But once down, he was amply repaid.
The cave, or hole, led to a large room, the atmosphere of which was charmingly cool.
Girzilla had lighted her torch, and seated herself on an open sarcophagus.
She was a happy-go-lucky kind of creature, fearing nothing, and having no superstitious dread of sitting on the stone coffin, wherein was dust, which had once been molded in human form.
“I have food here.”
“Food?”
“Yes.”
“Here?”
“Yes; art thou not hungry?”
“I am. But the place is a tomb.”