There was no mistaking the effect produced on the Indians by the appearance of the boats: it was the feeling of horror and dread, every man plunging his paddle deeply into the water and striving his utmost to force the canoes to their greatest speed, so that they might escape from the strange beings. In all probability they were seeing white men for the first time in their lives.
“What does that mean?” said Brace: “going to fetch help?”
“No,” said Lynton; “because this must be where they live.”
“Yes; there are their fires on the banks,” added the captain.
“But they are mere savages,” said Sir Humphrey, who ceased to watch the retreating Indians, to sweep the front of the towering cliffs with his glass. “This palace must have been the work of a more highly civilised race.”
“And is it your opinion that they are at home, waiting to shoot?” asked Briscoe, stooping to pick up his gun.
“At home? No,” cried Sir Humphrey: “those are the ruins of some extremely ancient rock city. Look, Brace. Use your glass. It is the work of centuries. I should say every place has been cut and carved out of the solid rock by some industrious race; but it is quite deserted now save by birds.”
“Then we’ve made a find,” said Briscoe excitedly. “I say, I wonder whether this is the great Golden City, captain?”
“No, sir,” said the captain gruffly; “don’t you see it’s all stone?”
“Yes, but—look, Brace. Those places farther on look more regular—there where the trees are growing out of the cracks and the creepers are hanging down like curtains. I can’t make ’em out very well with the naked eye, but those windows seem to have carving sculpt about them, and underneath seems to be like a stone colonnade and terrace.”