“And that you have now,” he replied catching her in his arms and straining her to his heart.

“I am sure of it,” replied the happy maiden, resisting no longer the ardent embrace of him whose affection seemed to grow with every passing hour.

“All that I pray heaven to grant is the opportunity to prove to you that you are not mistaken.  I do not want to leave here or ever see my home again unless you are with me.  I shall live or die with you, for death with you is preferable to life without you, my cherished, my own Ariel.”

The radiant countenance was illumined by a light such as only the divine passion can impart.  She did not speak, for there are some emotions of the soul beyond the power of language.

The hunt for the diamonds had taken the lovers to a point almost opposite the entrance.  They observed what they had not noticed during their absorbing work,—­the ledge along which they advanced, steadily ascended until it carried them to a point half-way to the top of the mighty dome.  Standing there, they could look back on the awful chasms spread below their feet, the crimsoned walls, sparkling and scintillating with innumerable gems, with the craggy roof seemingly almost within their reach.

Looking over the wild, dazzling, unapproachable scene, the American was considering the practical question of what was next to be done, when Ariel at his side abruptly seized his arm with an intensity which startled and caused him to ask,

“What has frightened you, dearest?”

With a gasp, she pointed to the other side of the cavern, where they had entered this region of enchantment and wonders.

A procession of figures was moving along the ledge, over which they had just made their way.  The intervening objects shut them partly out of sight, but the heads and shoulders of several were always in view and they were moving with the utmost haste possible.

The foremost figure was a white man; the next was a dusky giant, and the third was of fair complexion, while all the others were of the hue of native Africans.

There could be no mistaking the identity of the leaders:  the foremost was Waggaman, the second, Ziffak, and the third, King Haffgo.  Those who followed were the pick of the Murhapa warriors.

It mattered not whether Ariel was right in her belief that the existence of the cavern of diamonds was unknown to every one else, or that some fateful good fortune had directed the party to the entrance.  It was enough that they had found it, and were now pressing forward along the very ridge on which they had halted, and stood gazing back in amazement and horror, unable for the moment to divine what could be done to help themselves.

But Ashman needed but a few seconds to decide his course.  He held his Winchester and revolver and was ready to die in the defence of the idol of his heart.

“Have courage,” he said; “all is not yet lost.”