第 23 页

The doomed little band waited in silence. Except for the pallor of their faces, they showed no sign of fear. Their revolvers were loaded and drawn, and they were ready for the final struggle.

Fanshawe stood between the boys with an arm rest ing affectionately on each.

"Five minutes more," said Bunbury, in a calm tone, "and that's a good limit."

The beads of perspiration on Arthur's forehead began to roll down into his eyes. He mechanically pulled out his handkerchief, and with it came the oval chunk of gold.

As the latter struck the hard floor, it burst in two, and a twisted bit of paper fell out.

What followed showed how men in the very shadow of death can be diverted by a trivial incident.

While the door was fast giving way under the attack, Bunbury picked up the two pieces of gold and exam ined them curiously.

"They are hollowed out and polished," he said. "Do you see how they shine? They must have formed a rude sort of a locket."

"There was something inside," cried Roden. "It looked like a crumpled wad of paper."

"Where is it?" said Arthur, beginning to search over the floor.

But Lucius Fanshawe had picked up the missing ob ject as soon as it fell. Already be had unrolled it, and was gazing at it in the light of the lamp with a puzzled expression on his face.

It appeared to be a bit of yellowish paper about four inches square, with faded marks scrawled upon it.

"A document?" exclaimed Bunbury, in a tone of wonder. "But no, that can't be — here in the heart of Africa."

"Nevertheless, it is a document," replied Fanshawe; "a parchment document, yellow with age. It contains a rude drawing or diagram. There was once writing in one corner, but it is illegible now. I can't even make out the language in which it was written."

He held the paper still closer to the light, wrinkling is brows with perplexity. Out in the corridor the enraged Karibegs continued to thunder and pound at the quivering door.

"What matters the secret of that bit of parchment at such a time?" muttered Bunbury. "The great secret will soon be revealed to us. The door can't holdout much longer."

He cocked his pistol, and took a step forward. Just then Fanshawe uttered a loud cry, and fell on his knees. His face was flushed, and his eyes rolled wildly. The parchment shook in his trembling hands.

"Thank God!" he said, hoarsely. "Oh! thank God for His wonderful mercy!"

"Poor fellow, the strain has affected his mind," muttered Bunbury. "He has gone daft."

* * *

Chapter XXXV

"What is it, father?" cried Roden. "What do you mean?"

Lucius Fanshawe rose to his feet, pale and trem bling.

"I mean that in all probability our lives are saved," he said, calmly. "The drawing on this parchment is the plan of a secret exit from the fort — an exit that will lead us to. freedom."

The boys uttered exclamations of joy, and Bunbury snatched the document greedily.

"Are you sure?" he demanded. "These lines are a tangled puzzle to me."

"But to me they represent the lower floor of the fort, every apartment of which I know well," replied Fanshawe, taking the paper back. "Look; this cross is in the center of the chamber nearest the water- passage, and it marks the beginning of the exit. Those winding lines show what is evidently a tunnel."

"God grant that you are right," exclaimed Bunbury. "The door is holding out better than I expected, but there is no time to lose if we would put your discovery to the test."

"We will start at once," replied Fanshawe, picking up the lamp. "Here is a supply of oil sufficient to last us for an hour at least."

He led his companions to the left-hand wall of the room, where was a small doorway which they had not observed before. They crept through into another and larger apartment, and in[st]antly stthe [sic] yelling and pounding of the cannibals faded to a low murmur.

Then they rapidly threaded four more rooms, con nected by mere slits in the walls.

"I don't want to put a damper on this hunt, comrades," said Bunbury, "but I must warn you not to feel too confident of escape. Remember that the document is hundreds of years old. In that time the secret exit may have vanished."

"True," admitted Fanshawe, "but it may also have lasted with the fort. Surely the guidance of Providence put that parchment into my hands. W e will hope for the best, and trust in God.

"Here we are at last," he added, as he and his companions entered a small apartment through a good- sized doorway. "This is a corner room, and the one designated on the plan."

A door that had once been massive and strong, but was now falling to pieces, swung half-open on one hinge.

Bunbury pushed it shut, and dropped its two bars into the sockets.

"It won't hold out long against an attack," he said; "but it may give us a valuable respite."

"The other door has not been broken in yet," exclaimed Arthur.

All listened for a moment, and they could plainly hear a dull, far-away pounding.

Then Fanshawe eagerly searched the floor, lamp in hand, and he quickly settled upon a block of masonry about two feet square. It was in the center of the room, and differed from the surrounding slabs in size and shape.

"If that's the stone, I don't see that we're any better off," muttered Bunbury. "There's no way to lift it or pry it up."

This seemed true, and for a moment the little group looked at one another in sadness and despair.

Fanshawe tapped the block with his heel, and it gave forth an unmistakably hollow sound.

"This is the right place," he cried. "The parchment has not deceived us. The secret passage begins here."

He, fell on his knees, and began to tear madly at the stone.

"You have pocket knives, my boys," he added. "No? Then you surely have one, Bunbury. Give it to, me."

Bunbury shook his head hopelessly, and Fanshawe uttered a groan of despair.

Suddenly Arthur dropped down beside his father, and eagerly examined a circular brownish spot that had just attracted his attention in the center of the gray stone.

He attacked it with his finger-nails, and it proved to be hard, crusted dirt.

He dug it out to the depth of several inches, and then he shouted with delight. He had uncovered a massive iron ring, corroded with rust!

"Hurrah! good for you, Arthur," cried Roden.

"The lad has saved us," exclaimed Bunbury.

"Yes, God be thanked!" said Fanshawe, in a fervent tone. "A score of times I have walked over this stone and never suspected its secret."

"No time to lose if we intend to take advantage of it," muttered Bunbury. "Out of the way lads."

He bent down, and thrust his revolver through the iron ring. Fanshawe took hold of the weapon with him, and after bracing themselves, they began to pull hard.

Arthur and Roden looked on in mute and terrible suspense. Their hearts leaped up into their throats at the thought that the ring might break.

For a moment there was no certain indication of success or failure. In spite of the desperate strength ex erted, the stone and the ring held fast.

Bunbury set his teeth hard, and great beads of perspiration rolled down Fanshawe's cheeks.

They pulled still harder, and suddenly the stone moved a little. It came slowly up, creaking and rasping, and all at once it flew clear out of its bed with a jerk that nearly upset the tuggers.

At the same instant the sorely-tried ring snapped, and the boys cried out with horror as the stone dropped back with a crash.

But it fell a little short of its original place, and as it was a very thin slab, Bunbury quickly lifted it in both hands, and dashed it to the floor with a violence that shattered it to fragments.

"Look! look!" he cried, pointing to the dark, square hole that now promised hope and safety to the well-nigh exhausted fugitives. A flight of narrow steps could be seen to vanish downward at a sharp angle.

"The fiends will soon be on our track," exclaimed Arthur, "and they will have a clear trail."

''It's a pity the stone is broken," Roden added. "What's the difference?" said Bunbury. "We couldn't have concealed our course by pulling the stone into place behind us. The cannibals would have ferreted us out just as readily."

"Yes, that's true," broke in Fanshawe. "Stick close now. I'm going down. Every second is of priceless value."

With the lamp held carefully in one hand, he de scended into the hole, followed by the others. They went down and down for fully thirty feet, and finally reached the bottom.

For a moment they looked curiously at their sur roundings. Straight ahead stretched a tunnel seven feet high and three feet wide. The floor and ceiling were of hard earth, and the walls of solid masonry.

The brief examination was cut short by a muffled crash and the sound of far away yelling. What this meant was too clear for doubt.

"The Karibegs have broken down the first door!" cried Bunbury.

"And they will soon be at the second," added Fanshawe. "Now is the time for rapid traveling. We must reach the open air, and seek shelter in the forest."

He plunged along the passage on a trot, and after running on for two or three minutes, he suddenly stopped and checked his companions.

"Something must be done," he said, hoarsely. "We are worn out and exhausted. The cannibals are fresh and fleet-footed. They are sure to overtake us in the tunnel, or track us in the open. We are lost unless ——"

"Unless what?" interrupted Bunbury. "I see no alternative. We are doomed."

"Unless we can insure our safety," went on Fanshawe. "I see a possible way. We are at least thirty feet underground. If we explode a bomb, what will be the effect?"

"A tremendous fall of earth will block the tunnel," replied Bunbury.

"And without injury to ourselves?"

"The chances are in our favor," was the dubious admission.

"And how about the cannibals?" pursued Fanshawe. "I don't want the responsibility of a wholesale slaughter."

"They are now hammering at the second door," Bunbury answered. It will hold out for two or three minutes. A bomb will explode in a minute and a half at most after it is lit."

"Then light it. It is our only chance, and we must take the consequences."

Bunbury looked at the boys. Their faces were pale, but they nodded him to go ahead.

He drew one of the bombs from his pocket, unscrewed the lid and touched a match to the fuse.

"Run!" he shouted, putting the canister gingerly on the floor.

Instantly the four were off, dashing like mad along the tunnel. In their fright the time seemed greatly magnified, but it was really scarcely a minute until the explosion came.

It was a tremendous and stunning shock. The lamp was blown out, but Fanshawe held fast to it as he reeled against the wall. Arthur was sent sprawling on the ground, and Bunbury and Roden tripped over him. No one was hurt. They struck matches and re-lit the lamp.

Then, with one impulse they hurried back over the little heaps of fallen rubbish to the scene of the explosion. It had succeeded beyond their expectations. The passage was completely choked by a solid mass of earth and rock.

"Safe, thank God!" cried Bunbury.

"Yes, we have been delivered from our enemies," said Fanshawe. "There is no longer any danger to be feared from behind."

All examined the drawing with a view to tracing the farther progress of the tunnel, but they could get no meaning out of the faint lines.

"I don't believe we have far to go," said Fanshawe. "The pure air proves that the passage has an exit. But we must lose no time, as the oil in the lamp may give out."

As they started forward again, Arthur, who had possessed himself of the parchment and the pieces of the rude gold locket, put them together, and tied them with a bit of cord.

"I'm going to keep this in memory of how we were saved," he said. "I'd like to know the history of it."

"That is a mystery beyond revelation," replied his father; "but no doubt the locket belonged to one of the strange people, who built the fort ages ago. Later on it came into the hands of the negro from whom you took it, and he reserved and wore it as an amulet."

The lamp continued to burn dimly, and by its yellow glow the fugitives pressed on through the tunnel.

* * *

Chapter XXXVI

They went as fast as their weary limbs would permit. With the prospect of almost certain freedom ahead, they cared little for hunger or exhaustion.

Already the horror of the night's bloody and tragic events had begun to wear off. It all seemed far away and unreal, except when they remembered Tombo.

The dimensions of the tunnel remained the same.

Its course was torturous, for it was constantly diverging to right or left.

The tooth of time had apparently made no impression on the walls. They had seen centuries roll by; they were good for centuries more.

It was a weird place, and it cast a spell upon the daring little band as they penetrated its winding shadows. They thought of the mysterious fort-builders who had trodden this same road ages before. They wondered who they were and when they had lived — whence they had come and gone.

"We have put at least a mile between us and the spot where the bomb was exploded," said Bunbury at length. "It's queer we don't reach the end. How is the lamp holding out?"

"I think it will burn for fifteen minutes yet," replied Fanshawe. "Hardly more than that."

"We won't need it that long," declared Roden. "That's my opinion, anyway. The air is purer and fresher than it was, and I can feel it drifting stronger against my face."

"Right, lad," said Bunbury. "I've noticed the same indications. I wonder where we'll strike the outer world?"

"That's hard to tell, since we've lost our bearings with all this twisting about," replied Fanshawe. "But it will certainly be outside of the mountains that encircle the village. It is a little more than midnight now, and we will probably have time to seek a safe shelter before daylight."