The friends stood and looked at each other as Mr. Bruce said this; the terrible truth flashing upon them. It was only too true; they were helpless in this great dark cavern. They might wander until starved and famished, and still be miles from the encircling wall, or may be but a few feet from it. It would only be chance if they should come up to the wall; not chance either, for even chance was barred in this Egyptian darkness. It would be the hand of Providence which saved them if they should ever now escape from this cave. If they had followed the lake until the bridge had been reached, they could then have followed the old path to the hidden door, and in that way have gotten out. But no, the only thought they had in getting away from the scene of such carnage, was to leave it far behind and to reach their friends as soon as possible.
They realized their mistake, but now it was too late. The thought completely prostrated them as its full significance dawned upon them.
“But we must not give up while there is strength left,” said Mr. Bruce; “so let us go on in some way, even if we are bearing right away from our goal. We may be right, you know. Anyway we will never find our way out of this by standing still.”
They again took up their way, but with a halfheartedness, which made every step a task and every movement painful. It was strange how these strong men, who had just gotten up from a refreshing sleep, well and hearty, should so soon be changed to despondent beings; their faces looking years older and their gait indicating feebleness. Such is the change which the awful sense of complete helplessness had wrought in these men. They had hit upon a possibility, even a probability, and all else had been forgotten from that moment they had given themselves up for lost, lost in this vast cavern, which had probably been the tomb of many others.
When these thoughts took possession of them, they could not be persuaded that there was any possibility of escape, and it was no wonder they lost hope so quickly, for here was a cave miles in extent, without a guiding light or post to beckon them on. All was dark and still as the death which would so soon claim them. For some strange reason, Onrai seemed to be more affected than any of the others. He said but little, but his face was painful to look at, so frightfully changed had it become. He shuffled along, his shoulders bent and feet dragging over the ground like a man of eighty.
Occasionally he would mutter to himself:
“I have missed my Day of Resis!”
This seemed to be the thing which was worrying him.
“Wait,” said Harry, and they all stopped suddenly, for this was the first word which had been spoken by any of the party excepting Onrai. “When wandering in the cave, as we came,” went on Harry, “I remember seeing pieces of coal lying along the path. The thought has just occurred to me that these marked the path, or else how could the natives find their way. Now, if we could find these.”
“But these would be as hard to find as the border wall,” said Mr. Graham.