“Follow me,” he whispered. “And take your shoes off, Schnitzenhauser. It wouldn’t be a bad idea if all of you removed your shoes. We’ve got to be silent as death itself, for if these Toltecs woke up to what’s happening, not one of us would live ten minutes. There’s a guard in front of the prison, but none out by that boiling lake. Even those guards are ignorant of this secret door. Now, follow me.”
They heard him fumbling along the wall and were sure he was searching for the hidden spring which moved the door.
“The horses were left out on the plain, for pasturage,” he said, as if this were an afterthought, “so that my Indian had no trouble in placing them where I told him to. The worst trouble was with the child. I had to steal the kid out from under the nose of one of the temple priests, and give him into the hands of the Indian. That was as hard a thing to do as anything that is before us.”
The hidden spring clicked under his fingers.
The scout and his companions were anxious to interrupt, to tell him how grateful they were, and beg his pardon for any wrong they had done by misjudging him, but his manner and the tones of his voice, as well as his direct warnings, kept them silent.
They heard the secret door spring open almost noiselessly.
“Follow me!” Conover repeated. “And step carefully. There is a flight of stone steps here. Just follow my voice.”
He stepped aside, waiting until they had filed silently out of the marble prison; then they heard the snap of the spring of the secret door, as it moved back into place.
After that he put himself at their head, and, by whispering to them, directed them where and how to step in order to follow him safely.
They felt the warm mist of the boiling lake on their faces and in their nostrils as they descended the flight of steps toward it, and puffs of hot steam were blown in their faces as they followed Conover in the darkness along the narrow path skirting the lake. Below they could hear its bubbling, like the sputtering of some giant teakettle.