Heavy-hearted, but determined to see Lentala before the colony sailed,—if it should ever have that good fortune,—I went about my duty.
The first task was to see that Mr. Vancouver was safe, for many contingencies might arise to overwhelm Christopher. I went to the hut where Beela had left Rawley, but it was vacant. Christopher must have taken the two men to a spot near the pass, to meet the outcoming colony. On going to the summit of the valley wall I faced the rising moon. When I had come within a few hundred yards of the spot where the colony would emerge,—it was the spot where Rawley had assaulted me,—I heard the low moaning of a man, followed by his querulous, childish talk. At first I marveled that Christopher should have left his charges in so exposed a place, as it was immediately near the main trail to the sacrificial stone.
“Will she come soon?” Mr. Vancouver plaintively asked.
“Very soon. Be patient,” kindly answered Rawley.
The men were invisible in the gloom, but it was imprudent for them to be speaking aloud. Yet I dared not show myself, lest Mr. Vancouver be thrown into noisy mania. Should the natives be seeking him, it would be easy to trail him to this spot; and the colony might be discovered through his presence. Again Mr. Vancouver broke the silence.
“She doesn’t suspect me, does she?”
“She is and always will be your loyal daughter.”
“I know.” His voice was not a madman’s. “Raise my head a little. It is bursting. Rawley, I’m damned. The visions I’ve had! In one of them two men came, looking like natives, but speaking English. One of them spoke of my treachery and my death. I tried to kill him. The other prevented me, and then I saw that they were Tudor and Christopher. And today the one looking like Christopher rescued me from a hell of madmen. But how could I stay in that cabin when Annabel was coming?”
A rumbling and a quivering of the earth hurried me on. I ran to the edge of the valley wall. This brought me nearly opposite the Black Face. I had noticed a faint, weird light on the trees; now I saw the origin of it,—a purple flame was issuing from an orifice below the Face. It waved upward like an inverted streamer, wreathing the Face and lending to it a ghastly lifelikeness.
From below me rose faint cries of terror, quickly stilled, and soon the vanguard of the colony arrived from the valley. The earth-trembling had ceased; the flame was subsiding.