We all hurried forward.
"Look!" I said as we reached the turn. "The mouth, the mouth! The tunnel ends!"
There, but two hundred feet or so away, was the great yawning mouth of it; nothing was visible through that opening, however, but light, pearly, opalescent, mystic, beautiful.
"Drome!" cried Nandradelphis, clapping her hands.
A few moments, and we were standing at the entrance and gazing out over the weird and beautiful scene.
"Drome!"
I turned at the sound and saw Drorathusa, her figure and mien ineffably Sibylline and majestic, pointing out over the strange landscape, her eyes on the face of Milton Rhodes.
"Drome," she said again.
"Drome," echoed Milton.
"I wonder, Bill, what this Drome really is. And I have an idea that this is only the outskirts that we see. Can we at last be near our journey's end, or is that end still far away?"