King Solomon's Mines eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 298 pages of information about King Solomon's Mines.

There was none.  It was not probable that there would be any to a treasure chamber.

The lamp began to burn dim.  The fat was nearly exhausted.

“Quatermain,” said Sir Henry, “what is the time—­your watch goes?”

I drew it out, and looked at it.  It was six o’clock; we had entered the cave at eleven.

“Infadoos will miss us,” I suggested.  “If we do not return to-night he will search for us in the morning, Curtis.”

“He may search in vain.  He does not know the secret of the door, nor even where it is.  No living person knew it yesterday, except Gagool.  To-day no one knows it.  Even if he found the door he could not break it down.  All the Kukuana army could not break through five feet of living rock.  My friends, I see nothing for it but to bow ourselves to the will of the Almighty.  The search for treasure has brought many to a bad end; we shall go to swell their number.”

The lamp grew dimmer yet.

Presently it flared up and showed the whole scene in strong relief, the great mass of white tusks, the boxes of gold, the corpse of the poor Foulata stretched before them, the goat-skin full of treasure, the dim glimmer of the diamonds, and the wild, wan faces of us three white men seated there awaiting death by starvation.

Then the flame sank and expired.



I can give no adequate description of the horrors of the night which followed.  Mercifully they were to some extent mitigated by sleep, for even in such a position as ours wearied nature will sometimes assert itself.  But I, at any rate, found it impossible to sleep much.  Putting aside the terrifying thought of our impending doom—­for the bravest man on earth might well quail from such a fate as awaited us, and I never made any pretensions to be brave—­the silence itself was too great to allow of it.  Reader, you may have lain awake at night and thought the quiet oppressive, but I say with confidence that you can have no idea what a vivid, tangible thing is perfect stillness.  On the surface of the earth there is always some sound or motion, and though it may in itself be imperceptible, yet it deadens the sharp edge of absolute silence.  But here there was none.  We were buried in the bowels of a huge snow-clad peak.  Thousands of feet above us the fresh air rushed over the white snow, but no sound of it reached us.  We were separated by a long tunnel and five feet of rock even from the awful chamber of the Dead; and the dead make no noise.  Did we not know it who lay by poor Foulata’s side?  The crashing of all the artillery of earth and heaven could not have come to our ears in our living tomb.  We were cut off from every echo of the world—­we were as men already in the grave.

Then the irony of the situation forced itself upon me.  There around us lay treasures enough to pay off a moderate national debt, or to build a fleet of ironclads, and yet we would have bartered them all gladly for the faintest chance of escape.  Soon, doubtless, we should be rejoiced to exchange them for a bit of food or a cup of water, and, after that, even for the privilege of a speedy close to our sufferings.  Truly wealth, which men spend their lives in acquiring, is a valueless thing at the last.

Project Gutenberg
King Solomon's Mines from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
Follow Us on Facebook