a shout, and another and another, the two boys
standing awestricken as they listened to the strange, hollow echoes that
multiplied and magnified the hail till it slowly died out in whispers.
But there was no reply.

"I say, they must have managed to top this wall in some way, or known of
some passage by which they could get outside into the further ruins."

"I don't know," said Dean, in a whisper. "I say, this place seems to
grow more strange and weird the more you wander about it. Doesn't it to
you?"

"Yes, sometimes--horribly creepy, only it is stupid to think so, but I
can't help feeling as if we are surrounded by things that are watching
us."

"What do you mean? Those dog monkey brutes--the baboons?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Mark hurriedly. "Let's get back. I know it's
stupid, but one knows that there must have been thousands upon thousands
of people living here, no one can tell how long back, and I don't like
it."

"I say," said Dean, and as he spoke he gave an uneasy glance round,
"isn't that being superstitious?"

"I don't know," replied his cousin. "Perhaps it is; but I can't help
feeling a bit queer. When we get in these dark parts where the sun
doesn't shine and it's all so silent till you speak--there, hark at
that! We are just at the mouth of that great passage where the walls,
quite forty feet high, are close together and go winding away--and
there, you can hear that; it's just as if something was taking up what I
said and whispering."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Dean aloud, and then turning sharply he caught
excitedly at his cousin's arm, gripping it almost painfully, and dragged
at him to hurry him away. "Oh, I say," he whispered, for his laugh had
turned into an almost unearthly burst of harsh chuckles and cries which
went literally rattling away down the dark passage nearly choked with
thick growth and only dimly-seen. "Oh, do come away, Mark! This isn't
the passage we came to that day with uncle and the doctor. There must
be something watching us--something no canny, as the Scotch people call
it. Quick, let's get away."

"I can't," said Mark. "I feel as if I couldn't stir."

"Why? Is something seeming to hold you?"

"No," replied Mark; "but I do feel rather shuddery all down my back,
and--I know it's nervousness and imagination--that's why I feel I can't
go away. It is all nonsense, I tell you, and I mean to come here
another time with Buck and Dan, and we will see what they