That night, Doc and his five friends turned in early again, largely because the Mayans seemed to go to roost with the chickens. Whether it was the hardness of the stone benches that served these golden-skinned folk for beds, or because of nervous excitement over their position here in the Valley of the Vanished, they didn't sleep well.
Long Tom, occupying a large room with Johnny and Ham, stuck it out on his stone slab exactly one hour. Then insomnia got the best of him. He yanked on his trousers and took a stroll in the moonlight that penetrated faintly to the floor of the great chasm of which the valley was a part.
For no particular reason, Long Tom's footsteps took him toward the pyramid. The thing fascinated him — so rich was the ore of which it was built that it was literally a mound of gold. What a fabulous value it must have!
Long Tom hoped looking at such wealth would make him sleepy.
It didn't. It cost him dearly.
For while he was having his first eye-filling look at the golden pyramid with the stream of water running steadily out of its top, a man sprang onto his back. A vile hand clapped over Long Tom's mouth.
Long Tom might look none too healthy, but under his sallow hide were some very ropy, powerful muscles. He couldn't have stood the gaff with Doc's bunch without them. He could probably whip ninety-nine out of every hundred men you meet on the street, and not shown fatigue in doing it.
He angled both fists around, drove them behind him. He hit nobody. He bit the unclean fingers that held his mouth. The lingers jerked away. Long Tom started a yell. A hand, thoroughly protected by cloth this time, stoppered his jaws.
Other attackers rushed in. They were bounding dervishes in the moon glow. The red-fingered warriors!
Long Tom kicked mightily backward. He peeled a shin. He and his assailants toppled among round rocks and soft dirt.
One of Long Tom's clawlike hands found a rock. He popped it against a skull — knew by the feel of the blow that one of the red-fingered fiends was through with this world.
Sheer weight of numbers mashed Long Tom out before he could do more damage. He was securely bound at wrist and ankle with stout cotton cords, then drawn into a helpless knot as his wrists and ankles were tied in a single wad.
A red-fingered Mayan who had kept well away from the fight, now came up. Long Tom recognized Morning Breeze, chief of the fighting men.
Morning Breeze clucked a command in the Mayan tongue, which Long Tom did not understand.
Lifting Long Torn, they bore him around to the rear of the pyramid. They shoved through a high growth of brush, coming then to a circular flooring of stone blocks. In the center of this gaped a sinister, black, round aperture.
Long Tom was left in doubt as to what this was for only a moment.
Morning Breeze picked up a pebble, smirked evilly at Long Torn, then tossed the rock into the round opening.
One second dragged, another! The pebble must have fallen two hundred feet! There was a loud clatter as it struck a rock bottom. Then out of the ghastly hole came a bedlam of hissings and grisly, slithering noises!
The hole was a sacrificial well! Long Tom recalled reading how the ancient Mayans had tossed human offerings into such wells. And the hissings and slitherings were snakes! Poisonous, beyond a doubt. There must be hundreds of them in the well bottom!
Morning Breeze callously gave a command.
Long Tom suffered unutterable tortures as he was lifted and tossed bodily into the awful black opening.
Morning Breeze listened. A moment later came a horrible thump from the well bottom. The poisonous serpents hissed and slithered.
Morning Breeze and his evil followers turned away, highly pleased.
Unknown to Long Tom when he left the sleeping quarters, Ham had not been sleeping soundly. One eye drowsily open, Ham had watched Long Tom pull on his trousers and go out.
Ham drowsed a while after that. But Long Tom's departure had done something to what little desire he had for sleep, so it was not long before Ham also got up and pulled on his trousers. Thanks to the balmy night, no more clothing was needed.
Ham took his sword cane along, although for no particular reason. He just liked the feel of it in his hands.
Outside, he saw no sign of Long Tom. But a little use of his keen brain told Ham where the electrical wizard would be likely to stroll; the most fascinating spot in the Valley of the Vanished, if one disregarded the really entrancing Mayan girls. The golden pyramid, of course! Long Tom, like the rest of Doc's men, would not be wooing a Mayan damsel at this hour. They were not interested in women, these supreme adventurers.
Ham ambled toward the pyramid, breathing in deeply of the lambent night air. He heard no sound, certainly nothing to alarm him. He clipped the gaudy flower off a tropical vine with a jaunty swing of his cane.
A split second later, Ham was buried under an avalanche of red-fingered men!
No gallant of old ever bared his steel quicker than Ham unsheathed his sword cane. He got it out in time to skewer two of the devils who piled atop him!
Outnumbered hopelessly, Ham was bound and gagged.
They carried Ham to the sacrificial well, and without a word, threw him in.
Morning Breeze, poised on the well rim, listened until he heard the loud smash come up from the pit floor two hundred feet below. The snakes, disturbed, made enraged noises.
Morning Breeze nodded and clucked to himself. Two of them gone! He gave another command.
The three red-fingered warriors who had been killed by Long Tom and Ham were hauled up. One after the other, the dead forms were pitched into the sacrificial well. Three loud thumps and snake sounds arose.
Very elated indeed, Morning Breeze led his followers to get further victims.
Monk had been sleeping soundly, but the stone bed was hard, and Monk got a nightmare. In the nightmare, he was fighting a million clawing, crimson-tipped fingers while a beautiful Mayan princess looked on. Monk whipped all the red fingers in his dream, but as he started toward the entrancing princess to claim his reward, a man who looked suspiciously like Doc came up and took her away. That woke Monk up.
He sat erect, then stood on his feet to stretch. Looking about, he made a discovery that surprised him. Both Doc and Renny should have been slumbering in this same room.
But their stone couches were unoccupied!
Monk thought a bit, concluded they were out talking somewhere, and decided to join them. He started to put on his trousers, then changed his mind. He had noted a maxtli, one of the broad girdles the Mayan gentlemen wore. Evidently it had belonged to whoever gave up the house for their comfort, since it hung on the wall.
Monk whipped the maxtli twice about his middle in lieu of pants, and sauntered out. He had an idea he'd go swimming if nothing better turned up.
Unable to locate either Doc or Renny, Monk made for the lake shore. He was not worried about his two friends. That anything could happen to them without an alarm being raised was hardly likely.
The lake was an appealing blue. Away from the shore a few yards, were large rocks. Monk wended his good-natured way through these.
Suddenly he got a tremendous start by encountering pretty Princess Monja face to face. She was evidently out strolling in the moonlight. Alone, too.
Monk felt a great deal of confusion. He made a move to go back hastily the way he had been coming.
But Princess Monja smiled sweetly at Monk's pleasantly ugly face, and requested: "Do not leave so quickly, please! I wish to ask you a question."
Monk hesitated. He asked bluntly, "What's the question?"
Princess Monja blushed prettily. For a moment it looked like she was going to be too bashful to put the query. Then, out it came.