"Dead or alive, we will find Jack there," at length uttered Duplin.
"Find him we must, but it requires caution. One man like that could keep a thousand at bay from the cave. And if he is mad, it would be a crime to kill him, even in self-defense."
"Come. We will do the best we can."
Though feeling morally certain as to where the trail would lead them, the gold-hunters did not neglect any precaution, and slowly traced out the footprints. True to their suspicions, they led directly to the foot of the cliff, where they were lost upon the flinty rocks.
Concealing themselves, they patiently watched the cliff for hours, in vain hoping to learn whether the madman was still in the cave. But then, urged on by anxiety for their comrade, they cautiously began scaling the cliff.
When half-way to the ledge that served as entrance to the cave, Duplin, who was in advance, abruptly paused. A slight noise from above caught his ear.
For a brief instant a face met his startled gaze, then it vanished. But, brief though the glance was, he recognized it as the face of the maiden he had seen once before.
"They've discovered us, Burr," he muttered. "Now for it! Up, or we are lost!"
But, contrary to their expectations, they reached the cliff-ledge unmolested, and then sprung forward to the cave entrance. They paused; all was still. Only for that brief vision, they would have believed it was unoccupied.
All within was dark, impenetrable to their gaze, dazzled by the bright sunlight. But then there came a cry—a voice well known to their ears.