A thrill of fear crept icily through Nat’s veins as he realized that they were prisoners. But he put all the heart he could into his reply when Joe in a frightened voice gasped out:
“What on earth happened, Nat?”
“Why, just this,” was the reply. “That altar top was counterbalanced. Our weight was on one end of it. In some way, when I twisted that ring, a spring or catch must have been loosened and—and—we’re in the interior of the altar.”
“Can we get out again, do you think?”
“That’s just what we’ve got to find out, and quickly, too, Joe,” was the response. “Got any matches?”
“Yes; luckily I brought some. I’ve got a pocket lantern here, too, with a candle in it. Shall I light up?”
“Yes, do so as soon as you can,” rejoined Nat.
The next minute the interior of the altar was illumined by a yellow light. But so perfectly had the swinging top of the altar been fitted that not a crevice appeared and as for any lever or handle by which it might have been opened, none was revealed by the light.
But it was some minutes before the boys found out this fact. When they did, however, it came with a sense of stunning bitterness. If they could not find a means of egress from the altar, they were, in all human probability, doomed to die in that gloomy prison.
Although they both realized their situation, neither lad voiced his fears. There still remained one end of the altar to be examined, and Nat lost no time in proceeding to investigate the hitherto neglected portion of their prison. But its masonry appeared to be as solidly constructed as was the case in every other part of the altar. Nat, almost in despair, was turning away when Joe, who had been at his side, gave a sudden cry.