“They cannot have been here!” exclaimed Ellen.
Just then John gave a start, and immediately hurried forward. We all followed. Before us we saw several posts standing upright, but they were blackened and charred, while several others lay scattered about. The grass around was burned, and the ground covered with ashes. It was too evident that a hut had stood there, which had been destroyed by fire; but whether it had been inhabited by our family or not, we in vain endeavoured to discover. No traces of them could we find. We looked at each other with anxious eyes. Ellen burst into tears, fully believing that something dreadful had happened. We wished to reassure her, but our own fears made this a hard matter. John stood silent for some time. Then again he walked over the spot, and examined narrowly the ground, looking among the neighbouring trees.
“Perhaps this was not their house,” suggested Arthur; “or if it was, they may have escaped. Surely we should not give way to despair.”
“I think the master is too cautious a man to have been taken by surprise,” observed Domingos. “He is probably not far off, and we shall see him soon.”
Maria did her best to comfort her young mistress.
“Do not cry, Doña Ellen; do not cry. We shall soon see them all,” she said, putting her arms round her as she used to do when she was a child, and trying to comfort her.
Wishing to ascertain John’s opinion, I went towards him.
“We must proceed further on,” he said. “I am surprised that our father has not left any sign by which we might learn where he has gone.”
“Perhaps he had to retreat in too great a hurry for that, yet he might have escaped in safety,” observed Arthur.
“Do you think they were attacked by natives, and driven away?” I asked of John.