"Why didn't you say so?" I demanded.
"Because I didn't want to," he returned sullenly. "You can go there if you care to; I don't. It was from there that—it came."
I did not answer, but pushed forward, not, however, leaving the wall. Perhaps it was cowardly; you are welcome to the word if you care to use it. Myself, I know.
Another half-hour and we reached the end of the lane by which we had first entered the cavern. We stood gazing at it with eyes of desire, but we knew how little chance there was of the thing being unguarded at the farther end. We knew then, of course, and only too well, why the Incas had not followed us into the cavern.
"Perhaps they are gone," said Harry. "They can't stay there forever. I'm going to find out."
He sprang on the edge of a boulder at the mouth of the passage and disappeared on the other side. In fifteen minutes he returned, and I saw by the expression on his face that there was no chance of escape in that direction.
"They're at the other end," he said gloomily; "a dozen of 'em. I looked from behind a rock; they didn't see me. But we could never get through."
We turned then, and proceeded to the third wall and followed it. But we really had no hope of finding an exit since Harry had said that he had previously explored it. We were possessed, I know, by the same thought: should we venture to follow the fourth wall? Alone, none of us would have dared; but the presence of the others lessened the fear of each.
Finally we reached it. The corner was a sharp right angle, and there were rifts and crevices in the rock.
"This is limestone," I said, "and if we find an exit anywhere it will be here."