“I’m thankful, at least, that the boys are not with us,” remarked the professor.
“Amen to that,” said Phalos. “To a large extent, we at least have lived our lives. They have theirs before them.”
“And there are other bits of silver linings to our clouds,” resumed the captain. “In the first place, we have pretty good proof that no one else has preceded us. So if we find the tomb at all, we’ll find it unrifled.
“Then, again, I had the luck to shove our bag of provisions through the hole before I crawled in myself,” he continued. “There are several extra canteens of water there too, besides those we have strapped to us. So we have enough with care to last us for a week or so, if we have to stay here that long.”
“That’s good,” observed the professor. “And, as we can’t go back, we’d better go forward at once.”
“Yes, let’s be getting along,” the captain said, picking up the bag of provisions and slinging it over his shoulder, while in the other hand he carried his rifle. “As Amos says, we can’t go back, and so we’ll make a virtue of necessity and go forward. That, after all, is what we came for.”
They went on carefully, picking their steps along a paved passage, so narrow that they had to go single file.
The path sloped steadily downward, so that they knew they were going into the bowels of the earth. The air was heavy and dank, and yet there was at times the faintest perceptible stirring of the air that showed there must be some communication with the outer world. The reflection gave them new courage, and they quickened their steps, the captain using his flashlight as a guide.
After they had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile and were beginning to wonder whether the passage was interminable, they suddenly came into a large room walled in on all sides with stone, on which were painted scenes of Egyptian life.
The captain flashed his light around the room and a cry of consternation came from the lips of all.