The Mountains Of Madness
Part 3

There are those who will say Danforth and I am really angry for not running away for the sake of our lives after that; because our conclusion is now — regardless of his wildness — completely fixed, because, and that's something I don't even need to mention to those who have read my account so far. Maybe we're crazy — 'cause didn't I already say that terrible peak is the mountain of madness? But I think I can detect something with the same spirit — although in a not too extreme form — in men who stalk deadly wild animals through the African jungle to photograph them or learn their habits. Half-paralysed with terror though we exist, yet there within us is fanning the flames of awe and curiosity that ignite in the end.

Of course we didn't mean to face that — or that — we knew was already there, but we felt they should leave now. At that time they would find another entrance adjacent to the ravine, and have entered into any past black fragments that might await them in the ultimate abyss of — the ultimate abyss they have never seen. Or if that entrance was also blocked, they would go north looking for another one. We remember, they are partly not dependent on light.

Looking back to that moment, I can hardly remember exactly what our new emotions looked like — what changes from its immediate purpose that so sharpened our sense of hope. We certainly do not mean to face what we fear — but I will not deny that we may have a hidden and unconscious desire to spy on certain things from a point of view concealed. Perhaps we did not give up on seeing the abyss itself, although there was a new purpose in the form of a large circular place carved into the tangled sketches we had discovered. We immediately recognized it as a giant cylindrical tower depicting the earliest carvings, but it only appeared as an extraordinary round hole from above. Something about its rendering impression, even in this hasty diagram, led us to think that its sub-glacial levels should still form a very important feature. Perhaps it embodies an architectural wonder that has yet to be discovered by us. It was certainly an incredible age according to the statues where the statue was located — indeed among the first things built in the city. The carving, if preserved, cannot but be very significant. What's more, it might form a good present-day relationship with the world over — routes that are shorter than we do very carefully, and possibly with that down from others.

Anyway, the thing we did was study those terrible sketches of — which very precisely ensured our sketch — and started back from the indicated path to the round spot; the path that our nameless predecessor had to go through twice before us. The other neighboring gate to the ravine would be located outside of it. I do not need to talk about our trip — where we continue to leave an economical paper trail — because it is exactly the same as its type when we reach cul de sac; except that it tends to cling more closely to the ground surface and even descend into underground corridors. Every now and then we can track the disturbing signs in the debris or garbage under the feet; and once we pass through the fingers of the gasoline scent, the, we are aware once again — spasmodically — more terrible and more persistent aroma. After the road branched off from our former path, we sometimes gave our single broom beam stealthily along the wall; take note in almost every case of almost ubiquitous sculptures, which indeed seem to have formed a major aesthetic outlet for Old People.

But the object protruding from the place was a giant stone road, which avoided the arch sharply outward to the exposed floor, which was a giant stone walkway, swerving up the walls of the cylinders is as remarkable as the inner counterparts of those who once climbed outside a giant tower or an antique ziggurat. Babel is just our flight speed, and the perspective that confuses the descent with the inner wall of the tower, has prevented us from paying attention to this feature from the air, and so it caused us to look for another way to the sub-glacial level. Pabodie might be able to tell what kind of technique was holding him back, but Danforth and I could only admire and admire. We could see the mighty corals and pillars here and there, but what we saw seemed inadequate for the function performed. The object is very well preserved up to the top of the tower at this time — very extraordinary circumstances considering its exposure — and its sanctuary have done a lot to protect the strange cosmic statues and annoying on the wall.