"It's that cursed will of his.

I'd bet, if he made up his mind, that he could walk barefoot across red-hot stones, like those Kanaka priests from the South Seas." Now perhaps it was the word "priests" that I carried away with me through the darkness of another flight in time.

Perhaps it was the cue.

More probably it was a mere coincidence.

At any rate I awoke, lying upon a rough rocky floor, and found myself on my back, my arms crossed in such fashion that each elbow rested in the palm of the opposite hand.