"I have an idea," I answered, glancing down the cavern, "that we are going to find the homos here in this place anything but tame." Milton laughed, and then suddenly, without any other answer, he turned and resumed the descent. For one thing I was profoundly thankful: the wall ran along without any pronounced cavities or projections in it, so that we had little to apprehend from a sudden attack on this our giddy way--except, of course, an attack by a demon. Had the wall been a broken one, any instant might have found us face to face with a band of Hypogeans, as Rhodes called the denizens of this subterranean place. But how long would the wall remain like that? And, after all, did it really greatly matter? Meeting, sooner or later--and, in all likelihood, very sooner--was inevitable. 'Tis true, I could not conceive of a worse place than this, supposing the meeting to be, in any measure, an unfriendly one. And, from what had happened up there at the Tamahnowis Rocks, I could not suppose that it would be anything else. This, however, was to prove simply another instance of how inadequate the imagination, when confronted with the reality, is sometimes found to be, for even now we were drawing near a place more terrible even than this--and that the place where we met! It required but little imagination, though, to make us aware, and painfully so, of the extreme probability (regarded by ourselves as a certitude) that eyes were watching our every movement. But where were those eyes? And what were the watchers? To what fearful thing--or could it be wonderful--were we drawing near at every single moment now? Some minutes passed, perhaps fifteen, perhaps less, perhaps more; I can not say how long it was. Of a sudden, however, Rhodes, who was still leading the way, stopped. Of course, I stopped, too. No sound had escaped him, and he stood there like a statue, peering intently straight ahead. "What is it?" I asked. "Look there, Bill," he said in a low voice, pointing with his alpenstock, "and tell me what you see." I was already looking, and already I had seen it. But what in the world was that thing which I saw? I remained silent, gazing with straining eyes and wondering if I really saw what I thought that I did. "What," Rhodes asked, "do you make of it?" "The thing is so faint. 'Tis impossible, and yet, if it were not impossible it can be that, I would say that it is an arch--part of a bridge." "Just what I thought myself, Bill. The thing is so strange, though, so very strange, that I didn't know whether to believe my eyes or not." "And so dim," I observed, "that it may be nothing of the kind. A bridge? Now, who, in the name of wonder, would build a bridge across this frightful chasm? And why? And how?" "_Quién sabe_, Bill?" said Milton Rhodes. The next moment we were moving towards it. "Look!" ejaculated Rhodes suddenly. "Look at that! It goes clear across!"