Rising up hastily, he resolved to go off alone, and yield to the impulse of the wand. Hoping he might be more successful than in the weary months he had passed with his companions.
With this resolve, the pressure of the rod became greater, awaking joyous hopes that had long been strangers to him.
He thought of the curious legend the merchant had told him, and whispering softly to himself, he said: "Where the wand leads I will go—on to fortune, or death; any thing is better than the weariness of my present life."
It was a beautiful, balmy night. The silvery moonlight and the stars brightened even the dim cavern, and flooded the mountains with a luminous beauty.
Ching Chong went silently up the mountain path until he came to a ledge the miners had been prospecting that day.
Still the divining-rod urged him on, till he had gone miles farther into the mountains than ever before.
About twelve o'clock, he began to be hungry and weary, for it was the early evening when he started, and after a hard day's work.
Suddenly the divining-rod changed, and pointed downward, and as Ching Chong looked, he saw what appeared to be the entrance of a cavern, but a huge stone was rolled against it.
He perceived a small opening which the stone left uncovered, through which he might have crept, but the darkness within was so dense that he dare not enter.
He threw himself down upon the ground quite overcome with hunger and fatigue, and taking a piece of hard bread from his pocket, began eating, and thinking almost hopelessly of the future.