Around them the strange and lustrous growths rose in lavish confusion, the ground between being thickly carpeted with glorious mosses, the flowers of which gleamed like pearls on a background of dark green velvet.
The professor was in raptures over the rare treasures of this subterranean world, and soon his specimen case was packed full as possible, and his pockets were in a like condition.
New beauties dawned upon them with every step they took. Fungi in every fantastic shape towered around, shimmering silver-like through the ghostly twilight.
“It is a land of eternal twilight!” Mervyn exclaimed, pausing for a moment to rest. “Nowhere else would these strange, uncanny fungi grow to advantage; but here, in this dim land, they fulfil a useful mission. See what curious forms some of the growths take!”
Here rose a towering fungus, like nothing so much as a giant hand; there one like an immense mushroom; others there were like spectral palms, but all glowed with a brilliance that was dazzling to the eye.
The baronet, less interested than his companions in these natural beauties, kept a sharp look-out for game of any description, well knowing that fresh meat, were it obtainable, would be a welcome addition to their stores. But the jungle seemed silent as the grave. No form moved amid the fungi, and the scientist was not slow to remark upon this strange absence of life.
“It is very strange,” he said, “that hitherto we have seen neither reptile nor beast. One would have thought that amid these jungles many forms of life would have found a home; yet perhaps this absence of life is a peculiar feature of this weird world?”
“It’s a bit slow,” growled Seymour, “after the forests of the upper world, with their myriads of animals——”
The words died on his lips, as, out of the distance, trembled a weird howl.
“Wolves!” he cried grimly; “we were mistaken about the absence of life, Mervyn,” and, unslinging his rifle, he examined the magazine.