The man they had followed was nowhere in sight when Ned turned the angle, and Jimmie lay on the ground in the shadows, kicking up his heels.
“He went down through the earth,” the boy giggled, regardless of the danger of the situation. “He went right down through the ground. Say, but he’s a corker, to get out of sight like that.”
Ned caught the lad by the arm, to silence him, and listened. A steady click-click came from the ground beneath their feet. The sounds came continuously, almost with the regularity of the ticking of a clock.
“Where was he when he disappeared?” asked Ned.
“Over there in the corner,” was the reply. “He walked up to the wall and stepped out of sight. What’s that queer smell?” he added, sniffing the air.
“There must be a fire down there in the vaults of the old temple,” replied Ned. “They must have a fire, for the smoke is coming out of a crevice at the top of that wall, and they are working on metal.”
“Yes,” said Jimmie, “an’ I’ll bet they’re makin’ more bombs—bombs for the dam.”