THE UNDERGROUND PASSAGE
The scratching sound continued to come as the professor listened, and he
got up and bent his head close to the wall. It sounded to him as though
someone was scraping the rock wall on the other side of his cell, and he
was puzzled over the circumstance. There was a measure of hope in the
sound, perhaps the boys had arrived and were trying to break through to
him. But as he continued to think it over he realized that it could not
be so. The dungeon was deep in the earth and it would be impossible for
them to get down on a level with his cell. The only other thing he could
think of was that there was a prisoner in a cell next to his.
It might easily be possible that Sackett, in some of his other dishonest
games, had taken someone else prisoner and the man was trying to break
through to him. In that case it behooved the professor to try and help
whoever was coming through the wall of his dungeon. He took the cigar
lighter from his pocket, made it flash and then looked at his watch by
its brief blue flame. It was now one o’clock in the morning.
Continuing to make flashes the teacher watched the wall and after a time
found the rock upon which the unknown man was working. It was a large
block in the very center of the south wall, and under the soft blows of
the man on the other side it was already slightly loose. The professor
could see it move. He took out a knife which he had and began to pick at
the edges on his side, chipping carefully and as noiselessly as
possible. It was evident that the person on the other side knew that he
was helping for the scraping stopped abruptly but after a moment it was
resumed.
They worked on in silence, the professor listening for sounds from
upstairs, but none came. The men were evidently asleep or they had left
the place altogether, for he heard no movement and he was not
interrupted in his labors. He found that the soft and rotted material
between the stones was easy to dislodge, and his mysterious helper was
pushing as he worked, so that the huge stone was beginning to move
toward the cell of the professor. Only a fraction of an inch at a time,
but it was enough to give the teacher hope, and finally it was far
enough out to allow him to get the tips of his fingers under the rough
edge of the stone.
By working it back and forth the professor at length got it loose. It
came out with a rush, nearly bending him double with the unexpected
weight. At the same time a light flared in his eyes and he hastily
deposited the stone on the floor of his dungeon. When this was completed
he straightened up and confronted his companion.
It was Yappi, the mestizo. He held a torch of pitch wood in his one hand
and a keen knife in the other. He had evidently worked hard at the
stone, for his hands were dirty and so was his mouth and forehead,
showing that he had stopped more than once to wipe them with his dirty
hands. The professor was glad to see the man but more than astonished at
what he saw back of him. The ranchman was standing in a vaulted
underground passage, which ran back a distance that the professor could
not make out.
“Yappi!” cried the professor, in a low voice. “How did you get here?”
“I followed you, senor,” said the old man, simply. “It was somewhat hard
work, for my feet are not so swift to run as they once were. But when I
knew that they had carried you off to this castle I laughed inside, for
I knew this castle very well.”
In one sense Yappi was a mystery. He was an ordinary mixture of Spanish
and Indian, and yet not ordinary in other ways. He possessed a dignity
and his English was perfect. Ned Scott could never learn where he got
it. Except for rare periods when he became sulky or falsely sensitive he
was always steady and reliable. The professor had greatly misjudged him
when he had thought him a coward, and later on apologized, an apology
which was very graciously accepted.
“What is this underground passage?” whispered the professor eagerly,
forgetting his situation in his interest.
“It is as old as the castle, senor, and I have known of it since I was a
child. Many times I have played around these ruins. But come, we waste
time and must be going.”
The opening that the removal of the stone had made was not a big one and
the professor had a hard struggle to get out, in fact Yappi was
compelled to haul him through bodily. Of a necessity the professor
squirmed out and landed on his face, grumbling at the man who had made
him resort to so clumsy a method of action. Once in the passage he
looked around, finding that it was made of stone and arched overhead,
the entire height being about seven feet. Consequently they were not
compelled to bend over, and they hurried through the passage in comfort,
the ranchman in the lead.
“What was this passage ever made for?” the professor asked.
“I do not know, senor. It may be that once that room was not a dungeon,
or it may be—but who knows? Only I happened to know of the passage and
knew that they would put you in that cell, so I have been at work for
some hours on the stone.”
“I certainly appreciate your hard work, Yappi,” said the professor.
The mestizo made no reply. The professor noted that the passage was
sloping upward somewhat, and before long he felt cool fresh air on his
cheek. Near the entrance Yappi extinguished the torch by grinding it
under his heel and they proceeded in the darkness, until the mestizo
stopped and grasped his arm, pointing silently ahead.
The end of the passage was before them, and lounging there, a rifle in
his hands, was the mate Abel. They could make out the lines of his body
plainly as he stood near a mound, totally unconscious that he was within
five feet of a secret tunnel. The professor could see that the mouth of
the secret passage was screened in some dense bushes and that it curved
right up from the ground. But in spite of all their brilliant work Abel
suspected something, and for the time being at least they were halted.
They held a council of war right there, speaking in whispers. It was
evident that the mate had heard something or had the feeling that all
was not well, for he stood on his guard, the rifle held slightly
forward. Yappi was for rushing him and fighting it out, but the
professor opposed it firmly. The man was armed and Yappi was not, and
the ranchman was old and none too strong. Beside all that, the professor
had another thought.
He asked the old man if he had heard the bell tolling and the mestizo
replied that he had. Professor Scott then went on to tell him how it was
done, and to propose that he steal back and ring the bell, thus puzzling
the men and taking Abel away from his most inconvenient post. The
mestizo gravely approved of his plan and together they retraced their
steps until they came to the hole in the wall.
Knowing where the bell rope was even in the darkness the professor
insisted upon being the one to go back into the dungeon, so with Yappi’s
help he once more pushed and puffed his way through the hole. He landed
on the other side pretty well mussed up.
“Confound these fellows,” he growled inwardly. “I’ve lost several pounds
squirming in and out of these holes!”
He had regained his feet and was tiptoeing toward the bell rope when a
warning hiss from Yappi reached him. He turned toward the hole.
“What is it, Yappi?” he whispered.
“Come back! Light coming!”
Surely enough, at that moment a light flashed on the winding steps and
began to descend. The professor made a wild dive for the hole and then
stopped with a groan. It would take him several moments to worm his way
back into the passage, and already it was too late for that. Sackett was
coming down the stairs with the lantern, and he was now in plain sight
around the last turn.
For an instant the professor remained rooted to the spot as though
paralyzed. The leader of the gang was approaching the door, holding the
lantern before him, his eyes squinted more than usual as he tried to see
into the cell. Yappi had disappeared somewhere, and the professor felt
suddenly alone and miserable.
Sackett looked in the dungeon and his eyes fell on the block which had
been removed. With a snarling oath he saw the hole in the wall and
turned red and angry eyes on the professor. But the old teacher had
decided on his course of action.
Without fully realizing why he did it the professor stepped to the bell
rope and pulled it with all his strength. The bell in the tower pealed
out with a terrific clash, sending the tocsin booming out over the
mountain side. Sackett saw the move and a great light swept over him.
“So!” he shouted, above the clanging of the bell. “You’re the one who is
ringing that bell!”
Swinging the handle of the lantern over his arm he dived viciously into
his pocket for the key to the padlock. As he did so there was the sound
of running footsteps over his head and Abel’s voice reached them.
“That bell is ringing again, Sackett!” the mate cried, his voice showing
his alarm.
“Yes, and here is the bird that is ringing it!” roared the leader. “Get
down here right away, Abel! Where is Manuel?”
“He ran away, scared to death,” replied the mate.
“Get down here and help me choke this old one,” commanded Sackett,
thrusting the key into the padlock.
But Abel called down once more, and there was a new note in his voice.
“Never mind him, Squint! Get up here as fast as you can! Here come a
whole rescue party, with all them blasted kids in it!”
The professor gave the bell one last pull of triumph and then let the
rope go. Sackett hesitated for a moment, muttering savagely to himself
and holding onto the padlock and key. Then he turned and ran up the
steps, dashing the lantern against the wall in his hurry, causing the
glass to break and go tinkling down the stone steps.