But they knew it was there. That thing that had once been a man like themselves was there. They could visualize him in the darkness. He was a guest at their meal—a very quiet guest to be sure—but he was there.
Suddenly there rose a wail as of a soul in torment, a dreadful hideous shriek that filled them with horror.
The old Egyptian fell over on his face and groveled on the floor.
“The vengeance of the ancient gods,” he cried wildly, “for daring to search for the Tombs of Gold!”
CHAPTER XIX
The Man by the Stream
Crouching down in the central hall, baffled and defeated in their efforts to find a way out into the world beyond the great cave, Don and Teddy sat for a long time in an attitude of strained expectation. No word was spoken, but each knew what the other was waiting for. They were hungry and thirsty, but if that had been all they would have resigned themselves and tried to forget their misery in sleep.
But there was more than that—the dread of the supernatural!
Very frequently the bravest of men does not care to go through a cemetery at night. He may laugh and make light of his fears. He may summon his common sense to his aid. He may tell himself that only fools fear the dead. Yet, however he may fortify himself, some obscure survival of the fear inherited from generations of superstitious ancestors makes him heartily glad when he leaves the dead behind and finds himself once more in the haunts of the living.
Teddy at last broke the silence.
“Do you think it will come to-night?” he asked, looking around him fearfully, as though his eyes could pierce the darkness.