The cavern we were following was very tortuous, our route even more so, what with the twists and turns which we had to make in order to get through that phantasmagoria of fungal things. I do not mean to say that all of those growths were horrible, but most of them were, and some were as repulsive to the touch as they were to the sight. As we toiled our way through them, my heart was replete with dire apprehension. I could not banish the vision of those great burning eyes, the horror of those shrieks, which perhaps were still ringing out. What if we were suddenly to find ourselves face to face with one of those monsters (or more than one) here in this nightmare-forest? _Gogrugron! Gogrugron!_ What in the world was that monstrosity known to the Dromans as a _gogrugron_? Well, most certainly, I was not desirous of securing firsthand knowledge, upon that interesting item, for the great science of natural history. At length the light no longer lay in streams and rifts in the darkness, but the darkness, instead, lay in streams through the light. The Dromans quickened their already hurried pace, and there were exclamations of "Drome! Drome!" "Drome!" echoed Milton Rhodes. "I wonder what we are going to find." "Something wonderful," said I, "or something worse, perhaps, than anything that we have seen." Rhodes laughed, and I saw Drorathusa (Ondonarkus was leading the way) turn and send a curious glance in our direction. "Well," I added, "anything to get out of this horrible forest of fungi and things." Some minutes passed, perhaps a half-hour, perhaps only fifteen. Of a sudden the great tunnel, now as light as a place on a sunless day, gave a sharp turn to the right; a glad cry broke from the Hypogeans. "Drome! Drome!" they cried. We all hurried forward. "Look!" I said as we reached the turn. "The mouth, the mouth! _The tunnel ends!_" There, but two hundred feet or so away, was the great yawning mouth of it; nothing was visible through that opening, however, but light, pearly, opalescent, mystic, beautiful. "Drome!" cried Nandradelphis, clapping her hands. A few moments, and we were standing at the entrance and gazing out over the weird and beautiful scene. "Drome!" I turned at the sound and saw Drorathusa, her figure and mien ineffably Sibylline and majestic, pointing out over the strange landscape, her eyes on the face of Milton Rhodes. "Drome," she said again. "Drome," echoed Milton. "I wonder, Bill, what this Drome really is. And I have an idea that this is only the outskirts that we see. Can we at last be near our journey's end, or is that end still far away?" "Who can tell? This place seems to be a wilderness." "Yes; a forest primeval." "What," said I, "are we destined to find down there?" "Things stranger, Bill, in all likelihood, than any explorer ever found anywhere in that strange world above us." "No _gogrugrons_, I hope." Rhodes laughed. "_Gogrugron!_" said Drorathusa.