# Drome/Chapter 14

Chapter 14
The Way to Drome
The depth of the fissure here was twelve or fifteen feet. A short distance out, however, it narrowed, and at that point it was almost completely filled with snow. I noticed even then, in that moment of tense uncertainty, that it would be very easy for a person to make his way down that snow to the bottom. A few steps then, and he would be at the real base of that wall of rock. Yes, that would explain it!
A strange excitement possessed me, though I endeavored to suppress every sign of it. Yes, the angel and the demon—if the angel had been out upon the ice at the moment of the tragedy—could have disappeared easily enough. 'Tis true, no tracks had been noticed there. That, however, was no proof positive that there had been none. And perhaps, forsooth, there had been no tracks there to discover. The angel might not have been out upon the glacier at all, and the thing might not have left a ​single mark in the snow. It could have disappeared without doing that. For I knew what had killed poor Rhoda Dillingham.
Supposing, however, that this was indeed the secret, what then? A great deal was explained, but as much remained inexplicable. For where on earth, after reaching the bottom of the crevasse, could the angel and the demon have gone? There was, so far as I could see, no possible way of escape. There was a remarkable overhang of rock there at the end, coming down within a yard or so of the floor. But that was all it was—an overhang. It was not the entrance to any subterranean passage.
Perhaps, if this was indeed the way, we had come too late; perhaps here had been an opening there—an opening that, what with the movement of the ice, was now wholly concealed.
I looked at Milton Rhodes, and on the instant I knew that he too had been noticing all these things. Had the same thoughts come to him also?
"Everything is still now," I observed. "That sound might have been only a fancy."
He nodded slowly. "Or it might been made by the glacier. No telling, though, Bill. It might have been real enough and something else. We mustn't forget that."
"I am not likely to do so. However, what do you make of this?"
"It may be the way to—the way to Drome. And it may be nothing of the kind. They easily could have vanished into this crevasse."
"And then where could they have gone?"
"Probably the way is blocked by the ice now. Who can say? That overhang down there——"
"Is not an entrance," I told him.
​"There may, however, be something there. It will take us only a moment to find that out."
He turned forthwith and moved along the edge to that spot where the fissure narrowed and it was filled with snow. I followed. A few moments, and we stood at the bottom.
"Great heaven!" said I as we moved along between those walls of ice.
"What is it, Bill?" queried Milton, pausing and looking back at me.
"Suppose this ice-mass here above were to slip! We'd be flattened between these walls like pancakes!"
Rhodes smiled a little and said he guessed we'd be like pancakes all right if that happened. The next moment we were moving forward again, our steel soles grating harshly, though not loudly, upon the glacier-polished bottom.
"You see," said I as we drew near to the end, "the way to Drome does not lie here. Under that overhang there is nothing but rock. There is not even a crack, to say nothing of an entrance."
"It certainly looks like it, Bill. However, it will do no harm to make an examination. That there is an entrance we know. And, if it isn't here—well then it must be some place else. And, unless we are too late, we'll search these Rocks of Tamahnowis until we find it."
A few steps, and Rhodes halted, his left hand resting against the rock. He stooped to peer under. I exclaimed and involuntarily seized him by the sleeve.
"There it is again!"
He straightened up, and we stood in an attitude of riveted attention. The place, however, was as silent as the grave.
"I know' that I heard something!" I told him.
"Yes; I heard it that time, too," ​said Milton Rhodes. "Where did it come from?"
I shook my head.
"Maybe one of the sounds that the glacier makes," he proffered.
"It is possible. But——"
"Well?"
"It seemed to come right out of the rocks; but that isn't possible."
"We'll see about that, Bill."
He pressed a button, and the strong rays of his electric light played upon the dark rock and the blue ice. The light in his left hand, he dropped to his knees and looked under. I heard an exclamation and saw him move forward. At that instant a sound brought me up and whirled me around.
My heart was in my throat. I could have sworn that the sound had issued from some point just behind me. But there was nothing to be seen there—only the walls of blue ice and the blue sky above.
"Must have been some sound made by the glacier slipping or something," I told myself.
I turned—to find that Milton Rhodes had vanished!
For a little space I stood staring and wondering, then called in a low voice: "Milton! Oh, Milton!"
No answer.
"Milton!"
Silence still.
"Milton!" I called once more. "Where are you?"
The answer was a scream, a scream that threatened to arrest the courting blood in my veins—the fearful sound seeming to issue from the very heart of the rock mass there before me.