Yet—it was not so dark, after all. Strange, he thought, strange that there should be light at all in this covered way—and stranger still was that light. It seemed to be in the air—to be of the air. It came neither from walls nor roof. It seemed to filter in, creeping, along the tunnel from some source far ahead. A light that was as though it came from radiant atoms that shed their rays as they floated slowly by.
Thicker grew these luminous atoms whose radiance only, and not their bodies, could be perceived by the eye. Lighter and lighter grew the way. Again, and as abruptly as before, it turned.
They stood within a cavern that was like a great square auditorium to some gigantic stage. Perhaps it was the smooth wall of rock a hundred yards ahead that gave Graydon that suggestion. It was like a curtain, raised an inch above the floor. Out of that crack flowed the radiant atoms whose slow drift down the tunnel filled it with the ever-growing luminosity. Here they streamed swiftly, like countless swarms of fireflies each carrying a tiny lamp of diamond light.
As he searched for some outlet to the place, the rocky curtain moved. It slid soundlessly aside for a yard or more. He turned—beside him gaunt man, little man, giant man, stood with blank, incurious eyes— He thought he saw the red staff of the Lord of Folly pass over their heads . . . how could that be? . . . there stood the silent figure in motley, rod in hand, far off at the entrance of the cavern.
He heard the nasal cursing of Soames, a bellow from Starrett, the piping of Dan. He swung round to them. Gone, all gone, was that unnatural deadness which had so perplexed him, gone all vagueness of action and of purpose. They were alive, alert—again their old selves. "What the hell's this place, Graydon? How the hell did I get here?" Soames caught his wrist in iron grip. Sierra answered for him. "This is the treasure house I promised you—". "Yeah?" the savage snarl silenced her. "I'm talkin' to you, Graydon. How did I get here? You know, Dan? You, Bill?"
Their own amazed faces gave him his answer. He swung the rifle against Graydon's side. "Come clean!"
Again Sierra answered, tranquilly. "What matter how you came, since you are here—the four of you. There, where the light streams out, is the cavern where the jewels grow from the walls like fruit, and the gold streams like water. They are yours for the taking. Go take them." He lowered the rifle; studied her, wickedly. "And what else is there, sister?"
"There is nothing else there," she said. "Except a great face of carved stone."
Slow seconds passed as he weighed her. "Only a face carved of stone, eh?" he said at last. "Well, then—we will all go to look at it together. Call your man over here."