They had gained the river-bed, and before them lay a still deep pool. But the grisly remains which lay beneath its placid waters rose not up in judgment against the cruel murderer, who sat bound in his own den up above; and little did they who now passed it dream of the shrieking tragedy of which it had more than once been the scene in the dead of night. And the wizard? At that moment even he was beginning to taste of some of the terror which he had delighted in meting out to his helpless victims, for he himself was now helpless, and the evil beast having returned, and being by some mysterious instinct aware of the fact, was tearing and scratching and growling at the fastenings of the hut door in order to get at its more evil master, who, for his part, in spite of the extra precaution, was momentarily growing more and more anxious lest it should succeed. One taste of white flesh he had promised his "familiar"! The probability was that ere the day should close it would have gorged its fill of black. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. HAVEN BETWEEN STORM. "Do you know, this place reminds me a little of our resting ground that day down among the rocks at Camp's Bay," Nidia said, gazing up at the gigantic boulder, which, piled obliquely against two more, formed a natural penthouse on a very large scale. A blackened patch against the rock in the entrance of the cave, showed a fireplace surrounded by stones, and the very scanty baggage of the fugitives was disposed around. John Ames, who was engaged in his normal occupation, viz. mounting guard, turned. "Yes," he said; "it's the same sort of day, and grander scenery, because wilder. Peaceful, too. Yet here we are, you and I, obliged to hide among rocks and holes in peril of our lives." "Strange, isn't it, how adaptable one can become?" went on Nidia. "That day, do you remember, when you were so sceptical as to our ever meeting again, who could have thought how we would meet and what experiences should have been ours between then and now? "Do you know," she went on gravely, after a thoughtful pause, "at times I think I must be frightfully hard-hearted and unfeeling--I mean, to have looked upon what I did--" and she shuddered. "I liked the Hollingworths so much, too. And yet somehow it all seems to have happened so long ago. Why is it that I do not feel it more, think of it more? Tell me your opinion." "One word explains it," he answered. "That is, `Action'." "Action?" "Yes. You have been kept continually on the move ever since. First of all, you had your own safety to secure; consequently you had no time to think of anything but that--of anybody but yourself." "That sounds horribly selfish, somehow, but true."