“Let’s see if any of those black rascals are about,” said Captain Andrews, “if they are we may be able to induce them to get a ladder.”
“Surely they wouldn’t be inhuman enough to let us remain here,” exclaimed the Professor.
“I don’t know,” was the response, “like master, like man, you know; and this might strike Herrera as a very neat way of disposing of us.”
Several forms could be seen flitting about below them. The flames were pouring through the windows of the lower story of the hemp-drying building, casting a ruddy glow in which near-by objects could be seen as plainly as if by daylight.
But the negroes appeared to be giving no thought to the burning structure. Instead, they could be seen dragging piled bales of hemp out of danger of flying sparks. Nor did they pay the slightest attention to the frantic shouts of the party marooned on the top of the blazing building.
“Great heavens! they mean to leave us here to roast to death,” groaned the Professor.
As he spoke there came another crash below them, and the building trembled.
“The floor of the second room has fallen!” cried Mr. Jesson, rightly guessing the cause of the crash. “In a few seconds this roof will become red-hot, and——”
He stopped short. There are some things that cannot be put into words.
The trap-door had been closed, but before long they could distinctly feel the roof under their feet becoming warmer and warmer.