A curious scene met their eyes. All about were great rocks rent and torn by the awful power of the lightning. The fronts of the stone cliffs were scarred and burned by the electrical fire, and fantastic markings, grotesque faces, and leering animals seemed to have been drawn by some gigantic artist who used a bolt from heaven for his brush.
But the eyes of Tom and Mr. Damon took all this in at a glance, and then their gaze went forward to where the avalanche had torn away a great part of the mountain.
“Whew! I should say it was a landslide!” cried Tom.
“Bless my wishbone, yes!” agreed Mr. Damon.
Below them, in the valley, lay piled immense masses of earth and stones. Boulders were heaped up on boulders, and rocks upon rocks, being tossed about in heaps, strung about in long ridges, and swirled about in curves, as though some cyclone had toyed with them after the lightning flash had tossed them there.
“But the mountain isn't half gone,” said Tom, as his eyes took in what was left of the phantom berg. “I guess it will take a few more bolts like that one, to put this hill out of business.”
Though the landslide had been a great one, the larger part of the mountain still stood. An immense slice had been taken from one side, but the summit was untouched.
“And there's where the diamond cave is!” cried Tom, pointing to it.
“I think so myself,” agreed Mr. Jenks, who came from the tent at that moment, and joined the lad and Mr. Damon. “I think we shall find the cave somewhere up there. We must start for it, as soon as we have eaten, and we may reach it by night.”
The three stood gazing up toward the summit of the great mountain. Suddenly, as the sun rose higher in the heavens, it sent a shaft of rosy light on the face of the berg that had been scarred by the landslide. Tom Swift uttered an exclamation, and pointed at something.