Chapter VII: Shooting the Rapids

Excepting the little exploring party headed by Professor Powell in 1869, we were probably the first and only white men to voluntarily undertake the navigation of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado. The purpose had gradually grown upon us and strengthened as we proceeded. Ours was not laid on scientific lines, nor yet on merely idle advantages, but in pursuance of our desire to know more of a country that was as thoroughly a myth and a mystery to the world as that region of the globe which was represented on the maps of ancient geographers by hideous monsters lying in wait for unwary voyagers.

We found just as cruel and ravenous monsters lying in wait for us at every turn in the Colorado; but they were very matter-of-fact dragons, composed of half-submerged rocks and furious whirlpools, threatening life and limb no less than the most hideous creation of a bookwise geographer or superstitious navigator.

For several days our voyage was not so exciting as that of the Gunnison had been, and we began to think that, perhaps, after all, the Colorado, like his “brimstone devilship,” was not so black as it was painted, though, in its most placid aspect, it was in no danger of breeding the ills of stagnation, or subjecting her passengers to the disease called monotony.

However we may have built on this foundation of hope it proved to be one of sand. The canyon began again to contract and writhe and rage as the Gunnison had done, but on a scale of magnificence that belittled the grandest efforts of the tributary.

We began to realize that the course of the Colorado from its source to the foot of the canyon at least, was simply one grand cataract, that we tumbled down its current rather than floated, that we were day by day the subjects of special miracles of preservation from the horrors of shipwreck in a current where the stoutest swimmer would be as helpless as a leaf against the plunging tide, a tide that tumbled and drove seaward through Arizona at a rate that brought the level of its waters three thousand feet lower at the point where it left that territory than where it entered upon it.

These may seem mildly sensational statements to my conservative readers, but they were terrific object lessons in some of nature’s startling facts to us, though we did not stop on our voyage to take our bearing or climb to the top of the river’s banks to drop the plummet line on these walls, nor did we keep a log-book of our course and variations; but all these figures, obtained by Professor Powell in the employ of the United States, have for us a vital meaning, and are not in our ears as a far-away tale of the Arabian Nights.

We would gladly have given over the expedition when we came to brave the dangers of the canyon, but to land at most points was impossible, and even if we could have had room to stand on _terra firma_ we would still have had only the barren choice between starving on the narrow strand or taking to the water again. It had grown so serious again that Abner was once more his brother’s keeper, or at least the keeper of his brother’s message to the outer world, and I was trying to take Abner’s advice about some final words of preparation for departure, when our affairs took a decidedly new turn.

We had just shot down a dizzy cataract that deluged us with spray, and caused Abner to close his lips a little more firmly. We had the usual maelstrom to clear at its foot, and then we shot out into a stretch of water that was good to behold. The channel, as it must needs be to relieve the pressure of the current, was quite wide and the current was so gentle that we could have stemmed it without difficulty; and just ahead of us the prison walls that had so long frowned over and around us gave way, giving us a glimpse of what seemed to be a branch canyon or “pocket,” as they were termed, and we could catch a glimpse of the bright verdure of some sort of plants or trees nearly on a level with the stream.

“Land ho!” I cried, and we promptly guided our craft toward the cove that seemed to be inviting us to find harbor there; but as we drifted down to a point more nearly opposite the entrance to the pocket, we were disappointed to find that the mouth of the pocket was obstructed by a mass of earth and rock that had fallen from the cliffs above and effectually closed the harbor to navigation. This dam rose to the height of only ten or twelve feet, however, and we were soon landed and tying up our raft to a cedar sapling growing upon the embankment; we scrambled up the side and looked over into our promised land. It did not seem to contain over an acre of land, but that one acre was a veritable Garden of Eden to us and we rushed down the inner slope, and took possession of our discovery in the name of the King of Cosmopolitan Rovers, and hoisted the colors of the United Brethren of Freebooters and Adventurers.

The miniature park was intended by nature, seemingly, to represent a circle, of which the river had cut away one side, and as it was smooth, and appeared to be on a level with the river bed, it was plainly redeemed from the river by the dyke thrown across it from the overhanging cliffs, and its soil derived moisture enough to render it wonderfully fertile by sub-irrigation from the waters of the river, which were higher than the surface. We gazed around us in stupid amazement partly because we were so unexpectedly granted a respite from the hardships to which we had been exposed, to the point of exhaustion, and partly at the extraordinary appearance and profusion of the vegetation around us.

Said Abner: “By the beard of Joe Smith, we’ve got into old Brigham’s private garden! Here’s fig trees and date trees, or I’m the devil’s uncle;” and here I said, “are some oranges and limes for supper.”

“Well, I used to have some trouble with the story of Moses poundin’ water outen the rock with his gold-headed cane that Aaron stole to make the golden calf, but I dunno as it’s any harder on the constitution to swallow that little tale than to believe our own senses, that a little patch of Californy should be picked up and set down here in this howlin’ wilderness.”

Pushing our way through the thick growth, we found still other varieties of semi-tropical fruits. A huge grapevine climbed over the tops of the trees and displayed huge bunches of luscious grapes temptingly in our very faces, a temptation to which we readily yielded, and no grouping of words can convey an idea of their delicious flavor to us, deprived as we had been for weeks of fruits and vegetables.

Olives, apples, pears, quinces and plums, all laden to breaking with their respective fruits, dazzled our eyes, and turned our brains dizzy in their efforts to realize our good fortune. Some of the fruits were already past their prime, and gone to decay, but other varieties were ripe for the harvest, and though the laborers were rather few in number, they made amends for that deficiency by being willing. It must be borne in mind that this cliff-walled retreat was as different in climate from the regions of that latitude, usually, as the tropics are different from the temperate zones. It was like a hot-house at noonday, the rays of the sun being reflected downward upon it from the vast upward stretch of rocks, while no cold winds could chill the tender plants, or check the tropical growth of the trees.

The task of exploring our island was not a long one, for the rocky walls were of the same character, and had the same precipitous form as these that had inclosed us for several days, and clearly defined the boundaries of our possessions. We found a spring of pure water gushing from a crevice in the rocks and trickling away again among the fissures and seams, until lost again in a few yards; but it was as great a blessing to us as though it had continued on the surface, for our water privileges had been more extended in quantity than excellent in quality, while we journeyed on the bosom of the boisterous Colorado.

We regaled our senses with the fragrance of the blossoms, and our appetites with the juicy, delicious fruits, and, spreading our blankets in the shadow of the western wall, we slept long and profoundly, the dreamless, careless sleep of childhood, for we were utterly exhausted and the sense of relief was too powerful to admit any nightmares born of our recent dangers--these were reserved for the later stages of reaction. Physically and mentally, we often live over again the scenes of danger and trial with sensations almost as vivid as the reality.

We slumber on through the evening hours and those of night. Morning is well advanced when I hear some one calling to me that breakfast is ready. I rub my eyes and have a confused remembrance of running the gauntlet of at least two of the folds of the baleful rivers that surround the nether world seven times, but as I look around on the pleasing vision before me, I conclude that I have been misshipped, and have dropped anchor on the shores of Elysium instead, and hasten to respond to the invitation of the genius of the place to taste the viands of this realm of bliss. But on advancing a little and looking around I discover only grizzled, grotesque Abner, waving his bloody shirt to and fro over the fire--with Abner himself inside of it--putting the last touches to a meal fit for kings, or even for commercial travelers. Breakfast bacon, garnished with hot apple sauce, steaming slapjacks and coffee, and a great display of fresh fruits piled in the shape of a pyramid, grapes, apricots, peaches, and pears were before me in such profusion that I was constrained to ask the hoary cook if he were arranging an exhibit for a world’s fair.

“That’s right, my boy, and the premium is to the one that can devour the most of it at one settin’,” was his reply; and we fell to with generous appetites, and made so good a record, and so uniform in results, that we decided to share equally the honors of the table, and voted each of the contestants the freedom of the country.

Our spirits rose after such perfect repose and such generous refreshment, and we prepared to make a thorough exploration of our little haven of rest from the storms and dangers of the outer world, happy in the thought of escape from the raging current, not stopping to consider how we were to escape from this refuge itself, or to wish as yet to escape. We asked each other again and again what hand had planted this Eden, or what foot had trodden these solitudes; what intelligence had done its work in this isolated spot, and left behind the undeniable record of its work? Deep as the mysteries of the Cliff Dwellers, unfathomable as the secret of the worshipers of the sun, unanswerable as the query of the origin and purposes of Incas and Aztec, was the question, so constantly uppermost in our minds, so persistently recurring, but having for its answer no echo from the eternity of the past.

Plenty of evidence existed all around us that this work was of no recent doing. Trunks of trees in all stages of decay lay about among the living trees, indicating that the trees had propagated themselves from the seed, until they had become a tangled wilderness of tree and vine. The extremely favorable nature of their location preserved them from deterioration in quality or extinction of their kind. Here might be a thread that would help to unravel the tangled web of facts regarding the race that had once reared and ruled, built and worshiped in America, of which no human being had been able to give an authentic account.

What if we--tremendous thought--should enjoy the proud distinction of giving to the world a plain solution of the race problem that had profoundly agitated the minds of scholars for generations, and tantalized the efforts of the most diligent and enthusiastic students of American antiquities?

Such thoughts as these chased each other through my brain as we made our way through the thicket, and took careful note of everything around us. We were a little sobered in our effusive delight with our new-found possession when we had made a laborious circuit of “our acre” through the tangle of fruit and flowers, to find, as far as we could determine from such a preliminary survey, that there was no possible method of escape from our retreat except by water, and that in the end, if we wished to escape from a situation which, even though it had to us the semblance of a paradise, still was rather a circumscribed one (and we could easily foresee that a time would come when our palace would become a prison); we should be compelled to resume our perilous voyage till a point was reached where we could scale the banks of the river and retrace our toilsome journey by land.

I could not accept as final the decree of the rocks, that we should not pass. It seemed improbable that the former inhabitants should have brought this nook to such a high state of productiveness without some better facilities of ingress and egress than the river afforded. It was unreasonable to suppose that they should come by our late route, prepared to improve and cultivate this spot, and it was equally improbable that having once lighted upon it as we had done, that they should ever care to repeat the experiment after having escaped from it by running the remaining two hundred or more miles of seething rapids in the Grand Canyon.

“What do you think could ever have brought men to this place, and induced them to plant this great variety of fruit?” said I.

“What do I think, laddie?” he said, “I think that just what brought you and me gallivantin’ in these living tombs, brought them here to be sure. They came a lookin’ for mines, only they came from the West, while we came from the North, and another triflin’ difference between them and us is that we haven’t found any yet.”

“Why, do you mean to say that you think they found gold here?” I asked.

“I don’t think anything about it youngster, _I know it_. While you wuz a dreamin’ and noddin’ to yourself over them old rotten tree trunks and a settin’ up some fine-spun theory that you got in your head in your schoolin’ days at Chicago, I was usin’ my eyes. Come here.” I followed him a little distance to the southwestern extremity of the park, and he pointed out a place in the wall where mining tools had been used, and a closer inspection showed that there was a distinctly marked seam of quartz cropping out. “Not much account,” commented Abner. “They soon left it, but it proves their business.”

The work had the appearance of having been pushed only far enough to make a test of the vein, which had probably been unsatisfactory.

“Now, Abner,” said I, “what proof have you that these wanderers came from the West instead of from any other direction?”

“Why any fool ought to know that; here is a little corner of southern California, or north Mexico taken up bodily and set down here; if you had ever been in that country you’d see the earmarks here sure.”

The symptoms that some time previously threatened to develop a mania for antiquarian research in me were upon me again, and this time the archæologist was in a fair way to run away with the gold hunter, I resolved to bend every energy to the work of unearthing some further traces of the people who had been in this strange, wild, beautiful garden of the gods, so carefully hidden by nature. While Abner, armed with his mining tools, was disposed to do some prospecting, I secured my pick and shovel, and started on a prospecting tour also, though with a different end in view. I had marked one thing that appeared strange and inconsistent, namely, that while here were evidences on every hand that some human being or beings, had made this place a home for a length of time--else why all this fruit planting--or at least they had planned to make it an abiding place of some prominence; yet here was not the first clew to the remains of any sort of a human habitation, and I was starting out on the presumption that a people who gave so much attention to the cultivation of fruits must surely have bestowed some careful thought and labor upon a dwelling of a style to compare with the state of civilization indicated by their agricultural advancement.

My attention was drawn to the walls of the pocket, rather than to the level spot of tree-covered earth, on the supposition that there might very probably be some connection between this little settlement and the houses of the rock dwellers, whose cavernous retreats have been found all over this southwestern region of North America. Beginning at the point where Abner was investigating the ancient prospect hole, I worked my way around to the western side, narrowly scanning the ledge as I went, for any sign of excavation or rock hewn apartment that might answer the needs of human beings for shelter and safety. The light at best was none too brilliant in this recess in the mountain, but was especially gloomy till the sun had climbed well toward the zenith; and, to render my efforts more difficult, a few tall cottonwood trees grew close together, and in close proximity to the wall, hindering my view and shutting out the little light to be had, and leaving hardly sufficient room for a person to squeeze through between their trunks and the cliff. Laboriously making way against these difficulties I came to a point about midway of the western segment of the semicircle, when I saw some sort of marks upon the rocks that seemed to have been made by man, but so overgrown with moss that it conveyed as yet no intelligence. Falling to work in great excitement, I scraped away the covering that ages had been at work to provide, and made out the form of a human figure cut in the granite and pointing with the index finger in the direction of the north, and slightly downward.

I studied the figure long and intently, but it spoke no word to relieve my suspense, only pointed steadily and stolidly toward some object, to me invisible. I scanned the walls for other figures or characters, but this one seemed to be the lone guard of the place. I passed on in the direction indicated by the clammy finger of the rock genius, and about twenty yards further on espied a similar figure which in size, attitude, and constancy of purpose might have been a twin of the former, but instead of pointing northward, its taper finger was stretched out toward the south, and depressed toward the earth in the same degree as the other.

There is undoubtedly a motive in all this, I thought, and I began to feel as if I were in the presence of the ghost of an interesting, intensely fascinating past. The figures were life size and in position to indicate that the person who had executed them had stood upon the ground where I now stood, but accumulations of rubbish had buried them to the knees. I ran my eye along the line in which the second figure pointed, marked the spot, walked to the first one, ranged its course also, and discovered with a thrill that it indicated exactly the same spot. Visions of ancient Captain Kidd and Tom Walker flitted through my excited brain. I walked back and forth several times, and squinted and ranged, but each time these cold-blooded monitors referred me back to the same spot I had first fixed upon as their common choice, and, trembling in every limb, I began to ply the pick and shovel like a mad man, anxious to have the honor of making one discovery as the result of my “book larnin’,” of which Abner always spoke a little contemptuously. I had not sunk my shaft more than two feet till my pick struck the traditional “something hard,” and my heart beat the usual triphammer accompaniment.

But when uncovered it proved to be only a very solid rock, and I was on the point of concluding that it was imbedded there by nature herself, when I observed that it bore the marks of tools, and continuing my labors, I soon found that its extent toward the wall was not great; I thought to dig underneath it, but after sinking about a foot beside it, I again encountered rock, and on clearing away a space down to this level, I perceived with renewed palpitations that I was descending a stone stairway.

In the wildest frenzy of mental excitement I continued the excavations, this being, as I estimated, the third step from the top, as I judged that I had at first struck the second one from the distance it was found below the surface; and continuing, I unearthed successively a fourth, fifth, and finally a sixth, which brought me close to the cliff wall. But though here was the stairway sufficient for descent far enough to admit an ordinary-sized man to apartments entirely “below stairs,” there appeared to be no entrance to such an apartment, and my further progress was stayed by the unflinching decree of the rocks. My closest scrutiny failed to detect the least sign that the hand of man had ever been laid in violence upon the virgin rock that formed the canyon wall. Reason and the senses were in conflict. Surely this laboriously formed stairway was designed to lead somewhere, said reason. Be that as it may, it is just as plainly apparent that it does not, said the outer senses of sight and touch.

The plaintiff in the case urged that it was an absurdity to suppose the stairway to have been constructed that man might butt his head against a stone wall. I bethought me of another available witness in the case, who might give valuable testimony, so I struck the wall directly in front of the stairway a smart blow with my pick, and called hearing into action to decide on the nature of the sound. The blow produced a hollow sound, and proved, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, that a chamber of some sort existed beyond the stone barrier, but how to remove the barrier was now the absorbing question. I carefully cleared away the dirt and rubbish that still clung to the supposed door and examined it closely for some indications of the plan upon which it was built and operated.

I noticed at last a faint crack like a frost seam in the wall just above my head as I stood at the foot of the stairway, and by the closest scrutiny, and frequent resort to brushing and scraping, I was able to follow the seam, and define the outline of a door so cunningly fitted to the aperture as to defy any but the closest search.

Slowly and painfully, but in great inward tumult, I traced the form of the door completely around to the starting point, but the sharpest vision could not penetrate the secret of its fastenings, or detect the slightest show of hinge or lock that might prove the sesame to the vaulted dwelling beyond. I fumed and capered about in my impatience to be taken into this dark secret of the Old Man of The Mountain, but I failed to find even enough of a clew to enable me to form an opinion as to which side of the door was hinged, or as to whether it was hinged at all, for that matter, but at last, in desperation, I threw my whole weight against one side of the door which yielded with such ease and suddenness that I made my entrance to the dark precincts within this strange portal, in a way that sent a thrill something very nearly akin to terror to my heart, through the lighting of the brain which flashed the caution to the central office of mind, through the electric highway of the grand trunk line of nerves: “Beware of being caught by a trapdoor!”

Recovering myself from falling, I caught at the door to prevent its being closed by possible hidden automatic agencies, but no such forces existed, or if so, had forgotten to execute their office, for the door stood wide open without any apparent intent to defeat the law of inertia--but what a door!

What human ingenuity and Job-like patience had wrought the rough slab of stone into a mechanism that of perfect symmetry and absolute joining to the native wall would render foolish any attempt of a modern carpenter and joiner with all his varied collection of perfect tools. The method of hanging the door was as unique as the fitting was perfect. The doorway was about four feet wide and the hinges were not on one jamb or door-post, as we are accustomed to see them, but were in the middle of the doorway. Could you have stood on the threshold, exactly in the center of the aperture, one hinge would have been immediately over your head and the other between your feet; but as a matter of fact this was exactly the position occupied by the open door, standing sidewise or at right angles to the opening half of the door, therefore opening inward and half outward, being pivoted by such a curious feat of skill above and below, that, ponderous as it was, a touch of the finger almost would swing it. But while I entertain you, my reader, with a description to the best of my ability, of a wondrous product of skill and point out its many claims to admiration and wonder, I perceive that you cast wistful, sidewise glances toward the mysteries within the door, and to which its opening has admitted us, and begging your pardon if I have kept you standing on the threshold longer than courtesy would suggest, and having satisfied my ambition to be in my own person the Columbus of this exploring expedition, I will detain you but a moment, while I call to my partner to come, and together we will enter this abode of the dim and misty past. To tell the truth, however anxious I might have been to be the sole discoverer of this subterranean habitation, I confess to a somewhat eerie feeling at the thought of venturing alone into this stronghold of a long-forgotten people, to stumble perhaps over the utensils and implements that had been used by them hundreds of years ago, and not improbably encounter the grinning skeletons of the former inhabitants themselves, and be haunted by an uncomfortable conviction that it was a sort of sacrilege to invade the dominions of the dead who had in life labored so long and patiently to prevent just such intruders as myself from disturbing their dust, or prying with too much idle curiosity into the secrets of their life and labors; I felt that I was almost setting up my feeble opposition against the decree of death that here they should rest till the resurrection.

But companionship easily dispels such somber ideas, and eagerly I lead the way, and conduct the hero of a hundred adventures into the castle of the island, and invite him to take up his quarters here, forthwith.

The room is a low one, not more than seven feet in height and about twenty feet square, and bare of any particular object of interest, except that in one corner are some charred remains of wood, where cooking had evidently been done, and directly over it a round hole cut through the ceiling slantwise toward the outer world and gave issue to the smoke, as I found on later investigation, through a fissure of the rock and concealed the source from which it came. There were a few earthen vessels for domestic use, this room being probably used as a storeroom and cooking room.

The walls were rudely cut and no effort had been made at adornment; but our interest was toward a point in the rear wall where were plain indications of another doorway, but seemingly constructed without the effort at concealment, that had been a prominent thought in the mind of the artisan who had shaped the outer door. This second door we found to yield to pressure as easily as the other, and admitting us to a dark corridor whose extent we could not conjecture, and whose dark, unknown space we did not care to penetrate without light, so we returned to daylight and prepared bundles of dry fagots for torches, and lighting one, we started once more to trace the windings and explore the mysteries of the passage.

The torch burned brightly, and the air seemed fresh and wholesome. The tunnel bore directly into the mountain for some distance and then branched in a sharp bend northward. We decided to explore this passage first, and found it soon changed into a perpendicular or spiral stairway hewn in the rock, the center being left to form a huge monolithic pillar around which the course revolved. Up and up we toiled for a hundred generous steps till a queer pulling down sensation affected the calves of our legs, and came out at last upon a narrow landing, and a door opening into an apartment which we knew at a glance had been the true home of these ghostly inhabitants of the rocks. We had no further need of our fagots at present, for this room was well lighted from without--being directly over the one we had first entered--with ingenious arrangements to admit light and air without attracting notice from without, although being so high up the cliff made the liability to detection very small.

The room was forty feet square, cut with the greatest exactness, and the ceiling, which was in the form of a hip roof, pyramidal in shape, was, according to our best means of calculating, exactly forty feet to the apex. And the whole of the walls and ceiling were ornamented with a network of grooves in the red sandstone, which gave it quite an imposing appearance. Some ornamental vases of brass were resting in niches in the wall, and a great many more similar niches were empty. A low shelf of rock or divan was left running around the wall which must have been used as couches at night, as we found no other substitutes for any kind of beds whatever. But day was fast declining and we must retrace our steps to the camp and leave the exploring of the other branch of the gallery for the morrow.

Here was food for thought; enough to engage our attention till we could resume our work in unearthing and unraveling mystery and history, for I had cherished a firm belief from the time that we landed on the shores of this miniature world, that we should be the humble means of giving some facts that had been heretofore, for ages, mere speculation and hypothesis.

Sleep cannot always erase the grooves of care worn in the brain by the ceaseless grinding of our waking hours. The alluring phantoms, hope and ambition, stalk through the stoutest barriers we may rear at the portals of dreamland, lift our souls to the dizziest heights of success; then, as suddenly as they came, leave us on the pinnacle as a brood of the dark-hued spirits take their places to bedim our bright hopes, and instead of a pinnacle of glory, we seem suddenly to be standing on a precipice that is the verge of destruction, to be toppling over and falling into horrible depths till overwrought nerves can endure no more, and we startle into wakefulness only to doze off into Somno-land again to go through all the stages of human experience from exuberant bounding hope and joy to the blackest and bleakest despair.

So were my dreams, vision-haunted and fever-stirred. I seemed to be climbing again the weary flight of winding stairs to the chamber of state above. Now I wandered through that silent apartment with its unwritten history of human life! I came suddenly face to face with a grim and ghastly skeleton of one of the former prospectors of the place. He waved me from the premises with a horrid leer from his grinning teeth, now he lays a bony hand upon me; powerless to resist, I follow him while he clatters and rattles in every joint as he conducts me along a dark and moldy corridor full of noisome odors, and pauses at the brink of a well-like pit hewn in the solid rock, and striking his ghastly hands together, he throws off balls of phosphorescent fire from his finger tips, and exhaling a puff of sulphurous air from between his lipless teeth, he sends the uncanny will-o’-the-wisps waving and glimmering down, down to the bottom of an almost bottomless pit, that by their diabolical light I may see the companionship to which he has consigned me.

Then the scene is completely changed. I wander again in the familiar haunts of my boyhood, along the busy streets of the city, and up the well-remembered walk to the door of Lena Upton’s home. We are walking hand in hand in a beautiful garden where semi-tropical fruits grow in profusion, and I am plucking them for her, and she is filling her basket. All at once I recognize the garden as that of the Grand Canyon. Then the terror of the path by which we must escape rises before me, and we are on an open raft battling with a cataract, and I laugh derisively in Lena’s ear when she appeals to me for protection. We approach a wild cataract where rocks beset every foot of the way, the waters go mad and leap from their bed and lash themselves into foam, and we are caught in pitiless rapids, whirled over and into the maelstrom below. In a whirling racecourse, faster and faster we go, till all sense of fear is gone and a delicious sense of pleasure thrills me. I try to shout in rapture at the sport and mercifully wake from the nightmare to a blessed relief of reality and rest and serenity. I dare not trust myself again to such hideous phantasies, so I rise quietly, and walk about in the serene moonlight night. Many crowding, anxious thoughts, made up of hopes and fears in nearly equal quantities, had wrought up my nerves to the proper tension for such visitations, and in waking I could hardly divest myself of some superstitious thoughts, scruples against our ruthless desire to break into every secret of this place, and disregard the universal wish among civilized man for burial that shall be safe from vandalism. I was satisfied that to-morrow we should find evidences of death as we had to-day of life in the grotto, but after this realistic seance with the baleful spirits who guard, or are supposed to guard the forms and secrets of the dead from violations, I felt a little dubious about rushing in too hastily where it might be better to pause and consider. But the burning question that agitated my whole frame was, who were these people, whence came they, whither went they, what was their mission here? Was Abner’s theory of mining interests correct, or were they driven here by stress of circumstances for safety from human enemies, or by love of adventure as we had been, and stayed till deliverance came in some form from without? Had pestilence frightened them from the haunts of their fellows and induced them to take up their abode here, content to be accounted as dead by the outside world? So I speculated and dreamed my waking dreams, scarcely more coherent or probable than those of my fevered sleep; but it added firmness to my purpose to push my search on the morrow with all my energy, and poke and prod in every nook and cranny for records of the past whether it should be written in blood or in ink, whether the evidence should be in bone or stone, I determined to find it, and about daybreak I lay down again, and wrapped in my blankets, enjoyed a cool, refreshing sleep for two or three hours.