"What kind of name is Basket? You are an odd child, that much I can tell already. I'm Mary Connolly. My husband is James and my daughter Fiona." She looks him over, shaking her head. "Come along then, Mr. Wendell Basket. We have to pay a visit to Mrs. McCracken and then we'll get you home."
Home. The word warms him like a ray of sunshine. He skips next to Mrs. Connolly like an obedient child. Home, he thinks over and over again.
The sound of voices stirred Wendell from sleep. They've found me! he thought. He scrambled into the brush, waiting for Mr. Pendleton and some of the other men to tramp past. After a few moments, he realized the voices were chanting in a language other than English and from the opposite direction of the camp.
He followed the voices through the trees, emerging at a rocky hill. A narrow path wound its way up the rocks to the mouth of a cave. The voices continued their chant, the sound echoing off the rocks. Wendell poked his head into the cavern and then threw himself back.
Savages! he thought. A dozen of them were gathered around a pit, chanting in their strange tongue. He waited by the entrance for someone to come out and discover him, but no one did. The chanting grew louder.
Wendell stuck his head into the opening again, creeping nearer the pit for a better look. As he watched, an ancient woman hobbled forward with the help of two other women. A man wearing an elaborate headdress of animal horns circled the woman, reciting words Wendell didn't understand.
When he finished, the man in the headdress signaled to the women holding the old woman up. They undressed the old woman and then placed her onto a sling made of animal hide. The chanting became a howl that shook the entire cavern. Wendell braced himself for a cave-in.
The two women took the straps of the sling and as the howling reached its crescendo, they lowered the old woman into the pit. A white light burst from the pit, washing over the savages and blinding Wendell. He screamed, but no one heard him over the renewed chanting.
His vision cleared in time to see the women haul up the sling. On it lay not the old woman, but a girl of no more than seven years. The two women helped the girl stand, and then dressed her in new clothes and placed a garland of flowers on her head. Then they gave her a bowl to drink from. The man in the headdress intoned something followed by the girl echoing his words. She drank from the bowl and then collapsed into the waiting arms of the two attendants.