“No,” growled Webster; “the sand has been kicked up, but I can see no footmarks.”
For many minutes they stared at each other with wild eyes, then making a frantic effort, Webster rose to his feet, swayed about a moment, then, in a series of jumps, reached the opening, where he steadied himself. “Good heavens!” he gasped.
They all heard his cry with a feeling of something terrible impending.
“What now?” cried Hume.
“Nothing,” came the faint reply, “but the tightening of the ropes;” but when he turned, his face was ghastly white, and there was a look of horror in his eyes.
Slowly he shuffled to his former place, then turned his head to watch the opening, while his breath came quickly.
“You have seen something,” she whispered, with her eyes fixed on the opening.
“No,” he said; “there is no one there. Laura, can you move up against the far end of the wall? You will be in the shade there. Try, please.”
She slowly crept to the wall, then Hume was asked to join her, and, with a deep groan at his weakness, he did so. Then Webster, with a sigh of relief, sat with his back to them, and his face to the opening, and there came into his eyes that same look of horror. The two warriors saw his fixed gaze, caught, too, the fear in it, and their eyes were fastened on the opening.
“Why don’t you talk,” said Hume, “and tell me what you see; the size of the room, its appearance, anything to relieve this darkness and suspense.”