The solution came from below, where Lake O'Brien's voice suddenly raised in a shout. "Found it, gang! I knew there'd be a door somewhere. Well, you Jonahs—any of you want out of this whale's belly?"
Ramey cried, "Come on, Red!" and flung himself down the ladder. Then, as the trio stood before the portal Lake had discovered, a sudden idea struck him. "Wait a minute! This is our chance to make an imprint on the natives!" He craned his neck, shouted to those still above. "Sheila, tell Sheng-ti to forbid the sacrifice! Tell him to say that the children of the god come forth to claim their victim."
The priest's words boomed above them, prefacing their entrance into this strange world. And—it was a great success. As the door swung open, and Ramey and his fellows burst forward onto a raised dais, it was to find all action abruptly frozen. The slave girl, her simple toga-like garment torn and disarranged, her wealth of red-chestnut hair, loosed by the violence of her efforts to escape, cascading to her waist, stood motionless in the grasp of two stricken fighting-men. Elsewhere a silence born of terror gripped the room. An awed paralysis which was shattered by the terrified screams of a hundred throats as the adventurers appeared.
It was, Ramey could not help thinking with a sort of detached amusement, a most dramatic entrance. A super-extra, whipper-dipper of an entrance. Like all men with a sense of humor, he had an instinct for showmanship. Striding forward he realized with a little shock that throughout the excitement of the past half hour he had continued to clench in his left hand the object over which he had stumbled in the time-traveling cabinet. What it was, he did not know. But it might mean something to his audience. So as he stepped forward he lifted it proudly, melodramatically, above his head.
The reaction was swifter and more astonishing than he had hoped for. A concerted gasp swept through the crowd. The two giant guards released their captive and tumbled to their knees, and a great cry shook the temple. Ramey's eyebrows lifted; he tossed a swift query over his shoulder. "I struck pay dirt that time! What are they saying, Sheila?"
And apparently from the lips of the idol—for Ramey saw now that it was a gigantic, hideously leering statue in which they had hidden—came the answer.
"They're hailing you as a god, Ramey! And they are crying out in fear because that thing you're carrying is the Bow of—of Rudra!"
Now the slave girl, whimpering prayerful entreaties, slipped from the two who held her and threw herself at Ramey Winters' feet. It was swell stuff. Very godlike, flattering stuff. But also very embarrassing. Ramey touched the girl's shoulder, disturbed to find that she was trembling violently, gently lifted her and turned to Barrett.
"Take care of her, Red. Maybe these overstuffed guys will try to make another pass at her."