We lowered ourselves a depth of six feet into the rock room. The clammy moisture chilled our faces; the foul smell choked us. Lifting our torches, we peered into the darkness.
When our eyes grew accustomed to the gloom we found ourselves standing among several skeletons, which had the appearance of having been hurriedly buried. This discovery almost led us to a panicky retreat, but I had risked too much to be turned from my quest by skeletons, and I stepped across the bones and thrust my torch into the center regions. There, buried in oblong chambers rudely hewn out of the rock floor of the cavern, I saw six bodies that had moldered to dust. Girding their bones, however, was jewelry such as I had never, even in my wildest dreams, imagined.
Upon the time-blackened skulls were headbands of gold. Covering the rib-bones were massive breast-plates of the same metal. As I held down my flame the delicately-wrought patterns of rosettes and palmettos with which these pieces were ornamented flashed out brilliantly. Upon the wrist-bones hung loosely serpent-shaped gold bracelets. From this rich metal dress jewels flamed out to match my beacon's fire.
Around these rock tombs lay more treasures—inlaid daggers with images of cats engraved on their gold handles and with lotus patterns traced on their blades; alabaster cups, hollowed out and painted inside with a brilliant red; stone images of elks with heads of silver; jugs and cups of ivory, alabaster, amber, silver, gold, and porcelain.
Scholars have since told me that the ancients considered that the station of a person in the world of the dead depended upon the wealth with which he was buried. The people who buried these corpses had assuredly done their utmost to insure the eminence of their friends in the dominions of death. I did not pause to wonder whether these were the remains of Phoenicians, Egyptians or of a still earlier race that had dominated the Mediterranean and exacted toll of treasure from the surrounding barbaric tribes. Here the bodies lay. Above them, through the centuries, strange peoples had settled and passed; caravans had stopped and hurried on; dancing girls had whirled; dervishes had practiced sorceries, yet none dreamed of this cool tomb with its riches. The stuff was here for my taking. Murad was hard on my heels. My lust for fortune overcame all thoughts of reverence for the dead.
"Open the sacks, Mustapha," I said, "the smallest treasures are the most valuable. We will take what we can carry and trust to fortune for a chance to bring out the rest—or perhaps they will fall as crumbs to Murad!"
"Listen, master," Mustapha whispered. Men's voices came to us. I sprang in terror towards the entrance with Mustapha at my heels. As I peered out into the night my breath came again. The tinkle of camel bells came to reassure me. A caravan was entering Tokra, with no suspicion that they were passing within a stone's throw of such wealth.
The capacious sacks loaded, I climbed out of the tomb by making a stepping-stone of Mustapha's back. He hoisted up to me the three bags. I then leaned down and pulled him out. It was about midnight.
"Go to the stables," I said, giving him a coin, "and tell Achmet the camel keeper that urgent business takes you back to Derne. Bring our camels—Achmet knows that they belong to you. Put the gold into his palm. Tell him that you are on business for Hamet Bashaw, who may conquer Tokra next week!"
"I know that he sympathizes with Hamet," Mustapha assured me. "He will help us, and keep his tongue!"