As a matter of fact, the two paths, starting together at the central rock and going thence in the same general direction, gradually diverged from each other, much as do the two lines that form the letter V. Then, another difference was noticeable. The first path followed a comparatively uniform level; the second dipped steadily downward. This peculiarity, first noted by Miranda, appealed particularly to Herran. Gloom had been the dominant mood with the general ever since he had entered the cave. He had made mental notes of things as they had happened, but he had not shared in the discussions of the others. This was partly due to his ignorance of English, partly to a sense of responsibility that he felt as a citizen of Bogota whose duty it was to guide a party of foreigners safely through one of the difficult regions of his native land. But now, at last, he had something to say, something that was due from him as their leader. Tugging at his beard in characteristic fashion, he gave the result of his observations in terse Spanish.
“At first we go away from the lake. Then we come back to it, just a little. Then we go away. Now this path take us right there again.”
“That is it,” agreed Miranda.
It sounded rather mixed up, and no one paid much attention to it. But at least it put General Herran in a better humor.
“Perhaps this will take us out of the cave,” suggested Andrew. “The path is nearly in the right direction.”
“I hope it means water, anyway,” said Una, thinking of Mrs. Quayle.
They gathered up what was left of their provisions and set off again, single file, down the new path, General Herran in the lead, Andrew bringing up the rear. They had not gone many yards before they noticed the marked difference in the two paths. At first the change in level was scarcely perceptible; but now the descent became more and more abrupt, and as there was less sand and gravel for a foothold, they found the smooth surface of the rocks, tilted often at a sharp angle, anything but easy going. Another peculiarity that soon caught their attention was the lessening height of the cave’s roof. Until now this roof had been so far above them that they had to throw their heads way back to see it, and even then it appeared in only vague outlines. Now it took a downward curve that brought it nearer and nearer to them. Following the same descending sweep it was evident that floor and roof would shortly come together and the confines, at least of that portion of the cave, would be reached.
Along with this new architectural feature in the structure of the cave, there was a noticeable change in the character of the rock forming it. Walls and floor had, until now, been sharp and jagged in contour, dull, almost black, in color. But the unevenness of surface was disappearing. The rocks were smoother, as if worn and rounded by constant rubbing. Vivid colors gleamed from wall and column with a pristine freshness suggesting that this part of the cave belonged to a far more distant period than the great rock chamber in which they had stopped to take their luncheon. Finally, they were surrounded at every hand by those spear-like formations, thrust upwards from the floor or depending from the roof, that give to the interiors of most caves their fantastic appearance—the stalactites and stalagmites about whose origin in the workshop of Nature there can be no doubt.
This change had an invigorating effect upon the explorers. Passing from the unrelieved gloom of the first cavern into this fairy-built grotto, with its bright hues and pleasing shapes, they began to forget their fears and felt instead something like the real enjoyment that belongs to unexpected adventure. Everything in the way of glorious surprise seemed possible. For one thing, Miranda’s confident prediction was apparently about to be realized, a probability that the doctor celebrated by alternate chuckles and grunts of satisfaction.
“If we don’t find water, there is at least no doubt that water has once been here,” declared Leighton. “These stalactites make that certain.”