“Give the other to Wilson,” Mervyn said, when Seymour and the Yankee had each taken one, “he will make better use of it than I should. And now for the next stage of our journey.”
First renewing their supply of water—which they carried in two skin bottles—from the lake, the adventurers turned and trudged forward again in the track of the elk. Now their way led over a bare, stony plain, with never a fungi-clump to relieve the gloom, and here the king’s jewel became once more of service. This part of the journey was by far the most trying to the foot-weary travellers, and they were glad to take advantage of the Ayuti’s offer, that each should ride in turn for a space upon Muswani’s broad back. Mile after mile they covered in this way, until a line of cliffs loomed before them, sheer and impregnable.
The adventurers gazed at Chenobi in amazement. Had he mistaken his route? So far as they could see, there was no opening in that towering wall, yet he dismounted at its base as though he had reached his goal.
A smile passed over his features as he noted the astonishment of his friends.
“All is well,” he said, “we will rest here a while, ere we ascend the cliff.”
“Ascend the cliff?” Seymour gasped, staring amazedly at the rocky barrier.
“Ay,” returned the Ayuti; “see you not that there be steps carven in the rock?”
Then the baronet saw what he had before overlooked. Up the very face of the cliff ran a rude stairway, hewn out of the solid rock.
“It was carven by my people,” Chenobi went on, “when they first came to this underworld, so that they might at times look upon the eye of Ramouni, the sun god, whom they worshipped.”
“Another instance of the remarkable engineering ability of this people,” remarked Mervyn to the baronet; “it must have taken years to carve out that stairway, rude though it looks.”