But Desmond saw no sign of the bones of Korah. He looked puzzled. “There is no skeleton here,” said he. “Where is Korah?” Silently Alan pointed to the grey rock over which the water was lapping. Desmond looked at it intently-and then understood. In the course of time a spring had bubbled up and the waters had covered the body of Korah. Some chemical property in the water had preserved the dead body and turned it to stone, and in the ages that had passed deposits of lime and other minerals had been secreted on the body, until it was now of gargantuan size. Still plain, however, were the features. A rather long nose, Semitic in shape, protruded from a face that had possessed prominent cheek-bones and deep, sunken eyes. The hair which had been long was now a mass of stone that mingled with the shapeless body. They could just trace the semblance of arms that were folded across the stone chest, and there was the suspicion of feet protruding from a kilted tunic of cold grey stone.
In all, just a shapeless boulder in which could be traced the likeness of what had once been a living man. The waters of the centuries had preserved Korah alone of the Israelites of old who had been imprisoned in the pit.
Jez-Riah had listened in silence. With one finger she had traced the outlines of the once handsome face—now she spoke.
“He killed himself—in the water?” she asked.
“No,” said Alan, “I think the cave was dry in those days. He just came here to die; and in the place where his dead body lay, before time could rot the flesh, a spring broke through the floor of the cave and preserved him—a memorial to all time of his sin.”
“Praise be to Jovah,” said Jez-Riah in a hushed tone.
“Requiescat in pace,” said Alan as they turned to leave the place. “Amen,” whispered his cousin—and Korah was once more left alone.
“Now,” said Alan some time later while they were having their meal, “now we must make some arrangements about leaving this place. The only way is by the river, yonder.”
“Can we make a raft strong enough to bear us?” asked Desmond. Alan shook his head. “I’ve already investigated,” he said. “There is absolutely nothing. The wood in there is rotten with age. I doubt whether it would even float. There is only one possible way,” and he looked at them intently. “We can all swim pretty well. Our only hope is to throw ourselves on the mercy of the waters. The knowledge we have of swimming will enable us to keep our heads out of the water—we must trust the current to do the rest. It may mean death—but are we not in a living death already? At any rate are you willing to try?” They walked into the big cave and Desmond looked fearfully at the terrible ascent which they would have to make in order to reach the river, for it flowed on a much higher level than that on which they were themselves.
“Yes, it’s pretty stiff,” said Alan grimly. “But it’s that or nothing. Are you ready to risk it?” For a moment only, Desmond hesitated, then his mind was made up and his hand gripped that of his cousin.