Kavanagh, making for a point where he last saw the end of a bernouse vanishing, wandered further than the others, perhaps, and came suddenly on a hole in the side of the rock. Not a natural fissure, but evidently a man-made doorway; oval, with carved pillars at the sides, and an inscription over the door. Kavanagh’s first impulse was to go in, his second one not to. Why, there might be an army inside! But by the time the risk occurred to him he was through the portals, and he was afraid of turning, not knowing what was behind him. So he took a pace to his rear, still looking into the interior, and holding his rifle at the ready.
It was by no means dark inside, though coming out of the intense glare it seemed so at the first moment. But light came in from openings high up, showing a chamber which would not contain an army, but was of handsome dimensions for all that, and empty. Empty to all appearance, so far as human beings were concerned that is, but inhabited by stone heroes of the past. There they sat, solemn and gigantic, heedless of the lapse of ages, staring into the future with blind eyes.
The walls and the bases of the statues were covered with hieroglyphics, which would no doubt have told all about them to officials of the British Museum not present.
What a long time it must have taken to write a letter when you had to draw a dog to express a dog, a man when you meant a man, and so forth. It would be rather amusing reading, though, so far as some of my friends, who are not good artists, are concerned. And yours? If a fellow could draw a little bit, however, one might spend nine or ten hours after breakfast very pleasantly in deciphering his correspondence; though it must have been annoying, if one wanted some such matter as a pyramid in a hurry, to have to draw a stag and a knight for “Dear Sir,” an eye for “I,” and so forth throughout the piece. And when ingenious innovators took prominent curves and angles of these drawings to express the things, and so invented hieroglyphics, no doubt busy men with a large correspondence found advantage in it!
Kavanagh had little time for these reflections, for he had hardly made a rapid inspection of this curious old temple, burying-place, or whatever it was, before he heard a shot in the distance outside, and running to the entrance he saw an Arab, who had doubtless been unearthed on another side and bolted here, pausing a hundred yards off to have a return shot at the man probably who had fired at him, and the report of whose rifle had disturbed Kavanagh’s day-dream. Of course he did not know that an enemy was up there, or he would not have stopped for his shot.
As he was getting his sight to bear on some one below, Kavanagh was doing the same for him, and just as he was going to pull he got a violent shock on the hip, which disconcerted his aim; and perhaps that was lucky for Macintosh, whom he had got nicely at the end of his fore-sight Kavanagh had hardly fired, however, and had not time to open the breach and put another cartridge into his rifle, before he heard a noise in the cavern-temple behind him, and, turning sharply, saw a figure with a sword in the right-hand and a shield on the left arm, literally bounding towards him.
The Arab must have been concealed behind one of the figures, or in a recess which had escaped the explorer’s notice, and, not possessing fire-arms himself, had not chosen to attack while his enemy’s rifle was certain to be loaded; but directly he heard him fire he seized his opportunity with the promptitude of a really good soldier, and went for him before he could re-load.
Kavanagh brought his weapon down to the charge and waited for him, and now a really interesting set-to began, and it was a pity there was no one to witness it. The Arab, a fanatic fakir, approached with his shield well advanced, and his sword, which a man might have shaved with, in his strong right-hand, watching for an opening. He made a cut; Kavanagh turned it with his bayonet and re-posted. The thrust was parried by the shield, but the force of it made the Arab stagger back.
Kavanagh followed, feinted low, and when the shield went down delivered the point over the top of it, just touching his opponent’s chest, who saved his life by jumping back with a slight wound. Kavanagh followed further into the cavern. Each now knew that the other was not to be trifled with, and they circled round, eyes glaring into eyes, trying to draw on an attack, the statues around looking straight before them, heedless witnesses of the conflict. Kavanagh feinted again, but the Arab was not to be caught by the same trick a second time, and instead of warding the thrust seized that moment to make a dash and a cut, and his sword bit deeply into the other’s side, cutting through bandolier and kharkee into the flesh.