"And leave him here?" said Harry, with a motion of the hand towards the granite rock.
"We can do nothing," said Fernando.
"I bear the rascal no goodwill," said Harry. "He deserves but little pity. But this is terrible!" he added, and repeated the word again and again.
"Come," said Cortes, "we waste time in talking."
As he spoke, he led the way from the cave, followed by the others.
As they passed down the great flight of steps, Harry Urquhart turned and looked back. The entrance to the caves was no longer visible. A great cloud lay upon the mountain like a mantle. Near at hand, the strange beasts carved in stone were quite conspicuous and plain, but gradually, as they mounted one behind the other towards the terrace, they became lost in the mist. They resembled an army of quaint, primeval animals that were filing down from the clouds to inhabit the abodes of men.
The elder guide, shading his eyes with a hand, scanned the mountains to the north. Presently he let out a cry—a cry of exultation.
"There!" he cried, pointing across the valley.
Sure enough, far in the distance was a white speck that was moving rapidly upon the mountainside, disappearing for a moment to appear again, always bearing in the same direction—towards the north.
Cortes turned to the others.