"Stand to one side. Let the air in. What a smoke!"
He kept on working at the signs.
Suddenly I heard him again, but with difficulty. It seemed as if even sounds were confused in the smoke.
"Antinea ... At last ... Antinea. But not cut in the rock ... the marks traced in ochre ... not ten years old, perhaps not five.... Oh!...."
He pressed his hands to his head. Again he cried out:
"It is a mystery. A tragic mystery."
I laughed teasingly.
"Come on, come on. Don't get excited over it."
He took me by the arm and shook me. I saw his eyes big with terror and astonishment.
"Are you mad?" he yelled in my face.