d
into fragments. Freeman's nerves were strong, but he shuddered
slightly. The loneliness, the silence, the mystery, and the strange
light-headedness that was coming over him combined to make him hesitate.
"I'll come back to-morrow morning early," he said to himself.
As if in answer, a deep, appalling roar broke forth apparently under his
feet, and went rolling and reverberating up and down the canon. It died
away, but was immediately followed by another yet more loud, and the
ground shook and swayed beneath his feet. A gigantic boulder, poised
high up on the other side of the canon, was unseated, and fell with a
terrific crash. A hot wind swept sighing through the valley, and the
air rapidly became dark. Again came the sigh, rising to a shriek, with
roarings and thunderings that seemed to proceed both from the heavens
and from the earth.
A dazzling flash of lightning split the air, bathing it for an instant
in the brightness of day: in that instant Freeman saw the bolt strike
the great white pyramid and splinter its crest into fragments, while the
whole surface of the gorge heaved and undulated like a stormy sea. He
had been staggering as best he might to a higher part of the ravine; but
now he felt a stunning blow on his head: he fell, and knew no more.
CHAPTER VII.
Two horsemen, one of whom led a third horse, carrying a pack-saddle, had
reached the borders of the desert just as the earthquake began. When
the first shock came, they were riding past a grove of live-oaks: they
immediately dismounted, made fast their horses, and lay down beside some
bushes that skirted the grove. Neither the earthquake nor the storm was
so severe as was the case farther eastward. In an hour all was over, and
they remounted and continued their journey, guiding their course by the
stars.
"It was thus that we rode before, Kamaiakan," remarked the younger of
the two travellers. "Yonder bright star stood as it does now, and the
hour of the night was the same. But this shaking of the earth makes
me fear for the safety of that youth. The sands of the desert may have
swept over him; or he may have perished in the hills."
"The purposes of the gods cannot be altered, Semitzin," replied the old
Indian, who perhaps would not have much regretted such a calamity as
she suggested: it would be a simple solution of difficulties which might
otherwise prove embarrassing. "It is my prayer, at all events, that the
entrance to the treasure ma
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