The gruesome tragedy depressed all of us, and I am certain we were relieved when the immediate turn in the tunnel shut off from our view the stone monster, then in the very act of elevating his two dreadful paws and leering at us, I could swear, with living malignancy for the desecration of his features.
We had not proceeded far along the passageway when it became evident that our enemies were waiting for us.
The first indication was the different character of the air. It seemed closer, and not to have any movement. The thought at once leapt into our minds that very likely the entrance by the water-hole had been blocked.
As time passed and we worked our way up the rather steep incline, there could be no doubt about the situation. The thought was a terrifying one, and we pressed on, eager to know the worst.
When finally we stood at the end of the tunnel there was not a ray of light from above. Wedged midway of the stair, reposed two of the cuneiform stones that had first attracted my attention. Apparently quantities of sand had been shoveled into the hole, for much of the fine stuff had trickled on down the steps almost to our feet.
Use of dynamite in that narrow way was, of course, out of the question; imprisoned in the tunnel, we could not possibly live through the blast. Hardy, therefore, set to work promptly to dislodge the stone. This was dangerous for the reason that it was literally suspended over him as he labored and if suddenly released it meant an avalanche that would be certain to destroy him who stood beneath.
The problem was cleverly solved by Hardy, who ascertained the location of the “key” strain. He proceeded by inserting immediately above this spot one foot of the golden statue we had lugged with us. Surely it was sacrilege to use that triumph of the goldsmith’s art as a crowbar!
But the statue nevertheless was effective as an instrument, as Hardy attached a rope around the bust which projected to within ten feet of the tunnel; and from this point of comparative safety the men put their full weight on the rope. There followed a moment of intense strain, the golden figure, of none too stiff an alloy, appeared to bend—and then it came, a perfect welter of flying sand and debris that left us gasping.
In a few minutes this cleared, and we could see Hardy grinning at us through the blessed daylight that poured down that stairway once more.