The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “All right, I’m with you.”

  But they did not try that plan. For in the middle of the night Ned suddenly awakened. Something had come to him in his sleep.

  “Tom! Tom!” he cried. “I have it! What chumps we were!”

  “What’s the matter, old man?” asked Tom anxiously. “Are you sick—talking in your sleep?”

  “Sleep nothing! I’ve just thought of it. That tunnel entrance is inside the temple. That’s the most natural place in the world for it. I’ll bet it’s right in the middle of the big inner chamber, where the priests could control it. Why didn’t we look there before?”

  “That’s right; why didn’t we?” agreed Tom. “I believe you’re right, Ned! We’ll look the first thing in the morning.”

  They did not wait for breakfast before trying the experiment, and Mr. Damon and Eradicate went with Tom and Ned. It was no easy work to make their way over the ruins to the inner auditorium. Wreckage and ruin was all around, and they had to avoid the yawning holes on every side. But when they got to the main, or sacrificial chamber, as Ned insisted on calling it, they found the floor there solid. In the centre was a great altar, but to their chagrin there was not a sign of a tunnel opening.

  “Fooled again!” said Tom bitterly.

  “Maybe some of those holes outside is the entrance,” suggested Mr. Damon.

  “I don’t believe so,” objected Tom. “They seemed to go only to the cellar, if a temple has such a thing.”

  Bitterly disappointed, Tom strolled over and stood in front of the big stone altar. It seemed that he must give up the search. Idly he looked at the sacrificial stone. Projecting from it was a sort of a bundle.

  Tom took hold of it, and to his surprise he found that it could be moved. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he pulled it toward him.

  The next instant he uttered a cry of horror, for the immense stone altar, with a dull rumbling, rolled back as though on wheels, and there, over where it had stood was a hole of yawning blackness, with a flight of stone steps leading down into it. And Tom stood so near the edge that he almost toppled in.

  “Look! Look!” he cried when he could get his gasping breath, and step back out of danger.

  “The tunnel entrance!” cried Ned. “That’s what it is! You’ve found it, Tom! The entrance to the city of gold at last!”

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE UNDERGROUND RIVER

  They gathered around the opening so unexpectedly disclosed to them, and stared down into the black depths. Beyond the first few steps of the flight that led to they knew not where, nothing could be seen. In his impatience Tom was about to go down.

  “Bless my match box!” cried Mr. Damon. “What are you going to do, Tom, my boy?”

  “Go down there, of course! What else? I want to get to the underground city.”

  “Don’t!” quickly advised the odd man. “You don’t know what’s there. It may be a trap, where the old Aztecs used to throw their victims. There may be worse things than bats there. You’ll need torches—lights—and you’d better wait until the air clears. It may have been centuries since that place was opened.”

  “I believe that’s right,” agreed Ned. “Whew; Smell it! It’s as musty as time!”

  An unpleasant odor came up the tunnel entrance, and it was stifling to stand too close. Tom lighted a match and threw it down. Almost instantly the flame was snuffed out.

  “We couldn’t live down there a minute,” said the young inventor. “We’ve got to wait for it to clear. We’ll go back to the balloon and get some electric flash lamps. I brought along a lot of ’em, with extra strong batteries. I thought we’d need some if we did find the city of gold, and it looks as if we were almost there now.”

  Tom’s plan was voted good so they hurried out of the temple, their feet echoing and re-echoing over the stone floor. The place, ruined and desolate as it was, had no terrors for them now. In fact they were glad of the very loneliness, and Tom and Ned actually looked about apprehensively as they emerged, fearing they might see a sign of the Mexicans or the Fogers.

  “Guess they can’t pick up our trail,” said Tom, when, he saw of what Ned was thinking.

  “No, we’ve got the place to ourselves. I wonder how long it will take for the air to get fresh?”

  “Not so very long, I guess. There was a good draught. There must be some opening in the underground city by which the air is sucked in. They’d never have only one opening to it. But we don’t need to look for the other. Come on, we’ll get out the torches.”

  These electrical contrivances are familiar to all boys. A small electric lamp is set in the end of a hollow tube of tin, and about the lamp is a reflector. Dry electrical batteries are put in the tin tube, and by means of a push button the circuit is closed, illuminating the lamp, which gives a brilliant glow. Tom had a special kind of lamp, with tungsten filaments, which gave a very powerful light, and with batteries designed to last a long time. A clip on the spring controlling the push button made it so that the lamp could be made to give a steady glow. Thus they were well prepared for exploring the tunnel.

  It took some little time to get the flash lamps ready, and when they were all charged and they had eaten, they went back to the opening to see if the air had cleared. Tom tested it by dropping a match down, and, to his delight it burned with a clear flame.

  “It’s all right!” he exclaimed. “The air is pure. Now to see where we will bring up. Come on, everybody.”

  “Jest one minute, Massa Tom,” begged Eradicate, as the young inventor was about to descend the steps, which even the brightness of his lamp did not disclose the end. “Is yo’ gwine down dar, Massa Tom?”

  “Certainly, Rad.”

  “An’ is yo’—’scuse me—but is yo’ expectin’ me fo’ t’ follow yo’?”

  “Certainly, Rad.”

  “Den, all I’s got t’ say is dat yo’ is ’spectin’ too much. I ain’t gwine t’ bury mahse’f alive not yit.”

  “But, Rad, this is where the gold images are. If you don’t come down with us you won’t get any gold.”

  “Am dat so? No gold?” The colored man scratched his head. “Well, I shore does want gold,” he murmured. “I reckon I’d better trot along. But one thing mo’, Massa Tom.”

  “What is it, Rad?”

  “Was yo’ all aimin’ t’ stay down thar any length ob time? ’Case if yo’ is yo’ all’d better take along a snack ob suffin’ t’ eat. ’Case when I gits among gold I don’t want t’ come out very soon, an’ we might stay dar all day.”

  “Good advice, Rad,” exclaimed Ned with a laugh. “I think we may get hungry. You go back and put us up a lunch. We’ll wait for you.”

  “Bless my napkin ring! I think you’re right!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, and Eradicate hurried back to the balloon to get some of the condensed food.

  He was soon back and then, with Tom in the lead, and with everyone carrying an electric torch, with a spare one in reserve, and with their weapons in readiness the party descended the stone steps.

  Their footfalls echoed solemnly as they went down—down into the unknown blackness. They kept their bright lights playing here and there, but even these did not dispell the gloom. On every side was stone—stone walls—stone steps. It was like going down into some vast stretch of catacombs.

  “Say, will we ever get to the bottom?” asked Ned, when they had counted several hundred steps. “Maybe this goes down to the middle of the earth.”

  “Well, ef it do I’m gwine right along!” called Eradicate. “I’s gwine t’ hab one ob dem gold images or bust!”

  “And I’m with you!” cried Tom. “We’ll have to get to the bottom sooner or later.”

  Hardly had he spoken than he came to the last step, and saw stretching off before him a long tunnel, straight and level, lined on both sides, and bottom, with smooth stones that gleamed like marble.

  “Now we are really in the tunnel,” declared Ned. “I wonder what’s at the end?”

  “The city of
gold, of course,” answered Tom confidently.

  Eagerly they hurried on. There was a slightly musty smell to the air, but it was fresher than might have been expected.

  Suddenly Tom, who was in advance, uttered a cry. It sounded like one of alarm, and Ned yelled:

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Look here!” cried Tom. They hurried up to him, to find him standing before a sort of niche in the wall. And the niche was lined with a yellow metal that gleamed like gold, while in it was one of the golden images, the second one they had seen, and the third they heard about.

  “We’re on the trail! We’re on the trail!” cried Tom.

  “Heah! Let me hab dat!” cried Eradicate. “I may not git anudder,” and he reached up for the statue.

  “Let it stay until we come back,” suggested Mr. Damon.

  “Somebody might take it,” said the colored man.

  “Who?” laughed Tom. “There’s not a soul here but ourselves. But take it, if you want it, Rad,” and Eradicate did so, stuffing the image, which was only about four inches high, into his pocket.

  Then they went on, and they saw several other images, though not of gold. Several niches were lined with yellow metal, but whether it was gold or not they could not tell. They did not want to stop, as they were anxious to get to the underground city.

  “Hark! What’s that?” asked Tom, when they had gone about a mile along the tunnel. “Don’t you hear something?”

  “Sounds like a roaring,” agreed Ned. “Maybe it’s more of the bats.”

  “Doesn’t sound like bats,” declared Tom. “It’s more like a waterfall. Come on.”

  They hurried forward, the strange sound increasing at every step, until it filled the tunnel with its menacing roar.

  “That’s strange,” said Tom in worried tones. “I hope we don’t come to a waterfall.”

  Suddenly the tunnel made a turn, and as they went around the curve in the wall the sound smote on their ears with increased violence. Tom raced forward, focusing his electric lamp down on the stone corridor. The next instant he cried out:

  “A river! It’s an underground river and we can’t go any further! We’re blocked!”

  The others came to his side, and there, in the glare of their lamps, they saw rushing along, between two walls of stone, a dark stream which caused the roaring sound that had come to them. The tunnel was cut squarely in two by the stream, which was at least thirty feet wide, and how deep they could only guess. Swiftly it flowed on, its roar filling the tunnel.

  CHAPTER XX

  THE CITY OF GOLD

  “Well, I guess this is the end of it,” remarked Ned ruefully, as they stood contemplating the roaring stream by the gleam of their electric flash lamps. “We can’t go on to the city of gold unless we swim that river, and—”

  “And none of us is going to try that!” interrupted Tom sharply. “The strongest swimmer in the world couldn’t make a yard against that current. He’d be carried down, no one knows where.”

  “Bless my bathing suit, yes!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “But what are we to do? Can’t we make a raft, or get a boat, or something like that?”

  “Hab t’ be a mighty pow’ful boat t’ git across dat ribber ob Jordan,” spoke Eradicate solemnly.

  “That’s right,” agreed Ned. “But say, Tom, don’t you think we could go back, get a lot of trees, wood and stuff and make some sort of a bridge? It isn’t so very wide—not more than thirty or forty feet. We ought to be able to bridge it.”

  “I’m afraid not,” and Tom shook his head. “In the first place any trees that would be long enough are away at the far edge of the big plain, and we’d have a hard job getting them to the temple, to say nothing of lugging them down the tunnel. Then, too, we don’t know much about building a bridge, and with no one on the other side to help us, we’d have our hands full. One slip and we might be all drowned. No, I guess we’ve got to go back,” and Tom spoke regretfully. “It’s hard luck, but we’ve got to give up and go back.”

  “Den I’s pow’ful glad I got ma golden image when I did, dat’s suah!” exclaimed Eradicate. “Ef we doan’t git no mo’ I’ll hab one. But I’ll sell it and whack up wid yo’ all, Massa Tom.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort, Rad!” exclaimed the young inventor. “That image is yours, and I’m sorry we can’t get more of them.”

  He turned aside, and after another glance at the black underground river which flowed along so relentlessly he prepared to retrace his steps along the tunnel.

  “Say, look here!” suddenly exclaimed Ned. “I’m not so sure, after all that we’ve got to turn back. I think we can go on to the city of gold, after all.”

  “How do you mean?” asked Tom quickly. “Do you think we can bring the balloon down here and float across?”

  “Bless my watch chain!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, “but that would be a way. I wonder—”

  “No, I don’t mean that way at all,” went on Ned. “But it seems to me as if this river isn’t a natural one—I mean that it flows along banks of smooth stone, just as if they were cut for it, a canal you know.”

  “That’s right,” said Tom, as he looked at the edge of the channel of the underground stream. “These stones are cut as cleanly as the rest of the tunnel. Whoever built that must have made a regular channel for this river to flow in. And it’s square on the other side, too,” he added, flashing his lamp across.

  “Then don’t you see,” continued Ned, “that this river hasn’t always been here.”

  “Bless my gaiters!” gasped Mr. Damon, “what does he mean? The river not always been here?”

  “No,” proceeded Tom’s chum. “For the ancients couldn’t have cut the channel out of stone, or made it by cementing separate stones together while the water was here. The channel must have been dry at one time, and when it was finished they turned the water in it.”

  “But how is that going to help us?” asked Tom. “I grant you that the river may not have been here at one time, but it’s here now, which makes it all the worse for us.”

  “But, Tom!” cried his chum, “if the river was turned aside from this channel once it can be done again. My notion is that the ancients could make the river flow here or not, just as they choose. Probably they turned it into this channel to keep their enemies from crossing to the city of gold, like the ancient moats. Now if we could only find—”

  “I see! I see!” cried Tom enthusiastically. “You mean there must be some way of shutting off the water.”

  “Exactly,” replied his chum. “We’ve got to shut that stream of water off, or turn it into some other channel, then we can cross, and keep on to the city of gold. And I think there must be some valve—some lever, or handle or something similar to the one that moved the altar-near here that does the trick. Let’s all look for it.”

  “Bless my chopping block!” cried Mr. Damon. “That’s the strangest thing I ever heard of! But I believe you’re right, Ned. We’ll look for the handle to the river,” and he laughed gaily.

  Every one was in better spirits, now that there seemed a way out of the difficulty, and a moment later they were eagerly flashing their lamps on the sides, floor and ceiling of the tunnel, to discover the means of shutting off the water. At first they feared that, after all, Ned’s ingenious theory was not to be confirmed. The walls, ceiling and floor were as smooth near the edge of the river as elsewhere.

  But Eradicate, who was searching as eagerly as the others, went back a little, flashing his lamp on every square of stone. Suddenly he uttered a cry.

  “Look yeah, Massa Tom! Heah’s suffin’ dat looks laik a big door knob. Maybe yo’ kin push it or pull it.”

  They rushed to where he was standing in front of a niche similar to the one where he had found the golden image. Sunken in the wall was a round black stone. For a moment Tom looked at it, and then he said solemnly:

  “Well, here goes. It may shut off the water, or it may make it rise higher and drown us all, or the whole tunnel
may cave in, but I’m going to risk it. Hold hard, everybody!”

  Slowly Tom put forth his hand and pushed the knob of stone. It did not move. Then he pulled it. The result was the same—nothing.

  “Guess it doesn’t work any more,” he said in a low tone.

  “Twist it!” cried Ned. “Twist it like a door knob.”

  In a flash Tom did so. For a moment no result was apparent, then, from somewhere far off, there sounded a low rumble, above the roar of the black stream.

  “Something happened!” cried Mr. Damon.

  “Back to the river!” shouted Tom, for they were some distance away from it now. “If it’s rising we may have a chance to escape.”

  They hurried to the edge of the stone channel, and Ned uttered a cry of delight.

  “It’s going down!” he yelled, capering about. “Now we can go on!”

  And, surely enough, the river was falling rapidly. It no longer roared, and it was flowing more slowly.

  “The water is shut off,” remarked Tom,

  “Yes, and see, there are steps which lead across the channel,” spoke Ned, pointing to them as the receding water revealed them. “Everything is coming our way now.”

  In a short time the water was all out of the channel, and they could see that it was about twenty feet deep. Truly it would have been a formidable stream to attempt to swim over, but now it had completely vanished, merely a few little pools of water remaining in depressions on the bottom of the channel. There were steps leading down to the bottom, and other steps ascending on the other side, showing that the river was used as a barrier to further progress along the tunnel.

  “Forward!” cried Tom gaily, and they went on.

  They went down into the river channel, taking care not to slip on the wet steps, and a few seconds later they had again ascended to the tunnel, pressing eagerly on.

  Straight and true the tunnel ran through the darkness, the only illumination being their electric flash lamps. On and on they went, hoping every minute to reach their goal.

  “Dish suah am a mighty long tunnel,” remarked Eradicate. “Dey ought t’ hab a trolley line in yeah.”