As the night advanced the two girls continued to talk, in low and
subdued voices because of their anxiety and growing fears. They kept the
candles trimmed, for the light lent them courage. They were not hungry,
although they had eaten nothing since noon, but they were beginning to
suffer from thirst.
The baby wakened with shrill screams and the only way to quiet her was
to give her the bottle, which was now less than a third full. Mildred
was in a quandary whether to withhold the remainder of the food from
little Jane, so as to prolong her life as much as possible, or to allow
the baby to eat what she desired, as long as any of the food remained.
She finally decided on the latter course, hoping the morning would bring
some one to their rescue.
After the little one was again hushed in slumber and cuddled in warm
blankets on a seat beside them, the two imprisoned girls renewed their
desultory conversation. They realized it must be long after midnight but
Mildred avoided looking at her watch because that made the minutes drag
so slowly.
Finally a dull sound from the other side of the wall reached their ears.
It seemed that some one was pounding upon the adobe. Both girls sprang
to their feet in excitement, their heads bent to listen. The pounding
was not repeated but a voice was heard—a far-away voice—as of one
calling.
Mildred answered the cry, at the top of her lungs, and immediately Inez
followed with a shrill scream that roused a thousand echoes in the
hidden passage. And now Toodlums joined the chorus, startled from her
sleep and terrified by the riot of sound.
They tried to listen, but the baby’s cries prevented anything else from
being heard, so they devoted themselves to quieting little Jane. It took
some time to do this, for the sobbing infant was thoroughly frightened,
but finally Inez succeeded in comforting her and the bottle of precious
milk was sacrificed to put baby to sleep again.
By this time the sounds on the other side of the wall had ceased; but
the girls were now full of eager hope, believing they had succeeded in
letting their friends know they were imprisoned in the wall.
Within the hour more dull pounding began and this continued so regularly
that Mildred told Inez the rescuers were surely trying to break through
the adobe. They listened alertly to each blow and for a time forgot both
thirst and fatigue in the excitement of the moment. Daybreak was near,
for already a gray light was creeping in through the gratings overhead.
Suddenly a crash like a thunder-clap resounded from the end of the
passage. From the gloomy recess behind the couch a man’s form appeared,
struck the bed, was rebounded by the springs into the air, turned a
complete somersault and landed on the floor of the passage in a sitting
position, facing the two startled nurses.
He did not seem to be hurt, but was evidently bewildered. He glared in
amazement at the girls and they glared in amazement at him. Then,
slowly, he turned his eyes to view his surroundings and blinked stupidly
at the candles, the antique carved furniture, the baby bundled upon a
cushioned seat and finally rested his eyes again upon the faces of the
nurses.
“Why, it is Señor Bul-Run!” cried Inez, clapping her hands with joy. “He
have come to save us.”
“Pardon me,” said the man, in a rather quavering falsetto, “I’m not sure
whether I’ve come to save you or to share your peril. Where am I,
please?”
“It is the hollow of the wall, sir,” replied Mildred, who had never seen
the big fellow before. “It is the secret apartment constructed by Señor
Cristoval, who built this house.”
“Well,” said he, slowly getting upon his feet and with another curious
glance around, “I can’t say that I consider it a desirable place of
residence. Certainly it’s no place for our precious Toodlums,” and he
bent over the sleeping babe and tenderly kissed its forehead. Then,
straightening up, he said in as determined a tone as his high voice
would permit: “We must find a way to get out of here!”
“Can’t you get out the same way you got in?” asked Mildred.
He looked at her in perplexed astonishment.
“How did I get in?” he inquired.
“Don’t you know?”
“I’ve no idea. I was sitting in the window of the blue room, resting,
when there was a bang, whirligig, fireworks—and here I am, your
uninvited guest.”
“The blue room!” cried Mildred.
“Yes. Did you happen to notice my arrival? I don’t mean its lack of
dignity, but the direction I came from?”
“You came from somewhere behind that bed. I saw you strike the mattress
and—and bound up again.”
“To be sure. I remember bounding up again. I—I didn’t care to stop, you
see. I was anxious to—to—see if baby Jane was all right.”
Mildred could not repress a smile, while Inez giggled openly.
“However,” continued the big man, good-humoredly, “the direction affords
us a clew. Pardon my absence for a moment while I investigate.”
He took one of the candles, cautiously made his way over the couch and
stood upon the oak chest at the end of the narrow chamber. Here he was
able to examine the heavy planking set in the adobe, through which he
had doubtless made his appearance but which now appeared as solid and
immovable as the wall itself.
Runyon’s first act was to pass the light of the candle carefully over
every joint and edge, with the idea of discovering a spring or hinge.
But no such thing seemed to exist. Then he took out his big jackknife
and began prying. When a blade snapped he opened another, only to break
it in his vain twisting and jabbing. Finally he threw the now useless
knife from him and began pounding with his fists upon the planking, at
the same time shouting with the best voice he could muster. Perhaps the
pounding might have been heard had not his friends at that moment been
seeking for his mangled form in the garden, among the rose vines.
After listening in vain for a reply, Runyon came back to the girls,
saying:
“This is certainly a singular occurrence. I came in as easily as I ever
did anything in my life, I assure you; but the way out is not so easy.
However, we won’t have to endure this confinement long, for the boys are
breaking down the wall in two places.”
Then, in reply to their anxious questioning, he related the incidents of
the night: how the discovery was made that Toodlums and her two nurses
were missing; of the search throughout the country in automobiles; how
the major had heard the “ghost” of baby Jane, which had given them their
first intimation of the truth, and of the desperate and vain attempts
made to get into the secret chamber.
Mildred, in return, explained the accident that had led to their
imprisonment and of their failure to find any means of escape.
“There must be a way out, of course,” she added, “for Señor Cristoval
would never invent such clever and complicated ways of getting into this
hollow wall without inventing other means of getting out.”
“True enough,” agreed Runyon; “but I can’t see why he thought it
necessary to make the means of getting _out_ a secret. These rooms were
probably built as hiding-places, and there are at least two separate
entrances. But whoever hid here should be master of the situation and
have no difficulty in escaping when the danger was over.”
“Unless,” said Mildred, thoughtfully, “the rooms were also intended as a
prison.”
“Well, perhaps that is it,” said the man. “Old Cristoval may have
thought the occasion would arise when he would like to keep one or more
prisoners here, so he concealed the exits as carefully as the entrances.
Let us admit, young ladies, that it’s a first-class prison. But,” his
tone changing to one of kindly concern, “how have you stood this ordeal?
You must be worn out with anxiety, and desperately hungry, too.”
As he gazed into Mildred’s face it occurred to him, for the first time,
that Jane’s new nurse was an interesting girl. She was not exactly
beautiful, but—attractive. Indeed, at that moment Mildred was at her
best, despite the night’s vigil. The hard, defiant look had left her
eyes for the first time in years, driven out by a train of exciting
events that had led her to forget herself and her rebellion against
fate, at least for the time being.
“We are not very hungry,” she said, smiling at the big, boyish rancher,
“but we are thirsty. I’d give anything for a good drink of water. And
baby is now devouring the last few drops of her prepared food. When it
is gone there is nothing here that she can eat.”
“Well,” said he, spurred to action by this report, “I’m going to explore
this place carefully, for if we can manage to find a way out it will
save Weldon and his men from ruining that wall, and also save time, for
the blamed adobe is so hard and thick that it will still require hours
for them to make a hole big enough to get us out.”