The captain walked by the little group of Africans, who were sitting on
the ground, talking in their native tongue, and entered the passage. He
climbed over the barrier, and went to the lake. He did not wish to talk
to anybody, but he felt that he must do something, and now was a good
time to carry out his previous intention to cross over the empty bed of
the lake and to look out of the opening on the other side. There was no
need now to do this for purposes of vigilance, but he thought that if he
could get out on the other side of the cave he might discover some clew
to the disappearance of the lake.

He had nearly crossed the lake bottom, when suddenly he stopped, gazing
at something which stood before him, and which was doubtless the object
he had struck when swimming. The sun was now high and the cave well
lighted, and with a most eager interest the captain examined the slimy
and curious object on which his feet had rested when it was submerged,
and from which he had fallen. It was not the horizontal trunk of a tree
with a branch projecting from it at right angles. It was nothing that was
natural or had grown. It was plainly the work of man. It was a machine.

At first the captain thought it was made of wood, but afterwards he
believed it to be of metal of some sort. The horizontal portion of it
was a great cylinder, so near the bottom of the lake that he could
almost touch it with his hands, and it was supported by a massive
framework. Prom this projected a long limb or bar, which was now almost
horizontal, but which the captain believed to be the thick rod which had
stood upright when he clutched it, and which had yielded to his weight
and had gone down with him. He knew now what it was: it was a handle
that had turned.