"I know not. Ask no questions, but obey!"
Trembling--shaking her head and muttering strange things, the old woman departed.
She returned in a quarter-hour with not only one, but two pistols and several ammunition-belts cleverly concealed beneath her robe. Beta seized them gladly with a sudden return of confidence.
But the old woman, though she said no word, eyed her mistress in a strange, disquieting manner. What had she heard, or seen, down in the caves? Beatrice had now neither time nor inclination to ask.
"Listen, old mother," she commanded. "I am now going to leave you and my son here together. After I am gone lock the door. Let no one in. I alone shall enter. My signal shall be two knocks on the door, then a pause, then three. Do not open till you hear that signal. You understand me?"
"I understand and I obey, O Yulcia noa!"
"It is well. Guard my son as your life. Now I go to see the wounded and the sick again!"
The old woman let her out and carefully barred the door behind her. Beatrice, unafraid, with both her weapons lying loose in their holsters, belted under her robe, advanced alone down the terrace path.
Her hair had once more been bound up. She had recovered something of her poise and strength. The realization of her mission inspired her to any sacrifice.
"It's all for your sake, Allan," she whispered as she went. "All for yours--and our boy's!"
Far beneath her New Hope River purled and sparkled in the morning sun. Beyond, the far and vivid tropic forest stretched in wild beauty to the hills that marked the world's end--those hills beyond which-She put away the thought, refusing to admit even the possibility of Allan's failure, or accident, or death.
"He will come back to me!" she said bravely and proudly, for a moment stopping to face the sun. "He will come back from beyond those hills and trackless woods! He will come back--to us!"
Again she turned, and descending some dozen steps in the terrace path, once more reached the doorway of the hospital cave.
Pausing not, hesitating not, she lifted the rude latch and pushed.
The door refused to give.
Again she tried more forcibly.
It still resisted.
Throwing all her strength against the barrier, she fought to thrust it inward. It would not budge.
"Barred!" she exclaimed, aghast.
Only too true. During her absence, though how or by whom she could not know, the door had been impassably closed to keep her out!
Who, now, was working against her will? Could it be that H'yemba, all burned and blinded as he was, could have returned so soon and once more set himself to thwart her? And if not the smith, then who?