"Seems to me that I've seen that tree before," muttered Holman.
"I hold the same impression," I said.
"And those rocks," remarked the youngster. "Why, we're going back to
_The Waif!_"
The three natives rose together at that moment and gripped the rope. We
gave a joint groan of agony as our stiffened limbs were jerked forward,
and as we were pulled from the fringe of reed-like grass our exact
whereabouts were made known to us. Standing up against the moon, the rim
of the orb showing just above the massive top, was the great stone table
that Holman and I had climbed two nights before!
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XVII
BENEATH THE CENTIPEDE
The natives moved at a slow walk across the clearing, and for this
little indulgence we were exceedingly thankful. There was no grass
covering upon the bed of coral rock in the middle of which the singular
structure stood, and our bleeding bodies could have hardly stood a swift
gallop across the prickly surface. As it was we were immensely glad when
the trinity halted in front of the edifice.
"Say," murmured Holman, "do you remember what the Professor said about
this place the other night when he was speaking about sacrificial
altars?"
I groaned as an intimation that the subject was not a pleasant one, but
Holman wanted to make public admission that he had exhibited gross
ignorance in ridiculing the Professor's assertions.
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