On emerging from it he found himself on a broad savanna.
On the other side of which lay the swamp to which Wacora had directed him.
Its gloomy appearance struck a chill to the young chief’s heart.
Could it by any possibility be the place selected by Warren for Sansuta’s concealment?
He almost hoped his search for her in its sombre fastnesses might prove futile.
Its aspect was especially forbidding at the time Nelatu reached it, which was in the early morning.
A heavy fog rose from its dark waters, clinging around the rank vegetation, and veiling the mosses and spectral limbs of the decayed trees.
A foetid breath exhaled from the thick undergrowth, and the air seemed charged with poison.
No note of bird was heard; no bloom of flower seen. Death in life was everywhere apparent!
Carefully, and with the quick natural instinct of his race, Sansuta’s brother struck upon a well-defined trail leading inwardly from the borders of the morass.