While the shell-fish were roasting on the embers, I detailed to Bukári the results of my explorations, with which he was highly satisfied; and when we had devoured the affaní and taken a pair of empty shells down to the spring, to scrape up a scanty and muddy draught, we set about completing the preparations for our great enterprise. On my way back from the river I had cut two long lengths of thin monkey-rope--not thicker than my thumb but as strong as steel hawser--and I now proceeded to hack down a stout sapling and cut it off to a length of six feet. With this, the monkey-rope, the coil of grass rope, and the two bags that Bukári had plaited, we took our way down the tunnel towards the treasure chamber. We stepped silently and cautiously along the dark passage, Bukári leading, until we reached the inner opening, and I must confess that, as I lay down and, putting my head over the brink, looked down into the chamber, I felt an intense repugnance to the idea of returning to it. However, the thing had to be done, so the sooner the better. “Shall I go down or shall I hold the rope for thee?” asked Bukári. “Neither,” said I. “We will fix the rope, and I will go down, and thou shalt pull up the gold with the small cord.” I had cut the sapling a little longer than the width of the tunnel, and I now set it across the passage a little obliquely and jammed the ends hard against the walls, so that it formed what sailors call a Sampson-post, the peculiarity of which is that the more it is hauled upon, the more firmly it jams--provided one does not haul at the wrong end. To the fixed end of the post I made fast the two monkey-ropes and the grass rope, each with a “fisherman’s bend” so that they could not slip, and flung the ends of all three down to the floor below. Having explained to Bukári what I wished him to do, I grasped the three ropes, gave a trial jerk to test the post, and then swung myself over the edge and easily let myself down to the floor. It was highly disturbing and uncomfortable to be again confronted by the yawning mouth of that black tunnel that led into the terrible cavern, and I found myself continually watching it and listening at it with a nervousness that I struggled in vain to ignore. What made it more unpleasant was that strange, indefinite sounds came echoing down it from time to time, making it clear that people were stirring in the cavern at the other end; and this again suggested the necessity for silence on our part, for any noise made by us would be carried down the tunnel to the cavern as if through a speaking tube. I therefore warned Bukári, in a loud whisper, to be silent, and set to work with all possible expedition. Quickly but carefully I laid the skulls one by one on the floor at a little distance, and with the handle of my knife pushed the pin out of the hasp and raised the heavy lid, which swung open with a dismal, protesting creak.