The latter raised his eyes and then started back. Truly a horrible sight was before them.
A dull, ghastly light seemed to fill the space before them. A light that danced and flickered fitfully—now brilliant, now dull.
There, apparently almost within arm's length of the two adventurers, were half a dozen flaming skeletons, not lying prone upon the floor, but seemingly just starting up from their recumbent position to chastise the unhallowed disturbers of their last repose.
Fiery jets of flame seemed to dart forth from the eyeless sockets, from the grinning jaws, from every bone that helped form the skeletons, and all with that peculiar effect produced by the plentiful use of phosphorus.
As if turned to stone, the two friends stood at the turning, glaring wildly upon the weird tableau.
Then there echoed forth a startling sound, that seemed to proceed from the glowing jaws of the blazing skeletons. A laugh, shrill and unearthly, that echoed thrillingly through the long, narrow passage.
"My God! they move—they come!" yelled Duplin, as he dropped the torch and dashed madly back the way he had come, by some rare chance escaping a shattered skull, from collision with the numerous jagged points of rock.
With that horrible laugh still ringing in their ears, Wythe followed after, half-dead with terror. Gasping, nearly suffocated by the wild throbbings of his heart, Duplin gained the chamber, and then sunk down weak and trembling. Though life depended upon the exertion, he could go no further.
"Burr—where are you?" he gasped, agitatedly.
"Here—thank God we are together!" came the low reply, as Wythe crept to his side. "But the light—where is it?"