A hurried breakfast was made on water-soaked ship's biscuit. Theriere and his searching party stuffed their pockets full of them, and a moment later the search was on. First the men traversed the trail toward the spring, looking for indications of the spot where Barbara Harding had ceased to follow them. The girl had worn heelless buckskin shoes at the time she was taken from the Lotus, and these left little or no spoor in the well-tramped earth of the narrow path; but a careful and minute examination on the part of Theriere finally resulted in the detection of a single small footprint a hundred yards from the point they had struck the trail after ascending the cliffs. This far at least she had been with them.
The men now spread out upon either side of the track-- Theriere and Red Sanders upon one side, Byrne and Wison upon the other. Occasionally Theriere would return to the trail to search for further indications of the spoor they sought.
The party had proceeded in this fashion for nearly half a mile when suddenly they were attracted by a low exclamation from the mucker.
"Here!" he called. "Here's Miller an' the Swede, an' they sure have mussed 'em up turrible."
The others hastened in the direction of his voice, to come to a horrified halt at the sides of the headless trunks of the two sailors.
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the Frenchman, reverting to his mother tongue as he never did except under the stress of great excitement.
"Who done it?" queried Red Sanders, looking suspiciously at the mucker.
"Head-hunters," said Theriere. "God! What an awful fate for that poor girl!"
Billy Byrne went white.
"Yeh don't mean dat dey've lopped off her block?" he whispered in an awed voice. Something strange rose in the mucker's breast at the thought he had just voiced. He did not attempt to analyze the sensation; but it was far from joy at the suggestion that the woman he so hated had met a horrible and disgusting death at the hands of savages.
"I'm afraid not, Byrne," said Theriere, in a voice that none there would have recognized as that of the harsh and masterful second officer of the Halfmoon.
"Yer afraid not!" echoed Billy Byrne, in amazement.
"For her sake I hope that they did," said Theriere; "for such as she it would have been a far less horrible fate than the one I fear they have reserved her for."
"You mean--" queried Byrne, and then he stopped, for the realization of just what Theriere did mean swept over him quite suddenly.