Evidently this was its bed, for
its long body had left an impress upon the mud, and all about lay the
remains of creatures that it had brought in for food. Moreover, a path
ran outwards, its well-worn trail distinct even in that light.
She followed this path, which ended apparently in a blank wall. Then it
was that Benita guessed why those dead folks' footprints had returned,
for here had been a doorway which in some past age those who used it
built up with blocks of stone and cement. How, then, did the crocodile
get out? Stooping down she searched, and perceived, a few yards to the
right of the door, a hole that looked as though it were water-worn.
Now Benita thought that she understood. The rock was softer here, and
centuries of flood had eaten it away, leaving a crack in the stratum
which the crocodiles had found out and enlarged. Down she went on her
hands and knees, and thrusting the lantern in front of her, crept along
that noisome drain, for this was what it resembled. And now--oh! now she
felt air blowing in her face, and heard the sound of reeds whispering,
and water running, and saw hanging like a lamp in the blue sky,
a star--the morning star! Benita could have wept, she could have
worshipped it, yet she pushed on between rocks till she found herself
among tall reeds, and standing in water.
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