"Mississippi Louisianians." He had, too, a
censorious word for the French commercially--called them "peddlers,"
celebrated their deceitful wiles, underrated the quality of their
cloths, and inconsistently berated them for their low prices, finding a
logical parity in all these matters in the tenets of their religion,
which they had so vainly and so zealously sought to instill into the
unreceptive hearts of the unimpressionable Choctaw.[4]

With the plethora of interest involved in these subjects, Varney grew
oblivious of the theme that had earlier occupied his mind. It recurred
no more to his thoughts until several days had passed. He then chanced
to be occupied with his new goods in his cavern. It was illumined only
from above; there was a trap-door in the floor of the trading-house, and
thence a pale tempered light drifted down, scarcely convenient, but
sufficient for his purposes. Once he noticed that a shadow flickered
across it. He experienced a momentary surprise, for he had left no one
in the building, and the outer door being locked, he imagined it could
not be forced without noise enough to rouse him. Again the shadow
flickered across the trap-door; then ensued a complete eclipse of the
scant glimmer of light. There was a step upon the ladder which served as
stairway--a man was descending.

Varney felt a sudden constriction about his throat. He realized an
impending crisis; the door above had been closed; by the sound he knew
that the ladder was now removed and laid upon the ground. He had an
idea--he could see naught--that the unknown invisible man had seated
himself on the ladder on the ground, where he remained motionless,
silent, in anger, in grief, or some strange savage whim hardly possible
for a civilized creature to divine.

The time that passed in this black nullity--he never could compute
it--moments, doubtless, but it seemed hours, tried to the utmost the
nerve of the entrapped trader, albeit inured by twenty years' experience
to the capricious temper of the Cherokee Indians. He felt he could
better endure the suspense could he only see his antagonist, identify
him, and thus guess his purpose, and shape his own course from his
knowledge of character. But with some acquired savage instinct he, too,
remained silent, null, passive; one might have thought him absent.
Perhaps his quiescence, indeed, fostered some doubt of his presence
here, for suddenly there sounded the rasping of flint on steel, the