“Good!” cried Professor Bumper. “At last we are near the buried city.”
“Don’t be too sure,” advised Mr. Damon, “We may be disappointed. Though I hope not for your sake, my dear Professor.”
Goosal now took the lead, and the old Indian, traveling on foot, for he said he could better look for the old landmark that way than on the back of a mule, walked slowly along a rough cliff.
“Here. somewhere, is the entrance to the cavern,”
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said the aged man. “It was many years ago that I was here — many years. But it seems as though yesterday. It is little changed.”
Indeed little did change in that land of wonders. Only nature caused what alterations there were. The hand of man had long been absent.
Slowly Goosal walked along the rocky trail, on one side a sheer rock, towering a hundred feet or more toward the sky. On the other side a deep gash leading to a great fertile valley below.
Suddenly the old man paused, and looked about him as though uncertain. Then, more slowly still, he put out his hand and pulled at some bushes that grew on a ledge of the rock. They came away, having no depth of earth, and a small opening was disclosed.
“It is here,” said Goosal quietly. “The entrance to the cavern that leads to the burial place of the dead, and the city that is dead also. It is here.”
He stood aside while the others hurried forward. It took but a few minutes to prove that he was right — at least as to the existence of the cavern — for the four men were soon peering into the opening.