Then, unexpectedly, the gallery curved, turning almost at right angles; and, as we felt our way around the bend, it curved again at an even sharper angle; then it curved once more, while, as if to add to our bewilderment, we discovered several side-galleries branching off in various directions.
At the same time, the thuddings of the earth grew more severe than ever and they were accompanied by rumblings, roars, and reverberations of terrifying force and insistency. Crash after crash burst upon our ears as if from some remote storm-center—crash after crash that echoed and re-echoed eerily in that narrow corridor, until our ear-drums ached from the strain and our agitated hearts pumped with a thumping rapidity.
What could it be?—some volcanic disturbance in the heart of the earth? So we were inclined to believe as, sweating with fear, we halted for a consultation. In another moment, might we not feel the reek of sulphur in our nostrils and gasp our last beneath the suffocating fumes?
For several minutes we conferred, but could reach no conclusion. Standing there against the invisible cavern wall, with the earth almost constantly quivering and with low, gruff, distant detonations dinning upon our ears, we found it difficult, almost impossible to exchange ideas. That terror which is close to madness was upon us both; and since the most difficult thing to do was to do nothing at all, it was not long before we were on our way again.
A moment later we were to receive a sharp surprise. Groping around another bend in the gallery, we were startled to see, far ahead of us, an indistinct patch of light. Vaguely rectangular in shape, and of an unearthly greenish hue, it wavered and flickered strangely, at times almost disappearing, at times flaring to a hectic, momentary brilliance, shot through with flashes of red, orange, and violet. And, simultaneously, the far-off thunders grew more deep-throated, with occasional snarls and reports as of siege-artillery.
"Sacred Catfish!" muttered Clay in awe-stricken tones. "You could almost believe the old yarns about Satan and his court of devils!"
I must confess that, hard-headed man of science though I pride myself on being, a wave of superstitions fright went through me at these words; some old ancestral terror had gripped me until my legs shook and all but sank beneath me. Nevertheless, I strove desperately to rally what remained of my strength.
"Court of devils?" I tossed back, mockingly. "The only devils are in your imagination, Phil! It's clear enough what's wrong; the earth is suffering from a little fit of indigestion, something out of gear down here in her volcanic entrails. Most likely it'll clear up any moment."
Hardly were these words out of my mouth when the earth gave a lurch so violent that we were both knocked off our feet. And for one instant, the light from down the gallery became a sun-like illumination, by whose glare I caught a glimpse of Clay's harried face, scarred and red with newly clotted blood, with one eye half closed, and with a long gash across the great dome of his forehead.
Probably I did not present a more inviting sight, for, as we both picked ourselves up from the cavern floor, he exclaimed, "Say, old fellow, I ought to have your picture now! The way you're looking, you'd scare off a brigade of fighting Hottentots!"