At first Herran was somewhat uncertain of his footing. But Miranda helped him until he got over his dazed feeling sufficiently to walk alone. Then they all followed along, single file, skirting the edge of the darkness, beyond which they could dimly see the cavemen fighting, but without being able to tell how the fortunes of the battle were going, and making for the Condor Gate as quickly as they could. Once beyond that point they would be relieved, they thought, at least temporarily, from the inconveniences of a battle in which most of them had been forced to play the part of target only. Having passed this danger zone, they would set about placing as generous a distance as possible between themselves and their warlike companions. Further retreat, it is true, meant the abandonment of the outer cave for a venture into realms whither Anitoo had been conducting them, practically as captives, to an unknown fate. But the situation left them no alternative. Everything depended on their finding the queen—and then, having found her, their fate depended on the kind of woman she might be.
“A great thing this,” muttered Leighton to himself; “at my age to be in the power of the queen of a race of cavemen!”
“They are good peoples,” remarked Miranda dubiously.
“I trust Anitoo,” declared Una. “His queen will protect us.”
“She will behead us!” exclaimed Mrs. Quayle, whose spirits were hopelessly flustered by the uproar of battle that resounded through the cave. “Queens always behead people. Why did we ever come into this frightful place? We can never escape.”
“Do be quiet, woman!” commanded Leighton, who did not care to hear his own thoughts voiced in this manner.
“Hold the tongue!” growled Miranda savagely.
“We have escaped already,” said Una soothingly. “I believe this path will take us out of the cave.”
“Caramba! that is so,” agreed Miranda delightedly. “It is change—and there is some light.”
“Yes, there actually is some light,” said Leighton. “But—where does it come from?”