A ray of sunlight fell in a round spot, bright and warm, on the wall at the left.  It entered by a small aperture higher up—­in the wall at the right.  For a moment I looked around.  I stood in a vast, rock-bound chamber—­an immense hall—­faintly illuminated by reflection from the direct sun-ray which fell upon a vein of quartz, and sparkled, lively with flitting rainbow-colors.  I could see the openings in the inner wall, many of them a hundred feet high, nearly all very narrow, and for the most part vertical.  On the right, the wall was unbroken, with the exception of the little hole, through which the blessed sunlight streamed, in the pit of a broad, deep, conical sort of depression.  Far behind me, I could just make out the mouth of the passage from which I had emerged into this spacious chamber, and before me the opening into another also adjacent to the wall on my right.

I felt now more assured than ever, for I was certainly above-ground.  For a moment, I forgot my forlorn condition, and paused to admire the splendor of the scene.  A few minutes only, and it was gone.  I lingered.  Should I wait to see this lovely sight renewed?  Twenty-four hours must elapse before the sun’s return to the same position.  But would it come to the same point again on the morrow?  I knew it could not, and that the least deflection from its course that day would allow no ray to fall into the darkness of that mysterious dungeon.  I knew, further, that it was either morning or evening, about nine or three o’clock, by the direction of the beam of light.  This fact was immensely encouraging; my heart throbbed rapidly; the blood came tingling to the finger-ends; I felt a warmth, an energy, a hope, an animation of spirits I had not known for a long time.  It had all along been but one unending night, when often I would wonder whether, outside, under the broad blue sky, it was then night or day; but now I knew that it was day.

I soon reached the passage which I had seen ahead of me, and found it in some places not more than two or three feet wide.  The ascent became steeper, though not at all difficult, except at one place, where for about ten yards I was obliged to use both hands and feet to make sure of not slipping back.

About two hours after passing this point the air seemed to change; there was a warmth and fragrance to it which was very grateful; I fancied also that I could see somewhat indistinctly.

“Surely,” I thought, “this seems like coming to daylight.”

Warmer and sweeter grew the air; I could see the wall of rock on my right; and then I suddenly encountered a volume of air blown toward me, as if the sweetest perfumes of the earth were mingled in that breath of air.  I knew I was coming to the light!  Another turn, and there before me were the grand snow-capped mountains suffused with the last rosy flush of the setting sun!

[Illustration:  “WE SAW HIM CLIMBING THROUGH A SQUARE OPENING OF LIGHT.” [SEE PAGE 292.]]