There was none, and Beelo was gratified. Our attention was diverted from that spot by a faint purplish flash, which slipped along the crest above the river passage, and was quickly gone. Beelo stood tense and still, and whispered:
“Did you see that?”
“Yes.”
We waited for its reappearance, but none came. Beelo said no more. The light had come from the subterranean lava-pot.
Beyond the wall was the blackest part of the sky. Under the horizon in that direction lightning was at play, as we judged from faint illuminations in the distant heavens, and the rumble of far thunder.
Night had nearly fallen when we reached the summit. The descent was rapid on the other side, for Beelo went with the sureness of familiarity. At last we stopped at an abandoned hut, hidden in the deep forest. Beelo paused on the door-step.
“See,” he said, pointing to a glow a mile or less away, down the valley. “That is the main settlement of the Senatras. The king’s palace, where Lentala and I live, is there. We will visit it tonight,—if Lentala agrees. You will rest here awhile and have something to eat. After the visit to the palace you will sleep here.”
He showed us within, closed the door, blew a flame from smothered embers on the hearth, and lighted a nut-oil lamp. He had been very sober and quiet all the way, but now his eyes began to dance.
“This is your mansion!” he exclaimed.
The place had been made clean and sweet, good beds of leaves were on the earth floor, and fresh water stood in calabashes. Beelo dragged forward a copper vessel, and took from it a generous food supply.