“Then he will be back directly,” said the captain. “There, leave them to cook; I am uneasy about him. Let’s search those places a little farther off. We’ll take that one, Handscombe; you the other, Johannes.”
They all then started off as the fire burned up, and spread quite a cloud of black smoke overhead; and the Norseman had barely reached the mouth of the ravine which he was to explore before he stopped and gave a triumphant shout as he waved his hand. The others waved their hands in answer, and turned to where he stood, with something in his grasp, peering carefully around.
“His cap!” cried the captain. “What does that mean?”
The Norseman shook his head.
“The ground is hard as iron, sir,” he said; “there is not an impression anywhere. I’ve been looking for foot-marks.”
“Surely he has not been attacked by wild beasts—bears!” cried Mr Handscombe hoarsely.
“I thought of that, sir; but there is no sign.”
They hailed again and again, but there was no reply save that given by the echoes, and the captain grew more uneasy.
“Show me exactly where you found the cap,” he said.
The Norseman trotted about fifty yards on beyond the entrance to the ravine he had been set to search, and picked up a piece of slaty coal.