Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 86: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CAPTIVES OF THE TEMPLE. “Tam not permitted to talk, senor, but to serve.” I ate my meal in silence. Under ordinary circumstances I be- lieved I could be as cool as any man under the sun. But I confess to a teel- ing of uneasiness at that time. I knew I must still be on the earth, though there was little about to prove thate[ was not in Mars or some other equally mysterious place. I wondered where my companions were, and if they had met with the same strange ad- venture that had befallen me. I wondered if Desklit was at that mo- ment in another portion of the padre’s palace. And, more than all else, I won- dered if Miss Wisdom had _ been brought there, and what the ultimate fate in store for all of us might be. When I had finished my repast the table was carried away. “ Now,” I said to my black attend- ant, “I should like to take a stroll and see what sort of place this is.” He looked at me with fright in his eyes. “ Oh, senor! I cannot permit that. You are not to be allowed to leave the room.” “ But surely,” I said with surprise, “the padre did not expect you to pre- vent it. Why, I could strangle you with little effort and walk out.” “ Scarcely, senor. It is true, I would be as nothing in your hands. You could kill me, but you could not walk out. Slaves are often killed, but pris- oners never escape.” “ Heavens! I thought I was a guest! Then I am a prisoner.” “ It amounts to that at this moment, senor, though afterwards the padre may be a friend. I know nothing of these things. But look, see the guards at your door, and then tell me if you will kill me and walk out.” He led me to the door, in which hung a heavy curtain. He drew this aside and pointed into the narrow passage into which the doorway led. (To be continued.) ° 77 I looked out, and recoiled with a cry of terror. Just outside the door, fastened on either side, with chains en- abling them to roam entirely across the passage, were two immense Brazilian cats of the most ferocious type. When they saw me their jaw: opened, they uttered low growls and sprang toward the door. “ You might kill me, senor,” repeat- ed the black, “ but you could not es- cape.”’ I sat down in a mr overcomie with the discovery. After a time I heard footsteps, and the black showed signs of interest. “ It is the padre,” he said. I heard the chains rattling as the cats were taken away. I heard a heavy voice speaking in Spanish, caressingly addressing the beasts. Then a tall form entered the room. Truly, had I not seen the cats first, I should have looked with admiration upon the figure that stood before me. But fear was now the parent of all my emotions, and I gazed with dread upon the priest. He was above the ordinary stature, well proportioned, with a skin as white as alabaster, a long white beard, and a keen stern eye. He looked at me with no friendly glance as I rose before him. But it was his garb that seemed most strange. He wore a white gown of fine texture, over which a mantel of purple was carelessly thrown. His feet were clad in cloth shoes. “Are you Padre Jadispiato?’”’ I de- manded. “Tam he,” was the reply, given in a low and I| thought threatening voice. “Then I am a prisoner in your house, and I demand an explanation. What is this place, and why was I brought here?” The priest’s: sharp and unfriendly eyes searched me for a moment and then he replied: “The place is called Ameza, and you were brought here to die.” ECORRIC OO© eco