# The Glyphs/Chapter 11
### CHAPTER XI.

After long consideration, I am convinced that the three of us who stood at the foot of the idol that afternoon were possessed by three distinct incentives. Doctor Morgano desired nothing but knowledge of a very long-dead past, Wardrop was merely engaged in a curious adventure, and I, being neither archæologist nor millionaire but more of adventurer, craved wealth. True, I was profoundly interested in those long-dead peoples and their ways; but I thought I could study their history with far greater assurance of mind if removed from the necessity of wanting money in the very imminent future. I have read and heard of philosophers in garrets with empty stomachs, and let me admit here and now that I’m not built that way. I believe I think better when mine is full. I’m a strong, healthy, animal man with but little of that ethereal endowment upon which poets are said to thrive. Plainly, I wanted to find that treasure, and had come along way imbued with that hope.
“I’ll swear I can’t see anything at that blessed old god’s feet!” said Wardy, after studying the carved toes of the great god Icopan through his monocle, and strolling completely around him several times.
“Isn’t it possible that we have to dig under them?” I asked. “All I can discover are the stone blocks on which they rest and of which they appear to be a part, and then, beneath that, a rather badly designed mosaic.”
“That pattern of mosaic, my friend,” interjected the doctor sourly, “is probably symbolical. Its meaning is yet undisclosed; but these were a people who did not think as we do. Everything about such an edifice as this was a symbol, or utilitarian, or intended to preserve a secret.”
“All of which doesn’t help to find the chronicled keys,” I retorted, and Wardy grinned.
He moved to and fro beneath the frowning eyes of the god, while Doctor Morgano stalked here and there, presumably seeking inscriptions. Nonplused and disappointed by failure, I stood outside scanning the towering crown of that enormous image.
“Let’s make him blink,” said Wardy as if uttering a joke.
I shifted my scrutiny to the idol’s eyes. They remained blank.
“Are they still ugly and awesome?” asked Wardy with a laugh.
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t they flare and glare when I stepped on the right spots?”
“Did you step on the stones we marked?” I queried.
“I certainly did. Here, let’s try again. How’s that?”
The eyes of the image continued as before, somber and brooding. In vain I looked for that pallid ferocity that had startled us all that forenoon. In vain Wardy made certain of his pressure. The eyes no longer responded to the touch of feet.
“Can you see any tablets there at all?” I asked hopefully.
“No,” he replied slowly, “I can’t; but—peculiar! Most peculiar!”
“What is?” I ventured to disturb him.
“Why this—and this—and—-they look like broken sections of characters; as if hieroglyphics had been formed, then deliberately cut into sections like one of those jigsaw puzzle pictures. I wonder if these, reassembled in proper shape, might not tell something?”
I was instantly hopeful, and Wardy complimented the savant on his ingenuity.
Wardy and I were left to our own devices the next morning, and entered many of the sometime luxurious buildings behind the temple. In many of them were tablets and sculptured pillars, leading Wardy to remark that if Morgano remained until he had read all these, he would be a very old man before his departure. We were talking in this strain as we returned through the temple intent on reaching our quarters for lunch, and Wardy paused and stared up at the god.
“Funny about those eyes,” he said thoughtfully. “Can’t understand why they went out of commission. I’m more puzzled by that than anything we have yet found up here.”
He climbed the steps, his boot heels ringing sharply on the stone and bringing back a chorus of echoes from the vaulted surroundings, and again stepped on the tablets. Instantly the eyes of the image responded and with a fiercer, more fiery, more brilliant glare than we had before observed. They were so devilishly alive and gleaming that I uttered an exclamation that brought Wardy down with the request that I step up and show him the effect.
“By Jove! The old chap is certainly far angrier than he was yesterday. What’s the answer?”
We worked it several times more to assure ourselves that it was not in the least intermittent before continuing on our way.
“I suggest we say nothing to the doctor about this—if he is still working on that puzzle,” I said. “If he will only keep on trying to tell us where the treasure is, I, for one, don’t feel like distracting him.”
“Right-o! And—why shouldn’t we have a research party of our own?” Wardy halted and chuckled and twinkled his monocle at me. “Suppose you and I quietly loot a hatchet or an ax, and put in the afternoon finding out how the blessed thing works? If the doctor knew he might either object or insist on being there—eh?”
Fortune favored us; for the doctor had not solved his problem, and Juan, Benny, and Ixtual were to cross to the mainland, replenish the supplies for the mules, and bring back more for our own consumption, so we could be certain of working unmolested and could have not only axes and hatchets but machetes. We lost no time in beginning, and fell upon the stone slabs that worked the mechanism as our first point of attack. We pried and tried the blades of axes and hatchets and the points of machetes to pry one of these loose; but they were as immune as adamant and the stonework so cleverly joined that we could no more than insert the barest edges of our blades. We rested and discussed the advisability of smashing them with an ax.
“Why not smash one of those surrounding it?” said Wardy. “That shouldn’t break the mechanism of the thing.” And on my assenting struck a slab close to one of the movable tablets. The result was entirely unexpected. It did not break but sunk downward a full inch. He struck again, and it lowered still another inch. Once more he brought the ax down upon it and now a whole section of the pavement began slowly to move as if collapsing.
“Look out! It may drop us into a hole!” I cried, leaping back, as did Wardy, and watching the slow lowering of the mass. It stopped at last and we went cautiously forward and looked into the cavity. We flashed an electric torch into the darkness and saw that at about four feet depth the trap door had tilted, exposing a narrow flight of steps. We carefully blocked the trap to prevent its resuming its place through any device of cunning, and lowered ourselves downward. Flashing the light about us, we learned that the stepping tablets were merely the tops of cunningly contrived levers that acted together upon another, but separately were useless. The narrow flight of steps led upward, following round and round the interior of the great image, and so narrow were they and so unprotected at the side, that it was not a very inviting task to ascend them. Above us was complete darkness.
I took the lead, being the smaller of the two, and began to climb. For me it was not difficult; but for my companion it was extremely trying, as he had to climb upward step by step with his back against the wall, the narrowness of the steps and the breadth of his shoulders making it impossible for him to ascend otherwise.
Always there was the acute knowledge that if we fell, we must certainly be dashed to pieces in the well-like hollow below. Although we judged that the image was about eighty feet in height from the floor of the temple, it seemed hundreds before we began to approach the top and then we came to a little opening, climbed through, panting with exertion, dripping from the tropical heat without intensified by the confinement of the interior shaft, and found ourselves in a tiny cell and surrounded by strange mechanical appliances.
The great metal rod that had been visible in the center of the shaft throughout our ascent, was attached to something directly over our heads. In front of us was a curious contrivance not unlike a huge system of modern megaphones supplementing one another until all their sounds concentrated upon a narrow slit. We crawled beneath these and peered through. The floor of the temple, sun-bathed here and there, with its great columns, lay exposed to our view. It appeared far beneath, with that strange exaggeration of height which comes from peering through a confined opening at an altitude. The pillars appeared squatty and low.
“We are looking through a slit in the lips of the idol! One that wasn’t visible from below,” I said, discovering the meaning. “A priest could come here, after fasting himself until he thought he was inspired, and be the voice of the god.”
“Stay here and I’ll get back and yell through the contraption,” said Wardy, and soon after I could hear through the slit the bellowing echoes of his voice magnified by mechanism and resounding with tempestuous roars from the interior of the temple. I am sorry to say that the words were inappropriate, being akin to those which are attributed to the governors of North and South Carolina on their first august meeting and suggesting that it was time to “have something!”
When it was my time to yell for Wardy’s edification, I was fortunate enough to recall a few lines from the “immortal bard,” for which I am thankful because in them was no desecration.
Our attention was now turned to the rod that climbed upward and to more narrow steps by which the top was reached. For a time we could not fathom its working, but at last Wardy stood below and catching the rod with his hands swung his weight upon it. Suddenly the darkness disappeared and the little cell was brilliant with light. It was then that we solved the mystery of the eyes.
The levers acted upon a huge tilting plate of burnished metal, a reflector that for skillful shaping, and knowledge of optical laws, could scarcely be bettered in our own times. Neither Wardy nor I could be certain of its composition, but were agreed that quicksilver entered into it, even as it does in the construction of a modern reflector. The tilting of this slid backward a carefully constructed cover above in a huge circular opening in the head of the image, that when closed protected the reflector from dust, or rain, or exposure from the opening in the roof of the temple that was now directly above us. This opening, from the floor of the Great Temple, had appeared small; but now, when immediately beneath it, we saw that it was at least eight feet in diameter.
We had observed the effect of the sole protected reflector cast through the eyes of the image. What, then, must have been their brilliance in those dead days when priests carefully polished and maintained the reflectors from above? The eyes of the image must have been terrifying in their concentrated light, when glowering upon those already and previously prepared through superstition to gaze upon a miracle. Doubtless the eyes could be made to glare only when the sun was at its meridian. Once it passed the effect diminished until, in late afternoon, those fearsome eyes would never have responded to the priestly touch beneath. And now we remembered that this image was a god of the sun, speaking or issuing edicts at noon only, when the sun was in the maximum of glory and light.
“I suppose we should go down and tell the doctor about this,” I said, feeling that we were cutting him out of our discovery.
“But should we tell him about these?” said Wardy, indicating the numerous glyphs inscribed about the wall of the little cell. “He’s likely to break his neck getting up here to study them. It seems like—like cruelty to animals!”
But that point was decided for us unexpectedly; for when we descended and climbed out of the hole like jacks in a box, we found the doctor there waiting, and vastly pleased with himself.
“I was right! I was right! The reading was characteristic of an adroit and ingenious as well as superstitious people,” he declared. And then before I could ask if he had the directions to find the treasure he went on: “It puts the curse of the sun god on any who walk across this pavement save those of the higher priesthood. It declares that none but those who are able to decipher it unaided are entitled to know the secrets concealed beneath.”
“But I tell you that there is no treasure under this big dummy!” I interrupted, hot and wearied by physical effort, and in no mood to listen to one of his interminable lectures. “All we have found is the machinery by which this image was given a pretense of life, and a lot of carvings that were undoubtedly directions how it is to be kept oiled, and in working condition, and cautioning the hands about paying attention to time and secrecy.”
“Carvings?” blandly inquired the doctor. “Carvings? Where are they?” And then I saw that I had made a mistake.
“They are up in a top chamber,” said Wardy, “but you will find them difficult and dangerous to reach. You had best——”
But there was no need for him to finish his advice, for the archæologist had dropped down into the pit and was striking wax tapers to find his way up the steps. We succeeded in calling him back and giving him a torch which he fairly snatched from my hand.
When we returned to the temple the doctor had learned the way to close the trap-door in the pavement and had done so, and was sweeping the dust into the crevices to hide them from casual discovery.
“Expecting competition?” asked Wardy dryly.
“One never can tell,” replied the doctor. “I may wish to come here again and—the secret might be useful. I shall preserve it for the time being. Oddly enough, the inscriptions above puzzle me. They are a variation of the customary glyphs. I can’t be quite certain of their meaning—probably some secret form known to the high priests only.”
So absorbed was he in thought that he almost ran away from us, and when we returned that night he was still working over his problem in the little room he had adopted for his own use. Once, hours later, when momentarily awakening from my sleep, I saw that his light was still burning and I could descry his shadow, hawk-nosed, high-forheaded, with ruffled hair, appearing like a caricature on the wall as if to exaggerate all his peculiarities.
He was at it again the next forenoon while Wardy and I took an inventory of our remaining supplies and reached the sad conclusion that now our time was limited to but a day or two longer. We were discussing the possibility of sending Ixtual and Juan out through the mountain with the pack mules to obtain food, and depending upon our rifles to supply us with meat until their return, when the doctor came hurrying out to us, caught himself when he saw that Benny and Ixtual were within hearing, and motioned to us to follow him. His air was one of triumphant exultation and mystery as he conducted us back to the temple. He looked around as if to make certain that the place was not crowded. Perhaps it was—with ghosts! He pulled us close to him and mumbled his paean of victory:
“I have discovered it! Learned the lost secrets of their religion! Learned the very tenets of their creed. Ah, those marvelous inscriptions up there in that sacred and secret cell—in that holy of holies. Magnificent religion! Austere, noble, lofty, beneficent, and benevolent! I tell you that in its simplicity and grandeur it deserved perpetuity. While in a sense it was patriarchal and socialistic, it yet permitted advancement and distinction to those individuals who soberly worked and studied, and became worthy of reward and emolument. Think of it. I have brought it to light again an actual religious creed. One that will benefit our fellow men, and all—my dear friends!—through your instrumentality.”
He turned and led us silently out toward the front of the temple, where he paused and swept his eyes over that wonderful collection of buildings, the great plaza, and then onward to the blue lake and far-lying shores. They came to rest at last on the towering twin peaks in the distance through whose foundations we had found our way. The sight of them standing there, majestic, unchanged, appeared to recall something forgotten, for he turned to me and said:
“By the way, Hallewell, I have also learned the secret of their treasury chambers and how to open them. They are—over there, underneath those hills. I made you a promise a long, long time ago, it now seems to me—back there in Paris—and to-morrow shall endeavor to pay my debt.”
“Doctor,” said I with marvelous restraint, “I shall be glad; because our supplies are nearly at end. Our time is short.”