Drops of water on
portions of the onyx ceiling here are the only moisture remaining in
this cave. When Mac's[5] head came in contact with the roof he called to
the guide: "See here, little boy, you ought to sing out 'low bridge' at
that sort o' places, 'cause when I'm busy hunting a spot to set my foot
in, I can't see what my head's coming to, and I like to mined a lot o'
this rock with it."
Slowly, and with no danger and less comfort, we creep over, under and
between great massive beds of the fine white crystalline rock until at
length we enter the Ghost Chamber where no onyx has been deposited, but
where numerous mountain rats have evidently been at home for many years,
if we may judge from the enormous quantity of pine needles with which
they have carpeted the floor. The walls show small box work crumbling to
dust, and Ray climbed high into the chimney-like opening above our
heads, but reported that it ended suddenly and had no attractions to
offer.
Coming out, the way was somewhat varied, but more difficult, as the
passages through the onyx beds were more irregular and more nearly
closed; Onyx Hall being only a fair specimen of the marvelous results
achieved here by the persistent regularity of an uninterrupted but slow
drip, continued through hundreds of years.
[Illustration: White Onyx Masses.
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