Nobody seemed to be stirring.

There the fires burned dimly, there the huddled shape of the Motombo still crouched upon the platform.

Silently, silently we disembarked, and I formed our procession while the others looked askance at the horrible face of the dead Motombo.
I headed it, then came the Mother of the Flower, followed by Hans, playing his part of the god of the forest; then Brother John and Stephen carrying the Holy Flower.

After it walked Hope, while Mavovo brought up the rear.

Near to one of the fires, as I had noted on our first passage of the cave, lay a pile of the torches which I have already mentioned.
We lit some of them, and at a sign from me, Mavovo dragged the canoe back into its little dock and tied the cord to its post.