A little breakage among some succulent plants betrayed a slight farther progress there; then this trace ceased wholly. A wall of thick foliage interposed,—a purple flower bedecking it with rare beauty, but it turned them back. A long stalk of Amherstia lay on the ground at a short distance, as if it might have been broken off short in an attempt to mount a tree by its aid, but this clue also failed them.
The glade narrowed at one side to a tiny track, possible to penetrate. They advanced along it in single file, now climbing over fallen tree-trunks all smothered in ferns, then stooping beneath loops and trails of Dendrobiums, and a variety of plants, matted together with convolvuli, and tendrils of many kinds.
It opened out upon a blackened vista over which the jungle fire had swept, burning away every trace of animal life; a desolate track of waste and ruin, among such super-abundant life, as was strange to see.
Stranger still to observe a glorious butterfly—a fragile, delicate creature, just emerged from its chrysalis tomb—spreading its painted wings, yet damp from its new birth, in the warmth of the sun as it streamed down upon the scorched grass. It was a living allegory of Life after Death which could not fail to strike every soul.
"It is your friend's 'leyp bya,'" said one of the Burmans. "It must have been out upon a ramble when the fire overtook him in his sleep, and it cannot now find its home again in him."
The charred scrub no longer presented further difficulties in the way of search. It was comparatively easy to penetrate in almost any direction; and the party separated, scattering themselves over the cleared space, and closely examining every rood of ground. Not a sign of man was to be found. Would any such exist after so fierce a flame had swept over it? Could it have been expected?
Mr. Brudenel laid his hand upon Gilchrist's shoulder.
"It is useless, my friend," said he. "The boy has gone, and left no trace. You must bear it like a man. If he yet should have escaped both fire and wild beast, he will be heard of in time. He can find us, but we cannot find him."
"Oh, do not say that I must abandon hope!" cried Gilchrist in agonised tones. "There must be something yet to be done."
"Offer a reward to any Burman who may bring in the smallest trace," suggested Osborn. "Those fellows have their network of connections all over the land. Make it worth their while to bring in anything that they may find. The stock of his rifle might be burnt, but the barrel must be there in some form. So must his hunting-knife, and many little things, as buttons, buckles, and such like, on his clothes. No wild beast could eat up thiccee neither."