CHAPTER IX.
IN THE MESA DWELLERS' BURIAL GROUND.
Down, down, they plunged, bumping and scraping painfully in thedarkness. Terror had deprived them of speech or the power of utteringa sound, or they would have shouted. As it was, however, when theyfinally landed in a heap on some hard surface at the foot of the steepdeclivity down which they had fallen, it was some seconds before any ofthem breathed a word. Then it was Jack who spoke.
"Fellows!"
"Yes, Jack." The rejoinder came out of the darkness in Walt Phelps'voice.
"Ralph, are you there?"
"No; I'm dead. That is, I feel as if every bone in my body had beenbroken. What in the name of Old Nick has happened?"
"Thank goodness there are no bones broken," breathed Jack thankfully,as Ralph spoke, "as to what happened, you can take your own guess onit. My idea is that there was some sort of hinged trap-door at thebottom of that altar, and that when our combined weight came upon it atthe time I pulled Ralph down, the blamed old thing tipped and dumped usdown in here."
"That's my idea, too," chimed in Walt. "Can't account for it in anyother way. But what is 'here'? Where are we?"
"You can answer that as well as I can," was the rejoinder. "Anybodygot a match? Oh, here; all right, I've got some, plenty in fact--awhole pocketful."
Jack struck a lucifer, and as its yellow glare lit up theirsurroundings, they could not repress a cry of astonishment. They hadlanded at the foot of a steep flight of stairs, at the summit of whichthey correctly surmised was the trap-door through which they had beenso startlingly dumped.
"Good gracious, did we fall down all those?" murmured Ralph, rubbinghis elbow painfully.
"Guess so. I know I feel as if I'd been monkeying with a buzz-saw,"same [Transcriber's note: came?] from Walt Phelps.
"Well, fellows," said Jack, as the light died out, "the question nowbefore us is, what are we going to do?"
"Try to get out again," said the practical Walt Phelps.
"All right, Walt. Then we'd better remount those steps--slower than wecame down them--and try to reopen that trap-door. We can't leave Peteand the injured professor like this."
The boys clambered up the steps without difficulty. They were deep andshallow, and were cut out of the living rock. At the head of thestairs, however, a disappointment awaited them. Try as they would,they could not discover any means of reopening the stone trap-door inthe floor of the hollow altar. Apparently, after dumping them through,it had closed as hermetically as before.
The flickering light of the matches from Jack's store illuminated looksof despair on their faces as they realized that they were trapped.
"Try pounding on it and shouting," suggested Ralph.
Although Jack deemed it of little use, he and Walt followed thissuggestion, and together the three boys beat and hammered on themassive stone above them till their hands were raw. There was noresponse, however. Apparently the stone was too thick for a sound topenetrate to the outer air. Terror, that was almost panic, seized Waltand Ralph, as they realized that they were prisoners in thishermetically sealed dungeon. Worse than prisoners, in fact. Prisonershad food and at least hope. They, unless they could find a way out,were buried alive. Even Jack's stout heart experienced a deadlyfeeling of depression, as he realized this. He concealed his despairfrom his companions, however, and, with all the cheerfulness he couldmuster, addressed them in the darkness. Matches had now grown tooprecious to squander.
"Well, fellows, we've got to find another way out."
"Oh, it's no good," moaned Ralph despairingly, "we're doomed to diehere. We might as well sit down and wait for death to come."
"Say," cut in Jack briskly, "if it was light enough to see, I'd giveyou a good licking. Doomed to die, indeed! Not much. It's a cinch,isn't it, that if there is an entrance to this place there must be anoutlet, too? Very well, then," he hurried on, without waiting for ananswer, "let's find that outlet."
The logic of this speech might be questioned, but of its good sense,under the circumstances, there was no doubt.
"You're right, Jack," said Ralph. "I'm ashamed of myself for doingthe baby act. Come on, let's set out at once."
"That's the talk," said Walt heartily; "if there's a way out, we'llfind it."
"And if not?" asked Ralph, his spirits flagging again.
"We'll discuss that later," declared Jack briskly.
Returning again to the landing--if such it might be called--upon whichthey had terminated their abrupt descent into the interior of the mesa,some more of the precious matches were lit. As the last flickered out,the boys fancied that some feet from them they could see a black mouth,like the entrance of a tunnel, or rather a continuation of the one intowhich they had been thrown.
"Come on, boys," exclaimed Jack. "It's the only thing to do. We can'tturn back, and, as Pete says, 'there ain't nothing to do but go ahead.'"
Not without some misgivings did the three lads plunge forward in thedarkness, feeling their way with outstretched hands as they entered thetunnel. A close, musty smell, as of things long mildewed and moulded,filled the air, and an oppressive silence lay on everything.Unconsciously, since entering this place, their conversation had beenall in whispers.
The tunnel they were now traversing was bored on a pretty steep downgrade. So steep, in fact, that Jack concluded, after about a quarterof an hour of slow and cautious traveling, that they must be below thelevel of the desert. For the last few minutes they had been consciousof a peculiar thing. This was that the silence of the tunnel had givenplace to a deep-throated roaring, not unlike the voice of a blastfurnace. Where it came from, or what it was, they had no idea. It wasa most peculiar sound, though, steady as a trade-wind, and seeming tofill the whole place with its deep vibrations.
"What can it be?" gasped Walt, as they paused by common consent tolisten.
"Maybe the wind roaring by the entrance to this place," suggested Jackhopefully.
This thought gave them new courage, and, on Ralph's suggestion, Jackstruck another match from his store. As it flared up, they all threerecoiled with expressions of dismay.
At their very feet--so close that the tips of their boots almostprojected over it--was a deep chasm. The black profundity of it loomedin front of them gapingly. A few paces more, and they would have beenprecipitated into the abyss. Jack, suppressing a shudder, leanedforward and held the match as far over the edge as he dared. As thedepths of the great crevasse were illuminated by a feeble flame, heshrank back with a sharp intake of his breath.
As it flared up, they all three recoiled withexpressions of dismay. At their very feet was a deep chasm.]
The place was a charnel house!
No mystery now as to what had become of the human remains of the grislysacrifices of the ancient mesa dwellers. There, piled in that darkchasm beneath them, were great piles of decaying bones and gleamingskulls. Hundreds of them extended toward the surface in a ghastlypyramid. No wonder the underground place into which they hadpenetrated smelled musty and unpleasant.
"It is the mesa dwellers' burial ground!" exclaimed Ralph in aquavering voice, as, clinging to Jack's arm, he bent forward.
"Yes," rejoined Walt with a shudder, "and but for Providence, we shouldhave plunged downward into it ourselves."
"Ugh!" exclaimed Jack, in a voice filled with repulsion. "Don't let'sthink of it. See, the path takes a turn here. Come on, let's goahead, but follow me closely and keep in to the wall."
"Not likely to take any chances of missing the road, after seeingthat," spoke up Walt, as once more the three youths, who had been sostrangely plunged into this predicament, began to tread thesubterranean regions once more.
As you may imagine, they went with due caution. But no more dangersmenaced them, and as they progressed the path began to widen. All thetime, however, the strange roaring sound had been growing louder, untilnow it had attained almost deafening proportions. Still they had comeupon no explanatio
n of what it could be. Jack had privately concludedit to be the sound of the wind, forcing its way into some crevice.This theory seemed to be the more tenable as the last match which hehad struck had only been kept alight with difficulty, so strong hadbeen the draught that now puffed up toward them.
Far from alarming them, however, this gave them renewed hope. It meantthat, in all probability, they were nearing an outlet of the strangeunderground place. Had it not been for the predicament in which theyhad left the professor and Coyote Pete, the three lads would have felta real interest in exploring the cavern, now that they had grownaccustomed to their surroundings. So far as they had been able to makeout, the tunnel they had been treading was partially the work of humanhands and partially the work of Nature. The great rift in which laythe accumulation of human remains was evidently the result of somevolcanic upheaval. The path, however, was so graded and formed thatthere seemed no reason to doubt that it had, at one time, been made bythe ancient mesa dwellers.
"Seems to me we ought to find out what that roaring sound means beforewe go any farther," suggested Ralph suddenly.
"That's a fine Irish bull," laughed Jack. "How are we going to findwhat it is unless we do go farther?"
"That's so," agreed Ralph, somewhat abashed. "Come on, then."
A few paces more brought them to an abrupt turn in the path, as theycould feel by their constant touching of the inner wall.
"Better strike another match," said Walt.
"Yes; here goes," agreed Jack. Both boys shouted, to make themselvesheard above the now thunderous roaring of the strange noise.
A shout of surprise that rose even above the mysterious roaring,followed the striking of the match. Beyond the turn the path took asteep drop downward, and beyond that--the boys could hardly believetheir eyes as they gazed--was the glint of rushing water.
"The subterranean river!" was the amazed cry that broke from the lipsof all three.