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OurmotivationafterthatissomethingIwillleavetopsychologists. Weknewnowthatsometerribleextensionofthecamphorrorsmusthavecrawledintothisnightedburialplaceoftheaeons,hencecouldnotdoubtanylongertheexistenceofnamelessconditions—presentoratleastrecentjustahead. Yetintheendwedidletsheerburningcuriosity—oranxiety—orautohypnotism—orvaguethoughtsofresponsibilitytowardGedney—orwhatnot—driveuson. Danforthwhisperedagainoftheprinthethoughthehadseenatthealleyturningintheruinsabove;andofthefaintmusicalpiping—potentiallyoftremendoussignificanceinthelightofLake’sdissectionreport, despiteitscloseresemblancetothecave-mouthechoesofthewindypeaks—whichhethoughthehadshortlyafterwardhalfheardfromunknowndepthsbelow. I,inmyturn,whisperedofhowthecampwasleft—ofwhathaddisappeared,andofhowthemadnessofalonesurvivormighthaveconceivedtheinconceivable—awildtripacrossthemonstrousmountainsandadescentintotheunknown,primalmasonry.
Butwecouldnotconvinceeachother,orevenourselves,ofanythingdefinite. Wehadturnedoffalllightaswestoodstill,andvaguelynoticedthatatraceofdeeplyfilteredupperdaykepttheblacknessfrombeingabsolute. Havingautomaticallybeguntomoveahead,weguidedourselvesbyoccasionalflashesfromourtorch. Thedisturbeddebrisformedanimpressionwecouldnotshakeoff,andthesmellofgasolinegrewstronger. Moreandmoreruinmetoureyesandhamperedourfeet,untilverysoonwesawthattheforwardwaywasabouttocease. Wehadbeenalltoocorrectinourpessimisticguessaboutthatriftglimpsedfromtheair. Ourtunnelquestwasablindone,andwewerenotevengoingtobeabletoreachthebasementoutofwhichtheabysswardapertureopened.
