Wythe advanced a step, then paused and glanced around him. His face shone ghastly pale in the feeble light of the tiny torch. It seemed that of a dead, rather than a living man. "I--I _think_ this is the one," he faltered, pointing to a passage. "My God! don't you _know_? Then we are indeed lost!" groaned Duplin, the cold sweat dripping from his brow. "We have walked in every direction--I am bewildered. We can do nothing, only trust in Providence." "And so we will! I don't believe we are to perish in this manner. Cheer up--'twill all turn out for the best," cried Duplin, rallying his courage. "I'm willing enough to hope for the best, but these events follow close after that man's warning of last night. There may have been more in it than we cared to admit." "Come--no more o' that, Wythe. You only unnerve us both. Mark this tunnel. We will first explore the one next upon its right--remember that. In time we must strike the right one." Entering the low-arched passage, Duplin led the way, holding the torch so low that it fell full upon the floor. Leaving all other matters to Wythe, he closely and thoroughly scrutinized the passage in search of the blood-drops that had already guided their course so far. "I'm afraid we're wrong, Burr," muttered Paley, after several minutes. "I can find no traces." He had just rounded an acute corner in the passage, and thus cast Wythe in the gloom. Stepping forward, Burr abruptly paused. "My God! look yonder!" he gasped rather than spoke, one hand extended over Duplin's shoulder. The latter raised his eyes and then started back. Truly a horrible sight was before them. A dull, ghastly light seemed to fill the space before them. A light that danced and flickered fitfully--now brilliant, now dull. There, apparently almost within arm's length of the two adventurers, were half a dozen flaming skeletons, not lying prone upon the floor, but seemingly just starting up from their recumbent position to chastise the unhallowed disturbers of their last repose. Fiery jets of flame seemed to dart forth from the eyeless sockets, from the grinning jaws, from every bone that helped form the skeletons, and all with that peculiar effect produced by the plentiful use of phosphorus. As if turned to stone, the two friends stood at the turning, glaring wildly upon the weird tableau. Then there echoed forth a startling sound, that seemed to proceed from the glowing jaws of the blazing skeletons. A laugh, shrill and unearthly, that echoed thrillingly through the long, narrow passage. "My God! they move--they come!" yelled Duplin, as he dropped the torch and dashed madly back the way he had come, by some rare chance escaping a shattered skull, from collision with the numerous jagged points of rock.