ourselves on a small ledge in front of the outer aperture, which was
nearly circular and about fifty feet high. We were now in a cavern
apparently of no great extent, and as I could not discover any other
passage, I began to fancy that it was for this paltry hole we had
undergone so much fatigue, and had had our expectations raised so
high. I was about to give utterance to my disappointment, when I
perceived the Uzbegs preparing their torches and arranging the line of
march, in which it seemed that no one was anxious to take precedence.
I now began to look about me, in the hope that there was something
more to be seen, and was delighted to observe one adventurous hero
with a torch disappear behind some masses of rock. We all followed our
leader, and it was with great difficulty that, one by one, we managed
to squeeze ourselves through a narrow gap between two jagged rocks,
which I presume I am to consider as the identical ones that were
rolled to the mouth six hundred years ago at the stern command of the
Tartar Attila.

I confess that hitherto I had treated the moollah's account as an
idle tale; my unbelief, however, was quickly removed, for just as we
entered the narrow passage the light of the torches was for an instant
thrown upon a group of human skeletons. I saw them but for an instant,
and the sight was quite sufficient to raise my drooping curiosity to
its former pitch.




CHAPTER XI.