We slept that night under the overhanging rock just to one side of the cave, not in the mouth, because of the draught which drew in and out of the great place.  In that soft and balmy clime this was no hardship, although we lacked blankets.  And yet, tired though I was, I could not rest as I should have done.  Bastin snored away contentedly, quite unaffected by his escape which to him was merely an incident in the day’s work; and so, too, slumbered Bickley, except that he did not snore.  But the amazement and the mystery of all that we had discovered and of all that might be left for us to discover, held me back from sleep.

What did it mean?  What could it mean?  My nerves were taut as harp strings and seemed to vibrate to the touch of invisible fingers, although I could not interpret the music that they made.  Once or twice also I thought I heard actual music with my physical ears, and that of a strange quality.  Soft and low and dreamful, it appeared to well from the recesses of the vast cave, a wailing song in an unknown tongue from the lips of women, or of a woman, multiplied mysteriously by echoes.  This, however, must have been pure fancy, since there was no singer there.

Presently I dozed off, to be awakened by the sudden sound of a great fish leaping in the lake.  I sat up and stared, fearing lest it might be the splash of a paddle, for I could not put from my mind the possibility of attack.  All I saw, however, was the low line of the distant shore, and above it the bright and setting stars that heralded the coming of the sun.  Then I woke the others, and we washed and ate, since once the sun rose time would be precious.

At length it appeared, splendid in a cloudless sky, and, as I had hoped, directly opposite to the mouth of the cave.  Taking our candles and some stout pieces of driftwood which, with our knives, we had shaped on the previous evening to serve us as levers and rough shovels, we entered the cave.  Bickley and I were filled with excitement and hope of what we knew not, but Bastin showed little enthusiasm for our quest.  His heart was with his half-converted savages beyond the lake, and of them, quite rightly I have no doubt, he thought more than he did of all the archaeological treasures in the whole earth.  Still, he came, bearing the blackened head of Oro with him which, with unconscious humour, he had used as a pillow through the night because, as he said, “it was after all softer than stone.”  Also, I believe that in his heart he hoped that he might find an opportunity of destroying the bigger and earlier edition of Oro in the cave, before it was discovered by the natives who might wish to make it an object of worship.  Tommy came also, with greater alacrity than I expected, since dogs do not as a rule like dark places.  When we reached the statue I learned the reason; he remembered the smell he had detected at its base on the previous day, which Bastin supposed to proceed from a rat, and was anxious to continue his investigations.