“Feathers, I think,” Leonard answered, “but we will go and see.” In another moment they were there.
“It is paper, Baas,” said Otter in a low voice, “paper stuck on a reed.”
“Lift it carefully,” answered Leonard in the same tone, for his anxiety was keen. How came it that they found paper fixed to a reed in such a place as this?
Otter obeyed, laying the sodden sheet on the thwart of the canoe before Leonard, who with Soa examined it closely.
“This is a leaf from that holy book in which my mistress reads,” said the woman with conviction; “I know the shape of it well. She has torn the paper out and affixed it on the reed as a sign to any who might come after her.”
“It looks like it,” said Leonard; “that was a good thought of yours to turn up here, old lady.” Then he bent down and read such verses as were still legible on the page; they ran thus:
“For he hath looked down from the height of his sanctuary; from heaven did the Lord behold the earth;”
“To hear the groaning of the prisoner; to loose those that are appointed to death;”
“The children of thy servants shall continue, and their seed shall be established before thee.”
“Hum!” said Leonard to himself, “the quotation seems very appropriate. If one had faith in omens now, a man might say that this was a good one.” And in his heart he believed it to be so.