CHAPTER XXII MAGIC POWER
In strained silence the brother and sister stood listening, waiting inthe dark. Roderick had snapped off the small pocket light which hecarried.
The sounding footsteps in the distance became hesitant, uncertain.
"Sounds as if the person, whoever he may be, were a stranger to theplace," whispered Jean.
"Why shouldn't he be? Place hasn't been visited for hundreds of years.Look at the dust."
"But he followed us."
"Yes. I wonder why."
For a long time after that they waited in breathless silence. All thetime the person, who now halted, now moved a few steps forward, wascoming closer and closer. Who could it be? What did he want? Did he knowthe secrets of this mysterious place, of the magic door? He might. Therewas hope in that.
"Oh, switch on your light," Jean whispered impatiently. "What's the use?He's bound to find us in the end."
Realizing the truth of this, Roderick snapped on his light and sent itsrays gleaming straight down the corridor. As it fell full upon the faceof the one who had followed them there came a half-suppressed, shrill cryof a child. It was none other than the daughter of the great chief, theone whose life Johnny had saved.
"Wianda!" exclaimed Jean, calling the girl's name as she started forwardto embrace her.
Unfortunately, this name was the only word they had in common.
For a moment the Indian girl's eyes roamed from one to the other, thenwith a sudden gesture she held up first three fingers, then only two, asmuch as to say:
"There were three of you. Now there are but two. Where is the other?"
For answer, Jean took up the heavy walking stick, and after pointing atthe stone door, made as if to push it back.
The girl's eyes opened wide in surprise. Then as her face becamethoughtful she backed away to sit down upon the flat rock. There, forfive minutes, with head bent low, hands pressing her temples, she satperfectly still.
"Thinking it out," whispered Roderick. "I wonder what she will do."
In spite of her fears for Johnny's safety, Jean felt a certain greatconfidence in this child's ability to solve the puzzle and set her herofree. Why not? Was she not a native of the place? Did she not know thesecrets of the land?
"And yet," she thought with a sinking heart, "why should she? She islittle more than a child, while the secrets of this place, if one is tojudge by the dust and crumbling decay of rocks, are old as time itself."
Suddenly the Indian girl leaped to her feet. With a swift movement shecrossed the corridor and pressed her ear against the stone door.
As she stood there listening, across her face there spread such a smileof joy as it had seldom been Jean's privilege to see.
Then the Indian girl motioned for Jean to put her ear against the stonedoor as she had done.
What she heard was a faint tick-tick-tick, or the drip-drip-drip ofwater. She could not tell what it was, the sound was so very faint.
Her heart beat wildly. What could it mean? Why had the Indian girl becomeso suddenly joyous? Was it a token, this ticking or dripping? Was it asign that all would be well? It was all very strange, all so unreal thatshe found herself all but overcome.
On her wrist Jean wore a small watch. In her idle hours she had amusedherself by teaching the Indian girl to tell the time of morning, noon orevening by it. Now, to her astonishment, she found the girl alternatelypointing to the three o'clock mark on the dial, then away at the stonedoor.
"It's one o'clock," said Jean. "What can she mean?"
"Probably means that at three the door will open of its own free will,"said Roderick, who with his usual skepticism placed little faith in thenative girl.
"I'm starved," he grumbled. "Let's get out of this vile place and findsomething to eat. Thompson'll get out of that hole some way. Leave it tohim. Any way, we can't help any."
"We can't be sure of that," said Jean soberly.
"You may leave if you wish. As for me, I will stay here as long as thisnative girl does. I'm not going to be shamed by such a little brown oneas she."
Roderick sauntered sulkily up and down the corridor for a moment, thensank down upon a rock with a sigh.
As for the Indian girl, after listening once more at the door, with thelook of joyous satisfaction on her face she sat down in composure towait. Wait for what? What was to happen in two hours? Jean could not somuch as guess. So, without trying, she sat down beside the native girl.
To her surprise she found after a time that by listening intently shecould catch the faint tap-tap-tap. It was weird, mysterious, fascinating,that steady continuous sound that was so much like the ticking of aclock, yet somehow so different.
"What can it mean?" she asked herself. "Can it be that those ancientpeople held some secrets of motion and power of which we know nothing?Does that door, like the door to a bank vault, open and close to a timeschedule? And could it be working after all these years?
"How--how impossible!" she breathed.
The Indian girl heard the sound of her whisper and, as if understandingthe meaning of it, put a hand upon her knee as much as to say:
"All things are possible."
"And yet," Jean went on to assure herself, "it is impossible. Even wereit all true, how could this child know the secret of it all?"
At that moment there flashed through her mind things Johnny had told herabout the ancient Maya civilization, of their culture, their sculpture,their architecture, their art expressed in the working of precious metalsand polishing of jewels.
"They had mastered the art of writing, too," she told herself, "and hadgreat libraries. Many of these were destroyed, but some remain. Who knowsbut these, their descendants, have read from these scrolls the secrets ofthis strange underground cavern?"
So she reasoned, hoped and waited. A half hour passed, an hour, an hourand a half. As the hour of three approached even the skeptical Roderickgrew restless. He rose and paced the floor. Jean pulled him down.
"I can't hear the tap-tap when you are walking," she said.
"Listen!" she exclaimed in an awed whisper. "It--it's stopped!"
That was a dramatic moment. The Indian girl knew, too, for her face hadsuddenly become animated with some great emotion. Gliding swiftly to thewhite girl's side, she placed her fingers on her lips.
Instantly Jean read her meaning. She sprang to her feet, and at oncethere came from her throat the clear notes of their call:
"Whoo-hoo-hoo, Whoo-hoo-hoo, Whoo-hoo-hoo."
Johnny Thompson, sitting alone in the dark, heard and sprang to his feet.The next moment as the call was repeated again and again, he foundhimself feeling his way by following the sound closer and closer to thesinger.
Jean had kept up the call for three minutes when, after holding up a handfor silence, the Indian girl lifted the stout stick as if it were afairy's wand and pressed it against the top of the stone door.
Amazed, stupified, the brother and sister stared in silence as the greatrock began to fall back.
Back, back, back it moved until it lay flat upon the floor. At thatdramatic moment, smiling like a fairy prince released from an enchantedprison, Johnny stepped over the threshold, free.
Could Johnny be pardoned if he embraced his fair deliverers? Well, hemust be, for that is exactly what he did, both of them, and the actionseemed to him a part of a beautiful ending to a horrible dream.
As they turned once more toward the rock that was a door, they saw it wasagain rising slowly, and with a silence that suggested great power.
"Come on," said Johnny with a shudder. "Let's get out of here."
"Yes. We must," said Jean, leading the way.
As she glanced back from time to time, Jean saw that Johnny walked as onewho is lame, or who carries a heavy burden on his hip. Being a person ofunusual judgment, she asked no questions. As they left the outer openingand made their way through the bush to the outer air, Johnny was ratherlonger than
the others in emerging. When he did appear he had lost hislimp. Again Jean read the signs, but asked no questions.