“Why, it is a temple,” cried Brace, in tones of suppressed excitement, “and I suppose this is the idol the old people used to worship.”
“And very bad taste too. Come in, everybody,” cried Briscoe, and his voice sounded weirdly strange as it echoed all round.
“No: stop at the entrance,” cried Brace. “Did you hear what I said, Free?”
“Yes: that it was a temple with an idol,” his brother answered.
“Yes; but we must have more light before we proceed any farther, in case of there being any terrible holes or pitfalls.”
“Yes: be as well,” said Briscoe; “but I’m beginning to see fairly now. Why, Brace, lad,” he continued, as the captain set the men to work at once hacking away the growth of many generations from entrance door and window, “it’s as I expected: the temple runs up as high as three or four of the terraces, and look: you can see the light from the upper windows, showing the walls. It’s a hugely big place, but I wish it wasn’t so dark down here.”
“I’m getting used to it too,” said Brace, in a voice full of excitement; “but I’m afraid to move, in case of losing my footing.”
“That’s right; so am I. Look: can you see over yonder?”
“Yes; quite plainly now. There’s what looks like an altar, and I can see several more figures standing about.”
“So can I. I wish we had a good strong light. Hah! that’s right; they’re letting in the sunshine. Oh, we shall soon see.”