"In, as the old man said," Francis corrected. "Well, anyway, let's start."
All were through and well along the narrow passage beyond, when the old Maya, crying, "My son!" turned and ran back.
The section of wall was already descending into its original place, and the priest had to crouch low in order to pass it. A moment later, it stopped in its old position. So accurately was it contrived and fitted that it immediately shut off the stream of water which had been flowing out of the idol room.
Outside, save for a small river of water that flowed out of the base of the cliff, there were no signs of what was vexing the interior of the mountain. Henry and Ricardo, arriving, noted the stream, and Henry observed:
"That's something new. There wasn't any stream of water here when I left."
A minute later he was saying, as he looked at a fresh slide of rock: "This was the entrance to the cave. Now there is no entrance. I wonder where the others are."
As if in answer, out of the mountain, borne by the spouting stream, shot the body of a man. Henry and Ricardo pounced upon it and dragged it clear. Recognizing it for the priest,
Henry laid him face downward, squatted astride of him, and proceeded to give him the first aid for the drowned.
Not for ten minutes did the old man betray signs of life, and not until after another ten minutes did he open his eyes and look wildly about.
"Where are they?" Henry asked.