breath quick and his eyes widely distended--there seemed to be
nothing at all. To all appearances he was looking into a
cylindrical hole a few feet deep. Everything between the bottom
of this hole and himself was invisible; the light had made
intervening substances transparent, and had deprived them of
color and outlines. It was as though he looked through air.

Then his eyes fell upon the sides of this cylindrical opening,
and these, illuminated, but not otherwise acted upon by the
volume of Artesian rays, showed, in all their true colors and
forms, everything which went to make up the sides of the bright
cavity into which he looked. He saw the various strata of clay,
sand, gravel, exactly as he would have seen them in a circular
hole cut accurately and smoothly into the earth. No stone or
lump protruded from the side of this apparent excavation, the
inner surface of which was as smooth as if it had been cut down
with a sharp instrument.

Clewe was frightened. Was it possible that this could be an
imaginary cavity into which he was looking? He drew back; he was
about to put out one foot to feel if it were really solid ground
upon which this light was pouring, but he refrained. He got a
long stick, and with it touched the centre of the light. What he
felt was hard and solid; the end of the stick seemed to melt, and
this startled him. He pulled back the stick--he could go on no
further by himself. He must have somebody in here with him; he
must have the testimony of some other eyes; he needed the company
of a man with a cool and steady brain.

He ran to the door and called Bryce. When the