The captain agreed, and together he and Professor Bruce took the mummy into a distant passage and laid the poor relic of humanity down reverently.
The act itself and the fearlessness with which his companions went about their distasteful work helped Phalos markedly to resume his usual philosophical attitude.
“Old traditions were too strong for me,” he murmured apologetically. “Then, too, my years are telling on me and we’ve been under an unusual strain to-day.”
“I can well understand how you feel,” replied the professor with a genial smile. “And I don’t mind admitting that I too was unnerved. What do you think it was, Frank?” he asked, turning to his brother.
“Can’t say,” replied the captain. “Of course, we’ll cut out right now any suggestion of the supernatural. That yell had either a human or a mechanical origin. It may have been some freak due to natural causes and the configuration of these catacombs. Or it may have been a trick to frighten us away on the part of some one who doesn’t dare meet us in the open. As it stands, one guess is as good as another.”
“If only it doesn’t come again!” ejaculated Phalos fervently.
“Let’s hope it won’t,” returned the captain. He smiled grimly and added: “I know when I’ve had enough. But if it does, it won’t be so startling as the first time, for now we’re prepared for it. But now that we’ve had our supper, what do you say to starting on again?”
All agreed to this, but when Phalos tried to walk he found that his trembling limbs would hardly support him.
There was no help for it, and they had to defer their attempt until the morning. They composed themselves to sleep as best they could, though the captain, who always slept with one eye open, kept his rifle close at hand so that he could clutch it instantly in case of need.
Nothing occurred through the night to disturb them, however; and as the old Egyptian woke refreshed and much stronger, they resumed their search after they had partaken of a scanty meal and finished the rest of Ismillah’s coffee.