Then, signing to Herbert, and one or two others to follow him, he glided under the canopy of falling waters.
He proceeded not rashly, but with due caution. There might be others within the cave besides Chakra! His robber confederates might be there; and these the Maroon knew to be desperate characters—men of forfeit lives, who would die before suffering themselves to be captured.
With his drawn macheté in one hand, and the torch in the other, Cubina advanced silently and stealthily towards the entrance of the grotto. Herbert was close behind, grasping his double-barrelled gun, in readiness to fire, in case resistance should be offered from within.
Holding the torch in advance of him, Cubina entered first, though Herbert, anxious and eager, was close upon his heels.
The glare of the torch was reflected back from a thousand sparkling stalactites, and for a while the sight of both was bewildered.
Soon, however, their eyes became accustomed to the dazzling coruscation; and then a white object, lying along the floor of the cave, seen by both at the same instant, caused them to utter a simultaneous cry—as they did so, turning to each other with looks of the most painful despair.
Between two large masses of stalagmite was the body of a woman, robed in white. It was lying upon its back, stretched out to its full length—motionless; apparently dead!
They needed not to pass the torch over that pale face to identify it. It was not necessary to scrutinise those wan, silent features. On first beholding the prostrate form, too easily had Herbert rushed to the sad conclusion—that it was the corpse of his cousin!