Chapter XXI: Further Surprises

As the elevator thus came to a standstill the scout and those with him dimly saw in the gloom an open door.

As explained, the elevator was nothing but a framework of decaying wood, hence it was plain that this door was in the wall of the elevator well.

Buffalo Bill, unhesitating, struck another match, while his companions were variously expressing their astonishment. Its light showed that the door opened into a small, square room, which, except for that light, was perfectly dark. The only door it had was the one entering from the elevator.

Not without some hesitation did the scout step forth into this room. As the light of the match flamed higher he beheld a sight which called another exclamation from his lips.

An Indian sat in a crouched attitude in a corner.

Lawler saw the Indian at the same instant, and Buffalo Bill heard the clicking of the boy’s revolver.

“Don’t shoot!” was the scout’s warning, and he thrust the match down toward the Indian. “He is dead!”

The match went out, and it was necessary to ignite another before further examinations could be made.

Then they discovered that the Indian was not only dead, but that he was, in fact, a mummy, but so well preserved that he was not like the dried-up specimens of Indian mummies usually seen. He had the appearance of an Indian who had been not long dead.

In his mouth, projecting from between his teeth, he held a queer-looking flat stone. The scout flashed upon it the fight of the match, and saw that the stone held written characters, or what appeared to be written characters.

“See here, professor!” he said, and Bounderby came forward, trying hard to suppress any manifestation of his really great excitement. “There is something written on this stone, professor; it seems to be a message, or a letter, or, perhaps, instructions. I should guess instructions. But it’s in a writing I never saw before.”

Professor Bounderby gravely produced his eyeglasses, strung them across his nose, and bent to look at the flat stone projecting from between the lips of the mummy.

“It’s only visible in part,” he urged. “I——”

The scout took hold of the stone, and it came away easily. It was flat and round and covered on both sides with what seemed to be figures, or writing in hieroglyphics.

“Can you make it out, professor? It’s beyond me, I confess.”

All stared at Bounderby, and at the stone which the scout placed in his hands.

“It’s Aztec,” Bounderby declared, when he had looked it over. The professor was guessing, for he really did not know what it was; but as his scholarly ability seemed to be at stake, he said “Aztec.” Perhaps he was correct.

“It’s certainly Aztec, Cody, Aztec picture-writing; but I can’t read it.”

Butler and Lawler were looking around.

“That image above, you know, pointed to a wooden plug, and that showed us how to make the elevator descend. There’s another plug like it over there—somewhat like it, anyhow.”

It was Butler who spoke. He gave this wooden pin a pull, as the scout had done the other, with a result as startling. With a jerk and a wheezing grind, the elevator began to ascend.

Fritz Henselman, who had lingered in the doorway, gave a squeal of fright, and came plunging into the room, with a jump such as a bullfrog might have made; he had come near getting squeezed by the elevator, as it shot up past the doorway.

The match that had been flaming in the scout’s fingers went out, plunging the room into darkness. All stood in silence, hearing that grinding roar as the elevator ascended. They heard, also, the chugging sound it made as it stopped. The silence that followed was oppressive.

It was broken by Henselman.

“Brofessor, ve are all dead alretty yet! Der elefator has lefd us! Vot shall ve do?”

The elevator had left them, they were inclosed in that small room, with their only apparent avenue of escape the elevator well.

Lieutenant Butler struck a match with hands that trembled.

“That was my fault,” he said. “I was too confident—too positive. I thought if I pulled that plug we might descend again here; in other words, I foolishly thought this room was also an elevator. Instead of that, the elevator which brought us here was sent back by my act.”

The scout likewise struck a match, and Lawler did the same.

With these matches burning, the room was plainly revealed. The door opened into the elevator well, but when this was inspected it was seen how impossible it was to climb out of it without ropes. The elevator worked up and down in a rough wooden frame, but this frame could not be ascended. Apparently the party was immured in that room of stone under the ground.

“Some one may use the elevator and come down here,” suggested young Lawler. “If that should happen, we’d make him take us out of this.”

Lieutenant Butler continued to inspect the well of the elevator, still hoping it could be ascended, while Buffalo Bill was looking around the room in which they were imprisoned. Bounderby was beginning to show the terror he had so long and successfully concealed. His face was white and drawn, and his form trembled. As for Fritz Henselman, he had never made any pretense of bravery, and had now given way to a great fright.

“Brofessor, ve iss all dead men!” he continued to declare, with much monotony.

Professor Bounderby began again to study the stone taken from the mouth of the mummy. He was hoping to guess from the looks of the characters on it what it said; for he, as well as the scout, was convinced that the stone held the secret.

Staring at the stone, and then at the dark face of the mummy, the professor, perhaps to bolster up his courage, and certainly to make the others think him courageous, began to apostrophize the mummy.

“Thou lump of human clay, lifeless these hundreds of years, tell us the meaning of this! What secret dost thou hold in that heart of dust? What words of life and freedom are concealed behind those cracking lips? Out with it! Spell us the message on this page of stone!”

Buffalo Bill had made a round of the small room, without the discovery of anything that gave hope. There was no other wooden pin, no suggestive projection, nothing that hinted of a way out.

“Yield up thy secret!” the professor adjured the stony-faced mummy.

“Perhaps there is something hidden in the rags of raiment which clothe him,” the scout ventured.

There was a tattered blanket of Indian weave, some coarse-fibered mummy-cloth, together with a sort of cape of matting laid over the mummy’s shoulders.

Buffalo Bill stooped to lift this matting, and, in doing so, unintentionally drew the mummy toward him. It pitched forward on its face, and behind it was a hole.

It will be recalled that it sat in a crouching attitude in a corner of the room. In that corner was a niche which it had filled, and that niche, or hole, was undoubtedly a door.

Bounderby’s mouth dropped open, so great was his astonishment. He was for the moment so surprised that he had not a word he could say; which was remarkable, as he usually had altogether too many words for every occasion. The scout uttered an exclamation of amazement.

“What is it?” cried Lawler and Lieutenant Butler in a breath.

“A way out!” said the scout, his voice shaking with the tremendous significance of his discovery.

Both Lawler and Butler rushed to see, and stared into that black hole.

The scout pitched his flaming match down into it. He thought he was to be forced to regret this, for a flame shot upward, and this flame licked into the little room, which began to fill with smoke. But the flame began to die down almost at once. Then the excited discoverers found that the match had fallen upon some mummy-cloth, which had dropped from the back of the mummy into the open space that lay behind that little nichelike door.

“There is a good draft here,” said the scout, as he watched the smoke. “And that proves one thing. Air comes through that little hole, feeding the fire, and goes up the elevator shaft, as up a chimney. That shows there is a way out, or, at least, a way for the air to get in.”

Henselman staggered to his feet.

“Dere iss a vay oudt?” he screeched.

“I think so; we’re hoping so.”

Henselman pushed the scout aside, and poked his head into the small hole. But the fire flamed up again, scorching his face and hair, and he tumbled back.

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