"There may, however, be something there. It will take us only a moment to find that out." He turned forthwith and moved along the edge to that spot where the fissure narrowed and it was filled with snow. I followed. A few moments, and we stood at the bottom. "Great heaven!" said I as we moved along between those walls of ice. "What is it, Bill?" queried Milton, pausing and looking back at me. "Suppose this ice-mass here above were to slip! We'd be flattened between these walls like pancakes!" Rhodes smiled a little and said he guessed we'd be like pancakes all right if that happened. The next moment we were moving forward again, our steel soles grating harshly, though not loudly, upon the glacier-polished bottom. "You see," said I as we drew near to the end, "the way to Drome does not lie here. Under that overhang there is nothing but rock. There is not even a crack, to say nothing of an entrance." "It certainly looks like it, Bill. However, it will do no harm to make an examination. That there is an entrance we know. And, if it isn't here—well then it must be some place else. And, unless we are too late, we'll search these Rocks of Tamahnowis until we find it." A few steps, and Rhodes halted, his left hand resting against the rock. He stooped to peer under. I exclaimed and involuntarily seized him by the sleeve. "There it is again!" He straightened up, and we stood in an attitude of riveted attention. The place, however, was as silent as the grave. "I know' that I heard something!" I told him. "Yes; I heard it that time, too," |
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