“Nothing doing!” Jimmie declared, returning to the corridor.
“Nothing doing!” echoed Carl, coming in from the other way.
Sam joined the group in a moment looking very much discouraged.
“Boys,” he said, “I’ve been broke in nearly all the large cities on both Western continents. I’ve been kicked out of lodging houses, and I’ve walked hundreds of miles with broken shoes and little to eat, but of all the everlasting, consarned, ridiculous, propositions I ever butted up against, this is the worst!”
The boys chuckled softly but made no reply.
“We know well enough,” he went on, “that there are rockets, or lamps, or torches, or candles, enough hidden about this place to signal all the transcontinental trains in the world but we can’t find enough of them to flag a hand-car on an uphill grade!”
“What’s the matter with the searchlights?” asked Jimmie.
“Not sufficiently strong!”
Without any explanation, Jimmie darted away from the group and began a tour of the temple. First he walked along the walls of the corridor then darted to the other room, then out on the steps in front.
“His trouble has turned his head!” jeered Carl.