membering vividly the other mound near the stone chart, she tried to avoid it, and so ran plumb against the wall at the end.
Shaking in every nerve, she sank on the floor, her hand falling on the flat tablet of the chart.
As her fingers groped along its surface, she felt it move. The earth was trembling again. Nature, as well as humanity, was arrayed against her. But the rest of the place was silent, motionless. Only the stone, unevenly balanced, rocked a little, then rose again, as if struggling shoulders below were trying to force it upward. What arms could there be there in the bowels of the mountain.
She rose and recoiled. She had reached the ultimate depths of terror. Accustomed now to the darkness, her fascinated gaze was bent on that stone. One inch it rose, then fell back again, gained two, and so was forced up slowly, higher and higher.
Those voices sounded louder, shouting through the cavern.
Should she stay here to face this unknown terror, or flee to the known? They echoed again—those voices behind her, and one had the sharp ring of the tall man's voice.
"Here are her slippers."
Then the angry command:
"Come out of there."
And still that stone was rising inch by inch. Now, even in the darkness, she could see the gleam of a white arm, but the owner of it had uttered no sound.
Then, as if some mighty force were behind it, the stone fell back crashing against the walls, waking a thousand new
