the 
 heels of the monks, and at once divined the situa 
 tion. 
 
 "The hooknosed gentleman went out that way, 
 I presume," he said, with a wave of his hand in 
 the direction of the window. 
 
 "He did," I replied. "It had to be one of us, you 
 know." 
 
 "What started it?" 
 
 "I heard Miss Pierson scream, came up, found 
 the door bolted, and then broke in," I replied. 
 
 Norelle buried her face in her hands, and sobbed 
 pitifully. 
 
 "I see," said Larry. "If I was a lawyer up in 
 the States, I d say you had a mighty good case. 
 
 254
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 255 
 
 As we don t happen to be in the States, however, 
 I ll reserve my decision." 
 
 Xaca and his brethren had, in the meantime, 
 gone to the window, and assured themselves of 
 Pietro s fate. The high priest then evidently gave 
 orders for the recovery of the librarian s body; 
 for two of the monks left the room, and soon after 
 ward we heard the creaking of the windlass. 
 Xaca then held a consultation with his subordin 
 ates at the other end of the hall. 
 
 "I suppose I m in for it, now," I said. "But I 
 could not have done otherwise. It was his life 
 or mine." 
 
 "Now, don t you be after worrying, Jack, my 
 boy," exclaimed Larry cheerfully. "They won t 
 lay hands on you, if they know what s healthy 
 for em." 
 
 The high priest concluded the conference, ap 
 proached us, and produced a writing pad, upon 
 which he penciled a few lines. Tearing off the 
 sheet, he handed it to me. 
 
 You have taken the life of a priest of the sun. 
 Prepare to appear before the council of seven. 
 
 "Where, and when?" I asked. "And if I do 
 appear, will I be given a fair trial?"
 
 256 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "The council will weigh your justification/ he 
 wrote in reply. "You will appear before the 
 council when the sun god is at the zenith to 
 morrow. Go to the hall of the sacred dead at the 
 appointed hour, and you will find a priest who will 
 conduct you to the hall of justice." 
 
 More than that I was unable to extract from 
 the old man. What the council of seven was 
 likely to do with my case, I could but conjecture; 
 and the result of my speculation was anything 
 but pleasant. I conjured up pictures of torture 
 chambers and dungeon cells, and saw myself im 
 mured for years, if not for life, deep in the copper 
 caverns. 
 
 Norelle, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, 
 went to her room, and Larry and I walked gloom 
 ily out into the monastery yard. Certain that we 
 could not escape from the monastery or the tun 
 nels, the monks paid no heed to our movements, 
 and we were left to our own resources during the 
 remainder of the day. 
 
 "I am for making a fight," asserted Larry, af 
 ter we had canvassed the situation at length. "If 
 I was you, I wouldn t go a step toward the hall of 
 justice. From all I ve seen of halls of justice, 
 the under dog always gets the worst of it. You re 
 the under dog in this case, because that man Pete,
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 257 
 
 or whatever they called him, has probably got a 
 lot of friends in the court." 
 
 "But maybe I ll get a fair trial," I said. "From 
 all I ve seen of these monks, they are far in ad 
 vance of a great many civilized communities. 
 Why isn t it possible that they will administer jus 
 tice as well as they follow other civilized voca 
 tions?" 
 
 "Because they re heathens, that s because," re 
 plied Larry emphatically. "A gang of grown-up 
 men that worship chickens or turkeys like they do, 
 and go out of mornings to turn themselves inside 
 out when the sun rises, must be wrong in the up 
 per story. My opinion is that they are all bug 
 house, and if you stand trial before their council 
 of seven, or whatever they call their supreme 
 court, you re going to get the worst of it." 
 
 "What would you do?" I asked. 
 
 "I d put up a scrap kill off a few dozen of the 
 duffers in their bathrobes and make a quick get 
 away." 
 
 "Suppose we got away from here where would 
 we go?" I asked. "We can t go back to St. Croix 
 without falling into the clutches of Varney. We 
 can t take refuge anywhere else in the country, 
 because of the Yellow Queen." 
 
 "I d rather be in either place than here, where
 
 258 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 you can t leave the house without looking up the 
 head teacher and asking permission," replied Sul 
 livan. "That s what galls me most up here. It s 
 too much like being in jail." 
 
 "I think I ll wait and see what happens," I de 
 cided finally. "I am likely to get a fair trial, and 
 be freed as soon as they hear my testimony. Af 
 ter the kind treatment I have received from Xaca 
 and the other monks, I d hate to fight them as 
 enemies. If I do not get a fair trial, and anything 
 serious is threatened, we can still put up the 
 fight." 
 
 The windlass began to revolve as we finished 
 the discussion, and soon the copper basket was 
 lifted over the wall. I shuddered, in spite of my 
 self, to see the burden it brought aloft two 
 priests living, and one dead. The last was noth 
 ing more than a shapeless mass of shattered 
 bones and torn garments. The monks lifted the 
 remains over the edge of the basket, and carried 
 the gruesome load into the monastery. 
 
 "I d like to have you answer me one question," 
 said Larry. 
 
 "What is it?" I asked. 
 
 "How the deuce they are going to make a piece 
 of copper plate out of him ?" 
 
 "I wish you would quit talking r,bout the dsad !"
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 259 
 
 I cried angrily. "You have gone mad on the sub 
 ject of those horrible statues. Can t you see that 
 even a hint of the subject is enough to drive me 
 to distraction? How am I going to keep up my 
 nerves when you are continually harping on such 
 things?" 
 
 "Forgive me, old fellow," he exclaimed. "I 
 didn t mean any harm. I was just trying to cheer 
 you up." 
 
 "Graveyards and corpses are not cheering 
 themes, just now," I exclaimed. 
 
 As the afternoon sun slanted over the crest of 
 Mont Lazarre, Larry and I noted the fact that 
 the crater was belching forth a greater volume of 
 smoke than usual. Not only was it smoking, but, 
 in addition to the smudge, lurid tongues of fire 
 shot from the funnels at intervals of every two 
 or three minutes, and an almost continuous rum 
 bling came from the roots of the mountain. 
 
 These reverberations seemed to travel through 
 the earth along the ridges of the mountains, which 
 formed the backbone of the island. Once in a 
 while there would be a louder, sharper detona 
 tion than usual, as though the underground army 
 had forsaken its drums for its cannon, and was 
 now bombarding the enemy, instead of beating 
 the dead march. When these heavier explosions
 
 260 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 took place, the monastery, and the cliff against 
 which it was built, trembled perceptibly. 
 
 "If Mont Lazarre cuts up many more pranks, 
 I d rather be up in the States than on the island," 
 observed Larry. 
 
 "They say that the volcano has not been active 
 for hundreds of years," I said. "It has periods 
 of semi-activity, like that you see now, but it has 
 never been known to do any real damage." 
 
 How I spent the remainder of that day, I do 
 not know. I may have eaten, but I do not remem 
 ber going to the table; I may have talked with 
 Larry or some of the monks, but do not recall the 
 circumstance. Much of the time I passed in a 
 monotonous walk up and down the length of the 
 monastery yard, watching the condors as they 
 wheeled a thousand feet above, or fixing my 
 vacant eyes upon the fiery funnel of Mont 
 Lazarre. 
 
 Norelle crept from her room, in the afternoon, 
 and joined me. What few broken sentences passed 
 between us are of no consequence. Our hearts 
 were too full for speech ; but we realized that we 
 loved each other, and that the span of our affec 
 tion might be brief. I remember that she asked 
 me if I would forgive her ; and when I swore that 
 she had done nothing which needed forgiveness,
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 261 
 
 she burst into a torrent of tears, and said she was 
 the wickedest woman in all the world. 
 
 I did my best to convince her that Pietro and I 
 were bound to have come to blows sooner or later, 
 and that her participation in the affair had only 
 hastened the end. 
 
 "Oh, why did I ever come to this horrible 
 place?" she sobbed. "And if I had to come to the 
 island, why did they not let me fall into the hands 
 of the Voodoos, and receive my punishment? 
 Then, at least, I would not have caused that man s 
 death, and your unjust trial." 
 
 "You talk as though I had been sentenced to 
 punishment," I expostulated. "I am not going to 
 suffer mark my words. I m coming out of this 
 all right, and we ll be happy yet." 
 
 As the darkness gathered, and we walked 
 toward the door of -the monastery, several of the 
 condors came sailing down from the heights and 
 alighted on the great, flat rock that jutted from 
 the cliff. They ranged themselves in a row along 
 the front of the rock, and, in the twilight gloom, 
 looked like solemn judges sitting on the bench. 
 
 "There are seven of them," exclaimed Norelle. 
 
 "It s the council of seven," I said, laughing 
 grimly at the idea, "and they have decided to go 
 to sleep on the rock of sacrifice."
 
 262 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 At noon on the following day, I proceeded to 
 the hall of the copper statues, going unattended 
 and unarmed. Larry would have gone with me, 
 but I urged him to remain with Norelle. "Her 
 safety is more to me than life itself," I said. "I 
 know you will take good care of her, if I do not 
 return." 
 
 "But why not make our stand now?" exclaimed 
 Larry. "The two of us can put up a better fight, 
 now, than I can by myself, after they have put 
 the bracelets on you. Don t be after going a step, 
 my lad." 
 
 "They are not going to do me any harm, old 
 partner," I reassured him. "If we kick up a rum 
 pus, they d be pretty sure to make trouble. So 
 just be quiet, and await developments. I trust in 
 the fairness and justice of Xaca, and I feel con 
 fident that my trust is not misplaced." 
 
 "I don t like his whiskers," was Larry s ir 
 reverent reply. 
 
 The parting from Norelle was not so easy. Tn 
 spite of all her attempts to be brave, she burst 
 into tears, and flung herself into my arms, mean 
 while calling herself a murderess. As I kissed her 
 wet cheeks and trembling lips, and attempted to 
 utter a few hopeful words, I could almost have 
 blessed the fate which had given me my love at
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 263 
 
 last. It was the first time I had ever kissed her, 
 and the first time she was ever in my arms, a will 
 ing prisoner. Slowly I loosened the fingers which 
 vainly tried to detain me, kissed her once more, 
 and went into the tunnel of the copper lamps. 
 
 As I now look back upon the events of that day, 
 it seems as though I must have dreamed them. 
 They fill a niche in my memory like some horri 
 ble creation of delirium fantastic, grotesque, 
 weird, and unreal, yet seared into my brain with 
 letters of fire, which time will never efface. I 
 would dismiss the subject with a paragraph, if 
 I could; for even now, after the lapse of years, 
 as I look back upon that trial in the low-vaulted 
 chamber, the sombre figures of the council of 
 seven arise to chill my blood. 
 
 When I reached the chamber of the copper 
 statues, I found a monk awaiting me. His face 
 was unfamiliar, but he bowed as though we had 
 met before, and I returned the salutation. Then 
 he led the way down one of the tunnels, and I 
 took step beside him. After we had proceeded 
 a distance of perhaps a quarter of a mile, he 
 stopped in front of a huge brazen door, and 
 knocked three times. The massive metal portal 
 swung silently inward, and I entered. 
 
 My footsteps sounded hollow and strange, and
 
 264 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 awoke sepulchral echoes in the far corners of the 
 hall, within which my trial was to be held. 
 
 Advancing to the middle of the chamber, I dis 
 cerned the councilmen seated in the arc of a circle 
 upon a platform, raised some four feet from the 
 floor. At the front of the stage, and in the cen 
 tre, was an upright block of stone, upon which 
 rested an open, copper-bound volume, and a 
 lighted torch. 
 
 The pale blue flame from the torch beside the 
 book was the only light within the room, and it 
 was with difficulty that I could distinguish the 
 forms of the black-gowned priests behind. 
 
 As I entered, the central one of the seven arose 
 from his seat and approached the lectern. I was 
 irresolute as to where I should take my stand, but 
 finally decided to proceed until I reached a point 
 opposite the book and torch, where I bowed to my 
 judges and stopped, to await their will. 
 
 The one who had arisen I now saw to be Xaca, 
 the head priest. His aged face, chiseled in sharp 
 lines by the pale radiance of the torch, seemed cold 
 as ice and cruel as revenge. He bent his eyes 
 upon the open book, but gave no sign that he was 
 aware of my arrival. 
 
 I waited for a full minute, and, in spite of all 
 my resolutions of courage, felt my heart beating
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 265 
 
 like a trip-hammer with fear. At last I could 
 bear the awful silence no longer, and cried: "I 
 am here, priests of the sun !" 
 
 Slowly Xaca turned his eyes toward me, and, 
 lifting his hand, beckoned for me to approach. I 
 drew nearer to the block of stone, and, as he con 
 tinued to beckon, mounted the platform with some 
 little effort, and stood at his side. Then Xaca 
 placed his index finger upon the open book, and 
 indicated that I should read the page beneath his 
 hand. 
 
 It was the book of law of Izaquil. My eyes 
 almost started from their sockets, as I read the 
 following words: 
 
 He who slays a Priest of the Sun shall die on 
 the Rock of Sacrifice. 
 
 He who slays a Priest of the Sun shall be con 
 sumed by fire. 
 
 He who slays a Priest of the Sun shall be burned 
 by the Sun God whom he has angered. 
 
 He who slays a Priest of the Sun shall spend 
 three days and three nights in the Cave of Re 
 pentance. 
 
 He who slays a Priest of the Sun shall be judged 
 and sentenced by the Council of Seven. On the 
 Day of Atonement, which shall be three days and
 
 266 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 three nights after he has entered the Cave of 
 Repentance, shall he be placed upon the Rock of 
 Sacrifice and consumed by the sacred fire sent by 
 the Sun God 
 So decrees Izaquil. 
 
 I looked up from the page of law, and gazed 
 into the pitiless eyes of the high priest. I would 
 have found more mercy in the sightless orbs of 
 the copper-coated dead, out in the hall of statues. 
 I looked around at the immovable, silent figures 
 of the six other judges, and realized that I was 
 doomed. 
 
 "I demand a trial," I cried, struggling hard to 
 overcome the nameless clutching terror at my 
 heart. "I killed him only as a last resort, and in 
 self-defense, after I had tried to protect the honor 
 of the girl whom I would make my wife. Surely, 
 if any man ever had justification for homicide, I 
 had. Surely, wise judges, you would not condemn 
 a man for that. Surely Pietro deserved his fate!" 
 
 I was pleading with images of stone. Again 
 Xaca s white fingers pointed at the page of law. 
 
 "Think for a moment of what you would do!" 
 I cried, now speaking in choked and trembling 
 tones. "You are about to condemn and sacrifice 
 an innocent man. Because Pietro happened to be
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 267 
 
 a priest of the sun, he had no right to attack a 
 woman, a guest of the monastery, and, when foiled 
 in that purpose, he had no right to attempt my 
 life. If you are priests, true to your holy vows, 
 you will abhor such a crime as Pietro attempted, 
 and must forgive and absolve me for my act." 
 
 Once again Xaca s finger pointed at the terrible 
 law. 
 
 "Then you ll have to take me," I cried, suddenly 
 reaching my decision. I realized that I had noth 
 ing to hope from those seven monks who sat in 
 judgment upon me, and my fighting blood over 
 came the chill of fear which had well-nigh para 
 lyzed my heart. 
 
 With one bound, I was off the platform, and in 
 another moment was darting toward the door. 
 If I could regain the monastery, I would take my 
 stand, with Larry at my side, and with whatever 
 weapons fate placed in our hands. I felt confident 
 that, together, we could defy and vanquish the 
 whole brotherhood. 
 
 As I sped toward the entrance, some unseen 
 power closed the great brass door, and I was 
 locked in the hall of justice with my seven judges. 
 In vain I threw myself against the metal barrier, 
 and sought to find the bolt or latch that held it 
 shut. It was as smooth as glass, and as solid as the
 
 268 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 N 
 
 wall of rock within which it was set. Then I 
 looked around for some weapon of defense. 
 
 Not a movable object was within sight or reach,, 
 save the book and the torch upon the platform, 
 and I backed up against the brazen portal, like a 
 rat into the farthest corner of his trap, resolved 
 to sell my life as dearly as possible. 
 
 Neither Xaca nor any of the other councilmen 
 seemed disturbed by my outbreak. I had expected 
 them to surround and fall upon me, and knew 
 that, if they did, such a contest could have but one 
 ending. Sure as I was of defeat, I was resolved 
 to die fighting. 
 
 "Come on!" I shouted, finding additional cour 
 age in the mere sound of my voice. "Come on 
 and take me ; but, before you do, I ll show you how 
 an American can die." 
 
 The defiance had scarcely left my lips before 
 my eyes were dazzled by an overpowering flood 
 of light, blazing from above. A score of huge 
 copper lamps burst into flame overhead, and down 
 the hall, toward me, coming from I knew not 
 where, marched a squad of soldier monks, mail 
 clad, with shields upon their arms, and spears 
 leveled at my breast. 
 
 Rage, astonishment, terror, and despair strug 
 gled for the mastery within me. When they had
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 269 
 
 approached within ten feet of me, I rushed at 
 them, with a scream of desperation, intending 
 to impale myself upon their spears. 
 
 But even in this attempt of self-destruction I 
 was balked. Instead of piercing me with a dozen 
 wounds, the spears were thrown upward, and I 
 crashed into the phalanxed shields of the nearest 
 monks. Before I was able to gather myself to 
 gether from the shock of impact, muscular arms 
 had pinioned me, and I was a prisoner. 
 
 "Coward murderers!" I screamed, struggling 
 in vain to break the chains of flesh and bone. I 
 was like a baby in their grasp. 
 
 With the same impassive eyes that had re 
 garded me when I pleaded for mercy, Xaca and 
 his companions on the platform now witnessed 
 my battle with the mutes in mail. The high 
 priest s index finger was still pointing at the page 
 of law. Then Xaca made a sign to my captors; 
 the door of brass was flung open, and I was led 
 out of the hall. 
 
 Swiftly, almost noiselessly, the dumb soldiers 
 marched me through the length of several tun 
 nels, toward what I was afterward to know as the 
 cave of repentance. 
 
 If I live to pass the century mark,- 1 shall re 
 member every step of that journey to my dying
 
 270 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 day. "It is the death march," I muttered to my 
 self, and across my mind flashed other similar 
 processions I had seen. There was the march that 
 I had followed as a reporter, when Maxwell, "the 
 trunk murderer" had gone to the gallows; there 
 was the grim parade through the jail yard of a 
 little Missouri town, when Deustrow, "the million 
 aire murderer," went to his fate for the slaughter 
 of wife and child. These, and half a dozen other 
 gruesome scenes, came back to me. 
 
 But in all these processions I had been an ob 
 server. I had gone to describe the actions of the 
 wretch whose trembling feet were counting out 
 the last heartbeats in his bosom. His pallor his 
 lips, mumbling the name of wife, or baby, or God 
 the fit of his collar around the neck, where the 
 noose will soon fit tighter still the stumble that 
 he makes at the gibbet s step the eyes bursting 
 from their sockets, as he looks up and beholds the 
 wooden frame and the swinging cord instead of 
 the blue sky and the sunshine these had been but 
 routine items in my mind, once upon a time. 
 
 Now, I was the chief figure in the march to 
 doom. The red lights flickering in their copper 
 sockets; the silent soldier monks leading me on; 
 the horror of abandoning the girl I loved to the 
 mercies of the devilish crew in that house of mys-
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 271 
 
 tery; the menacing thunders of the volcano all 
 combined to paint for the eye and for the imag 
 ination a picture more grisly and more weird than 
 any I had ever described with pen or tongue. 
 
 At length we reached another brazen door, 
 which opened at our approach. Behind it was a 
 chamber some fifteen feet in diameter, the only 
 furnishings of which were a bunk, a table, and a 
 copper lamp, swinging from the ceiling. The 
 walls, cut from the solid rock, were smooth and 
 dripping with moisture. 
 
 The monks closed the door upon me, and I was 
 alone. 
 
 It would be vain to attempt to describe the in 
 terminable hours I spent within that cave of 
 despair. For hours I suffered the tortures of the 
 lost, as I contemplated death in the flames upon 
 the rock ; then I was buoyed by fleeting moments 
 of hope, as I thought of Larry Sullivan s devotion 
 and bravery, and pictured him coming to my 
 rescue. 
 
 Many of the lonesome hours I whiled away in a 
 careful examination of the walls of the cave, 
 which were covered with a mass of letters, figures, 
 symbols, and pictures, Spanish, French, and char 
 acters from languages that were strange to me 
 were inextricably mixed upon the rock, but here
 
 272 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 and there I could make out phrases which showed 
 that the writers had been, like myself, waiting 
 for death upon the rock of sacrifice. 
 
 Many of the pictures scratched upon the stone 
 were executed with considerable skill. One of 
 the best was a remarkable picture of the monas 
 tery and its supporting cliff. 
 
 Beside the building was shown the sacrificial 
 rock, jutting from the face of the mountain, and 
 upon the stone shelf was the figure of a man 
 bound to a post. Faggots were heaped about his 
 feet, and flames were surrounding his body. 
 Above his head was shown the blazing sun, and 
 circling over him was a flock of condors, while 
 down in the monastery yard was a group of 
 monks, with their arms uplifted to the orb of day. 
 
 The man who had graven that picture upon the 
 rock was evidently familiar with the scene 
 doubtless some monk, who, himself, had often par 
 ticipated in the awful ceremony and I wondered, 
 as I looked shudderingly at the sketch, how he 
 had come to slay a brother priest, and merit the 
 same death which was so soon to overtake me. 
 
 It is, of course, unnecessary to say that I ex 
 hausted my ingenuity in trying to devise means 
 of escape. I might have spared myself the trou 
 ble, for the metal door was as solid as the moun-
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 273 
 
 tain, and, though I hurled myself against it, again 
 and again, with all my strength, it did not move 
 the fraction of an inch. Even had I been able to 
 break down the barrier, I doubt that it would 
 have availed me anything in the way of escape; 
 for the monkish guards were doubtless on the 
 other side of the door, ready to meet me with 
 shields and spears. 
 
 Finally, worn out in mind and body, I threw 
 myself upon the couch, and, after what seemed to 
 be the lapse of hours, fell into a troubled sleep.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE 
 
 WHEN I opened my eyes, the flame in the copper 
 lamp was flickering, as though from a draught of 
 air. Curiously I gazed about the room, to ascer 
 tain the cause, and my eyes fell upon the great 
 bronze door. It was open; it was moving. 
 
 I leaped to my feet, and ran toward the door, 
 but as I neared it, my heart sank within me, for 
 I saw that it was softly closing. In another mo 
 ment, it stopped, and I heard the unmistakable 
 click of the bolt as it was shot into place. 
 
 Who had been in my cell ? Had there been any 
 one else in the room at all; or was the movement 
 of the door only a dream, that was still playing 
 upon my sleep-benumbed senses? Then I noticed 
 something white at my feet. It was a roll of 
 paper. 
 
 Seizing it with feverish haste, I opened it, and 
 recognized the familiar handwriting of the monk 
 who had assured me that he had known me in the 
 dead past. 
 
 274
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 275 
 
 This is what I read : 
 
 Be brave. I will not abandon you. The sen 
 tence of Izaquil shall never be carried out. I will 
 come for you to-morrow night. 
 
 I thought the next day would never come to an 
 end. I say "day," for we are in the habit of 
 measuring time by the sun, even though he be 
 hidden from us, as he was in my case. I was un 
 able to distinguish day from night in that cell 
 beneath the solid rock, and could only guess at 
 the passage of the hours. 
 
 Three times the metal door was opened, and 
 three times an armed monk brought me food and 
 water. Had it not been for the message of hope 
 which I had received, I would have set upon the 
 food bearer, and made an effort to wrest from him 
 his sword and shield. But with the message came 
 cheer to my heart, and a caution which despair 
 would have thrown to the four winds. 
 
 Long, long after the ministering monk had 
 made his third visit, as I sat watching the red 
 door with aching eyes, the portal opened softly, 
 and a black figure glided from the corridor. It 
 beckoned to me, and I followed it from the cham 
 ber.
 
 276 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Outside the cell door were three monks, whose 
 recumbent figures and hearty snores bespoke the 
 soundness of their slumbers. We sped by them 
 like shadows, and, after passing through the 
 length of the tunnel and the hall of the sacred 
 dead, entered the long corridor of the many lamps, 
 leading to the monastery. My heart leaped with 
 joy at sight of the familiar way; for I believed 
 that the mysterious monk was leading me back to 
 Norelle and Larry. But in this hope I was dis 
 appointed. 
 
 When we had reached a point twenty feet from 
 the opening of the tunnel, at the rear of the mon 
 astery building, my guide opened a concealed 
 door at the side of the corridor, revealing a flight 
 of winding steps, leading downward. These steps 
 were cut out of the solid rock. As we descended 
 them, after carefully closing the door above, I 
 felt a breath of cold air strike my face. 
 
 Then, on a sudden, we found ourselves looking 
 into the darkness of the outer night. Below our 
 feet was the abyss. Another step would have 
 hurled us into space. 
 
 My companion pressed my hand reassuringly, 
 and, reaching above his head, found a lantern, 
 which he lighted with the aid of flint and steel. 
 Swinging the lantern from side to side, and out as
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 277 
 
 far as his arm would reach, the monk showed me 
 that we stood at the mouth of a tunnel, many feet 
 below the floor of the monastery. 
 
 In front of us, and to our right and left, look 
 ing white as ivory pillars against the blackness 
 of the night, were the timbers which supported 
 the building the timbers which the Voodoos had 
 tried so hard to uproot. 
 
 I was about to ask for an explanation of the 
 strange procedure, when the monk wrote and 
 handed me this message : 
 
 Help me, John, with all your might, so that the 
 decree of fire shall not be carried out. 
 
 So the monk knew my Christian name! As I 
 withdrew my eyes from the slip of paper and 
 looked into his, I saw a tear steal down his cheek. 
 I believe he made an effort to speak with his mute 
 lips. Then his hands sought the tablet, to write 
 another message; but at the next moment, the 
 impulse having passed, he drew a long breath, as 
 though to steel himself against his emotions, and 
 proceeded to the business of the night. 
 
 Drawing a large two-handed saw from a place 
 of concealment, he indicated that I was to assist 
 him in cutting through the pillars which sup 
 ported the building.
 
 278 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "But this will cause the monastery , to fall!" I 
 expostulated, in a whisper of astonishment and 
 fear. 
 
 To this he nodded his head. 
 
 "And Norelle, and Larry, as well as all the 
 others, will be hurled to death," I continued. 
 
 This time he shook his head emphatically. 
 
 I soon realized that it was not his purpose to 
 overthrow the monastery at once. He merely 
 planned to cut through the great posts with the 
 saw, and leave them standing. 
 
 How we toiled through the night; how we 
 sawed pillar after pillar; how we dared death a 
 hundred times, while moving our frail bridges of 
 boards from place to place, so that we might have 
 standing room to do our strange task, is scarcely 
 worth your time to read, or mine to write. Suffice 
 it that, when the first streaks of dawn tinted the 
 sky over the mountain tops, we had finished the 
 work. 
 
 The great building stood, to all appearances, as 
 solidly as ever upon its wooden stilts; but my 
 friend, the monk, had contrived so skilfully to cut 
 each timber that the stability of all depended upon 
 one of them. Were this certain post to be dis 
 placed from equilibrium, or to receive a sudden 
 jar, I could imagine the whole massive structure
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 279 
 
 above us toppling like a house of cards into the 
 chasm. 
 
 When we had finished the work, we fled back 
 through the corridors to my prison. The guards 
 were still sleeping heavily outside the brazen door. 
 They had apparently stirred not during all the 
 hours we had been gone, and I suspected that they 
 had been given some sort of sleeping potion, to 
 insure their uninterrupted repose. 
 
 As the monk was about to leave me, he turned 
 suddenly and threw his arms about me. He 
 seized my hand and wrung it fondly ; then he took 
 my writing pad, and wrote : 
 
 Good-by, dear boy. We may never meet again. 
 Think of me sometimes as one who loved you 
 more than life.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE DAY OF ATONEMENT 
 
 To my joyful surprise, the monk paid me another 
 visit on the following day, but my pleasure at 
 meeting him again was short-lived, when I learned 
 the dreadful intelligence he brought. 
 
 Three victims had been doomed to die on the 
 rock of sacrifice, instead of one. Norelle and 
 Larry were the other two. 
 
 Can you picture my despair, when this awful 
 news was finally conveyed to me through the me 
 dium of pencil and paper? 
 
 Sinister events had transpired after I left the 
 monastery. At about the time when I was being 
 taken to the cave of repentance, Xaca had dis 
 covered in the book of law that Norelle must be 
 offered as a sacrifice to the sun god. In the trans 
 lation of the volume which Pietro, the fiendish 
 librarian, had completed just before his death, it 
 was recorded that no woman might enter the 
 monastery and live. Her mere presence was a 
 profanation of holy quarters, and she must, upon 
 
 280
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 281 
 
 discovery, be offered up on the rock of sacrifice, to 
 expiate the sins of her sex. 
 
 All this, and more, was written me by the monk, 
 who slipped into my prison three times before the 
 noon of the day set for me to perish on the rock. 
 
 He also attempted to write me a description of 
 the magnificent but hopeless battle which Larry 
 fought in defense of Norelle, my sweetheart, but 
 it was not until long afterward that I gained a 
 definite idea of the splendid fight. 
 
 It was impossible that the monk, in the few 
 hurried moments at his disposal, could tell me 
 how Sullivan had taken his stand, with Norelle 
 behind him, in the corner of the monastery yard, 
 almost in the shadow of the rock of sacrifice, and 
 there, with nothing but a stout brass bar in his 
 hands, had held at bay for half an hour the entire 
 force of the brotherhood ; how he had mowed down 
 the mutes, at their first onset, until he had piled 
 in front of him a bulwark of half a dozen corpses ; 
 how they had rushed upon him, again and again, 
 only to fall back with skulls and limbs shattered 
 by that brazen flail; and how, finally, they had 
 brought him low with a mass of ore, hurled down 
 upon him from an upper window of the monastery 
 building. Even as the mob fell upon him to 
 bind him hand and foot, Larry recovered con-
 
 282 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 sciousness, and, gripping the throat of one of his 
 assailants, had throttled him to death. 
 
 It was a fight worthy of a place in song beside 
 that earlier exploit of Horatius at the Bridge ; but, 
 unfortunately, unlike the case of the sturdy Ro 
 man who defended the footway spanning the Tiber, 
 victory perched on the side of the numbers. They 
 loaded him with chains, and buried him in a cell, 
 beside which the one I occupied was a prince s 
 palace. 
 
 When Larry was overwhelmed, Norelle had at 
 tempted to escape the flames by leaping from the 
 monastery wall, but had been frustrated in her 
 design, and was confined in one of the inner rooms 
 of the building. 
 
 With my heart torn by the emotions aroused by 
 this narrative, it is small wonder that I was half 
 beside myself when Xaca and his priests came for 
 me shortly before noon. Their coming was a 
 blessed relief from the solitary agonies I had been 
 suffering; and I accompanied them gladly, caring 
 little whether my fate were life or death. 
 
 When we had traversed the tunnels, and had 
 reached the face of the cliff, we found the monas 
 tery standing as solidly as ever, and I was 
 tempted to believe that I had only dreamed of that 
 night-long toil with the monk. Surely, if my mys-
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 283 
 
 terious friend were planning to destroy the build 
 ing, the time for him to act had passed. Little 
 good his intervention would accomplish, after the 
 fagots had been kindled about our feet. 
 
 All the monks of the brotherhood seemed to 
 have gathered in the yard. It was impossible to 
 count them in the brief time given me for obser 
 vation, had I been in the mood and I surely was 
 not but there must have been more than three 
 hundred of the cowled figures in the inclosure. I 
 looked in vain for the face of my friend. Per 
 haps he had deserted me at the eleventh hour; 
 perhaps he had been prevented from coming, and 
 the sacrifice would be made, in spite of all the 
 brave work he had done to save me. My heart 
 sank within me, as I saw the fiendish prepara 
 tions made by Xaca and his followers, and ob 
 served that the sun was rapidly near ing the 
 zenith. 
 
 Norelle and Larry, each manacled and heavily 
 guarded, were in the inclosure when I was brought 
 out. The poor girl was pale as death, but there 
 was no trace of tears in her glorious eyes, and 
 when her gaze met mine, I read nothing of fear, 
 nothing of the horror she must have suffered. 
 But I did read and interpret the love light in her 
 eyes, and my heart leaped with joy to know that
 
 284 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 she was mine, even in the shadow of doom. 
 
 "We will die together, love," she exclaimed, 
 "and will meet again beyond the mountains." 
 
 "Do not give up hope, little girl," I replied. 
 "We may be saved, even at this late hour." 
 
 "It looks to me as though we were mighty near 
 all in," said Larry. "They ve got things all ready 
 on the mantelshelf, up there." 
 
 He jerked his head in the direction of the rock 
 of sacrifice, and my eyes at once sought the bar 
 baric altar. 
 
 Planted upon it were three stakes, and sus 
 pended above the middle one by a copper chain, 
 was a ball of glass, as large as a toy balloon. I 
 could not imagine the purpose of this sphere of 
 crystal, unless it were some ornament or emblem, 
 used in the dread ceremony so soon to begin. 
 
 The wooden steps leading to the rock looked 
 like the grim stairs leading to a gallows trap. 
 
 My appearance with the high priest was the 
 signal for the mummeries to begin. They had evi 
 dently been waiting for their third victim ; for, as 
 soon as I emerged from the building, the black 
 monks began a march around the inclosure, mak 
 ing, the meanwhile, strange signs with their 
 hands, and bowing frequently to the blazing sun. 
 After they had circled the yard three times, Xaca,
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 285 
 
 assisted by two other monks, conducted Norelle, 
 Larry, and myself up the steps to the rock, and 
 there fastened us to the stakes. 
 
 Norelle was placed in the centre, directly be 
 neath the strange glass globe; Larry was bound 
 to the stake on her right hand, and I on her left. 
 Sticks of dry wood were piled around our feet, the 
 three stacks of faggots being so near together 
 that, if one were to be lighted, all would blaze. 
 The stakes were planted in such close proximity 
 that, had our arms been free, we could have 
 clasped hands. Directly in front of Norelle, and 
 thrown partly upon the faggots and partly upon 
 the rock, was a mass of feathery wood pith, or 
 some other sort of tinder-like material, which I 
 guessed would be ignited by a spark, and would, 
 in turn, set fire to the faggots and our writhing 
 bodies. 
 
 As soon as we were securely fastened to the 
 stakes by copper chains, and the kindling wood 
 had been arranged to their satisfaction, Xaca and 
 his two companions hurriedly left the rock, and 
 rejoined their brethren upon the platform below, 
 where they resumed their marching and gesticu 
 lations. 
 
 The sun was nearly overhead, and, as his beams 
 beat down upon our foreheads, the heat was al-
 
 286 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 most intolerable. Occasionally, a faint breeze 
 fanned the golden curls upon Norelle s brow, and 
 I wondered, with a shudder of horror, how they 
 would look when touched by the withering flames. 
 Would I live to see them smoke and shrivel in the 
 awful heat, or would the flames mercifully spare 
 me the agony of seeing my darling suffer, by tak 
 ing me first? 
 
 Norelle s gaze was fixed upon the east, where 
 the smoke from Mont Lazarre was lazily lifting 
 into the heavens, and if she feared the approach 
 of death, neither the undimmed depths of her 
 eyes nor the calm of her white brow revealed it. 
 
 "Come on and light your damned fire, and get 
 it over with !" snarled Larry. 
 
 The monks continued their marching. The sun 
 blazed hotter from above. 
 
 I had given up all hope of rescue. My friend 
 had failed me, and in a few minutes the smoke 
 and flames from the burning faggots would blot 
 out all semblance of humanity on that dreadful 
 platform. 
 
 What was that? A red-hot iron seemd to strike 
 the back of my hand. 
 
 Looking down at the point of pain, I beheld a 
 dazzling white spot. Involuntarily, I uttered an 
 exclamation ; and as I managed to shift my hand
 
 LIGHT YOUR DAMNED FIRE AND GET IT OVBB WITH!" SNARLED LARRY. 
 
 Paye 280.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 287 
 
 slightly, in spite of its shackles, my mind grasped 
 the significance of the thing. 
 
 "The burning glass !" I cried. "It is the burn 
 ing glass above Norelle s head." 
 
 In another moment, the white spot had trav 
 eled from my hand to the rock beneath my 
 feet. 
 
 What devilish ingenuity! The monks had so 
 hung the crystal ball above Norelle s head that the 
 rays of the sun, passing through it, would, in the 
 course of a few minutes, reach the tinder on the 
 faggots, and start it into blaze. There was no 
 need for human hands to kindle the fire. Izaquil, 
 lord of the sun, from his chariot above, would 
 touch the match himself. 
 
 Thank Heaven, Norelle had fainted. The tor 
 ture of suspense, added to the terror of suffering 
 and death, had done their work, and I prayed 
 fervently that the smoke would also be merciful 
 to her, and bring suffocation before the flames 
 should reach her body. 
 
 The dazzling ray of light traveled over the bare 
 rock toward the tinder. Slow as it was, in fact, 
 it seemed to race with lightning speed. 
 
 "At the rate it is going," said Larry, "it will 
 be there in less than five minutes. Allow five min 
 utes more for the fire to gain good headway,
 
 288 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 and I figure we ve just about ten more minutes 
 of But what s that?" 
 
 A stalwart form leaped from the line of monks, 
 and ran swiftly toward the wooden wall of the 
 inclosure. Xaca and his followers had stopped 
 short in their ceremonial. Horror was depicted 
 on their faces. For a precious moment, they 
 paused, thralled by the unexpected, paralyzed 
 by the terror of the danger that threatened 
 them. 
 
 A heavy, long-handled brass sledge rested 
 against the wall. Seizing this with the quickness 
 of light, my friend for it was he swung it over 
 his head, and brought it down upon the top of one 
 of the timbers that came up from below. 
 
 The monastery quivered like a ship in collision. 
 
 Again he raised the mighty weapon, and again 
 it fell upon the pillar. 
 
 Now the monastery rocks ; now the wooden hulk 
 groans; now the mob of mutes plunge across the 
 open space, to halt the swinging instrument of 
 doom. 
 
 A wordless wail, a tongueless scream, bursts 
 from three hundred throats. Once more the great 
 sledge glints redly in the sunlight, as it describes 
 another fearful arc and falls upon the upraised 
 post.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 289 
 
 Xaca and his followers have almost reached the 
 wall. 
 
 But they are never to arrive are never to stay 
 that destroying arm. One more stroke and the 
 deed is done. 
 
 The long roof of the monastery crumbled like 
 pie crust ; the flooring of the yard was gone. For 
 one horrible instant, the crowd of monks was run 
 ning on air. Then there was a screeching, as 
 timbers split a crash a roar a cloud of dust 
 space vacancy the chasm the abyss. 
 
 It seemed a year before the sickening, muffled 
 roar from below told us that Xaca and his monks, 
 and our deliverer, were no more.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 FROM THE DOOR OF DOOM 
 
 DEATH still traveled swiftly toward us in that 
 dazzling point of light. In three minutes, the sun 
 would be directly overhead, and all the concen 
 trated power of his noonday rays would be shot 
 through the crystal globe upon the inflammable 
 stuff at Norelle s feet. Poor, dear girl! She 
 would be the first to suffer the torture of fire. 
 Long before the flames would reach me, I should 
 be compelled to witness her agonies. 
 
 The very thought drove me mad, and I raved 
 like a wild creature as I tugged and twisted at my 
 chains, until the links sunk into my wrists and the 
 blood gushed out, to drip upon the rock. Struggle 
 as I might with all the power of my muscles, I 
 was unable to slip the chains an inch. At last, I 
 fell, weak and sobbing, against the stake. 
 
 "We must get loose in two minutes, or never," 
 cried Larry, now striving at his bonds until the 
 veins upon his forehead stood out like ropes. He 
 grew purple in the face. 
 
 290
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 291 
 
 "We can never do it," I cried, in despair. 
 "What good did our poor friend accomplish, after 
 all? He threw away his own life, and ours will 
 be sacrificed just the same." 
 
 Several shadows passed over our heads, and, 
 looking up, we saw that five or six condors were 
 wheeling in narrowing circles over the rock. 
 
 "Those vile birds will be cheated of their prey, 
 this time," said Larry. "When the fire gets 
 through with us, there won t be a beakful for any 
 of them." 
 
 "They ll find plenty down below," I said. 
 "There s enough carrion down there to gorge 
 them for weeks." 
 
 One minute half a minute more, and the tin 
 der would be ablaze. 
 
 Larry and I watched the tip of light, as though 
 in a mesmeric spell. It was a flaming eye, that 
 held us fast. Now it was within three inches of 
 the point of death; now it seemed to leap the 
 space. The feathery stuff blackened, curled, 
 snapped, smoked and then, a strange thing hap 
 pened. 
 
 A blot of ink seemed to fall upon the spot where 
 our eyes were riveted. The ink blot swayed 
 to and fro, and the new-born fire beneath it 
 died.
 
 292 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "Heaven bless the bird!" cried Larry, with a 
 shout of joy. "We re saved! We re saved!" 
 
 One of the wheeling condors had alighted upon 
 the ball of glass. His bulk above the globe cut off 
 the rays of light from the sun. Even had he been 
 as transparent as the glass itself, he would have 
 been our savior still; for his sudden weight had 
 set the ball to swinging like a pendulum upon the 
 copper chain. 
 
 "Don t frighten him away," I admonished. 
 "Let us pray that he stays there till the sun moves 
 off the danger point." 
 
 "The danger is over, my boy," cried Larry. "It 
 would take fifteen minutes, at least, for the burn 
 ing glass to swing back to a dead stop. My lad, 
 we re saved I tell you, we re saved !" 
 
 "I ll never kill a condor as long as I live," I 
 cried, as though registering a vow. 
 
 "Neither will I, Jack," said Larry. "And now," 
 he added briskly, "we have just twenty-four hours 
 in which to free ourselves from these pesky posts. 
 If we can t do it inside that limit, we ought to be 
 burned. What s more, we will be scorched if we 
 don t ; for the sun will come back to that selfsame 
 spot again to-morrow noon, and there s no 
 chance of the dear old bird repeating the per 
 formance."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 293 
 
 The condor rocked solemnly upon his glass 
 perch for perhaps three minutes, and then, ob 
 serving that his fellows had swooped down to 
 where lay the wreck of the monastery and its 
 shattered tenants, plunged after them. The glass 
 ball swung ten feet from left to right, and oscil 
 lated in lessening arcs for nearly half an hour. 
 When next the piercing rays of the sun fell stead 
 ily upon one spot, the deadly point of light dropped 
 harmlessly upon the bare black rock, six feet from 
 the faggots of the sun god s altar. 
 
 In the course of two hours, Larry managed to 
 free himself from his stake and chain. By dint of 
 superhuman exertions, he succeeded in pulling up 
 the stake to which he was bound, and then, using 
 the jagged edges of a stone for a file, severed 
 the links of his chain and was free. 
 
 Long before Sullivan had accomplished this, 
 Norelle had regained consciousness. When her 
 eyes opened, she gazed around in wonder at the 
 unfamiliar scene. Then she saw Larry and me 
 at our stakes, felt the chains that bound her own 
 wrists, and once more came to a realization of her 
 peril. She missed the presence of her persecutors. 
 
 "Where are the monks, and where is the monas 
 tery?" she asked, her bewildered eyes taking in 
 the chasm.
 
 294 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "The monks are down there," I said, "and so is 
 their house." 
 
 "They have gone to their reward in the sun 
 god s temple or to some other equally hot place," 
 added Larry. 
 
 While Larry tugged at his chains and swore 
 under his breath, as he cut his wrists or bruised 
 his hands in the task of extricating himself, I gave 
 Norelle a brief account of the terrible scenes, 
 which Providence had mercifully hidden from her 
 eyes. When I described how the heroic unknown 
 had battered down the building with his single 
 arm, and had gone to death with the rest, No- 
 relle s face flushed, and her eyes blazed with 
 admiration. 
 
 "Glorious perfectly glorious!" she cried. 
 "What a noble martyr! And have you no idea, 
 Jack, who he was ?" 
 
 "Not the faintest in the world," I replied. 
 
 "Yet he said he loved you in the dead past," 
 said Norelle. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I know who he was," exclaimed Norelle, "and 
 so do you, if you but think. Who else could he 
 have been, but your " 
 
 "My father!" I cried. "But no I cannot be 
 lieve it ! Had he been my father, he would surely
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 295 
 
 have revealed himself to me, for he had ample 
 opportunity to do so." 
 
 "He did not do so because he was too noble, too 
 heroic because he loved you too much," cried 
 Norelle, her face transfigured with the lofty senti 
 ments she expressed. "I can read his mind even 
 now, although he has gone to his reward in 
 heaven." 
 
 "I do not see how you figure it out," I exclaimed. 
 
 "It is all too plain too pitifully plain why he 
 denied himself the joy of a reunion," cried No 
 relle. He knew that, to save you, he must die. 
 Why, then, should he reveal his identity, even to 
 you? Why should he reopen the scars in your 
 heart and in the heart of your mother the 
 wounds that time had healed? You both had 
 lived down the sharpest pain, and time had soft 
 ened your grief. To have made himself known 
 to you would surely have been a cruel thing to do. 
 He, therefore, denied himself, in order to die for 
 you, and leave you no less happy than you were 
 when you came to the monastery. Oh, Jack, now 
 I love you more than ever, for your father s sake. 
 He was a hero, if ever a hero walked abroad on 
 the earth." 
 
 When Norelle was released from her chains, 
 she was scarcely able to stand, but she insisted on
 
 296 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 helping Larry until I, too, was freed from my 
 galling bonds. She then consented to rest, while 
 Larry and I took stock of the situation. 
 
 We were still in desperate straits. How were 
 we to get down alive from that shelf of rock. 
 Above, below, and on either side, the smooth, black 
 face of the cliff stretched away from us, and of 
 fered neither hand nor foothold for the most dar 
 ing climber. Unless we could provide ourselves 
 with wings in some miraculous manner, escape 
 seemed hopeless, and it looked as though we had 
 cheated the funeral pyre only to perish by thirst 
 and hunger. 
 
 One hope, and only one, presented itself after 
 we had made a most careful examination of the 
 surroundings. This was the possibility of reach 
 ing one of the tunnels bored into the cliff at the 
 place where the monastery had stood. But it 
 looked like a forlorn hope, at the best. There were 
 four of these holes in the face of the mountain, 
 and the nearest of them was at least twenty feet 
 below, and eight or ten feet to one side of, the rock 
 of sacrifice. 
 
 Larry set about improvising a ladder to span 
 the space between. He took the several pieces of 
 chain which had been used to fasten us to the 
 stakes, and to hang the glass ball above our heads,
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 297 
 
 and pieced them carefully, end on end. Then he 
 uttered an exclamation of dismay. When all of 
 them were joined, the total length was too short 
 to reach the tunnel opening. Six feet more of 
 chain were needed. Larry leaned against the 
 back wall of rock and swore softly under his 
 breath. 
 
 "I have a suggestion," ventured Norelle. "Why 
 not use the stakes to piece out the chain?" 
 
 "Faith, and why not, my girl!" cried Larry joy 
 fully. "Only because I am that stupid that I never 
 think of a good idea till somebody thinks it for 
 me. You re a genius. The thought will save our 
 lives." 
 
 While he talked, he worked rapidly upon the 
 suggestion, piecing out the chains with two of 
 the stakes. The third stake that nearest the 
 tunnel opening Larry left where it was planted, 
 and fastened firmly to it one end of the lengthened 
 chain. 
 
 "Now, see me go down the fire escape to the 
 hole in the wall," he said, deliberately taking off 
 his shirt and tearing it into shreds. 
 
 "What on earth are you doing now?" I asked, in 
 astonishment. 
 
 "I m merely trying to save my lily-white 
 hands," he replied. "The chain is none too large,
 
 298 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 and would cut me badly when I bore my weight 
 upon it, unless I made some mitts." 
 
 Quickly winding the bandages around his hands, 
 Larry approached the side of the rock. 
 
 "How on earth are you ever going to get to that 
 tunnel?" I asked, as I looked down into space, and 
 drew back with a shudder. 
 
 "Swing," he replied simply. 
 
 "I am lighter than you are, and ought to do it," 
 I exclaimed, in a half-hearted way. I knew before 
 I spoke that Larry would not let me make the at 
 tempt. I also knew that, if I were to try it, I 
 should surely fail. The fear I had always enter 
 tained for great heights would make the attempt 
 a failure and a tragedy. 
 
 Larry knew it, too; for he laughed, and said: 
 "I like swinging better than any other sport I 
 know." 
 
 Without more ado, he prepared for his dizzy 
 task. As a precautionary measure, I fastened the 
 chain around his waist, and then tested the 
 strength of the post and the several sections of 
 the chain. All seemed strong and true. Larry 
 then crawled slowly backward over the edge of 
 the rock, paying out the chain with his bandaged 
 hands as he went. In another moment, he was 
 lost to view.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 299 
 
 "Oh, I do hope the posts and chain will hold!" 
 cried Norelle, her voice a sob. 
 
 "Never fear they ll hold a house," replied 
 Larry s voice, from space. 
 
 Norelle and I crouched near the edge of the 
 rock, holding each other s hands, scarcely daring 
 to speak or breathe. I watched the chain running 
 taut from the stake to the edge of the rock, and 
 my heart sank as I thought I saw the links 
 lengthen with the strain. Suppose they were to 
 be severed by the knif e-Jike edge of the stone shelf. 
 Suppose Larry s hands should slip, and the chain 
 around his waist were to give way. A sweat 
 broke out upon my forehead. 
 
 "How are you getting on, old man?" I called, 
 after he had been hidden from sight for possibly 
 a minute. 
 
 "Fine as silk," came his hearty reply. "I ll be 
 there in about two winks." 
 
 "Look, Jack he s swinging! ".cried Norelle, at 
 the next moment. 
 
 Sure enough, his lithe body swung into view, 
 then disappeared, then came in sight once more. 
 How he was able to keep his head, as he swept 
 back and forth across the face of the cliff, with 
 that hideous gulf below, was beyond my compre 
 hension. It made me sick to watch him, and I
 
 300 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 shut my eyes, lest I should see his body torn from 
 the chain and shot into space like a missile from 
 a sling. 
 
 Then I heard a cheery shout, and opened my 
 eyes, to behold the brave fellow standing, safe and 
 sound, in the tunnel s mouth. Then, and not until 
 then, did I feel that we were saved. 
 
 In an hour, or less, we had rigged up a rope 
 ladder from the rock of sacrifice to the tunnel 
 opening, and had got Norelle, as well as my own 
 cowardly self, into the cavern. Norelle sank on 
 her knees to utter a prayer of thanksgiving, and 
 Larry and I solemnly shook hands.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A PROPHECY FULFILLED 
 
 WE sat up late, that night, discussing our mar 
 velous escape, and planning a programme for the 
 future. 
 
 After descending from the rock of sacrifice, we 
 had made a tour of the caverns from the face of 
 the cliff to the copper mines, and in all those miles 
 of tunnel had found no living human being. The 
 foundry, the kitchen, the tailor and carpenter 
 shops, the cloth mjH, the mines, the joinery, and 
 all the other haunfs of the monks, were as the 
 industrious workmen had quit them when they 
 had been summoned to participate in the cere 
 mony which ended in their death. Even the fires 
 in the furnaces were burning, and, as Larry 
 thought we might need them on the morrow, when 
 we planned to begin the construction of a new 
 hoist over the chasm, we added more fuel, to keep 
 them ablaze. 
 
 "If I had to strike a light with flint and steel, 
 I d be up against it, sure enough," said Larry. 
 
 301
 
 302 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Norelle went to rest in the cave of repentance, 
 that night, while Larry and I slept upon a shake 
 down of blankets outside the door. 
 
 "Good night, brave gentlemen," she said, be 
 fore closing the brazen door between us. "If I am 
 haunted by repentant spirits, will you come to my 
 assistance?" 
 
 "We sure will," agreed Larry. "Any spirit that 
 bothers you will have good cause to repent." 
 
 Shortly after midnight we were awakened by a 
 rumbling and rocking of the earth. As we started 
 to our feet, Larry and I were both thrown vio 
 lently against the wall of the tunnel, and, sleep 
 dazed as we were, it was some little time before 
 we could collect our senses. The rumbling was 
 so loud and so incessant that it was with the ut 
 most difficulty that we were able to hear each 
 other s voices. 
 
 "Where is Norelle?" I asked ; then, remembering 
 that she was sleeping in the room beyond the brass 
 door, I knocked upon the metal panels, and 
 shouted her name. In another moment, she 
 opened the door, and came out. 
 
 "What is the matter? What caused the earth 
 to shake?" she asked. 
 
 "The volcano," replied Larry. "Mont Lazarre 
 is giving us a shaking before taking.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 303 
 
 "Let us go to the mouth of the tunnel, and see 
 what is going on," I suggested. "Even though 
 we cannot get down to level ground, it will seem 
 less terrifying to be in sight of the open air." 
 
 Losing no time, we hurried down the corridor, 
 Norelle gave a hand to each, and was easily able 
 to keep up with our pace for the entire distance. 
 When we came to the hall of the sacred dead, we 
 found scores of the copper figures lying on the 
 floor. The great copper condor seemed to be im 
 bued with horrible life; for he was swinging 
 erratically from his invisible wires, and, in the 
 dim light cast by a few lamps, which were still 
 burning, acted as though he were flying uncer 
 tainly about, in search of something or somebody. 
 The heroic figure of Izaquil was gone from its 
 pedestal. 
 
 "Izaquil has fallen," cried Larry, pointing to 
 the prostrate figure of the founder of the brother 
 hood. 
 
 "The prophecy is fulfilled," I exclaimed. "What 
 did the book of history say? As long as Izaquil 
 stands, so long will the sun god s worshippers 
 remain in power ! 
 
 "It wasn t necessary for Izaquil to fall to let us 
 know that his priests were out of business," said 
 Larry.
 
 304 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 Although the earth s quakings seemed to be 
 lessening in violence, we found great difficulty in 
 making our way to the end of the tunnel. Now 
 and then, we encountered wide fissures in the floor 
 of rock, and, had we not been guided by the rays 
 from the copper lamps, we should surely have been 
 engulfed. At other places, we were obliged to 
 surmount piles of rock, loosened from the roof of 
 the tunnel; and, at still others, we found ridges 
 and hillocks, as high as our heads, which had 
 been heaved up by the subterranean forces. 
 
 Mont Lazarre was a splendid, terrifying spec 
 tacle. Miles away, though we were, we could 
 easily have read the finest print by the light he 
 cast. At intervals, sheets of flame, hundreds of 
 feet in height, shot upward from his crest, and the 
 detonations from his subterranean explosions 
 sounded like the continuous bombardment of great 
 guns. During the intervals between the displays 
 of flame at the crater s mouth, the belching smoke 
 was tinted with all the colors of the rainbow. At 
 other times, magnificent showers of sparks were 
 hurled into the clouds. To add to the glory of the 
 sight, miles of sparse underbrush and stunted 
 forest, near the summit of the volcano, had caught 
 fire, and now formed a crown of deeper red upon 
 the mountain s top.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 305 
 
 Within two hours, the central flames died down, 
 the quakings ceased, and the forest fire had burned 
 itself out against the greener and less inflammable 
 foliage of the lower mountain slopes. But the 
 smoke from the crater still showed red and green 
 and blue, as the chemicals in the great under 
 ground furnace were consumed, and the threat 
 ening rumblings at the roots of the mountain con 
 tinued with unabated regularity. 
 
 "That was just a small exhibition a try-out, 
 so to speak/ remarked Larry, as we prepared to 
 turn in for a few hours more of sleep. "One of 
 these fine days, the Old Man of the Mountain will 
 sure get busy, and then look out. When that hap 
 pens, I want to be well on my way home." 
 
 Early next morning, Larry and I constructed 
 an elevator at the mouth of the tunnel. We 
 found hundreds of feet of chain of various sizes 
 in the monks workshop, and, with the great vari 
 ety of mechanical appliances which the busy artif 
 icers had had in use and in stock, we found no 
 difficulty in constructing a "lift" which was quite 
 as serviceable as, and more easily manipulated 
 than, the huge windlass used by the mutes. After 
 we had tested the apparatus carefully with 
 weights, it was ready for use. 
 
 We left the caverns forever shortly before noon.
 
 306 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 A thorough canvass of the situation, in which all 
 three participated, convinced us that it would be 
 best to move our abode nearer to St. Croix. If we 
 hoped ever to capture Varney, it was imperative 
 that we be near enough to watch his movements, 
 and take advantage of any indiscreet move he 
 might make, that would enable us to get him by 
 strategy. 
 
 The fifteen miles that separated the tunnels 
 from the island capital made any systematic watch 
 of his movements from them quite out of the ques 
 tion. Added to this, the earnest wish of Norelle 
 to be nearer her parents, and the fact that all 
 trace of the Voodoo people in the vicinity had 
 disappeared, made our change of base as desirable 
 as it seemed safe. 
 
 Before leaving the sun god s caverns, we took 
 the precaution of "blacking up," as Larry and I 
 had done on the memorable night when we res 
 cued the negro boy from the Voodoos. Norelle, I 
 thought, made one of the handsomest mulatto girls 
 I had ever seen, and Larry and I, who dyed our 
 faces a darker hue, would have passed anywhere 
 for Carib plantation hands. Our clothes had be 
 come much worn and tattered during the last few 
 days, and only required a little treatment with 
 earth and ashes to render them quite as unpre-
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 307 
 
 possessing as the garments usually worn by the 
 negroes whom we were counterfeiting. 
 
 We made the descent to the ground in safety, 
 after first lowering such articles and implements 
 as we should be likely to need on the journey 
 through the jungle. 
 
 What a sight met our eyes when we reached 
 the base of the cliff ! 
 
 The re was the wreck of the great building, and 
 there, in the midst of the riven timbers, with their 
 faces distorted, and their limbs shattered or torn 
 from their trunks, were the dumb monks. On the 
 top of this mass of debris, thrust up between two 
 timbers, was the head of Xaca. Even in death, 
 he seemed to command the brotherhood. His face 
 was calm; his wide-open eyes looked bravely into 
 eternity; and as I regarded that noble counte 
 nance for the last time, a great wave of pity and 
 sorrow swept my heart. He had, indeed, cruelly 
 condemned us all to death; but, after all, he had 
 translated the light as it had been given him to 
 see and who shall say that he had not gone to 
 his reward? 
 
 Scrambling over the wreckage was a fighting, 
 screaming flock of condors, and, now and then, 
 we saw the slinking forms of wild dogs, rats, 
 and smaller creatures. The "sacred birds" were
 
 308 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 claiming their last meal from the monks. 
 
 Sickened with horror, we hastened from the 
 scene, and plunged into the forest. 
 
 We had proceeded five miles or more in the 
 direction of St. Croix before we encountered any 
 one. Then we came upon a negro cabin in a little 
 clearing of the jungle, and found that the occu 
 pants were about to leave their home. All their 
 household belongings had been loaded upon a cart, 
 and the head of the family was preparing to act 
 as beast of draught between the shafts. 
 
 "Where are you going?" asked Larry, in 
 Spanish. 
 
 "We are running away from the mountain," 
 replied the man. "We go to Angeles, where my 
 brother, who is rich, has a sailboat. We will go 
 with him to Haiti, for this island is obeah. The 
 Yellow Queen she says it will be all burned up in 
 three days." 
 
 "Can t the Yellow Queen save the island?" asked 
 Larry. "Can t she put out the fires in the moun 
 tain?" 
 
 "She can, but she will not," replied the man. 
 "She is angry with her people, and will punish 
 them." 
 
 "Why is she angry?" 
 
 "That I do not know," said the man, as he ad-
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 309 
 
 justed the straps about his shoulders. "But you 
 can see that she is very angry, indeed, by the way 
 the mountain is roaring and the earth is trem 
 bling. Make haste and go away from the island, 
 or you, too, will be burned." 
 
 As we trudged through the forest and passed 
 by sugar and banana plantations, we came upon 
 many other negroes who were fleeing from the 
 wrath of the queen and the mountain. All seemed 
 to have received Joan of Lazarre s warning in 
 some mysterious way, and all were resolved to 
 place as many miles as possible between them 
 selves and "Father Mountain" before the end of 
 the three days limit. None of them, however, 
 seemed to have any definite idea of the cause of 
 the queen s anger, although one old woman told 
 us that "strange white folks" had made Gabrielle 
 obeah, or accursed. 
 
 Near the outskirts of St. Croix, we found a 
 cabin which seemed to be admirably suited to our 
 purpose. It consisted of three rooms, partly fur 
 nished, and had just been vacated by a panic- 
 stricken family of blacks. The old negro who 
 owned it lived next door, in a hut of similar pro 
 portions. He was overjoyed at the prospect of 
 finding new tenants so soon after losing the old. 
 
 "There s hardly any use in renting the place for
 
 310 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 three days," said Larry, to draw the old man out, 
 "for the island will be burned up on Saturday." 
 
 "Do not believe it for a moment," cried the old 
 man. "That is all the yellow woman s talk. She 
 is turning the heads of all the people on the island. 
 It is ridiculous. The mountain has been there 
 where it is all my life, and has never destroyed 
 the island yet has it? And I am an old man, a 
 very old man." 
 
 The dimness of our landlord s vision probably 
 prevented him from detecting our make-up. At 
 any rate, he gave no sign to indicate that he 
 doubted our color, and did all in his power to 
 make us comfortable in our new home. When he 
 left us, to return to his little cottage on the other 
 side of the whitewashed fence, he begged us to 
 call upon him if we stood in need of anything; 
 he would gladly do for us all that he would have 
 done for his own children. 
 
 All that night, our sleep was disturbed by the 
 rumbling of the mountain, and when I arose to 
 look out of the window, upon two or three occa 
 sions, I found the landscape bathed in light from 
 the fires of the volcano.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE CABINET STANDS UP 
 
 EARLY on the following morning, we went to St. 
 Croix. There were many negroes hurrying back 
 and forth along the roads, and our appearance at 
 tracted no attention. Indeed, the scared faces of 
 those we met, white as well as black, showed that 
 they had no thoughts for anything but their own 
 personal safety. 
 
 The volcano was the one topic of conversation. 
 Business was suspended in the town. Knots of 
 people were gathered on the street corners and in 
 front of the Heraldo the principal newspaper of 
 the city and mounted soldiers were galloping up 
 and down the streets, waving their sabres and 
 shouting commands. 
 
 The governor-general, it seemed, had issued 
 orders prohibiting the assembling of more than 
 ten persons in one place in the city, and it was to 
 compel obedience to this manifesto that the cav 
 alry was engaged. 
 
 311
 
 312 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 As we proceeded toward the Hotel Madrid, we 
 learned that the people of the town had held a 
 mass meeting, the night before, in the plaza, al 
 most under the windows of the governor-general s 
 palace, and had demanded that Sagastor seize the 
 foreign ships in the harbor and convert them into 
 ferryboats, for the use of the citizens who 
 wished to flee to Haiti, in order to escape the 
 volcano. 
 
 The governor-general had not only refused to 
 accede to this demand, but had sent his cavalry 
 to disperse the meeting. Several men and one 
 woman had been killed in the riot that followed, 
 and on every hand we now heard curses and 
 threats for the "upstart governor," mingled with 
 the cries of terror on the lips of those who were 
 fleeing from the volcanic fires. 
 
 When we neared the harbor, we observed an 
 unusual number of vessels. There were war ships 
 from Spain and Italy, merchant craft from Eng 
 land and Germany, and, to our surprise and joy, 
 an ironclad, flying the Stars and Stripes. 
 
 "It must be the Texas," said Larry as he shaded 
 his eyes to look out on the bay. "General Pier- 
 son s request has been finally granted by the 
 department." 
 
 The glad reunion which took place at the hotel
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 313 
 
 that day, may be better imagined than described. 
 But it required some manoeuvring for us to secure 
 an audience with either the consul or his wife on 
 account of our disguises. Norelle was finally ad 
 mitted, however, on the plea that she had been 
 engaged as maid to the American consul s wife. 
 The general himself then came out, and invited 
 the two counterfeit negroes into his office. It was, 
 indeed, fortunate that we had not attempted to 
 return in our own proper characters; for we 
 learned that the governor-general had had the 
 hotel under constant surveillance ever since our 
 departure. 
 
 After Mrs. Pierson had shed a few tears of joy, 
 and the first rapid fire of questions had been 
 answered on both sides, we learned that Billings 
 and Hollis had returned to the States on the last 
 regular steamer. The general had paid the cap 
 tain the amount of fare agreed upon by Larry and 
 myself when we set out from New Orleans, and 
 had added to that amount a sum, which he would 
 not divulge, to recompense Billings for the loss 
 of the Foam. 
 
 "I felt that I owed Captain Billings more than 
 my entire bank account," said General Pierson. 
 "Had it not been for him and his little steamer, 
 you boys would not have come to the island, and
 
 314 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 we should, in all probability, have fallen victims 
 of the Voodoos." 
 
 Both Larry and I protested strenuously against 
 the idea of the general paying our fare from the 
 States, and demanded to know just how much he 
 had given Billings. But General Pierson was 
 quite stubborn about the matter, and not only 
 refused pointblank to tell us what he had paid, 
 but became irritated when we pressed the sub 
 ject. 
 
 "You are my guests," he exclaimed, "and, as 
 such, have no right whatever to ask what I have 
 expended for you. The beggarly sum I paid the 
 good captain was altogether too small to mention, 
 so please dismiss the subject. I pride myself, 
 gentlemen, on belonging to that older school, of 
 which Lincoln was such a fine example, which 
 valued friendship and worth, honor and hospital 
 ity, above filthy lucre." 
 
 "If you take a cent from them, general, I shall 
 be grievously disappointed," said Mrs. Pierson, 
 who had overheard the argument. "Remember 
 that we of the South value hospitality above 
 almost everything else. These gentlemen are our 
 guests, as you have said, my dear, and it is a fine 
 state of affairs if we cannot pay the little bill, 
 without causing such a great to-do. If you say;
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 315 
 
 another word, both the general and myself will 
 be highly insulted." 
 
 We compromised on an agreement that the con 
 sul should tell us the sum he had paid, and accept 
 reimbursement in the event of our catching Var- 
 ney and collecting the reward offered for his 
 return. 
 
 "Now that that is all settled," said Larry, "sup 
 pose you and I, Jack, go and get the crook." 
 
 "Suppose that we go out and stop the volcano," 
 I retorted, never dreaming that he was in earnest. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you are not willing 
 to take him?" asked Larry, quite seriously. 
 
 "I d give a year of my life to get him," I ex 
 claimed. "I m with you in any game you want to 
 play." 
 
 "Then come along," commanded the detective. 
 "We can t get him here." 
 
 We made our adieux to the Piersons, promising 
 to return in the evening, and proceeded to the 
 street. On the way out of the hotel, Sullivan un 
 folded his plan. 
 
 "What do you think of it?" he asked, as he 
 concluded. 
 
 "I think it is a wonder," I exclaimed. "It is a 
 stroke of genius, an inspiration, and I can offer 
 only one objection."
 
 316 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "It won t work." 
 
 "It s got to work," he cried. "We ll make it 
 work. If it doesn t, you and I will figure as prin 
 cipals in a garrotting party in the governor-gen 
 eral s palace yard about sun-up to-morrow. Of 
 course, if you re afraid, I ll let you out of it." 
 
 "And try something safer?" I asked hopefully. 
 
 "I ll try nothing else," he replied, with the ring 
 of grit and determination which I had learned to 
 know so well. "I m going in alone, if you won t 
 come with me." 
 
 "I m with you to the death, old man," I ex 
 claimed, flushing with shame at the thought of 
 deserting him. "It wasn t because I was afraid 
 it was because I feared the plan wouldn t work, 
 and we should be prevented from adopting some 
 plan that would." 
 
 "This offers the biggest results in the quickest 
 time, and I ve studied out a thousand schemes," 
 said Larry. "I knew you wouldn t get cold feet 
 at the end of the game. Now, the first thing for 
 us to do is to get a change of clothes." 
 
 We removed a portion of our burnt cork at the 
 waterside, and then visited a second-hand cloth 
 ing shop, where we bought a couple of Spanish 
 infantry lieutenants uniforms, explaining to the
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 317 
 
 proprietor that we had been out on a spree and 
 had been robbed of our own. As we gave the 
 man twice as much as the uniforms were worth, 
 he did not evince any unpleasant inquisitiveness, 
 and, after a more thorough cleansing of our faces 
 and hands in his shop, we emerged, looking quite 
 military and respectable. 
 
 Our next objective point was the harbor mas 
 ter s office, where, with the assistance of a gold 
 piece, we managed to gain an immediate audience 
 with the official, and, with fifty more of the same 
 coins, persuaded him to agree to the proposal we 
 came to make. This was to change the relative 
 positions in the harbor of the American war ship 
 Texas, and the Spanish man-of-war, Christobel 
 the change to be made immediately after dark. 
 
 At the time when we were negotiating with the 
 harbor master, the Texas was lying a mile or so 
 off the wharf, and the Christobel was within a 
 cable length of the dock at the foot of Concepcion 
 Street, the principal thoroughfare leading from 
 the governor-general s palace to the sea. 
 
 Larry gave as an explanation, his wish to bring 
 the Texas nearer shore, because his inamorata 
 was going aboard that evening, and he wished to 
 spare her the discomfort of an uncomfortable trip 
 in a small boat. No harm would be done by ef-
 
 318 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 fecting the change, and, if any objection were 
 made, the harbor master could order them back 
 again on the morrow. The astute official pocketed 
 the two hundred and fifty dollars which Larry 
 had placed in his hands, winked wisely, and gave 
 us his sacred word of honor that he would carry 
 out our wishes. 
 
 "It s a ten-to-one bet that he disappoints us," 
 remarked Larry, as we left the place, "but it was 
 the only thing to do. Even should he go back on 
 his word, we ll be able to manage, if the rest of 
 our programme goes through right." 
 
 It was then necessary for us to wait for dark 
 ness, before taking the next step, and we put in 
 the intervening time lounging about the vicinity 
 of the plaza. Fortune was kind to us, for we soon 
 fell in with a half-drunken Spanish captain, who 
 was attached to the governor-general s staff. 
 
 Sagastor, he confided to us, had just kicked him 
 out of his presence, but he would have his revenge 
 for was he not of a far better family than the 
 upstart governor-general? Was his blood not of 
 the finest and purest Castilian? And the gov 
 ernor-general the Lord only knew from what 
 hog pen he had sprung! Besides that, Sagastor 
 was an arrant coward, and he would expose him 
 as such. Was he not preparing, even at that very
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 319 
 
 moment, to flee the country? That was why he 
 kept the Christobel in the harbor, instead of send 
 ing it to Cuba, where it was needed to overawe 
 the miserable revolutionists! He put on a brave 
 * front before the people, did this upstart Sagastor, 
 but he was really quaking inside of his gold lace 
 from fear of the volcano. 
 
 He denounced the prophecy of the Yellow Queen 
 as rot, fit only to frighten children and old women ; 
 nevertheless, he believed every word she uttered, 
 and was preparing to get away from the danger 
 as fast as his chicken-livered soul would let him. 
 And it was this creature this renegade, rich 
 pig-head this scum of the earth that had dared 
 to kick him out of the apartment, and hold him 
 up to the ridicule of his fellows! 
 
 The least he could do to preserve his honor, 
 stormed our acquaintance, was to have the gov 
 ernor-general s blood for it, and he would chal 
 lenge him to mortal combat. Then he concluded 
 his recital by weeping copiously and drinking 
 another bottle of wine, at our expense. 
 
 By the time our tipsy friend had emptied one 
 more bottle, he had given us the password for the 
 outer gate of the palace, and had confided to us 
 the fact that Sagastor was to meet the members 
 of his cabinet at nine o clock that evening, to con-
 
 320 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 sider the wording of a proclamation which would 
 placate the populace. The governor-general him 
 self, the officer said, intended to go aboard the 
 Christobel early in the morning, ostensibly for a 
 visit to Cuba. But he knew trust a Castilian 
 captain to know! that, when he was once safely 
 on the ship, he would stay aboard until she 
 dropped anchor in the harbor of Madrid. Sagas- 
 tor s valuables, the captain said, were to be taken 
 on board the war ship that evening. 
 
 When we had advanced thus far into the offi 
 cer s confidence, Larry suggested that we secure 
 a private dining room, in which to continue the 
 discussion. The captain agreed to this, all the 
 more readily when Larry said that he would assist 
 him in the preparation of the challenge to be sent 
 to the insulting Sagastor. 
 
 Ten minutes after we had entered the more pri 
 vate quarters, the Spanish officer was in a state 
 of somnolence, and Larry had changed uniforms 
 with him. We left him stretched out on the table, 
 and gave the waiter a silver piece, with instruc 
 tions to keep him locked safely in the room until 
 he was sober. 
 
 "By that time," said Larry, as we hurried out 
 of the restaurant, "we shall have avenged the cap 
 tain s dear honor for him."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 321 
 
 It was now growing dark, and we visited a liv 
 ery stable, where we hired a closed carriage. At 
 the same place we rented a coachman s hat and 
 cloak, Sullivan explaining to the man in charge 
 that he wished me, his orderly, to drive for him 
 that evening. 
 
 I put on the coachman s clothes, mounted the 
 box, and, with Larry inside the coach, drove to a 
 corner of the street, within half a square of the 
 governor-general s palace. Larry then bought a 
 piece of rope at a near-by store; I changed back 
 to the lieutenant s uniform, concealing the hat 
 and cloak within the carriage, and we were ready 
 for our adventure. 
 
 We waited until ten minutes after the palace 
 clock had counted nine, then walked boldly up the 
 palace steps, gave the countersign to the guard, 
 and proceeded to the governor-general s cabinet 
 chamber. Larry carried the rope wrapped up in 
 paper, under his arm. 
 
 The upper hall was deserted, save for a solitary 
 soldier, standing guard outside the door of the 
 governor-general s office. As we approached, the 
 man rather sleepily presented his rifle, and said : 
 
 "His excellency is closeted with the cabinet, and 
 cannot be disturbed." 
 
 "Oh, he ll see us," exclaimed Larry. "Won t 
 you take in our cards?"
 
 322 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "Impossible, senors," replied the soldier, low 
 ering his weapon slightly. "You must wait until 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "But you will be good enough to show him our 
 cards immediately after the meeting, won t you?" 
 asked Sullivan, fumbling in the breast of his coat, 
 as though for a card. 
 
 "Certainly, captain," agreed the guard, drop 
 ping the butt of his gun to the floor, and stretch 
 ing forth his hand for the card. 
 
 "Here it is." As he spoke, Larry s revolver came 
 like a flash from the inside of his coat, and was 
 pressed against the soldier s throat. 
 
 "One word, and you die, sir," continued Sulli 
 van, without raising his voice above a low con 
 versational tone. "Jack, take a piece of the rope 
 and tie him." 
 
 It required no more than two minutes for me 
 to bind the guard, hand and foot. Then Larry 
 placed a gag in his mouth, and rolled him, face 
 down, in the corner of the hall. 
 
 "If you utter a sound, or attempt to roll over, I 
 will kill you instantly," said Larry. "If you re 
 main quiet, you may live. 
 
 "Now for Varney," said Sullivan, tiptoeing to 
 ward the cabinet chamber. "Get out your guns, 
 and cover the crowd, as soon as the door opens."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 323 
 
 Before entering, Larry deftly made a running 
 noose at the end of the rope, of which there was 
 some twenty feet remaining, after the guard was 
 bound, and hung it in the crook of his elbow. 
 
 Then he opened the door softly, and walked in. 
 I followed noiselessly at his heels. Our four re 
 volvers immediately covered the little party of 
 men within the room. 
 
 Varney was at the far end of a long table, 
 facing the door. Five other men were seated at 
 the table, two on a side, and one at the end near 
 est us. 
 
 "Hands up, gentlemen, or we ll make vacancies 
 in every cabinet place!" said Larry, in sharp in 
 cisive tones. 
 
 The governor-general s five counsellors gave one 
 frightened look at the revolvers pointing into the 
 room, and, instantly, ten hands were stretched 
 toward the ceiling. Varney was the only one who 
 failed to obey. He half arose from his seat, with 
 a snarl like that of a wild beast. 
 
 "Sit down, Varney!" ordered Larry, with a ring 
 of menace in his voice "We ve come for you, my 
 man, and it s up to you whether you go back alive 
 or nailed up in a box." 
 
 Varney collapsed in his chair, and his face grew 
 green.
 
 324 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," continued Sullivan to the 
 cabinet members, who were still holding their 
 hands aloft, "you will all of you please march to 
 the rear of the room, behind Mr. Varney, alias 
 Sagastor, face the wall, and still hold your hands 
 as high above your heads as you know how. The 
 first man that drops his arms will get a bullet in 
 the back of his head." 
 
 The order was obeyed almost as quickly as it 
 was issued. The five men arose to their feet, hur 
 ried to the end of the room, faced the wall, and 
 pressed their hands against the tapestry. 
 
 "Now, Jack, tie that crook s hands behind his 
 back," said Larry, "and don t mind it if you hurt 
 him some." 
 
 I knotted the rope around Varney s wrists be 
 hind his coat, and then, with a loop about his 
 throat, jerked his hands almost up to the nape 
 of his neck. 
 
 "That s a good, workman-like job," said Larry 
 approvingly. "And now, as soon as we close his 
 mouth and put some blinders on him, he ll be 
 ready to travel." 
 
 "I ll have your lives for this!" hissed the pris 
 oner. 
 
 "Shut up !" exclaimed Larry. "You ll be lucky 
 if you keep your own life."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 325 
 
 Varney made no more remarks, for in another 
 moment he was gagged and hoodwinked. For the 
 latter purpose, Sullivan appropriated an orna 
 mental table cover, wrapping the cloth loosely 
 around the embezzler s head, and tying it under 
 the chin. 
 
 "It reminds me of a black cap," remarked 
 Larry, "and I m sorry that it isn t one." 
 
 "Don t smother him," I urged. "Are you sure 
 he can get air?" 
 
 "I d just a little rather shut off his wind than 
 not," retorted the detective; but I noticed that he 
 assured himself that our prisoner was given all 
 the air he needed. 
 
 "We are now going to leave you, gentlemen," 
 said Larry, in a louder tone, to the members of 
 the cabinet, who were still facing the wall, with 
 their hands upraised. "I forbid you to stir hand 
 or foot or head for fifteen minutes. At the end 
 of fifteen minutes, you may lower your hands; 
 and fifteen minutes later you may leave the room, 
 and go to your homes. But, as you value your 
 lives, do not stir out of this chamber inside of half 
 an hour. It is now just half -past nine. Do you 
 understand?" 
 
 "Oh, perfectly, sefior!" 
 
 "We will not move a muscle, senor!"
 
 326 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "We will obey the seiior with fidelity !" 
 
 These exclamations, and others of like import, 
 came from the five gentlemen facing the wall. 
 
 Larry seized Varney by the coat collar, jerked 
 him roughly to his feet, and marched him out of 
 the room. 
 
 "Understand one thing before we start," said 
 Sullivan, addressing the head muffled in the table 
 cloth. "If there is any attempt at rescue, or if we 
 have any trouble whatever getting away from 
 here, I ll put a bullet through your ear as soon as 
 the fun begins. Now march !" He pressed the 
 barrel of his revolver against the prisoner s head, 
 to emphasize the remark. 
 
 Varney made some unintelligible reply, but 
 nodded his head to indicate that he understood. 
 
 "Better lock the door, and take the key with 
 you," advised Sullivan, as we passed out into the 
 hall. I did as he directed, and we proceeded 
 along the corridor, past the guard, who still lay 
 trussed like a chicken in the angle of the wall and 
 floor, and down the broad stairway to the front 
 entrance. 
 
 "This is his excellency s prisoner," said Larry, 
 to the outer guard. 
 
 The soldier betrayed his amazement at sight of 
 the strange figure, muffled in the tablecloth, but
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 327 
 
 did not offer to detain us. Had he known now near 
 death he was at that moment, his face might have 
 expressed some emotion other than surprise. 
 
 It required no more than three minutes time 
 to walk Varney to the carriage down at the cor 
 ner, and for me to don my coachman s hat and 
 cloak, and mount the box. 
 
 Larry pushed the prisoner into the vehicle, and 
 then climbed in after him. "Drive six or seven 
 blocks north, and then east a few, before going to 
 the wharf," he said, as he slammed the carriage 
 door. 
 
 How I contrived to hold the reins, in my excite 
 ment, it would be hard for me to tell. The horse, 
 in obedience to lines and whip, broke into a delib 
 erate trot, and we were soon out of sight of the 
 palace. There was no sign of excitement about 
 the mansion to indicate that our bold move had 
 been discovered, and I concluded that the five 
 gentlemen of the cabinet were still obeying in 
 structions, with their hands upraised against the 
 wall. 
 
 We evidently had nothing to fear after we left 
 the immediate vicinity of the palace, for the peo 
 ple of the city were overwhelmed with terror. 
 The rumbling mountain to the north was again 
 waving his flags of flame in the sky, and the name
 
 328 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 of the Yellow Queen was on every tongue. Had 
 the populace known that we had the governor- 
 general in the carriage, I am certain that none 
 would have attempted a rescue. He was too cor 
 dially disliked for any of them to interest them 
 selves in his behalf; and, besides that, the problem 
 of escaping from the volcano was now the only 
 one that stirred the citizens. 
 
 We finally reached the wharf, after a round- 
 about tour of the streets, and, hiring a boatman, 
 loaded in our prisoner, and rowed with him to the 
 Texas. The bribe-taking official had kept his 
 word, and we found the great white battle ship 
 where the darker Spanish man-of-war had been. 
 
 "I have an American prisoner," announced 
 Larry to the officer of the day, who came to scru 
 tinize us over the rail. "May I take him on 
 board." 
 
 "By whose order or request?" asked the officer. 
 
 "By the order of the United States consul, Gen 
 eral Pierson, and by the orders of half the police 
 chiefs in the States," cried Larry boldly. 
 
 "The consul s orders are sufficient," replied the 
 officer. "You may come aboard, sir." 
 
 When we had climbed the ladder and had seen 
 Varney safely in irons, Larry and I were escorted 
 to the captain s cabin, where that officer put us
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 329 
 
 through a cross-examination. He was at first 
 inclined to think that he would be running counter 
 to some naval regulation, if he should take charge 
 of Varney without the personal or written orders 
 of the consul. We finally persuaded him to hold 
 the embezzler, however, until we could fetch Gen 
 eral Pierson aboard to vouch for the extradition 
 of the prisoner. 
 
 "We expect a distinguished visitor aboard ship 
 this evening," said Captain Mayhew, at the con 
 clusion of our interview. 
 
 "Who is he?" asked Sullivan. 
 
 "His excellency, Governor-General Sagastor," 
 replied the captain proudly. "He has already sent 
 his luggage on board, and we expect him to follow 
 it early in the morning." 
 
 "You were not expecting him, were you?" said 
 Sullivan, with a wink in my direction. 
 
 "Not at all," admitted the captain. "In fact, it 
 is an entire surprise. But we will feel honored 
 to entertain him, nevertheless." 
 
 "The consul has already let me into the secret," 
 said Larry, "and I think, captain, that you may 
 count on entertaining his excellency during the 
 homeward trip. He is going back with you to the 
 United States."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE YELLOW QUEEN S LAST JOKE 
 
 LARRY and I hastened with the carriage to the 
 Hotel Madrid, intending to fetch the general to 
 the wharf and to the Texas. A shower of cinders 
 from Mont Lazarre was falling, and, at times, the 
 scorching atoms so blinded me that I could 
 scarcely pick out the road. 
 
 The streets were filled with hurrying men and 
 women, whose pallid faces showed greenish white 
 in the weird illumination made by the volcano. 
 Now and then, our carriage rattled past a group 
 of kneeling figures or singing religionists; while 
 everywhere babies were crying, and little children 
 were wandering about the streets, screaming for 
 lost parents. Many of the people whom we met 
 were bent double with burdens of household goods, 
 which they were carrying Heaven knows whither ; 
 while here and there we heard the sound of break 
 ing glass, and saw skulking figures, which pro 
 claimed the presence of thieves even in the shadow 
 of death itself. 
 
 330
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 331 
 
 Leaving the carriage, we hurried up to the 
 hotel, and ran into the arms of General Pierson. 
 
 "Have you seen her?" he cried, as soon as he 
 caught sight of us. 
 
 "Seen whom?" I asked; and then, as an icy 
 hand seemed to clutch my heart, I added: "No- 
 relle?" 
 
 "Yes Norelle," continued the old man, in 
 anguished tones. "She has disappeared." 
 
 "When? From where?" we asked, in a breath. 
 
 "From the hotel only a few minutes ago," 
 cried the general. "She was in her apartment, 
 preparing to retire for the night ; for she was all 
 worn out from excitement and fatigue, and we 
 advised her to go to bed early. Her mother and I 
 were in the room adjoining hers, and heard her 
 scream. Simultaneously with her cry, we both 
 heard the barking of a dog." 
 
 Larry and I exchanged horrified glances, as the 
 old man stopped, put his handkerchief to his eyes, 
 and sobbed like a child. 
 
 "And you ran into the room, and " I began. 
 
 "And she was not there." General Pierson 
 completed the sentence for me. 
 
 "It was the Yellow Queen s messenger the 
 dog-man?" said Larry, in a scarcely audible 
 voice.
 
 332 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "How had they gone?" I asked. "Out of the 
 door, or the window?" 
 
 "The window," replied the general, "for the 
 door was locked." 
 
 "How high is the window from the nearest 
 roof?" I asked. "Your apartments are on the 
 third floor, and he certainly could not have car 
 ried her with him from that height, even though 
 he possessed the strength of a giant." 
 
 "There is a two-story building immediately in 
 the rear of the hotel, and under Norelle s win 
 dow," explained the general." "Beyond that is a 
 one-story shed. Oh, what a fool I was, not to 
 take warning, and protect my little girl when I 
 knew she was in danger! I am that poor child s 
 murderer, just as surely as though I had taken a 
 dagger and plunged it into her dear heart with 
 these useless old hands! It will kill her mother 
 I know it will kill her. The poor woman is even 
 now lying in a faint upstairs." As he concluded 
 his recital, the general again buried his face in 
 his hands, and his form shook with sobs. 
 
 "You go right upstairs, and revive Mrs. Pier- 
 son," commanded Larry, in a resolute, hopeful 
 tone. "Do not give up hope until you find that 
 hope is gone. Jack and I will find the little girl, we 
 promise you ; for we know just where to find her."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 333 
 
 "She is gone she is dead before now!" sobbed 
 the old man. 
 
 "She is not dead, I tell you," cried Larry, in a 
 tone half of anger and half of command. "Now, 
 you go upstairs at once, and cheer the mother as 
 best you can. We will bring your daughter back 
 to you bright and early in the morning. Now, 
 listen to what I have to say. The island is doomed. 
 Our only chance of escape is on board the 
 Texas. Take Mrs. Pierson to the ship at daylight. 
 We will rejoin you there as early as possible. Var- 
 ney is already on board, and in irons. Will tell 
 you all about his capture when we have more time. 
 Tell Captain Mayhew to have steam up and be 
 ready to leave as soon as we join you. Do you 
 understand and remember it all?" 
 
 The general forgot his grief in the effort to 
 assimilate the various facts and directions, and 
 Larry and I raced out of the hotel, and made for 
 the nearest livery stable. There was not a person 
 about the stable when we reached it, but we found 
 four horses in the stalls. Without wasting pre 
 cious time in a search for the proprietor, we 
 picked out the best-looking pair, saddled them as 
 fast as we could, mounted, and rode northward 
 in the direction of the blazing mountain. 
 
 "To the cave?" I asked.
 
 334 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "Sure," replied Larry. "That s where the Yel 
 low Queen is, and that s where your girl wfll be 
 taken by the dog-man." 
 
 How we covered those terrible miles, and lived 
 to reach the end, is a miracle in my eyes. The 
 air was like a furnace ; the cinders fell in a blister 
 ing hail ; the earth yawned, and from the fissures 
 belched poisonous fumes, which burst into flame. 
 The roar of subterranean guns grew louder and 
 louder ; and at times the whole mountain slope up 
 which we toiled rocked like a ship in a gale. 
 
 But still we pressed doggedly on, always facing 
 and nearing the crater. At some time before 
 dawn, we reached our goal; and, as we came to 
 the mouth of the cave where we had dined that 
 night with the Yellow Queen, we threw ourselves 
 from the backs of our exhausted horses, drew our 
 revolvers, and rushed into the cavern, anticipating 
 a battle. 
 
 Joan of Lazarre was in the cave, with Papaloi 
 and Mamanloi on either hand; but we looked in 
 vain for the dog-man and his girlish victim. The 
 yellow torches, smoking from crevices of the 
 walls, revealed many faces and figures; but all 
 were black, and none resembled the misshapen 
 messenger of evil. 
 
 "Come in, Fair Hair and Eed Head," said the
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 335 
 
 Yellow Queen, with a shrill laugh, as we paused 
 irresolutely, after making our sensational en 
 trance, "and shoot, if you wish. Did you come to 
 kill me?" 
 
 "Where is Miss Pierson? Where is your horri 
 ble dog-man?" I cried. 
 
 "They are together," she replied. "When Joan 
 of Lazarre gives the word, your little pale-faced 
 flower, with all her sweetness, all her beauty, will 
 be his." 
 
 "Your life shall pay the penalty for this hor 
 ror!" I cried, pointing my revolver at the woman s 
 face. 
 
 "Shoot, Fair Hair," she shrilled, with another 
 laugh. "Shoot, and hasten the hour of that happy 
 marriage. I knew you would come to see me as 
 soon as you discovered that your little bird had 
 left her cage. I knew you would come with your 
 partner, Red Head, and I knew you would draw 
 your pistol, and make brave threats. So I ar 
 ranged to have the dog-man and his bride safely 
 hidden away, and left orders that, if Joan was in 
 jured or killed, the marriage should be celebrated 
 at once. After the wedding, as soon as the dog- 
 man tires of his little wife, he will throw her into 
 the crater of Father Mountain. How do you like 
 the programme, Fair Hair?"
 
 336 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "You are a monster a devil!" I cried, tears of 
 rage and grief starting to my eyes, as the fiendish 
 woman pictured the fate of my love. "What are 
 your terms for her release? How much money 
 do you want for the white girl? * 
 
 "Money?" she screamed. "What does Joan of 
 Lazarre want with money? If she had wanted 
 gold, she might have had all there was in Gabri- 
 elle, years ago. She wants happiness. Will money 
 buy that? She wants love. Will money buy that? 
 She wants you, Fair Hair. Will money buy you?" 
 
 "Do you think I could love you after what you 
 have done after what you are doing to-night?" 
 I cried. "Do you think I could ever have any feel 
 ing in my heart for you, except loathing, and dis 
 gust, and hate, after the way you have plotted to 
 destroy the one girl in all the world that I do 
 love?" 
 
 "Yes, you would love me," she replied, arising 
 from her seat, and coming toward me with the 
 sinuous tread of a panther. "You would love me, 
 even though Father Mountain was covering us 
 with a blanket of molten lava as your arms were 
 thrown about me, and your lips met mine." 
 
 Her terrible black eyes read me through and 
 through. As I gazed, spellbound, into their 
 fathomless depths, I forgot Norelle, forgot Larry
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 337 
 
 at my side, forgot the thundering of the mountain, 
 the awful heat from the underground furnaces 
 forgot my soul. 
 
 "You will be the mate of Joan of Lazarre," she 
 continued, sinking her voice almost to a whisper. 
 "You will be her king, and rule over an empire of 
 the southern seas. You will put aside the pale- 
 faced girl, and forget that you ever knew her. 
 You will be Joan s, and Joan s only." 
 
 "Yes but you will send the girl home in 
 safety," I replied. 
 
 The words were my words, but I seemed to be 
 some one else. I could see nothing but those mar 
 velous eyes, could hear nothing but that wonder 
 ful voice ; I was a bird in the spell of a serpent. 
 
 "The white girl shall go home in safety," an 
 nounced the queen, throwing her snakelike arms 
 around my neck as she spoke. "Fair Hair and 
 Joan shall rule the mountain and the island. Go 
 get the dog-man and his little prisoner, and send 
 her home with Red Head." She addressed the last 
 words to some of the negroes in the cave, and sev 
 eral of them hurried to the entrance, in obedience 
 to the command. 
 
 "And the sooner we get started, the better," 
 exclaimed Larry. "It sure is getting hot in this 
 place."
 
 338 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 The blacks who had left the cave now returned, 
 and with them were the hideous monster and his 
 prisoner. I scarcely recognized the poor girl, so 
 pale and wan she was. As she tottered into the 
 cavern, and her eyes rested upon Larry and me, 
 she uttered a scream of joy. 
 
 "I knew you would come for me, Jack," she 
 cried. "I knew you would come to get me. Oh, 
 dearest, I have had such a terrible experience! 
 You will never know how I have suffered." 
 
 "You are to go home at once," exclaimed the 
 queen harshly. "Make haste, before Father 
 Mountain, in his anger, shall burn you up." 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad !" breathed Norelle. "Let us 
 go. Let us end this horrible nightmare, and leave 
 the dreadful island as soon as possible." 
 
 "The horses are at the door," said Larry, tak 
 ing Norelle by the arm, and moving with her 
 toward the entrance. 
 
 I remained standing where I was, and felt as 
 though I were in a dream. I seemed to have lost 
 all power of motion, and the prospect of losing 
 Norelle forever did not touch my heart in the 
 least. Neither did I feel the suffocating heat that 
 was now coming from the groaning earth, or mind 
 the sulphurous gases that were clutching at my 
 lungs.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 339 
 
 "Hurry, dear Jack! We must make haste/ 
 cried Norelle. 
 
 "I am not going," I said slowly, speaking as one 
 in a trance. "I will stay on the mountain." 
 
 "Not going?" she echoed, in tones of amaze 
 ment and horror. "What do you mean, Jack? 
 What ails you? Larry, tell me what is the mat 
 ter with Jack. He acts so queerly!" 
 
 Norelle turned from me to Sullivan, with a look 
 of terrified inquiry. 
 
 "I will stay on the mountain." I repeated the 
 words like a parrot. I felt the will of the Yellow 
 Queen dictating to me through the stifling atmos 
 phere. 
 
 "He ll follow us down the mountain after a 
 while," said Larry, making an attempt to set her 
 mind at rest. "He has orders to stay here until 
 you get safely home." 
 
 Intuitively, Norelle grasped the terrible mean 
 ing of the situation. "You are to remain as a 
 hostage. Your life is the price of mine!" she 
 cried, in sharp notes of agony. "If that is so, we 
 shall die together, Jack. If you stay, I stay. No 
 power shall tear us apart, after all we have suf 
 fered together." 
 
 As she spoke, she released Sullivan s arm, and, 
 walking back into the cave, seated herself upon
 
 340 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 a block of stone, and calmly folded her arms. 
 
 "You have not long to wait," cried the queen 
 sharply. "The boiling lava is now mounting to 
 the edge of the bowl. In a few minutes, it will 
 overflow, and go rolling down the sides of the 
 mountain, to destroy every living thing in its 
 path." 
 
 "Then it will find me here, unless Jack goes with 
 me," replied Norelle, in resolute tones. "If he 
 must die, he shall not die alone." 
 
 Suddenly, the Yellow Queen burst into a shrill 
 laugh. "Run home, my children !" she cried, with 
 another burst of uncanny merriment. "Run home, 
 my dears, and, as you go, laugh a little at the joke 
 played by Joan of Lazarre. I thought I d amuse 
 you here on the mountain, while the sparks were 
 flying up above, and the drums were beating down 
 below. But now the joke is played, and you had 
 better hasten home, if you ever hope to laugh 
 again." 
 
 "Then we may go!" I cried, seeming to regain 
 my senses, as she withdrew from me the com 
 pelling force of her eyes and will. "Is it true 
 that you do not want me to stay?" 
 
 "It was all a joke a merry joke," she shrilled, 
 urging us toward the entrance. "Think some 
 times of Joan, and laugh laugh laugh."
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 341 
 
 We gained the entrance, where the horses were 
 standing. 
 
 "But you will come with us, will you not, and 
 save your life ?" I asked, as I placed Norelle upon 
 my horse, and prepared to run beside her, with 
 my hand upon the saddlebow. Larry mounted his 
 horse, and headed him down the incline. 
 
 "My father wants me," said the Yellow Queen, 
 gazing into my eyes with a look of yearning which 
 I could not mistake. "My father wants me, and 
 I will go to him." 
 
 "But you may come with us," cried Norelle, her 
 heart touched by the despair in Joan s eyes, 
 though she did not know the cause. "We are to 
 leave the island at once, and will be safe from the 
 terrible volcano. Come with us to the blessed 
 land where there are no mountains spouting fire." 
 
 "And what would I do there?" asked the Yel 
 low Queen sadly. "What, but watch your happi 
 ness ? No Joan s place is here. The great spirit 
 of the mountain, which she has commanded for so 
 many years, now commands her to come and she 
 obeys. Farewell, Fair Hair! Farewell, Red 
 Head!" 
 
 For a moment she stood in the falling cinders, 
 with the gray light of the smoke-filled dawn shin 
 ing in her eyes. Then, suddenly, she turned her
 
 342 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 face to the north, and ran like a chamois up the 
 steep trail toward the crater. 
 
 We stood transfixed for a moment, and then 
 Larry started his horse up the precipitous path in 
 pursuit. But it was little more than an impulse; 
 for the horse stumbled, slid, and came to a stop 
 before he had gone fifty feet. 
 
 But another took the rough trail one who 
 could climb as well as Joan of Lazarre. 
 
 A dark form shot out of the tunnel s mouth, and 
 went up over rock and vine, over log and ditch, 
 on all fours. We wondered what the hideous 
 creature was about. Nor had we long to wait 
 before we knew. 
 
 Joan reached the crest of awful heat. We saw 
 her pause, saw her throw up her hands, and 
 thought we heard her cry. Then she disappeared 
 over the brink, and we knew that she had thrown 
 herself into the arms of Father Mountain. 
 
 Half a minute later, we saw the hairy monster 
 scale the rock which formed the lip of the bowl, 
 and vanish. He had gone to do her bidding in 
 death, faithful as he had been in life. 
 
 No time was to be wasted. Down the steep 
 path we plunged, at the imminent risk of life 
 and neck; but we knew that our very lives de 
 pended on the speed we made. The poisonous
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 343 
 
 gases thrown out by the crater and by the widen 
 ing fissures in the earth almost suffocated us at 
 times. Often, we had to make wide detours to 
 escape a yawning chasm; more than once, the 
 rocking of the earth threw the horses from their 
 feet, and dashed their riders to the ground. But 
 on we raced, and nearer grew the housetops of 
 St. Croix. 
 
 Larry and I took turns at riding and running, 
 and we managed to make the journey in better 
 time, and with less fatigue, than I had dreaded at 
 the start. 
 
 When we had made half the journey, we hap 
 pened to look back at the mountain, and were hor 
 rified to see that it had changed its form. Its cap 
 was gone melted away and down from the 
 rumbling edges gushed a dull red flood, which 
 wiped out tree and rock as it made toward the 
 sea. 
 
 "The lava the lava!" yelled Larry. "And it s 
 going faster than we are. We ll be lucky if we 
 beat it to the wharf." 
 
 But we had ample time to spare ; for, after the 
 fiery torrent had rolled a few miles, its cooling 
 surface slackened pace. 
 
 Never shall I forget the terrible scenes in the 
 city, as we hurried through the streets. Mobs
 
 344 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 were surging this way and that, without purpose 
 and without hope. Children were lying where 
 they had been trampled under foot some crip 
 pled, some dead. Shops were broken open, and 
 their contents scattered on the pavements; and 
 everywhere, and all the time, the sound of piteous 
 wailing rent the air. 
 
 Two men tried to rob us of our horses as we 
 neared the dock, and might have succeeded, had 
 we not gone armed. Before they would abandon 
 their purpose, Larry and I were obliged to fell 
 them both with the butts of our revolvers. 
 
 As we hurried down the levee, we heard a shout, 
 and saw a small boat from the Texas lying not 
 more than fifty feet offshore. General Pierson 
 was in the bow; and, as soon as he saw us, he 
 stood up, and yelled for very joy. 
 
 The boat drew up to the wharf, and we got in, 
 leaving our faithful horses to find their way home 
 if, indeed, there was any home for them to 
 reach. Just as we pushed off, several men leaped 
 from the dock, and swam for the boat. Two of 
 them managed to reach the side, and, seizing the 
 gunwale, would have swamped us, had not the 
 sailors beaten them off with their oars. 
 
 Their fear-maddened faces, as they sank into 
 the bay, have haunted me for years.
 
 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 345 
 
 "What about our prisoner?" asked Larry of the 
 general, after Norelle had assured him that she 
 was none the worse for her terrible journey to 
 the mountain. 
 
 "Still safely in irons, but defiant," replied the 
 consul. 
 
 "Defiant, is he?" cried Larry. "It s small ex 
 cuse he s got for being uppish, after what he s 
 done." 
 
 "He says that you may have him, but you can 
 whistle for the money," continued General Pier- 
 son. 
 
 "Oh!" Is that a fact?" chuckled the detective. 
 "And won t he be after giving you any clue as to 
 the present whereabouts of that boodle?" 
 
 "No," replied the consul, "but he claims it is 
 safe." 
 
 "He never was righter in all his life," exclaimed 
 Sullivan, "for it is sure enough safe safe on 
 board the Texas, where he obligingly sent it last 
 night, thinking that he was putting it aboard the 
 Spaniard. I guess we ve made a pretty good 
 clean-up of the Planters Bank case eh, Jack?" 
 
 "It looks pretty good to me," I admitted. 
 
 "You could never guess, Norelle, who is on 
 board the Texas," said the general, as we neared 
 the gray side of the battle ship.
 
 346 THE HOUSE ON STILTS 
 
 "Never in the world. The President of the 
 United States?" 
 
 "Doctor Strong/ said the consul smilingly. 
 
 "Oh, I m so glad !" she cried. "Oh, Jack, dear, 
 aren t you glad that Doctor Strong is safe?" 
 
 "Of course I am tremendously glad," I replied ; 
 but there was a feeling in my heart which made 
 me rather doubt the sincerity of my words. 
 
 Half an hour later, Norelle, Larry, and I were 
 leaning against the stern rail of the Texas, watch 
 ing the harbor of St. Croix recede in the distance. 
 Mont Lazarre was spouting flame and smoke like 
 a blast furnace; the hail of cinders, even at that 
 distance, was scorching hot; and the atmosphere 
 was like an oven. 
 
 When we had steamed about ten miles, a deafen 
 ing explosion occurred on the island. 
 
 "Look oh, look!" cried Norelle "Mont La 
 zarre is splitting in two." 
 
 Even as she spoke, the mountain parted, and 
 a gulf a mile wide, and of measureless depth 
 was made in the land from north to south. The 
 city of St. Croix fell into the abyss. Its build 
 ings, streets, and parks vanished like the dissolv 
 ing views upon a screen. 
 
 The island of Gabrielle was gone.
 
 NEW BOOKS 
 
 AND NEW EDITIONS 
 
 THE GAMBLERS 
 
 A dramatic story of American Life. By CHARLES KLEIN 
 and ARTHUR HORNBLOW, authors of "The Lion and the 
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 JOHN MARSH S MILLIONS 
 
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 Novelized from the Popular Play by EDWARD MARSHALL. 
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 IF DAVID KNEW 
 
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 i/aay aoa OHM any KY i 3!i3H.. HW nax
 
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 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST 
 
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 CRAG-NEST 
 
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 EIDGWAT OF MONTANA 
 
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 REDCLOUD OF THE LAKES 
 
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 STRONGHEART 
 
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 KATHERINE S SHEAVES 
 
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 CHIP OF THE FLYING IT 
 
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 RANGE DWELLERS 
 
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 TRUE DETECTIVE STORIES 
 
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 ARTEMUS WARD 
 
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 JOSH BILLINGS 
 
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