"What do you imagine will become of us?" she asked, and I replied:
"I believe the haidemaken are playing a trick on us, and that they will fetch us away from here after a while."
"No, you are mistaken, Baran, we shall never again return to the cavern. The haidemaken do not expect to see us again."
"But, surely, Nyedzviedz will not allow his only daughter to perish miserably in this hole?" I exclaimed.
"Alas, you don't know him, my poor Baran," returned Madus sorrowfully. "My father's heart is impervious to pity. Those whom he banishes, as we have been banished, can never return to the cavern."
I now became alarmed in earnest. Until that moment I had entertained a suspicion that the haidemaken were only trying to frighten me.
I was cursing my folly—mentally of course—for having allowed the fascinations of a love-dream to lure me to so wretched a fate, when Madus rose from her bear skin couch, and bade me follow her. I remembered her radiant countenance of the preceding evening, and my confidence in her was restored.
We passed onward, through the narrow corridor which traversed numerous caves, larger and smaller than the one in which we had rested. I kept glancing furtively, right and left, expecting every moment to see the helpless skeletons with which Nyedzviedz had tried to intimidate me.
On, on we pressed, occasionally passing the entrance to a cave that was stored with all manner of plunder. At last I noticed that the corridor began to widen, and suddenly my soul was rejoiced to discover, far ahead, a faint gleam of light that became brighter and brighter as we approached. It was daylight!
"Hurrah!" I shouted aloud, in my ecstacy clasping Madus to my heart. "We are free! We are free!"