Narranawnzee. Yes, there it was, the faint murmur and tinkle of water.
We hurried forward, the wall of the cavern emerging from out the darkness. And there it was, a large spring of the purest, coolest water gushing out from the base of the rock, to fall in a gentle cascade and then flow away to a great pool gleaming dark and sullen in the feeble rays that found their way to it.
It was near nine o'clock of the day following when we left that spot. Rhodes and I were smooth-shaven again; yes, he had brought along a razor, one of your old-fashioned, antediluvian scrapers. I actually believe that it was an heirloom from the Man of Piltdown, or perhaps from the more ancient Pithecanthropus erectus himself.
Ondonarkus and Zenvothunbro too had gladly availed themselves of this opportunity to get rid of their beards, which, however, they had kept trimmed close with clippers. Your Droman has a horror of mustache, beard or whiskers.
As for the ladies, they were now radiant and lovely as Dians.
We were following the stream. An hour passed, another. We had advanced five miles or so and had descended probably half a thousand feet. And then we lost our guide; the stream flowed into a cleft in the rock, to burst forth again, perhaps, far, far down, in some black cavern that has never known, and indeed never may know, the tread of any human foot.
For some moments we lingered there, as though reluctant to quit the spot; and then, with a last lingering look at those pellucid waters, flashing dark and sullen, however, as the light moved from them, we pressed grimly on and soon were involved in a cavern so rugged and smashed that we actually began to despair of ever getting through it. But we did get through, to abruptly step out into a place as smooth almost as a floor. The slope was a gentle one, and we pressed forward at a rapid rate.
We had gone perhaps a mile and a half when Rhodes, who was walking in advance with Drorathusa, abruptly halted, cried out and pointed.
Something white was dimly visible off in the darkness. We moved toward it, the Dromans evincing a tense excitement. A cry broke from them, and they made a rush forward.
It was a mark upon the wall, a mark which they themselves had placed there.