But there was no time left him for reflections about the danger, for the next minute Dale was blocking out the light of the entrance.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “this looks a likely place. Here, let’s have a match before we move. There may be all kinds of horrible pitfalls close at hand.” He let go of the rope, which swung to and fro in front of the opening, and took out a box of wax matches.
“I quite thought you had been down here, herr,” said Melchior. Then, as a match was struck and held up, he continued: “Yes, we must have the lanthorn here, herr, for it is dangerous. See how the floor is split up into great holes.”
Feeble as the light of the match proved, it was bright enough to show that; and, when nearly burned out, Dale threw it from him, and it fell, still burning, down and down till it was a tiny spark and it was impossible to say at last whether it went out or disappeared still burning in the great depth below.
“Why, Saxe, we have hit at last upon a veritable crystal mine,” said Dale, as he held up a fresh match above his head, whose light was reflected from the facets of hundreds upon hundreds of crystals depending from the roof and sides, and, as far as they could see for the tiny glow, encircling the whole place; while Saxe now found that the projection by which he held was a hexagonal piece as clear as glass.
“Yes, herr,” said the guide triumphantly: “this is what you wished for.”
“No,” said Dale, throwing away the end of the match again. “Very interesting, Melchior; but not what I meant.”
“Then I have not understood the herr,” said the guide, in a disappointed tone.
“Oh yes; and brought us to the part of the mountains where these wonders of Nature are to be found. These are beautiful, but, as far as I can see, all very small.”
“But there may be big ones, herr,” cried Melchior.