The descent was resumed. Were eyes, somewhere below, watching our every movement? I feared that it was indeed so, and, as I well knew, every other member of our little band feared it, too. There was nothing, however, that we could do except descend and face the issue. To turn aside would be futile, for the watcher, or the watchers, would turn aside also to meet us. Ere long we reached the talus, and our troubles were then over; that is, as regards the descent. But Heaven only knew what troubles were awaiting us somewhere in that forest, to which we were now drawing so very near. As we made our way down over the rock-fragments, amidst which shrubs and stunted trees were growing, more than once did we pause and send keen, searching looks and glances into the silent recess of that mysterious wood. Some of those sylvan depths were enshadowed, gloomy; others were pervaded with the strong, transparent light-mist, the objects involved in which _cast no shadows_. At the foot of the talus, almost beneath the branches of great palm-trees, there was a pause. "Now for it!" said Milton Rhodes solemnly. The Dromans were clustered together in earnest but laconic dialogue, their eyes employed the while in a keen scrutiny of the forest aisles and recesses, before us and on either hand. Insects were in the air about us; one or two shadowy butterflies flitted past; and that was all. Not a leaf stirred; the air was without the slightest movement. No song, no call of a bird broke the silence, which seemed to press down upon us and about us as though it were a tangible thing. It was as if the spot, the forest itself had never known either the voice or the movement of any sentient thing. But, somewhere in that forest, hidden and close at hand, there was something sentient--something, in all likelihood, watching us, watching and waiting. Waiting for what? Or, came the sudden thought, even now stealing toward the place where we stood. "This suspense," said I to myself, "is simply awful, is as terrible, even, as that which we knew when we were crossing the bridge, that chasm of unknown depth on either side." Drorathusa turned to us and pointed in a rather vague direction out into the trees. "_Narranawnzee_," she said. "Evidently," said Milton, "they plan to strike that stream." "I pray Heaven," I told him, "that we live to see that _narranawnzee_." Whereupon Rhodes laughed outright, and the effect of the sudden sound was curious and startling, so great was the tension of our nerves. "One would think, Gloomy Face," said he, "that you had just issued from the Cave of Trophonius. 'And he never smiled again.'" "I have an idea, grinning Shaky Knees," I retorted, "that we have got ourselves into a place more awful than any Cave of Trophonius. I don't blink, that's all." "Nor, Bill, do I," said Milton soberly. "You know, I'd feel more at ease if it wasn't for the presence of the ladies. Why did they come on a journey so hazardous and so terrible?"