Something lying on the rock-ledge, near the fire, caught his eye. He snatched it up. "What--what can _this_ mean?" The colonists stood, frightened and confused, peering at him in the dark. His face, in the ruddy fire-glow, as he studied the thing he now held in his hand, must have been very terrible. "_Cloth!_ Torn! But--but _then_--" He flung from him the bit of the girl's cloak which, ripped and shredded as though by a powerful hand, cried disaster. "Beatrice!" he shouted. "Where are you? Beatrice!" To the doorway in the cliff he ran, shaken and trembling. The stone had been pushed away; it lay inside the cave. Ominously the black entrance seemed staring at him in the dull gleam of the firelight. On hands and knees he fell, and hastily crawled through. As he went, he flashed his lamp here, there, everywhere. "Beatrice! _Beatrice!_" No answer. In the far corner still flickered some remainder of the cooking-fire. But there, too, ashes and half-burned sticks lay scattered all about. To the bed he ran. It was empty and cold. "Beatrice! Oh, my God!" A glint of something metallic on the floor drew his bewildered, terror-smitten gaze. He sprang, seized the object, and for a moment stood staring, while all about him the very universe seemed thundering and crashing down. The object in his hand was the girl's gun. One cartridge, and only one, had been exploded. The barrel had been twisted almost off, as though by the wrenching clutch of a hand inhuman in its ghastly power. On the stock, distinctly nicked into the hard rubber as Stern held the flash-lamp to it, were the unmistakable imprints of teeth. With a groan, Allan started backward. The revolver fell with a clatter to the cave floor. His foot slid in something wet, something sticky. "_Blood!_" he gasped. Half-crazed, he reeled toward the door. The flash-lamp in his hand flung its white brush of radiance along the wall. With a chattering cry he recoiled. There, roughly yet unmistakably imprinted on the white limestone surface, he saw the print, in crimson, of a huge, a horrible, a brutally distorted hand. CHAPTER XIV ON THE TRAIL OF THE MONSTER Stern's cry of horror as he scrambled from the ravaged, desecrated cave, and the ghastly horror of his face, seen by the firelight, brought Zangamon and Bremilu to him, in terror. "Master! Master! What--" "My God! The girl--she's gone!" he stammered, leaning against the cliff in mortal anguish. "Gone, master? Where?" "Gone! Dead, perhaps! Find her for me! Find her! You can see--in the dark! I--I am as though blind! Quick, on the trail!" "But tell us--" "Something has taken her! Some savage thing! Some wild man! Even now he may be killing her! _Quick--after them!_"