“If it rises much more, we shall be drowned,” he shouted in her ear.
She nodded, then cried back:
“Let us say our prayers and get ready,” for it seemed to Rachel that the “glory” of which her father spoke so often was nearer to them than ever.
Then she drew him back into the cave and motioned to him to kneel beside her, which he did bashfully enough, and for a while the two children, for they were little more, remained thus with clasped hands and moving lips. Presently the thunder lessened a little so that once more they could hear each other speak.
“What did you pray about?” he asked when they had risen from their knees.
“I prayed that you might escape, and that my mother might not grieve for me too much,” she answered simply. “And you?”
“I? Oh! the same—that you might escape. I did not pray for my mother as she is dead, and I forgot about father.”
“Look, look!” exclaimed Rachel, pointing to the mouth of the cave.
He stared out at the darkness, and there, through the thin flames of the fire, saw two great yellow shapes which appeared to be walking up and down and glaring into the cave.
“Lions,” he gasped, snatching at his gun.