CHAPTER IX.INTO THE DEPTHS.
The battle was won, but what of Pomp?
The darky lay in an inanimate heap upon the stone floor.
Frank was quickly by his side, however. His first move was to feel the darky’s pulse.
With a cry of joy he reached for a whisky flask which Buckden produced.
“He is alive!” he cried. “It is about certain that we shall save him.”
This, however, could not yet be determined. The darky had suffered quite a severe squeezing, and there was no certainty that bones had not been broken.
Frank applied the whisky to Pomp’s lips. Then the others rubbed his hands and feet vigorously.
In a few moments Pomp gasped and opened his eyes.
“Glory for goodness, Marse Frank,” he whispered, hoarsely, “am dis chile been sabed? I done fought I was a gone coon.”
“You’re all right, Pomp!” cried Frank, joyfully. “You’re sure you can move without pain, are you? Try and roll over.”
Pomp did as he was bid.
To the joy of all it was discovered that although the darky had experienced quite a severe squeezing he was practically uninjured.
In a few moments he was able to get upon his feet.
He was a trifle stiff and sore, but this bid fair to desert him in a short while.
Then it was seen that the anaconda was a monster.
Indeed its huge coils seemed to occupy the larger part of the chamber.
All had good reason to congratulate themselves upon their escape from what might have been death for Pomp at least.
But now that the affair was over there was no use in further waste of time in the vicinity.
It was necessary at once to continue their quest for the Steam Man.
Accordingly they started to descend the stairs.
But the incidents of the moment were by no means spent. A strange and startling thing occurred.
No sooner had Barney put his foot upon the topmost stairs than the whole affair crumbled and fell.
Down went the Celt through a cloud of dust and rotten stone. It was a sudden happening and took the others quite off their guard.
“Heavens!” cried Frank, recoiling. “What does that mean?”
“The stairs have given way!” cried Buckden, with horror.
“Barney has gone down with them.”
“He is likely killed.”
“Massy sakes alibe!” cried Pomp, wildly. “Dat am awful. We must do somfin’ fo’ to sabe Barney.”
But now as the dust cleared, a horrible realization dawned upon the explorers.
At their feet yawned a dark abyss.
How deep it was they could not guess, for the stairs and the floor beneath had succumbed and gone down with Barney.
The bottom of the abyss could not be seen.
It was safe to assume, however, that it was really a cellar underneath the building, and therefore not more than a dozen feet or more in depth.
Frank leaned over and shouted:
“Barney! If you are alive, answer me!”
“Shure an’ I will that, Misther Frank,” came up the Celt’s voice from the abyss. “It’s not kilt I am.”
“Are you badly hurt?”
“Shure, an’ not a bit av it, Misther Frank. Only a bit av a bruise on me head an’ me arrum. Oi’m all roight.”
“Thank Heaven for that.”
But the question now was, how were the three men to descend from their aerial position?
There was no other stairs, and it was a little too great a height to risk a jump with safety.
But Frank Reade, Jr., was not the one to be long in a quandary. He quickly hit upon a plan.
Advancing to one of the windows, he looked down to the pavements below.
It was a height of possibly twenty feet. But a jump was out of the question.
However, some stout vines grew over the face of the building.
These offered a good safe hold, and by means of these the three explorers clambered down to the ground floor.
The first thing to do now was to rescue Barney.
It was found, however, that the redoubtable Celt did not require any assistance.
He had discovered a way to clamber out of the cellar, and in a moment came rushing out of the ruin.
Congratulations were in order over the happy escape of all.
The incidents of the day had their effect upon the explorers.
Already Tony Buckden had begun to sicken of the enterprise.
He had really gained the end he sought, which was to visit the city of Mazendla.
Of course he had not as yet succeeded in locating the treasure spoken of by the Indian guide Metlo.
But the treasure was only a slight inducement for Tony to remain amid the innumerable perils of the Central American wilds.
He had in fact more money at his command than he could expend, and, of course, gold had little temptation for him.
As for Frank Reade, Jr., the treasure had not constituted the object of his visit.
That he had already accomplished in finding Tony Buckden.
Not one in the party but was badly disaffected and wanted to go home.
“I jus’ fink home am de bes’ place aftah all,” said Pomp.
“Begorra, that’s thrue,” sang Barney. “Be it iver so humble there’s no place loike home, aven av it’s in a pig pen.”
“Good!” cried Frank. “Well, we will soon give you a chance to see home, boys, if we can find the Steam Man intact.”
“Which Heaven grant we may,” said Tony, fervently.
“Then you’re really ready to go home, Tony?”
“Oh, yes. I am anxious to; the way of it is, I have sickened of roaming in this accursed clime. Father says he will take me into Wall street with him, and I’m going to accept his offer.”
“Good for you, Tony!” cried Frank. “It is a good time for you to settle down.”
“I shall do it.”
They were now once more pushing their way along the avenue.
The Steam Man did not seem to be anywhere in sight.
What was the fate of the invention they could only guess.
They pushed on rapidly.
Suddenly they came out into what seemed like the plaza, or public square of the city.
Here wonderful sights were presented.
Mammoth ruins surrounded the square on all sides.
These were overgrown with vegetation of all kinds.
Clinging vines adorned the walls, and huge trees of the deciduous species grew out of the roof and piles of moldering stone.
Everywhere all was desolation and decay.
But one building, massive and commanding, with huge pillars of some strange blue stone, seemed comparatively well preserved.
This building at once attracted Tony Buckden’s attention.
He clapped his hands excitedly.
“As I live!” he declared, “that looks like the temple described by Metlo.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Frank.
“That is the truth.”
“But where are the anacondas?”
“Where?”
The two men exchanged glances.
Certainly, there was not a big snake in sight. But after all, this did not disprove Metlo’s story.
“De snakes may be dar all de same, Marse Frank,” declared Pomp.
“Of course,” agreed Tony. “That is logical enough.”
“What shall we do?”
“Enter of course.”
“It is well to proceed with care.”
“Very well, we can do that.”
But Barney and Pomp had already sprung up the steps of the temple. The next moment they disappeared inside of the place.
Frank and Tony followed.
As they entered the temple they saw that it was a high arched structure with evidences of having once been a building of great beauty.
There was not a snake to be seen.
“Upon my word,” ejaculated Tony, “this has every appearance of being the building described by Metlo.”
“It very likely is,” said Frank. “I have no doubt of it.”
“But he described it as being literally alive with anacondas.”
“It may have been, and they may have lately deserted the place.”
“It looks like it.”
“Of course.”
“Then we are in great luck.”
“Yes.”
“But the treasure—ah!”
Buckden paused before a ring in the stone floor.
It was an iron ring firmly joined to a slab of stone. The New Yorker bent down and began to pull upon it.
The instant he did so a thrilling thing happened.
There was a strange whirring sound as of machinery buzzing, and then a grating noise.
Quick as a flash the stone dropped and Buckden went out of sight like a meteor.
Down into a black void went the young New Yorker.
He was swallowed up as literally as if engulfed in the sea.
For an instant Frank Reade, Jr., was so overcome with horror that he did not know what to do.
Then a wailing cry broke from his lips:
“Oh, my God!” he cried. “Tony has gone to his death.”
Of course Frank had no idea as to the depth of the abyss or where it went to.
Buckden, for aught he knew, had fallen to the center of the earth. The young inventor was overcome with horror and agony.
“Something must be done!” he cried, wildly. “He must be saved!”
But what was to be done?
It was an awful question.
For a moment Frank knew not what answer to make. He stood like one in a trance.
Then he made sudden and swift action. He threw himself flat upon his stomach and shouted down into the abyss of darkness.
“Tony!” he cried, at the top of his voice. “Where are you? If you can hear me, give me an answer!”
But no sound came back.
All was the stillness of the grave.
It seemed as if Tony Buckden’s fate was sealed. Certainly, if alive and uninjured, he would answer.
Frank shouted again and again.
But no answer came back from the awful stillness below. It was like the silence of the grave.
A queer sensation came over Frank.
He felt as if likely to faint.
A cold perspiration broke out upon him, and he seemed dizzy and sick.
Then a strange and awful thing happened.
Suddenly and without warning, the stone beneath him began to slide. He felt himself going, and made a spasmodic effort to save himself.
In vain was this.
Just as he was about to recoil from the verge of the awful pit, there was a grinding sound as of mortar giving way, and then, wholly unable to save himself, Frank went headlong into the abyss.
Down, down he felt himself going.
He clutched at the air wildly, experienced a sense of suffocation, then he felt a sudden shock and knew that he was in water.
It seemed as if his breath must leave his body before he came up out of this water.
Coming to the surface, he drew in a deep breath, and then struck out to swim.
The water was icy cold, and he knew that its depth must be great.
Also, he believed its extent to be considerable, as the reverberations coming to his ears were far-reaching and loud.
Frank had no means of knowing into what sort of place he had fallen, or what was to be the outcome of this adventure.