CHAPTER VII.
THE CANYON WITHIN THE MOUNTAIN.
Monella, with the lantern in his hand, led his two companions throughan arched opening into a second cavern which seemed to be larger andloftier than the first; and this, in turn, opened into a third, at oneend of which they could see that daylight entered. Monella stopped hereand, lifting the light high in one hand, pointed with the other toside-openings in the rock.
"They are side-galleries, so to speak," he said, "but do not appear tobe of any great extent. I have been to the end of two or three. Theyall seem to be perfectly empty too; not so much as a trace of anythingdid I see, save loose pieces of stone here and there, that had, nodoubt, fallen from the roof. Now we will go to the entrance on thisside." And he turned and walked on towards the place where they couldsee the glimmering of daylight.
Quite suddenly they turned a corner and saw before them a high archway,leading out into the open air; and, before the two young men had hadtime to express surprise, they had stepped out of the gloomy caverninto a valley, where they stood and stared in helpless astonishmentupon a scene that was as lovely and enchanting as it was utterlyunexpected.
They saw before them the bottom of a valley, or canyon, of about halfa mile in length, and nearly a quarter of a mile in width; its floor,if one may use the expression, consisted chiefly of fine sand of a warmtawny hue; its sides, of rocks of white or pinkish white fine-grainedsandstone, with here and there veins, two or three feet wide, of somemetallic-looking material that glistened in the sunlight like massesof gold and silver. In other places were veins of jasper, porphyry,or some analogous rock, that sparkled and flashed as though embeddedwith diamonds; other parts again were dark-coloured, like black marble,throwing up in strong relief the ferns and flowers that grew in frontof them.
At the further end of the valley a waterfall tumbled and foamed inthe rays of the sun which, being now almost overhead, threw its beamsalong the whole length of the canyon. The stream that flowed below thefall widened out into clear pools here and there, fringed by stretchesof velvety sward of a vivid green. The water of this stream was of awonderful turquoise-blue tint, different from anything, Templemorethought, that he had ever seen before; and he and Elwood gazed withadmiration at its inviting pellucid pools. But most extraordinary ofall were the flowers that nearly everywhere were to be seen. In shape,in brilliancy of colouring, and in many other respects, they differedentirely from even the rare and wonderful orchids and other blossomsthey had come across in the vicinity of Roraima. Of trees there werenot many, though a few were dotted about here and there by the side ofthe river; and, in places, graceful palms grew out of the rocky slopesat the sides and leaned over, somewhat after the fashion of giganticferns. Though the valley was so shut in, and the heat in the sun verygreat, yet the amount of green vegetation on all sides, the bluewater, and the light-coloured, cool-looking rocks, made up a scenethat was gratefully refreshing after the gloom of the forest scenes towhich the explorers had been so long accustomed. Moreover, by steppingback into the cool air of the cavern, they could look out upon it allwithout experiencing the drawback of the intense heat.
Elwood was in ecstasies. The triumphant light in his eyes, when heturned round and looked at his friend, was a thing to see.
"You confounded, wretched old grumbler," he exclaimed, "what have youto say now? Is not _this_ worth coming for? Or is it that even _this_will not suit you? Perhaps it is all too bright, the water too blue,the flowers too highly coloured, or"--here a most delicious scent waswafted across from some of the flowers--"they are perfumed too highlyto please you! You haven't found fault with anything yet, and we havebeen here nearly five minutes!"
Jack laughed; and Leonard noticed that it was more like his old, easy,good-natured laugh.
"I think you are too severe upon me, Leonard," he replied. "Don't youthink so, Monella?"
Monella, the while, had been standing gazing on the scene like one in adream. More than once he passed his hand across his eyes in a confusedway, as though to make sure he was awake. When thus addressed, however,he seemed to rouse himself, and, without noticing the banteringquestion that had been addressed to him, and, extending one hand slowlytowards the valley that lay before them, said,
"I praise Heaven that I have been led, after many days, to the landthat I have seen in my visions. _Now_ do I begin to understand why theywere sent. And you too, my son," he added, looking at Leonard, "youhave had your visions and your dreams. Tell me, does this not remindyou of them?"
"A SCENE THAT WAS GRATEFULLY REFRESHING." [_Page 72._]
"Indeed it does," returned Leonard seriously. "Though, till you spokeof it, I had not thought of it. I felt so glad to think we had beensuccessful so far, and that your expectations were being justified. Itis all very strange."
"I am out of all that," observed Jack, with a comical mixture ofoffended dignity and good-natured condescension. "You dreamers ofdreams have the best of such beings as I am. _You_ are led on byvisions of what is in store for you, as it would seem, while _I_ haveto work in the dark, and follow others blindly, and----"
"And think of nothing but how best you can serve and protect yourfriends," said Monella, looking at him with a kindly smile. "We arenot all alike, my friend. It is not given to all to 'dream dreams,'any more than it is given to all to have true manly courage combinedwith almost womanly affection for those they call their friends. Wethree have little to boast of as between one another, I fancy. Wouldit were so more often where three friends are found grouped togetheror associated in any undertaking. But now to consider what is nextto be done. It seems to me we could not have a better place for ourhead-quarters in our future explorations than this cavern. Here wehave all we want: shelter from rain, and sun, water--pretty well allwe could ask for. We must see about getting our things along here." Hepaused for a moment and then continued, "On second thoughts I see noreason why you should not remain here. There is no more baggage thanthe Indians can carry amongst them, and that is all we have to troubleabout. I will go back, and you two stay here."
"That seems scarcely fair," Jack protested. "I have been lazy all themorning. I propose I go and leave you here."
Monella shook his head.
"You cannot manage the Indians as I can," he answered. "Indeed, that isone reason why I think you would do better to remain here. When theyfind you do not return, and that they have to obey me or remain in theforest alone, they are more likely to do what we require. But I willask you not to go far away, and not to fire off a gun or anything,unless in case of actual danger and necessity."
"You do not believe that the place is inhabited?" Jack exclaimed insurprise.
"Who can tell?" was the only reply, as Monella took up the lantern andturned away.
Left to themselves, Jack pulled out his inevitable pipe, the while thatElwood sought, and brought in, a couple of short logs from a fallentree to serve as seats; and the two then sat down in the shade of thecavern-entrance.
Jack was very thoughtful; but his thoughtfulness now was of a differentkind from his late moody silence. He, indeed, was ruminating deeplyupon Monella, who was every day--every hour almost--becoming a greatermystery to him. He had been particularly struck with his manner andthe expression of his face when they had stood together, looking outupon that curious scene. In Monella's _words_ there had not been muchperhaps, but in other respects he had strangely impressed the usuallyunimpressionable Templemore. There had been in his features a sort ofexaltation, a light and fire as of one actuated by a great and loftypurpose, so entirely opposed to the idea that his end and aim wereconnected with gold-seeking, that Jack Templemore confessed himselfmore puzzled with him than he had ever been before. Too often, as hereflected, when a man sets his mind, at the time of life Monella mightbe supposed to have reached, upon gold-seeking, he is actuated by sheergreed and covetousness. But by no single look or action whatever hadMonella ever conveyed a suggestion that the lust of gold was in hisbreast. Yet, if that were not so, what was
his object? Did he seekfame--the fame of being a great discoverer? Scarcely. Again and againhe had declared, on the one hand, his contempt for and weariness ofthe world in general, and, on the other, his fixed intention never toreturn to civilised life. Jack began to suspect that all his talk aboutthe wealth to be gained from their enterprise had been chiefly designedto secure their aid, and that for himself it had no weight--offered noincentive. What, then, _was_ Monella's secret aim or object? What wasthe hidden expectation or hope, or belief, or whatever it was, thathad led him into an undertaking that had appeared almost a chimera;that had so taken possession of his mind as to have become almost areligion with him; that had enabled him to support fatigue and physicalexertion, privation, hunger and thirst, as probably could few othermen on the face of the earth; and that had become such an article offaith--had made him such a firm believer in his own destiny, that nodanger seemed to have any meaning for him? Neither storm nor flood,lightning nor tempest, savage beasts nor deadly serpents--none ofthe dangers or risks that the bravest men acknowledged, even if theyfaced them, seemed to have existence so far as this strange man showedany consciousness of them. Never had they known him to step asideone foot, to pause or hesitate one moment, to avoid any of them. Hesimply went his way in supreme contempt of them all; and, until quitelately--till within the hour almost--Jack had attributed all thiseither to madness, or to an inordinate thirst for riches for riches'sake--which, as he reflected, would be, in itself, a sort of madness.Now, however, his opinion was altering. The liking he had all alongfelt was changing to surprised admiration. He remembered the calm,unwavering confidence with which Monella had led them through alltheir seemingly interminable difficulties and discouragements to theirpresent success--for success he felt it was, in one sense, if not inanother. In the strange flowers and plants before them, alone, therewere fame and fortune, and what might there not be yet beyond, now thatthey had in very truth penetrated into that mysterious mountain thathad so long defied and baffled all would-be explorers? Monella, hestill felt, might be a bit mad--a dreamer or a mystic--but, evidently,he was a man of great and strange resources. Few engineers, as Jackhimself knew, could have led them thus straight to their goal fromthe data he had had to work upon. Yet he showed now neither elationnor surprise, and in particular, as Jack confessed to himself rathershamefacedly, no disposition to remind him of his many exhibitionsof contemptuous unbelief. With these thoughts in his mind, and theremembrance of Monella's unvarying kindness of manner--to say nothingof the way he had exposed himself to danger on his behalf--Templemorebegan to understand better than he ever had before the affection thatthe warm-hearted Leonard entertained for their strange friend, andhe became conscious that a similar feeling was fast rooting itselfin his own heart. In fact Monella was now, at last, exercising overthe practical-minded Templemore that mysterious fascination and magiccharm that had made the Indians his devoted slaves, and Leonard hisunquestioning admirer and disciple.
Presently, Leonard, who had fallen into one of his daydreams, woke upwith a slight start and exclaimed,
"What a paradise!"
Jack smiled, and said, "I wonder whether it is a paradise without aserpent, as it is without an Eve? But your dreams, Leonard, if Iremember, were mixed up with a comely damsel; and there is none here. Ifear we shall have to regard her as the part that goes by contraries,as they say."
Leonard looked hard at him, and there was evident disappointment in hisglance and tone when he asked,
"Do you then think this place is uninhabited?"
"I do," was the reply. "And I will tell you why. That stone that closedthe entrance from the forest was placed there by some one, no doubt,and by some one inside. Yes; but how long ago? A very long time!Hundreds of years, I should say. It has taken quite that time for thatstream of water to hollow out the little channel in the rocky side ofthe cave and play upon the cement until it has become loosened. Thewood outside tells the same tale. It must be hundreds of years sinceany human beings made their way to and fro through the wood, to orfrom this place. _Once_ there were many people here; and they werenot ordinary people either, I can tell you. Not Indians, I mean, forinstance. They were clever workers in stone. That 'window,' as I callit, through which we came in, is artificial."
Elwood gave an exclamation of surprise.
"Yes; I noticed it, though you did not. I have little doubt thatMonella noticed it too. The cavern was formerly all open, or, atleast, it had a large opening, and I am almost certain its floor wasoriginally level with the ground outside. If so, the present flooris artificial, and there are probably vaults beneath. Outside, thestonework is so artfully done that you see no trace of it; it appearsto be all solid rock; but inside I saw distinctly traces of the joints.Then, look at these archways, at the one we are now sitting under! Theyhave been worked upon too--to enlarge them, probably; to give morehead-room when the floor was made higher. See! here are marks of thechisel!" And Templemore got up and pointed to many places where themarks left by the tool were clearly to be seen.
"Well," said Elwood, "I suppose we shall solve the problem and set alldoubts at rest before many days are over. For my part I am in a curiousstate of mind about it--half impatient, half the reverse. If it is toturn out as you say, I am in no hurry to terminate the uncertainty.This strange spot, the fact that we are really, at last, inside thewonderful mountain--these things open such a vista of marvellouspossibilities that I--it seems to me--I would rather, you know----"
"Oh, yes, I know, you old dreamer," Jack exclaimed, laughing. "Youwould rather wait and have time to dream on for a while than have yourdreams rudely dispelled by hard facts. Now suppose we go and take alook round in the shade over there. We need not go out of sight of thisentrance; so that Monella will find us immediately he returns."
The sun had now moved so far over that one side of the valley waslying in shadow, and they strolled out to observe more closely the newflowers and plants they had thus far seen only from a distance.