“You don’t think the submarine’s come to grief?” queried the engineer anxiously.
“I think nothing,” was the reply, “but, what with wolf-men ashore and ichthyosauri afloat, I reckon our pard must be havin’ a hot time.”
Now the trail led down to the beach, and, swinging sharp to the right after the hounds, the party passed beneath the shadow of an immense cliff.
“Who goes?” cried a voice in Ayuti, and Chenobi stepped forward from an angle of the rock. He checked the noise of the hounds with a gesture, and turned to his friends with an air of surprise.
“Where is Nordhu?” he asked. “I have waited here long for ye to drive him forth, but he hath not emerged.”
Forthwith Seymour explained all that had happened, and told of the cry they had heard, at which the hound had leapt to his death.
“The priest hath doubtless met with some mischance,” Chenobi asserted. “Come; we will enter the passage.”
Moving a few paces along the cliff base, he turned into a dark opening. Ere the others could follow, however, he leapt back with a startled cry, as a dark figure appeared at the tunnel end.
It was the priest.
His one hand, uplifted above his head, held a small, shrivelled brown ball, and his whole attitude was so menacing that the explorers involuntarily stepped back a pace.