On the following morning, we were under way at an early hour. The route led down a great tunnel; we could not have got lost now if we had tried. Shortly before noon, the welcome sounds of narranawnzee were heard, and there was a large stream gushing out of the wall. At times, as we advanced, the stream would move along dreamy and silent; then it would be seen rushing and glancing and again growling and foaming in lovely cascades.
Steadily, save for the noon halt, we toiled our onward and downward way. It was half-past seven when we halted—the eerie silence of the place broken by the soft, musical murmuring of the narranawnzee. Again Rhodes ascertained the boiling-point of water. It was 251° Fahrenheit. We were, therefore, under a pressure of two atmospheres; we had reached the depth of eighteen thousand five hundred feet. In other words, we were three miles and a half below the level of the sea!
It seems strange that I awoke, for I was dreaming the loveliest dream, a dream of fairy landscapes, birds and flowers, with lovely Cinderella (she looked very much like Drorathusa) in the midst of them. Nor do I know why I turned over onto my right side, for I was very comfortable as it was. But turn I did. And I was just going to close my eyes, to return to the dreamland of the fairies. But I did not close them. Instead, my heart gave a wild leap, and I opened my eyes wide. The next instant I was sitting up, straining my eyes as I looked into the darkness. Fear had its grip upon me, and I felt my hair begin to stand on end.
For there was something in that blackness, something visible, something moving!
Scarcely had my eyes fallen upon this amorphous, ghostly thing when it rose into the air, slowly and without the faintest sound. Up it rose and up, whilst I sat watching, immovable, speechless, as though in the clutch of some uncanny charm.
Up! Up to the very roof of the cavern!
Of a sudden there was a fearful change in its form. Then the ghost, now of monstrous shape, was coming down—coming down straight towards me!