There was some trouble at first in making myself known. Annabel came up with Captain Mason and Christopher, and delayed my disclosure of the plan for escape.
“Where is my father?” she immediately asked.
I informed her, and learned that Christopher had told her all that he knew.
“Take me to him,” she begged.
I replied that it would be safer to bring him to her. Directing Christopher to fetch a stretcher from which a woman had just been lifted, I left with him as the slender procession crept to the summit. Deep anxiety showed under Christopher’s calm exterior.
Mr. Vancouver and Rawley were gone! A hasty search in the vicinity failed to discover them. We worked down to the trail leading to the clearing where the sacrifices were made. There we found a stream of silent, soft-footed natives hurrying toward the clearing. No speech was needed between Christopher and me to explain the situation. Christopher’s wise plan had gone tragically awry. It had not been difficult for the dognosed natives to trail Christopher to the hut, and then Rawley and Mr. Vancouver to the spot where I had found them.
I was thrown into a momentary confusion. Lentala alone had known whither Christopher was to take Mr. Vancouver, and she had argued for his sacrifice as the surest means to save the colony! The thought was sickening. But it was inconceivable that Beela should have the heart for such a course,—sweet, gentle Beela! And had not Lentala nearly forfeited her life to the mob in trying to rescue Mr. Vancouver?
Christopher had slipped from my mind; but I observed him now, and he was listening far. I waited, knowing that by this time the two victims were already at the altar, and that the earthquake a few minutes ago had lent a fierce impetus to the proceedings. I could mentally see the main settlement and its outlying regions swarming as the whispered news flew from mouth to mouth that two white victims for the sacrifice had been found.
Christopher soon turned to me.
“They’ll have to get wood, sir,” he said.