“Overtake him and force him to go back,” he told himself. “If—”
He hoped his fears were unfounded.
He came to the entrance of the great underground lake chamber, had passed it in safety and was skirting the shore of the lake, which was recovering from a great agitation, when the earth shudder began again.
Battling against the dizziness that seemed about to overcome him, stumbling, all but falling, he had fought his way forward until at last the great bulk of the black man stood out before him. Then, as the very universe appeared to reel, a great tidal wave from the lake came sweeping over him.
Strangely enough, at that moment there came into his mind a picture of his grandfather’s face. He thought of the water-proof package and the precious negative, and gripped them tight.
The tidal wave receded. It did not return. He found himself once more on solid ground and close by, not twenty yards away, was the black and his young master. This last onslaught had been too much for the giant native. His knees had given way beneath him and he had slumped to earth, murmuring incoherent things about the earth god of the Mayas.
As for Pant and Kirk, they knew no fear of Maya gods. They waited, and as they stood there they felt the rude shocks no more. The surface of the lake was again as placid as a pond beneath a silvery moon.
They made their way forward in silence until, with a little thrill of joy, the younger boy gripped his companion’s arm as he cried:
“See! The light! The light of the moon!” It was true. They had reached the entrance. A moment more and they were sitting in the shadows beneath the palms.
“See!” said Kirk at last, drawing from his pocket an object that gleamed in the sunlight. “A message from out the past.”