Almost the first greeting was that of Akbal, but his manner was distant. He knew of Jean’s long absence, but he asked no questions with the tongue, though his eye was keenly curious. “I come to chase the buck with my friend once more before the Natchez seek a new hunting-ground,” said Jean. “Akbal not hunt to-day,” was the answer, in broken French; “must listen to wisdom of great chiefs in council. They meet even now in the Temple of the Sun. Go; the woods are full of deer and turkeys; but first must eat, for Akbal’s friend much hungry from his walk.” This hospitable dismissal discomfited Jean, for it seemed to close the gates to further knowledge. The breakfast of venison and sweet maize got no seasoning of cheer in the gloomy looks of the boyish chief. Through the door of the lodge the young Frenchman saw the lines of Natchez warriors stalking through the streets towards the temple, while not a sound arose in the village. All moved as silently as if they were a marching troop of phantoms. Akbal sat patiently as a bronze statue, waiting his guest’s motion to depart. In the centre of the village stood the temple--a huge, round structure built of logs, now wrinkled with years, and surmounted with a cylindrical roof thatched with swamp-canes, leaves, and Spanish-moss in an impervious mat. It rose twenty feet higher than the tallest lodges, and from one side extended an arched thick-set hedge, embowering a long passage to the adjacent forest, a quarter of a mile away. Here the priests and medicine-men of the Sun were wont to seclude themselves from the rest of the tribe. The way to accomplish his quest suddenly flashed on Jean’s mind. Once he parted from Akbal, seemingly to plunge into the forest, he could make his way to the exit of the long, bowery avenue, and thence come to the outside of the temple. There, it might be, he could learn all he wished, though with great peril to his life. So when the young chief pressed his hand in a sad and silent adieu, Jean, after a brief push into the tangled brake, fetched a détour, and found himself at the mouth of the passage. Through its dusky green light he moved cautiously forward to a coign of vantage. This he found in the shrinkage of two ill-fitting logs, which gave a space for seeing and hearing.