The Golden Hoard

The Belly of the Beast

The darkness shied away from the Professor's burning torch as it flames swayed to and fro. Every step echoed down and around the long passage way that the two men had found themselves walking through for nearly a half an hour. Conversation had subsided long ago, as it would seem, walking through an ill lit, uneven cave and talk at the same time proved to be rather difficult. So, the men not being complete idiots remained silent. They could only think to themselves. But by now, both had thought about what they wanted to think about, and they could only think about putting one foot in front of the other.

This was how things went on, until of course, right now. 

"What in the good name of Queen Elizabeth is that?!" The Professor exclaimed.

"It looks an awful lot like a wall, sir." Finnegan replied  

That is because it was, in fact, a wall. 

"Yes, but what's it doing here!" The Professor kicked it and very nearly broke one of his toes. He gave a howl and sat where he stood. After a minute or so of wishing he hadn't done that, he closely inspected the wall. 

His servant watched as he manoeuvred the torch around the wall, inspecting ever crease and curve. He pushed his ear against the cold stone. Silent. He ran his hands along it. No vibrations. He even tried starring at it to see if it would move. It didn't. He did this until, finally, at the bottom left corner he found a hole. Just, conveniently, big enough that a hand could fit in. 

Without hesitation or much thought at all, the Professor grabbed Finnegan and told him to get at it sooner than later with a little thanks at the end.

"You want me to stick my hand in there?!" Finnegan shouted.

"That's what I said, yes." The Professor said blatantly.

Something about the Professor's cool manner made it impossible for him to disagree. And so, to his discomfort, he slowly and cautious move his hand through the hole.  He moved in until it reached his elbow, a little further and he felt what he could only describe and a door knob. He grabbed it and turned it.  The stone wall next to him slid and behind it a door. A polished wooden, most likely mahogany, door lined by a golden frame in the appearance of little frogs. On closer inspection by the two men, emeralds portrayed themselves as the little frogs gleaming green eyes. 

The Professor garbed the golden door nob, his blood like electricity firing through his veins. He felt the weight of the door as he pushed it back.

Finnegan nervously stood behind his master in anticipation, he could hardly hear himself think over the thud of his heart in his ears. 

With the door wide open, the two explorers, their touch lit, made their way in.

"The ceilings a little low don't you think?" Finnegan remarked as he dodged stalactites. 

"Not at all" the Professor replied catching his friend by his arm before he took another step, into what would have been an estimated hundred foot drop. "While gold is a soft metal, I'm not sure it would quite cushion your fall."