There could be no question as to what had occurred--the man was dead.

I made my way back into the cave seeking to discover what had befallen the Puritan.

I found him at the farther extremity of the great altar, calmly enjoying a quantity of cold meat he had discovered.

He was squatting upon the floor, in close proximity to the motionless, extended figure of a savage arrayed in the black garments of the priesthood.

They formed a picture so startlingly grotesque I could but stare in amazement.
"Jerked venison," he explained, glowering up at me, as I came into the firelight.