“Like some mighty organ played softly while a thousand children chant,” Kirk whispered.
It was now time to cover their feet, yet even the Carib felt something of the awe that led the others on, still barefooted.
The illusion of the chant could not last forever. As they advanced the sound increased in volume, became more distinct until it burst upon them as the rush and roar of a miniature cataract, where the stream emerged from a chamber still beyond.
“Shall we go on?” Pant stood with his feet in the lower water of the cataract.
“If—if we don’t get lost,” the younger boy hesitated.
“Not a chance,” said Pant. “We have only to follow the stream back.”
“To be sure. How stupid of me. Yes, let’s go on.” There was an eager note in Kirk’s voice. Pant read it correctly. He was eager to go forward for, in some hidden chamber, perhaps just beyond, there might rest a vast treasure from the forgotten past.
The ascent of the water worn and slippery rocks was difficult. More than once the younger boy was in danger of being thrown into the torrent of water, but drawn on by Pant, lifted forward now and then by the giant black, he made his way upward until with a sigh of relief he dropped upon dry sand at the head of the waterfall. Once more Pant’s light gleamed out before them. Fresh marvels awaited them. A vast, silent underground lake, reaching as far as the light would carry and yet beyond, seemed to beckon them on.
Switching off his light, that batteries might be saved for a possible emergency, Pant followed the Carib and his dim light along the shore of this new marvel.
They had gone two hundred yards or more when out of the darkness before them, on the shore of the lake, something loomed indistinct and gray.