“I’ll just see how soon this cleft ends,” said the major, approaching what seemed to be the termination of the gorge—quite a jagged rift, cut or split in the side of the mountain.
The major went on cautiously, for, as he proceeded, it grew darker, the rift rapidly becoming a cavern.
“It runs right into the mountain!” he cried, and his voice echoed strangely. “Here, Mark, my lad, if you want to see some specimens of sulphur, there are some worth picking here.”
There was something so weirdly attractive in the cavern that Mark followed, and in setting his feet down cautiously on the rocky floor his eyes soon became accustomed to the gloom, and he found that the rock joined about a dozen feet above their head, and was glittering as if composed of pale golden crystals of the most wonderful form.
Before him, at the distance of a dozen feet, he could dimly make out the figure of the major, while behind stood the group formed by their companions, looking like so many silhouettes in black against the pale light sent down the chasm from above.
“Mind what you’re doing,” said the captain. “Don’t go in too far.”
“All right!” cried the major; “there’s good bottom. It’s a lovely sulphur cave. Coming in?”
“No,” said the captain, sitting down; “I’ll wait for you. Make haste, and then we’ll go back another way.”
“Can you see the sides, Mark?” said the major.
“Yes, sir. Lovely!” replied the lad. “I should like to take a basketful. I’ll break a piece or two off.”