CHAPTER XI.OUT OF IMPRISONMENT.
It was a terrible despairing cry which Tony Buckden gave.
It came from the depths of his soul, and embodied utter hopelessness.
Indeed, the situation looked to be a desperate one. If it was indeed true that they were the inmates of a sealed chamber their fate seemed sealed.
What was to be done?
Surely they could not submit to a slow lingering death by starvation in that wretched place.
Frank went forward and began to examine the masonry of the chamber walls.
The stone was a peculiar sandstone, and while it showed evidence of age and the discolorations of time it was yet firm and hard.
But the mortar would yield to the point of the knife. Frank at once began work upon it.
“My plan,” he declared, “is to displace the mortar as far as possible, and perhaps we can loosen some of these stones and make an aperture large enough to get out through.”
“Good!” cried Buckden, joyfully. “You’ve hit the mark, Frank.”
“I hope so,” said the young inventor, modestly; “time will tell. First we must make sure that the mortar will give way.”
Together they went to work upon the mortar.
It yielded readily to the points of their knives and soon had been displaced about one of the smaller stones.
To their joy this yielded and the stone was removed.
But a second layer was discovered just beyond. How many more were beyond this they could not guess.
But Frank believed that only this layer separated them from the outer air and freedom.
Accordingly with renewed hope the two imprisoned men went to work.
With a will they hacked away at the crumbling stone and mortar.
In a very short space of time another stone had been loosened. A third was quickly displaced, making an aperture sufficiently large enough to allow a body to pass through.
Now the second layer was attacked. To the agreeable surprise of both it was a very rotten stone and yielded readily.
In a very few moments daylight streamed into the place.
“Hurrah!” cried Frank. “We are sure to escape, Tony!”
“So it seems!” cried the young New Yorker, cheerily. “This is what comes of good pluck.”
“You are right.”
Peering through the small hole made, Frank saw that they would come out right in the main body of the temple.
Both men now worked like beavers.
In a few moments one of the stones was displaced. Another quickly followed, and then they crawled through and into the open air.
The relief experienced was beyond description.
To drink in the pure air and the health-giving sunlight once more was a boon of no small sort.
But after a time they began to think of Barney and Pomp and the Steam Man.
It was certainly advisable to find them at once.
The fate of the Steam Man was a matter of conjecture. But Frank arose from his reclining position and said:
“Come, Tony, old man, we can’t stay here any longer. There’s work for us to do.”
“All right, Frank.”
Frank started to leave the temple, but Tony chanced to glance across an inner court-yard.
“Wait a moment, Frank!” he cried.
“What is it?”
“Just look across that court-yard. What is it?”
Frank looked and gave a start of surprise.
“Upon my soul!” he exclaimed. “What sort of a creature can it be?”
“Let us investigate.”
“All right.”
“Lead the way.”
Through a series of arches they went and reached the court-yard. Across it they made their way.
The object of their surprise was a strange looking statue.
It was sculptured out of the same peculiar greenish stone as the dragon seen below stairs.
The statue was a compromise between a man and some strange wild animal resembling the panther.
Certainly a more life like and hideous monstrosity they had never beheld before. They gazed upon it in wonderment.
“Have you ever seen its equal?” asked Tony in amazement.
“Never!”
“What is it intended to represent?”
“Like the statues of Bacchus and the Centaurs found in ancient Greece, it is a creation of mythical sort.”
“I believe you’re right. Hello! What is this? Another trapdoor?”
Tony paused before a heavy iron ring set in the tiled floor.
“Don’t trouble it,” said Frank. “It may let us down into another underground lake.”
“Do you believe it?”
“I should fear it.”
But Tony could not resist the temptation to insert his fingers in the ring and give the stone a lift. It was a reckless thing to do.
The result was startling.
The stone yielded, and the next moment Buckden lifted it from its bed, disclosing a cavity beneath some four feet long by two wide.
Stone steps were revealed leading downward. For a moment the two explorers looked at each other.
“What will we do?” asked Buckden.
“Investigate,” said Frank, tersely.
“But it is dark down there.”
“That doesn’t matter,” said the young inventor, coolly. “We will regulate that.”
Then, from his pocket, Frank produced a small folding pocket lantern, an invention of his own.
He lit this and boldly ventured down into the place.
He went down a dozen steps, and then a wonderful sight was spread before him.
A large chamber, about fifteen feet in length by ten in breadth, hewn out of solid rock, was revealed.
The walls were adorned with shelves, and about the stone floor were chests of metal.
These chests contained coins and silver and gold cups, flagons, pots and all sorts of ware, thrown about promiscuously and in heaps.
For a moment the two explorers, astounded, gazed at the scene before them.
Both were so dumbfounded that they could not speak.
One thing was apparent to them, and it brought the blood in surges to their temples.
The treasure of Mazendla was found.
It would be quite impossible to enumerate its mighty value.
But it would seem that it must be up in the millions. For how many centuries it had remained here it would be quite hard to say.
“Heavens!” gasped Frank. “Here is enough to enrich us many times, Tony.”
“I should say so.”
“It is the wealth of a king.”
“To be sure.”
“But what great good can it do us? We have got enough.”
“That is so.”
The two explorers proceeded to make an examination of the contents of the treasure room.
Among all the gold and silver Frank looked for diamonds.
But these seemed scarce.
However, he did find a few in a small silver casket. These he secured, and, with Tony, took several bags of the coins and some of the quaint silverware.
“Well,” said Tony, speculatively, “what shall we do with all this stuff, Frank? It is too bad to leave it here.”
“I have an idea.”
“What?”
“Let us take it to New York, convert it into greenbacks and disperse it in charities.”
“Good!” cried Tony, readily, “that is a fine idea.”
They now ascended to the main room of the temple.
For the first time Frank thought of Barney and Pomp.
The two servitors had wandered off in some other part of the temple and were not in sight.
Frank shouted for them, but no answer came back.
This seemed a little strange to the young inventor, and he began to fear that some harm had come to the two men.
“That is queer!” he muttered. “Why don’t they answer?”
Again Frank shouted. This time an answer came back, but it seemed a mile away.
Frank was not a little vexed.
“Confound the rascals!” he muttered. “Where have they gone to?”
“We had better go in quest of them,” suggested Tony. “Harm may have overtaken them.”
“You are right!”
They were about to follow up this plan when a startling thing occurred.
Suddenly from the distance beyond the temple doors there came a thrilling and yet familiar sound.
It was a prolonged shriek, a distant note from the ear-splitting whistle of the Steam Man.