But never a human being did we see until we rounded the northeastern hump of the mountain in a bitter wind, and spied half a hundred naked men and women, thinner than wraiths, who scampered off at sight of us and volleyed ridiculous arrows from a cave-mouth.

The arrows fell about midway between us and them, but threw Hassan into a paroxysm of fear, out of which it was difficult to shake him.
"Those are the people who ate my men! That is the cavern where Tippoo Tib hid the ivory! That is where my men's bones are! See--they have torn my tent for clothing for their naked women!" We put Hassan under double guard for fear lest he bolt again and leave us.

And all that day, and all the next we hunted for cannibals through mazy caverns that seemed to extend into the mountain's very womb.
There were times when the stench was so horrible we nearly fainted.

We stumbled on men's bones.

We collided with sharp projections in the gloom--fell down holes that might have been bottomless for aught we knew in advance--and scrambled over ledges that in places were smooth with the wear of feet for ages.