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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"She"

As
we went, however, I took the precaution of noting our route as well as
I could; and this was not so very difficult, owing to the extraordinary
and most fantastic shape of the rocks that were strewn about, many of
which in that dim light looked more like the grim faces carven upon
mediaeval gargoyles than ordinary boulders.
For a long time we travelled on thus, half an hour I should say, till,
after we had descended for many hundreds of feet, I perceived that we
were reaching the point of the inverted cone. In another minute we were
there, and found that at the very apex of the funnel was a passage, so
low and narrow that we had to stoop as we crept along it in Indian file.
After some fifty yards of this creeping, the passage suddenly widened
into a cave, so huge that we could see neither the roof nor the sides.
We only knew that it was a cave by the echo of our tread and the perfect
quiet of the heavy air. On we went for many minutes in absolute awed
silence, like lost souls in the depths of Hades, Ayesha's white and
ghost-like form flitting in front of us, till once more the place ended
in a passage which opened into a second cavern much smaller than the
first.


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