CHAPTER VII.ADVENTURES UNDERGROUND.
But what was really the fate of the two men, Harding and Pomp, who had fallen into the pit?
When Harding had plunged into the jungle, he had not stopped to think where his footsteps were leading him.
His sole thought was to distance his pursuers.
He was more than delighted to think that he had been able to do this.
The ruse suggested by Frank Reade, Jr., had succeeded beyond his most sanguine expectations.
“If I can only find a hiding place about here,” he muttered, “I shall be sure to give them a permanent slip.”
So he rushed on, and gave no heed to the nature of the ground under his feet.
Then he stepped unsuspectingly upon what seemed like a mere network of vines.
But it masked a trap; for he felt the earth give way under his feet, and he went down like a shot.
His hands were tied, else it was possible that he might have saved himself by clutching something in his descent.
As it was, he was jolted and jarred into half insensibility by contact with the winding walls of the passage.
Down, down he went, and experienced a shock, and for a moment was partly insensible.
When he recovered himself he was in pitchy darkness. The air about him was damp and foul.
He was sore and lame from the effects of his fall.
“My God!” he exclaimed. “Where am I, and what has happened?”
Then he remembered that he had fallen into a hole in the ground.
The rest was blank.
For aught he knew he might be at the center of the earth. In vain he tried to collect his scattered senses.
And thus he was engaged when suddenly he heard a sliding, scraping motion above him, and a voice suddenly cry out in alarm:
“Hol’ on up dar, Marse Frank! I done believe dat rope am a breakin’!”
Then there was a snapping sound, a yell of terror and a thud, and he felt a cloud of dust in his face, and knew that some person lay beside him.
It was Pomp.
Harding could not fail to recognize the voice, and cried:
“Heavens! Is that you, Pomp?”
“Golly fo glory, Marse Harding, am dat yo’sef?”
“It is,” replied Harding, eagerly. “How on earth did you come down here?”
“Bress yo’ haht, honey, I jes’ cum down fo’ yo’,” replied Pomp.
“You did?”
“‘Spec’s I did, chile!”
“Well, you have found me.”
“I should say so, sah, an’ done break mah neck in de bargain. But howebber is we uns gwine fo’ to git up dar agin, I dunno.”
“How did you come down?”
“On a rope, chile; an’ it done break wif me!”
“Then you tracked me?” asked Harding, eagerly.
“Spec’s we did, sah.”
“And Frank Reade, Jr., he escaped also?”
“He am up dar dis bressed minut, an’ I don’ fink I bettah tole him about dat rope breakin’ wif me!”
“Good!” cried Harding; “tell him to lower it more!”
“Yo kin bet I will.”
With which Pomp endeavored to shout to Frank and Barney above, but the result is well known.
They were unable to hear or make themselves heard, and finally Pomp abandoned the idea in despair.
They were in total darkness.
Their position did not seem by any means encouraging.
Pomp’s coming, however, was in many ways a blessing to Harding.
The darky was enabled to cut the bonds which held his wrists, and set him free.
They quickly compared notes.
It was a conclusion that they were in the depths of a cavern, most likely connected with the treasure cave.
“In that case,” said Harding, hopefully, “why should we not try to at once find our way out?”
“Of cose,” agreed Pomp; “dat am de bery first ting.”
With this resolution they set out.
For hours they wandered through the mazes of the cavern labyrinth.
In one respect their quest was a more difficult one than Frank Reade, Jr.’s, for they had no torches to light their way.
They were obliged to make their way along by the sense of touch.
Indeed less brave and hardy spirits would have been appalled with the force of the situation in its hopelessness.
But they kept on resolutely, and this very energy proved their salvation.
By what was a fortunate chance they succeeded very quickly in striking a passage which led out of the labyrinth.
But this was on the opposite side of the mountain, and as they came out into the sunlight they were for a moment dazzled.
But as this cleared away they saw that they were upon a shelf of rock in the mouth of a cavern which overlooked a great stretch of country.
Far below was a long and narrow valley between the Andean peaks, and through this ran a stream.
Harding gazed upon the scene a moment and exclaimed:
“Well, Pomp, we may thank our lucky stars that we are out of the woods at last!”
“You’s right dar, Marse Harding,” declared the darky.
“But it will now become necessary to find out the location of the air-ship.”
“Yes, sah.”
“I should say that we were upon the exactly opposite side of the mountain.”
“Dat am a fac’, sah.”
“Well, how are we to get down from here?”
Harding went to the edge of the shelf of rock and looked down.
The view was not an encouraging one. A deep descent it was, and to make it one would have to exercise great care.
There were clinging vines on the face of the cliff.
Harding tested these, and found them firm and strong.
He swung himself over the edge.
“Are you a good climber, Pomp?” he cried. “If so, you may follow me.”
“A’right, sah,” said the darky.
He swung himself over after the gold seeker. In this manner both made their way down the face of the cliff.
After a time they reached the valley below.
The question now was how were they to find their way back over the mountain to the spot where Pomp had left the air-ship.
But this question seemed to find a certain solution. There was a pass between the peaks which seemed to lead to the eastward.
It was believed that by taking this the distance could be overcome quickly, and the party once more united.
There did not seem to be any danger of meeting Red Muriel, though such an incident would be most unpleasant.
What had become of the brigand chief it was impossible to guess.
It might be that he had fled from the region with the Incas treasure, which he had stolen from Harding.
The latter had not abandoned the hope of regaining the lost treasure.
Just how this was to be accomplished was not yet quite clear to him. But he had hopes that it would be done.
Harding and Pomp pushed on through the grass.
They had nearly reached its termination when a thrilling incident occurred.
Pomp was in advance, and came to what in the shadows looked like a huge log across the path.
He was about to step over it when quick as a flash it rolled itself in hideous coils about him.
It was a monster python of the most wonderful species. Pomp was but a child in the folds of the monster.
A wild yell escaped the darky’s lips.
“Golly—golly!” he cried, in agonized accents. “Marse Harding, dis chile am done gwine fo’ to be killed. Lor’ sabe mah soul!”
Harding was horrified beyond expression.
For a moment he was riveted to the spot in helpless horror. The sight of the monster snake was to him most terrifying.
He saw that the monster’s folds were tightening about Pomp, and that he was likely to be killed in quick order.
A frenzy seized Harding
“I will save you, Pomp,” he cried, desperately. “Don’t give up hope.”
Then drawing a huge sheath knife he rushed upon the snake.
He made a blow at the monster’s head.
He missed it, but drew a tremendous spurt of blood from the snake’s body. Again and again Harding slashed at the reptile’s body.
He believed that if he could sever the mighty coil he could save Pomp’s life.
In this he was right. The darky struggled, but his efforts were those of a child in that powerful grip.
The snake made repeated blows at Harding with its head.
But the plucky gold seeker dodged them every time and kept at work with the knife.
Such strenuous efforts could not fail to yield some result. Gradually the snake’s coils began to weaken, and finally Pomp was enabled to crawl from them altogether.
The reptile rolled upon the ground in savage agony, writhing and twisting violently.
Harding was overjoyed at his success in rescuing Pomp, and both made haste to attain a safe distance from the reptile.
“Geolly, but I done fought I was a gone coon dat time!” cried Pomp, with dilated eyes. “I jes’ fink I owes mah life to yo’, Marse Harding.”
“We were fortunate to be able to dispose of the monster!” said Harding, modestly. “But come, Pomp, let us get out of this infernal region.”
“A’right, sarh,” agreed Pomp. “I’se more dan agreeable, sah.”
With this they once more set out through the defile.
After much hard climbing they finally succeeded in crossing the mountain ridge, and suddenly a great cry burst from Pomp’s lips.
“Mah goodness!” he cried; “does yo’ see dat, Marse Harding?”
There, not many miles distant, they saw the Kite anchored in mid-air, not more than a thousand feet above the earth.
Both now pressed forward eagerly.
It seemed an interminable distance to the air-ship, but they kept on.
Meanwhile, a curious change had been going on in the atmosphere.
The sky was assuming a strange copper color, and to the west and south there was a long, livid line on the horizon.
The two adventurers were too intent upon the object before them to note this.
They kept on at full speed, and suddenly Pomp cried:
“Dar am some one on de deck, an’ dey am jes’ makin’ a signal to us.”
At that distance it looked very much like Barney.
This was the truth.
It was evident that the Celt had seen them. With renewed courage the two adventurers pressed on.
Barney had seen them, and as they answered his signals, he allowed the air-ship to descend as rapidly as possible.