The walls of the cavern were plentifully adorned with hieroglyphics—rude figures of men and animals—worked into the smoother parts of the rock with a kind of blue dye. Here and there the surface had been smoothed away to admit of the barbarous frescoes.
“They are very queer,” said Lilian, “but candidly I am just a little disappointed in them. I thought they were much more artistically done.”
“Yes, I always think people make more fuss about them than they are worth. They are sorry attempts after all.”
“I think I shall make a sketch of the kloof, bringing in that great jutting cliff. What a pity it just hides the waterfall!” continued she.
He undid her basket and got out her drawing materials. Then they discovered that the little portable water-tin was empty.
“I’ll get you some from down there in half a minute,” he said, starting to his feet.
“But—but—I don’t quite like being left alone here,” she said, hesitatingly, casting an apprehensive look backward at the gloomy cave.
Claverton stopped.
“Then we must go together,” he said. “As far as the end of the ledge, anyhow. Then I shall have you in sight while I scramble down the rocks.”
“What a helpless creature I am!” she exclaimed, with a sad little smile.