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The Rescue in the Whispering Gallery

           ForamomentIfearedthewordsmightbemyown,broughtbackbytheecho.PerhapsIhadbeencryingoutunknowntomyself.Iclosedmylipsfirmly,andlaidmyearagainstthewallagain.

           "Yes,truly,someoneisspeaking;thosearewords!"

           EvenafewfeetfromthewallIcouldheardistinctly.Isucceededincatchinguncertain,strange,undistinguishablewords.Theycameasifpronouncedinlowmurmuredwhispers.Theword‘forlorad‘wasseveraltimesrepeatedinatoneofsympathyandsorrow.

           "Help!"Icriedwithallmymight."Help!"

           Ilistened,Iwatchedinthedarknessforananswer,acry,amerebreathofsound,butnothingcame.Someminutespassed.Awholeworldofideashadopenedinmymind.Ithoughtthatmyweakenedvoicecouldneverpenetratetomycompanions.

           "Itisthey,"Irepeated."Whatothermencanbethirtyleaguesunderground?"

           Iagainbegantolisten.Passingmyearoverthewallfromoneplacetoanother,Ifoundthepointwherethevoicesseemedtobebestheard.Theword‘forlorad‘againreturned;thentherollingofthunderwhichhadrousedmefrommylethargy.

           "No,"Isaid,"no;itisnotthroughsuchamassthatavoicecanbeheard.Iamsurroundedbygranitewalls,andtheloudestexplosioncouldneverbeheardhere!Thisnoisecomesalongthegallery.Theremustbeheresomeremarkableexerciseofacousticlaws!"

           Ilistenedagain,andthistime,yesthistime,Ididdistinctlyhearmynamepronouncedacrossthewideinterval.

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Roboto Lora
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