The labor of many hands had torn a chasm, a quarry, out of the side of
the hill. Roughly circular in shape, it had a diameter of perhaps a
hundred feet, and at its deepest part, towards the cliff, it ran to a
depth of forty feet. On the lower side, where the sailor stood, it
descended rapidly for some fifteen feet.

Grasses, shrubs, plants of every variety, grew in profusion down the
steep slopes, wherever seeds could find precarious nurture, until a
point was reached about ten or eleven feet from the bottom. There all
vegetation ceased as if forbidden to cross a magic circle.

Below this belt the place was a charnel-house. The bones of men and
animals mingled in weird confusion. Most were mere skeletons. A few
bodies--nine the sailor counted--yet preserved some resemblance of
humanity. These latter were scattered among the older relics. They wore
the clothes of Dyaks. Characteristic hats and weapons denoted their
nationality. The others, the first harvest of this modern Golgotha,
might have been Chinese coolies. When the sailor's fascinated vision
could register details he distinguished yokes, baskets, odd-looking
spades and picks strewed amidst the bones. The animals were all of one
type, small, lanky, with long pointed skulls. At last he spied a
withered hoof. They were pigs.

Over all lay a thick coating of fine sand, deposited from the eddying
winds that could never reach the silent depths. The place was gruesome,
horribly depressing. Jenks broke out into a clammy perspiration. He
seemed to be looking at the secrets of the grave.

At last his superior intelligence asserted itself. His brain became
clearer, recovered its power of analysis. He began to criticize,