There was no time like the present. Without removing his clothes, Mackenzie slipped into the stream, spread himself flat, and, taking a long breath, wriggled under water through the arch. When he stood up, he found that the top of the grating was considerably higher than his head, but that his head was higher than the earthen embankments of the stream on either side. The depth of the water was no more than three feet; but the embankments were no doubt intended to protect the buildings from flood in those seasons when the stream, swollen by the melting snow on the mountains, became a torrent.
Standing in the running water, he peered over the embankment on his right. The pagoda loomed up black against the sky some distance away. Between it and him were much lower buildings. No light was to be seen. All was quiet. He would have liked to push his exploration further, but felt that in his ignorance of the place the risk of mistake and detection was too great. Hamid's co-operation would be necessary if he was to profit by his secret entrance, and he resolved to come to an arrangement with the cook for the following night.
Returning to his hut by the same route, he stripped off his drenched clothes, spread them on the ground at the back, out of sight, to dry, rolled himself in his blanket, and was soon asleep.
"How far are your quarters from the wall?" he asked Hamid next day, meeting him among the raspberry canes.
"Thirty good paces, sahib," replied the man.
"I wish you to meet me to-night at the wall, where the stream flows under. Have you a clock?"
"An hour-glass, sahib."
"Then let the time be two hours after lock-up. And bring a blanket with you."
"I am your servant, sahib, but if I may humbly ask----"
"Ask nothing. You can get out quietly?"