Sir Henry put out all his enormous strength, and Good and I did the same, with such power as nature had given us.

“Heave! heave! it’s giving,” gasped Sir Henry; and I heard the muscles of his great back cracking.  Suddenly there was a grating sound, then a rush of air, and we were all on our backs on the floor with a heavy flag-stone upon the top of us.  Sir Henry’s strength had done it, and never did muscular power stand a man in better stead.

“Light a match, Quatermain,” he said, so soon as we had picked ourselves up and got our breath; “carefully, now.”

I did so, and there before us, Heaven be praised! was the first step of a stone stair.

“Now what is to be done?” asked Good.

“Follow the stair, of course, and trust to Providence.”

“Stop!” said Sir Henry; “Quatermain, get the bit of biltong and the water that are left; we may want them.”

I went, creeping back to our place by the chests for that purpose, and as I was coming away an idea struck me.  We had not thought much of the diamonds for the last twenty-four hours or so; indeed, the very idea of diamonds was nauseous, seeing what they had entailed upon us; but, reflected I, I may as well pocket some in case we ever should get out of this ghastly hole.  So I just put my fist into the first chest and filled all the available pockets of my old shooting-coat and trousers, topping up—­this was a happy thought—­with a few handfuls of big ones from the third chest.  Also, by an afterthought, I stuffed Foulata’s basket, which, except for one water-gourd and a little biltong, was empty now, with great quantities of the stones.

“I say, you fellows,” I sang out, “won’t you take some diamonds with you?  I’ve filled my pockets and the basket.”

“Oh, come on, Quatermain! and hang the diamonds!” said Sir Henry.  “I hope that I may never see another.”

As for Good, he made no answer.  He was, I think, taking his last farewell of all that was left of the poor girl who had loved him so well.  And curious as it may seem to you, my reader, sitting at home at ease and reflecting on the vast, indeed the immeasurable, wealth which we were thus abandoning, I can assure you that if you had passed some twenty-eight hours with next to nothing to eat and drink in that place, you would not have cared to cumber yourself with diamonds whilst plunging down into the unknown bowels of the earth, in the wild hope of escape from an agonising death.  If from the habits of a lifetime, it had not become a sort of second nature with me never to leave anything worth having behind if there was the slightest chance of my being able to carry it away, I am sure that I should not have bothered to fill my pockets and that basket.

“Come on, Quatermain,” repeated Sir Henry, who was already standing on the first step of the stone stair.  “Steady, I will go first.”

“Mind where you put your feet, there may be some awful hole underneath,” I answered.