Indeed, it was as if this wild, forgotten country was some colossal graveyard of the past, where the wisdom of the Medes and Persians lay buried to the end of time, where the rugged mountain-tops stood forth like tombstones, piercing the very clouds.
At last they came to the entrance. The steps widened and they stood upon a great stone terrace, level as a table-top, on the farther side of which arose the side of the mountain, formidably smooth and perpendicular, the moisture on its surface glistening in the sunlight that struggled through the mist. It was like a wall of polished steel.
The entrance to the caves was wide enough to allow four men to pass abreast, and about ten feet in height. Black as Erebus it yawned in the savage cliff. On either side, carved in stone, protruding from the rock, were the figures of two enormous giants, armless, with great beards that extended to their waists, and those huge conical helmets on their heads which one has learnt to associate with the Persians, the Assyrians, and the Medes.
Fernando walked to the threshold of the entrance and then turned sharp to Harry.
"I am a Spaniard," said he, "and the Spanish are a superstitious race—at least, that is how you would express it. Some speak of superstition, others of prescience—or foreknowledge of coming events. Call it what you like, I have the sense of a calamity impending. I am quite sure of that."
"How do you mean?" asked Harry.
"It is like this," Fernando went on; "we have come to a tragedy. The curtain is about to be raised."
"Do you fear to enter the caves?"
"No. But I will not go first. Lead, if you like, I am quite prepared to follow."
This was a new trait in the character of the half-caste. He had never shown fear or hesitation before.