NIGHT AND THE SAVAGES The hours of waiting dragged terribly.

We conversed little, all alike nervous, irritable under the strain of our desperate situation.

The Jesuit was much in prayer; but Cairnes fell asleep and twisted about uneasily, his head pillowed on his arm.

I could only pace the rock floor, harassed by bitter, useless thoughts.

What a memory picture it is!--the great bare cavern, with black interior only partially revealed by the gleam of the altar flame; the old savage huddled in his bonds, his baleful eyes glowing in the firelight as he watched every movement; the slender _pere_ close beside him upon his knees, his frayed black gown rendering more conspicuous the rapt, upraised face, his white fingers clasping the crucifix; beyond, Cairnes outstretched on the hard stone, his bulky figure motionless but for nervous twitching, his red hair glaring like a spot of paint.