The cave had no outlet, and on the floor lay precious stones of every kind and colour;—diamonds, rubies, pearls, emeralds, sapphires—as large as Barcelona nuts—lay strewn about in fabulous quantities. In one corner of the cave were the remains of furniture and household goods, mostly rotted away and eaten by worms; and mingled with the precious stones were human bones—human bones in such quantities that it was impossible to avoid treading on them. Here was a thigh bone, there a skeleton hand or a skull. Everywhere the bones of men and beasts mingled together in a heterogeneous mass.
Quietly, slowly they made a round of the place, There were skeletons of horses, asses and camels lying together in a corner, and piled on top of each other in such a way as proved it had been done by the human agency, were the remains of little children.
Skeletons of females with the remnants of clothing on their whitened bones, adorned with anklets of gold and bracelets set with gems, were everywhere, and the whole scene was like a ghastly wonder story of the East. They picked their way through a bed of grinning skulls to where they saw something shining.
Alan picked it up. “A censer,” said he, “one of the most beautiful I have ever seen,” And indeed it was of wonderful workmanship. Even their little knowledge told them it was of pure gold; it was most wonderfully fashioned to represent on the one side a cherub—a cherub so perfect that even the finger nails were represented, and on the other, bunches of grapes and vine leaves—symbols of the promised land.
Precious stones gleamed cunningly everywhere, and the chains from which the censer swung were studded with diamonds. They could scarcely bear to put it down, but gazed at it entranced with its beauty. Every moment they found in it some greater glory.
“I have seen nothing modern even resembling this,” said Alan at last. “Why, it is exquisite—think of its value!”
“Its history alone would render it priceless,” said Desmond, “apart from its precious metal and workmanship.”
“Yes, but of what use is it to us down here?” questioned Alan. “And even if we ever do get out, who will believe our story?”
“I wonder where we shall find ourselves if we do discover a way out,” said Desmond. “We have lost all sense of direction down here—of distance and of time. Why, we haven’t even any idea of how far we have walked since we left the purple people—how far do you think, Alan?”
Alan shook his head. “It’s impossible to say, Dez. How many times have we slept? We counted three hundred times and then forgot—three hundred times is a long while, old boy. We must have walked at least fifteen miles each ‘day’ we have been on the march—perhaps even more—so we have done a considerable distance.”