It was not the look of a baffled man, but of one forced to see a sweet pleasure deferred.
He had only to peer up the ledge, as it led toward the roof, to realize that the fugitives were as safely caged as if bound and secured in his own home.
They had penetrated as far as possible in the cavern of diamonds.

If the pursuers could not reach them, neither could they return over the chasm by which they had attained the spot where they still defied him.
The most athletic man living could not leap across that chasm, nor could it be passed until it was bridged artificially, and that could only be accomplished from below, where the pursuers were glaring across.

They might erect a structure, if, the king so willed, which would open a way of advance; but he was in no mood to care for or think of anything of the kind.
Haffgo now talked earnestly for a few minutes to his head chieftain.
The latter listened respectfully, nodding his head several times in acquiescence.

Then he suddenly looked up the ledge again, steadied himself for an instant, and hurled his javelin with terrific force at the head of Ashman.
It was done with such incredible deftness that the American had no time in which to dodge the fearful missile.

Had it been accurately aimed, it would have been driven straight through his skull! But it missed by a hair's breadth, shooting up to the roof, where it struck the rock with such violence that the head was shattered and the remaining portion fell uselessly down among the rocks.
It was a close call, but Ashman was not frightened; he knew why it missed him.
He now sighted along the barrel, as if he meant to shoot the chieftain, who instantly ducked his head, and began crowding backward.