One day, about a fortnight after the wonderful discovery, something very startling occurred. Almost every hour while digging they had heard strange sounds, like the rumbling of heavy artillery along a rough road, with now and then a loud but muffled report, as of a great gun fired in the distance.
No wonder James had remarked that the heathen minds of the savages believed that a great fire-fiend dwelt deep down here, and must be propitiated with human sacrifice.
But on this particular day, after a terrible report, the earth shook and quivered, great masses of soil fell crashing down here and there, and the lamps were all extinguished.
The noise died away like the muttering of a thunderstorm in the far distance.
“Keep quiet and cool, men; we are all right. We can relight the lamps.” It was Halcott who spoke.
Yes, and so they quickly did; but judge of their horror when, on making their way to what had been the entrance to the cave, they found no exit there!
Then the terrible truth revealed itself to them—they were entombed alive!
At first the horror of the situation rendered them speechless.
Was it the heat of internal fires, or was it terror—I know not which—that made the perspiration stand in great beads on their now pale faces?