As Maud was sure that she could do as she proposed without being discovered, I did not forbid her, though I felt that it might be wiser to remain as closely concealed as we had been hitherto. Still no one approached.
“After all, I may have been mistaken,” said Maud, coming back and sitting down by my side.
We were employed as usual in reading, when the sound of voices at a distance reached our ears, coming apparently up the ravine. “Can they be the savages returning to look for us,” whispered Maud.
“I think that their voices would sound very differently to those we hear,” I answered. “They would be wildly shrieking and shouting, unless they intended to attack an enemy unprepared for them. Still, as the persons may possibly be strangers, we will keep concealed.”
We remained seated on the ground, hoping that should enemies be approaching, they would pass by without discovering us. The footsteps grew nearer. We could hear them climbing up the precipice to the ledge on which the cavern opened. Maud, notwithstanding her usual courage, trembled violently.
The boughs were drawn aside, when several natives appeared in front of us. A second glance showed us that they were entirely clothed according to the custom of the converts, and then, to our joy, we saw that Abela was among them. We sprang up and threw ourselves into her arms.
“My children,” she said, “we have left you long; but we have had many difficulties to encounter, and, alas! disasters have overtaken our friends. But come, we have no time to lose, we will tell you more as we go along.”
We were thankful to find that besides Abela, those who had accompanied us to our hiding-place had likewise escaped. Our friends having taken the baskets, and the remainder of our provisions, we set off down the ravine, which led, as we supposed, towards the sea-shore. I immediately inquired of Abela if she had heard of my father.
“Alas! no, my child,” she answered, “Our good pastor’s canoe has not returned; we have anxiously kept watch for him, and he could scarcely have reached the shore without having been observed.” I then inquired for Nanari, who might, I hoped, have escaped. “He died faithfully at his post with those whom he would not desert,” she answered. “He was entreated by the sick and wounded to fly, but would not, and then, alas! the savage people rushed in and slew him.”