More than ever was Dick becoming convinced that Harris was a traitor, and he was secretly prompted to tax him with his treachery. Still he was obliged to own that he could not assign any motive for the man acting in such a manner with the survivors of the Pilgrim, and consequently hesitated before he actually condemned him for conduct so base and heartless. What could be done? he repeatedly asked himself. On board ship the boy captain might perchance have been able to devise some plan for the safety of those so strangely committed to his charge, but here on an unknown shore, he could only suffer from the burden of this responsibility the more, because he was so utterly powerless to act.
He made up his mind on one point. He determined not to alarm the poor anxious mother a moment before he was actually compelled. It was his carrying out this determination that explained why on subsequently arriving at a considerable stream, where he saw some huge heads, swollen muzzles, long tusks and unwieldy bodies rising from amidst the rank wet grass, he uttered no word and gave no gesture of surprise; but only too well he knew, at a glance, that he must be looking at a herd of hippopotamuses.
It was a weary march that day; a general feeling of depression spread involuntarily from one to another; hardly conscious to herself of her weariness, Mrs. Weldon was exhibiting manifest symptoms of lassitude; and it was only Dick’s moral energy and sense of duty that kept him from succumbing to the prevailing dejection.
About four o’clock, Tom noticed something lying in the grass, and stooping down he picked up a kind of knife; it was of peculiar shape, being very wide and flat in the blade, while its handle, which was of ivory, was ornamented with a good deal of clumsy carving. He carried it at once to Dick, who, when he had scrutinized it, held it up to Harris, with the remark—
“There must be natives not far off.”
“Quite right, my young friend; the hacienda must be a very few miles away—but yet, but yet. …”
He hesitated.
“You don’t mean that you are not sure of your way,” said Dick sharply.
“Not exactly that,” replied Harris; “yet in taking this shortcut across the forest, I am inclined to think I am a mile or so out of the way. Perhaps I had better walk on a little way, and look about me.”
“No; you do not leave us here,” cried Dick firmly.
“Not against your will; but remember, I do not undertake to guide you in the dark.”
“We must spare you the necessity for that. I can answer for it that Mrs. Weldon will raise no objection to spending another night in the open air. We can start off tomorrow morning as early as we like, and if the distance be only what you represent, a few hours will easily accomplish it.”
“As you please,” answered Harris with cold civility.
Just then, Dingo again burst out into a vehement fit of barking, and it required no small amount of coaxing on Dick’s part to make him cease from his noise.
It was decided that the halt should be made at once. Mrs. Weldon, as it had been anticipated, urged nothing against it, being preoccupied by her immediate attentions to Jack, who was lying in her arms, suffering from a decided attack of fever. The shelter of a large thicket had just been selected by Dick as a suitable resting-place for the night, when Tom, who was assisting in the necessary preparations, suddenly gave a cry of horror.
“What is it, Tom?” asked Dick very calmly.
“Look! look at these trees! they are spattered with blood! and look here! here are hands, men’s hands, cut off and lying on the ground!”
“What?” cried Dick, and in an instant was at his side.
His presence of mind did not fail him; he whispered—
“Hush! Tom! hush! not a word!”
But it was with a shudder that ran through his veins that he witnessed for himself the mutilated fragments of several human bodies, and saw, lying beside them, some broken forks, and some bits of iron chain.
The sight of the gory remains made Dingo bark ferociously, and Dick, who was most anxious that Mrs. Weldon’s attention should not be called to the discovery, had the greatest difficulty in driving him back; but fortunately the lady’s mind was so engrossed with her patient, that she did not observe the commotion. Harris stood aloof; there was no one to notice the change that passed over his countenance, but the expression was almost diabolical in its malignity.
Poor old Tom himself seemed perfectly spellbound. With his hands clenched, his eyes dilated, and his breast heaving with emotion, he kept repeating without anything like coherence, the words—
“Forks! chains! forks! … long ago … remember … too well … chains!”
“For Mrs. Weldon’s sake, Tom, hold your tongue!” Dick implored him.
Tom, however, was full with some remembrance of the past; he continued to repeat—
“Long ago … forks … chains!” until Dick led him out of hearing.
A fresh halting-place was chosen a short distance further on, and supper was prepared. But the meal was left almost untasted; not so much that hunger had been overcome by fatigue, but because the indefinable feeling of uneasiness, that had taken possession of them all, had entirely destroyed all appetite.
Gradually the night became very dark. The sky was covered with heavy storm-clouds, and on the western horizon flashes of summer lightning now and then glimmered through the trees. The air was perfectly still; not a leaf stirred, and the atmosphere seemed so charged with electricity as to be incapable of transmitting sound of any kind.
Dick, himself, with Austin and Bat in attendance, remained on guard, all of them eagerly straining both eye and
