Alan picked it up. “A censer,” said he, “one of the most beautiful I
have ever seen,” And indeed it was of wonderful workmanship. Even their
little knowledge told them it was of pure gold; it was most wonderfully
fashioned to represent on the one side a cherub—a cherub so perfect that
even the finger nails were represented, and on the other, bunches of
grapes and vine leaves—symbols of the promised land.
Precious stones gleamed cunningly everywhere, and the chains from which
the censer swung were studded with diamonds. They could scarcely bear to
put it down, but gazed at it entranced with its beauty. Every moment
they found in it some greater glory.
“I have seen nothing modern even resembling this,” said Alan at last.
“Why, it is exquisite—think of its value!”
“Its history alone would render it priceless,” said Desmond, “apart from
its precious metal and workmanship.”
“Yes, but of what use is it to us down here?” questioned Alan. “And even
if we ever do get out, who will believe our story?”
“I wonder where we shall find ourselves if we do discover a way out,”
said Desmond. “We have lost all sense of direction down here—of distance
and of time. Why, we haven’t even any idea of how far we have walked
since we left the purple people—how far do you think, Alan?”
Alan shook his head. “It’s impossible to say, Dez. How many times have
we slept? We counted three hundred times and then forgot—three hundred
times is a long while, old boy. We must have walked at least fifteen
miles each ‘day’ we have been on the march—perhaps even more—so we have
done a considerable distance.”
“Then where shall we find ourselves? Africa? America? Asia?”
“Well, we shall not be penniless when we do get to the world again,” and
Alan pointed at the wealth of jewels at their feet.
“It is those that make me feel we shall never get out,” said Desmond
despondently.
“Why?”
“Because it is only in books of romance that such an adventure as ours
would culminate successfully, and it would only be in a Romance of
Romances that adventurers would come back from the very centre of the
earth, laden with such untold wealth!”
“Don’t be so depressing, Dez,” laughed Alan.
“But it’s true, Lanny. With wealth like this in our hands we could
command the trades of the entire world. Why, with this we could corner
wheat—corner cotton—corner millionaires themselves—if we were permitted
to use it.”
“Why permitted?”
“Well, it depends on the government of the country we eventually land
in; they will want their share. If it’s France we may get one half—if
it’s Spain perhaps an eighth—Russia?—well, nothing at all and the salt
mines into the bargain.”
“You are very cheerful,” laughed Alan, “but as a matter of fact, I’ve
been planning what I mean to do with my share if we do get out.”
Jez-Riah had been listening to the two boys speaking and sighed deeply.
They were talking in their own language and had forgotten all about
their strange companion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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