Across the Cameroons: A Story of War and Adventure

by Charles Gilson

The Caves of Zoroaster are one of the most remarkable examples of the industry of the Ancients that are known to exist. As we have said, in various parts of the world, especially in the continent of Asia, there are many standing proofs of an advanced stage of civilization many centuries before the Christian era.

There are the catacombs in Upper Egypt—a labyrinth of subterranean passages extending for miles; there are the Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, the hanging gardens of Babylon—all of which are colossal and eternal monuments of the labour, energy and genius of the past.

The Caves of Zoroaster are perhaps as marvellous as any of these. Indeed, it is much to be wondered at that they were not included in the seven wonders of the ancient world. Time has not served to deface their majestic beauty, to detract from the solemn magnificence of these great vaults fashioned by human labour out of the living and everlasting rock.

Soon after our travellers had caught their first glimpse of the entrance to the caves, they decided to camp on the lower slopes of the mountain, for it was already growing dark. It would take them several hours to cross the valley, and they could not hope to accomplish the journey in the darkness. They accordingly retired to a place where there was a great hollow among the rocks, and here they deemed it safe to light a fire and cook their evening meal.

The following morning Harry awoke at daybreak. He was anxious to push on without loss of time. There was no knowing where von Hardenberg and the sheikh were. Perhaps they had already gained the caves.

As soon as they had breakfasted, Harry and his party continued on their way. The two boys, led by the guides, crossed the valley and then ascended the mountain opposite by way of a bridle-path, worn smooth by the feet of pilgrims. Throughout the ages, devout men had journeyed to the caves from the deserts of northern Africa and Arabia—by way of the caravan routes that extend in all directions across these arid wastes.

The path grew steeper as they approached the entrance to the caves, and presently they found themselves at the foot of a flight of steps. A heavy mist still wrapped the mountain in a kind of shroud. The steps ascended, one above the other, into the very heart of the mist which completely obscured the entrance.

These steps were like "Jacob's Ladder", mounting, as it seemed, to the very zenith of the heavens; and on either side of them, as far as Harry could see, were ranged strange statues—of lions with eagles' wings, of men with the heads of foxes, and great dragons that lay crouching like watch-dogs, guarding the treasure that lay beyond. All were graven in the same rough mountain stone.

For centuries the lightning had played upon the rocks about them, the hail and the rain had lashed these mute, immobile sentinels, so that in many cases they were broken and corroded like the gargoyles on a Norman church.

To mount that flight of nearly a thousand steps in the mists of morning, between these weird and hideous images, was an experience that bordered on the uncanny. On every hand a mighty stillness reigned in the heart of the mountains.