Up to this the words and the laughter had been in whispers. This time O'Brien counted and laughed out loud.
The effect was prodigious. Those vast chambers of solemn night had never before heard human laughter, and they roared and bellowed, and yelled and shrieked, and grumbled, as though furiously calling upon one another to rush together and tear asunder or crush flat the impious intruders who dared to profane with such sounds the sanctuary of their repose.
"I'll go," whispered Phelan--"I'll go. But--wait!"
A torch was now lit, and by the aid of its fitful flame the four men scrambled into the yawl. The two rowers took their places standing and facing the bow. O'Brien held the flaring torch on high, and the boatmen gave way.
As they glided gently along, the irregular walls of the aisle came nearer to them out of the darkness with a nearness that was sinister and hateful. It was as though they crept close with the full intention of crushing the craft and grinding the men to death between their ponderous fangs and molars. They seemed avengers of the echoes outraged by the laughter.
The luminous shaft still shone; but as they came nearer, the light grew whiter and less like flame. The red glare of the torch seemed to overcome it.
The men watched it with starting eyes.
The walls of the cave came closer out of the darkness, and the roof lowered.
By this time Phelan had lost all his fears, and was as curious as the others to know what the light was.
All at once he cried out--"Ease!"