Standing on the tip of the triangle he was gazing, now into one, and then into the other, of the eyes. He drew his hunting knife and began to dig and pry at the right-hand eye.
"If the old gentleman were here he'd have a fit at such sacrilege," Henry commented.
"The perforated dime is yours," Francis called down, at the same time dropping into Henry's outstretched palm the fragment he had dug loose.
Mother-of-pearl it was, a flat, piece cut with definite purpose to fit in with the many other pieces to form the eye.
"Where there's smoke there's fire," Henry adjudged. "Not for nothing did the Mayas select this God-forsaken spot and stick these eyes of Chia on the cliff."
"Looks as if we'd made a mistake in leaving the old gentleman and his sacred knots behind," Francis said.
"The knots should tell all about it and what our next move should be."
"Where there are eyes there should be a nose," Leoncia contributed.
"And there is!" exclaimed Francis. "Heavens! That was the nose I just climbed up. We're too close up against it to have perspective. At a hundred yards' distance it would look like a colossal face."
Leoncia advanced gravely and kicked at a decaying deposit of leaves and twigs evidently blown there by tropic gales.