“Can’t see anything,” replied Saxe shortly; for it seemed to him that Dale was smiling at him.
“No kobolds or goblins? Well, let’s strike a match and light up: then perhaps we may. That’s one good thing about these hollows,—there is no explosive gas, like there is in a coal mine. There, take this and hold it out before you,” he continued, as he closed and passed the lanthorn. “Lift it up! Now what can you see?”
“Something glittering—yes, crystals!—beauties!—what a size!”
“Hah! Yes. These are worth all the trouble we have taken!” cried Dale, as he dimly saw pendant from the roof, projecting from the rock at all angles, and even lying upon the floor of the grotto, dozens upon dozens of magnificent crystals, which seemed to be clear as glass, of a dull brown, like smoky quartz, and some even of a hue that was almost a purply-black.
At that moment Melchior’s head appeared.
“Is there room for me to come in, herr?” he said; and before an answer could be given, “Ah! those are large.”
“Large, my good fellow! they are the finest I have ever seen. Come in. Well, Saxe, how far does the grotto go in? Can you stand up? Mind your head!”
“Just stand up here,” he replied; “but it is higher farther in.”
“Let me go on first, herr,” said Melchior: “it may be dangerous. There is no telling where these cracks in the rocks extend.”
He took the lanthorn and crept forward cautiously, while Dale and Saxe watched the play of the light on the wonderful prisms and hexagons which hung in all directions. But there was no penetrating above thirty feet; for the grotto, after rising six or seven feet in height, dropped down again, and closed together till there was a mere slit.