Throwing himself upon it, and advancing with a quick but silent step, he soon recovered sight of them.
The shade of the gigantic trees—it was a primeval forest through which they were passing—was favourable to his design; and without much risk of being seen, he was able to keep them in view, and almost within earshot.
At that moment, the mind of the Jew was too pre-occupied to be suspicious; and the mulatta was not likely to trouble her thoughts about whether they were followed or not. Had she known, however—had she even suspected—that her steps were dogged, and by Cubina, the Maroon, it would, no doubt, have sharpened her senses.
“They appear to be making for the Jumbé Rock?” mentally soliloquised Cubina, as they commenced ascending the slope of the mountain. “Crambo! That is odd enough! What do they intend to do there at this hour of the night—or at any hour, I might say? And who’s the he that’s been sending for Jessuron? She took him a provision basket! By that, it ought to be some runaway. But what has the old Jew to do with a runaway? To get out of his bed at this time of the night, and tramp it three miles through the woods! For that matter, they say he don’t sleep much anyhow; and, like the owl, night’s his favourite time, I suppose. Something’s being cooked for the Custos: for that girl’s a very devil! Not that I should care about him, or what happened to him, at any other time. He’s not much; and is only helping me in that matter because he hates the other. No matter for him; but from what Yola’s told me, I’d go to the world’s end for his daughter. Ha! I may do her a service yet. Valga me Dios! what’s up now? They’ve stopped!”
The Jew and his companion, about a hundred yards ahead, had suddenly come to a stand. They appeared to be scrutinising the path.
Cubina, crouching in the shadow of the bushes, stopped likewise; and waited for the others to advance.
They did so after a short interval—hastening on as before; but in a slightly divergent direction.
“Ho, ho!” muttered the Maroon; “not for the Jumbé Rock, but the Duppy’s Hole! I remember now. The path forks up yonder. They’ve taken that which goes to the Hole. Well! it don’t help me to comprehend their purpose a bit clearer. Carrai! that Duppy’s Hole! Didn’t some of my fellows tell me they’ve heard strange noises there lately? Quaco is ready to swear he saw the ghost of the old myal-man, Chakra, standing upon the edge of the cliff! They’re going there, as sure as my name’s Cubina!”
And with this conjectural reflection the Maroon forsook the shadow under which he had been sheltering, and flitted forward along the path.
Another five hundred yards further on, his conjecture was confirmed. The parties dogged by him had reached the edge of the precipice that frowned down upon the Duppy’s Hole, and there halted.