‘It is not good for Yacka to remain; he will search with you,’ said the black.
‘She must be near here,’ said Will. ‘See, there is the opening down which she fell.’
They searched in every direction, but could find no trace of the figure. Edgar felt they were treading on some soft substance like sand, and, stooping down, felt it with his hands. It was like powder, quite white and fine.
‘The figure must have crumbled away,’ said Edgar. ‘Look at this powder’; and he handed some to Will.
Yacka looked at it curiously, and said:
‘Enooma has gone; the White Spirit has left her cave, and has shown no sign.’
‘This is a sign,’ said Edgar. ‘Your white lady has crumbled to dust. The figure must have been one of Nature’s freaks, and having become decayed and rotten with age, has been ground to powder by the fall.’
‘I should like to know how the figure came where we found it,’ said Will.
‘It was placed there by the Enooma years and years ago,’ said Yacka. ‘It was a pure block of white stone then, and no figure on it. The White Spirit formed the figure, and Yacka is the son of Enooma.’
‘Was Enooma, your mother, a white woman?’ said Edgar.