Two days passed ere the Yankee and Wilson were able to resume their duties, and for long afterwards a great ring of scars about the waist of each testified to the narrowness of their escape from the grip of the giant octopus. On the third day after this adventure--the explorers could but reckon days by the calendar in this gloomy subterranean world--the engines were once more started, and the _Seal_ soon left the scene of the struggle far behind. Along the low, sandy shore she sped for many miles, until Seymour, no longer able to restrain his restlessness, announced his intention of going ashore. “I’m with you,” Garth said, and rushed below to make preparations. Steering the vessel close inshore, Haverly brought her to. Seymour ran out the gangway, then followed Garth below, returning shortly with a magazine rifle slung over his shoulder, while from his pocket bulged the grim outline of a revolver. “Who is coming?” he asked. “I guess I’ll stay and look after the old boat,” returned Silas, and Wilson--still feeling somewhat shaky from his terrible adventure with the great cephalopod--decided to remain with him. Strapping on a specimen case, the scientist joined Garth and Seymour, and the three, passing over the gangway, stepped ashore. “Take care,” the engineer called after them. “Never fear,” was Garth’s cheery reply; and so they departed, light-heartedly, on a trip which was to bring at least two of them face to face with death in its most terrible form, vanishing at length from the sight of their friends amid the towering growths of fungi jungle. Around them the strange and lustrous growths rose in lavish confusion, the ground between being thickly carpeted with glorious mosses, the flowers of which gleamed like pearls on a background of dark green velvet. The professor was in raptures over the rare treasures of this subterranean world, and soon his specimen case was packed full as possible, and his pockets were in a like condition. New beauties dawned upon them with every step they took. Fungi in every fantastic shape towered around, shimmering silver-like through the ghostly twilight. “It is a land of eternal twilight!” Mervyn exclaimed, pausing for a moment to rest. “Nowhere else would these strange, uncanny fungi grow to advantage; but here, in this dim land, they fulfil a useful mission. See what curious forms some of the growths take!” Here rose a towering fungus, like nothing so much as a giant hand; there one like an immense mushroom; others there were like spectral palms, but all glowed with a brilliance that was dazzling to the eye. The baronet, less interested than his companions in these natural beauties, kept a sharp look-out for game of any description, well knowing that fresh meat, were it obtainable, would be a welcome addition to their stores. But the jungle seemed silent as the grave. No form moved amid the fungi, and the scientist was not slow to remark upon this strange absence of life.