of life in this fearsome place—little fish, totally blind, like those in the Mammoth Cave. But, though they could not see, they could feel the light. When the rays fell upon the stream, they would drop to the bottom and seek the concealment of the shadow-places. Poor little blind things! What an existence! And yet how like them, after all, are we poor humans!
Yes, blind are we, though we have eyes; our souls shrinking from the light to wander, lost and happy, in psychic caves and labyrinths more terrible even than this cavern through which we were making our way—making our way to we knew not what.
We journeyed on until about 7
o'clock, when we reached another
depot and halted for the night.
All were much fatigued, but the Dromans
were in high spirits, and ours
rose, too. Whether we were drawing
near the end of our strange journey
was not clear; but there could be no
doubt that a great change was imminent.
To the surprize of Rhodes and myself (nothing in the place seemed to surprize Drorathusa and her companions) not a single light-wraith was anywhere to be seen. The cavern was as black as the deepest pit in Erebus.
And it was still the same when we awoke. How I would have welcomed the appearance of the faintest, loneliest ghost—as we called these apparitions of light.
We noticed that Narkus and Thumbra, and the ladies also, were at some pains to have their bows in such a position that they could be drawn from the quivers at an instant's warning. Narkus saw us watching, and, sweeping a hand toward the darkness before us, he said: "Loopmuke."
That, as we well knew, is the Droman word for ape-bat. Also, he tried to tell us about something else; but the only thing intelligible in his pantomimic explanations was that it was about a creature even more formidable than a wild loopmuke.
It was with keen anticipation on the part of Rhodes and myself that we set out that morning. For an hour or so, there was no change. Not a single light-wraith had shone in the awful blackness. Then, after passing through a particularly broken and tortuous place, be began to see them, not many, however, and all were faint. Another hour passed, and of a sudden the walls drew together, and the roof came sloping down, down and down until we had to go bent over. Narrower and narrower grew the way, crowding us at last to the water's edge and then into the very stream itself.
Drorathusa and Narkus were leading, Rhodes and I bringing up the rear. Fortunately the current was a gentle one; had it been otherwise, the place would have been simply impassable.
"I certainly," said Mil ton at last, "admire the man (maybe he was a woman) who first came through this awful place."
The next instant he made a rush forward. Delphis, the white-haired girl, had slipped out into deep water. Rhodes caught her just in time to save her from immersion and drew her back to the shallow water by the wall. Not a cry, not the faintest sound had escaped her, and now she only laughed. Beauty was not the only quality that these Droman ladies possessed to win your admiration.
For ten minutes or so, we toiled our way down that tunnel, now hugging the wall, now following the shallows out into the stream and at times to the other side. Then of a sudden there was an exclamation from Drora-
