m the cavern at the other end of it, and that, while she was idly
waiting there, her little mistress and her savage captor might be
hastening down the mountain far beyond her reach.

Rendered desperate by this idea, she quitted her place of concealment,
and ran recklessly into the cavern. But the place was dark as Erebus,
and the ground was so rugged that she tripped and fell before she had
advanced into it more than fifty yards.

Bruised by the fall, and overawed by the gloom of her situation, the
poor girl lay still for some time where she had fallen, with bated
breath, and listening intently; but no sound struck her ear save the
beating of her own heart, which appeared to her unnaturally loud. Under
an impulse of terror, she rose and ran back into the open air.

Here it occurred to her that she might perhaps find the other outlet to
the cave--supposing that one really existed--by going round the hill and
carefully examining the ground on the other side. This, however, was a
matter requiring considerable time, and it was not until a full hour had
expired that she returned to the mouth of the cave, and sat down to rest
and consider what should be done next.

To enter the dark recesses of the place without a light she knew would
be impossible as well as useless, and she had no means of procuring a
light. Besides, even if she had, what good could come of her
exploration? The next impulse was to hasten back to the settlement at
full speed and guide a party to the place; but, was it likely that the
savage would remain long in the cave? This question suggested her
former idea of the possible existence of another outlet; and as she
thought upon Alice being now utterly beyond her reach, she covered her
face with her hands and burst into tears. After a short time she began
to pray. Then, as the minutes flew past, and her hopes sank lower and
lower, she commenced--like many a child of Adam who thinks himself
considerably wiser than a black girl--to murmur at her hard lot. This
she did in an audible voice, having become forgetful of, as well as
indifferent to, the chance of discovery.

"Oh! w'at for was me born?" she inquired, somewhat viciously, and, not
being able apparently to answer this question, she proceeded to comment
in a wildly sarcastic tone on the impropriety of her having been brought
into existence at all.

"Me should be dead. W'at's de use o' life w'en ums nothin' to live for?
Alice gone! Darling