CHAPTER VII

The Bridge of Light

SOON the valley became narrower and deeper, with precipitous cliffs on either side, until coming through a fairly thick wood, I found farther progress barred by a sheer cliff. But my disappointment, my chagrin at thus finding it impossible to continue on my way, was forgotten as I gazed at the rocky wall before me. Cut in the surface of the reddish rock was the huge figure of a Mayan god. So deeply sculptured was the image that it appeared more like a separate monolith set into a recess than a part of the cliff itself; a marvelous piece of work, the most superb example of ancient Mayan art that I had ever seen. The elaborate head-dress of quetzal feathers and rattlesnakes would have identified it as a representation of Kukulcan, even without the bearded face, the long robe covered with the most intricate designs, the symbols of the sacred quetzal and the two-headed serpents, and the whirling wind symbols. Fascinated, I stared at it, taking in every detail and searching for date-glyphs. But not a single cartouche enclosing numerical symbols could be seen. Then--“By Jove!” I exclaimed, as my roving eyes rested upon the oval, pendant ear ornaments. Upon them, so cleverly arranged that they appeared like mere ornamental patterns, were columns of tiny cartouches with the inscriptions for which I had been searching. But from where I stood I could make nothing of them. They were fully thirty feet above my head, and forgetting all else in my desire to examine, and if possible, decipher the dates, I clambered up the sculptured legs, and finding a foothold on the god’s ceremonial staff, I grasped the arm to draw myself still farther up. As I did so, I felt the immense mass of rock sway, my feet slipped, I clutched wildly at the arm, uttered one terrified yell and fell crashing to the earth below. Dazed, stunned but luckily unhurt, I sat up and stared incredulously at the colossal image above me. Standing out at right angles to the cliff, staring down at me from directly above my head, was the huge stone face of the god, while in place of the flowing robe and sandaled feet, a black opening yawned in the face of the precipice. I gasped. The gigantic carving was movable, my weight or my touch upon the arm had swung the upper portion forward and had disclosed a hidden opening, a secret door! What did it mean? What lay within that dark portal in the cliff? That it was something of the utmost importance, something inexpressibly sacred or precious was certain. To have carved that gigantic figure, to have designed the mechanism, to have balanced the many tons of carved stone so nicely that it could be swung at a touch must have been an herculean, a most difficult, task requiring the labor of years; a work that never would have been undertaken except for some vital, some most important purpose. And the fact that the massive pivoted door had been formed in the likeness of Kukulcan, pointed to the secrets within the opening being associated with that god. Perhaps--my pulse quickened at the thought and I felt a strange thrill--perhaps I was at the threshold of Mictolan, at the portal of the hidden city I sought!

I peered half fearfully within. All was impenetrable blackness. If I entered that mysterious chamber I would need a light, and I hurried to the nearby trees and sought for some inflammable material for a torch. I hoped to find a gum-elemi tree, but not finding this, I sought out a wax palm, gathered a quantity of the oily, waxy fruits, wrapped them tightly in the dry mast of the trunk, and had a torch that I knew would burn with a brilliant flame for two hours at least. Still, as I had no idea how long I might be within the place and no mind to be caught without a light, I prepared three of the torches. Lighting one of these I stepped--a bit hesitatingly I admit--within the entrance. But the next second I sprang back. How was I to know that the door might not close to behind me? The thing had opened to my weight or the pressure of my hand, I was not quite positive which. There might be some mechanism so arranged that, the moment I passed within, the titanic statue would swing back into place. To be trapped in that black hole would be a horrible fate, and very cautiously, very watchfully, I examined the sides of the opening, the portions of the idol both inside and outside. I could detect no mechanism, no mechanical device connected with the image. As far as I could determine, the whole huge idol was hung upon a pivot or trunnions and so balanced that the weight of a man would swing the upper portion forward.

It could be operated from the outside, but the inside was plain smooth stone with no means of swinging the image. Whoever had placed it there had not intended it to be opened from within. Yet an accident might happen. A thing so nicely balanced might swing to with a jar, even with a sudden gust of wind; certainly with an earthquake. If I wished to feel certain of having my line of retreat open, I must find some means of preventing the ponderous door from closing. This was not a difficult matter. All about were masses of rock, and by dint of hard work and blistered hands, I rolled several good-sized boulders within the opening, placed them against the inner surface of the rock about the doorway and then, to make assurance doubly sure, I dragged a large log to the doorway and placed it across the inner side of the opening. Even the immense weight of the great idol would not be enough to force the door shut with these obstacles in its way, and quite confident that I could now retrace my way at any time, I held my blazing torch aloft and stepped into the chamber. That I was in a vast natural cavern was obvious. The walls were rough and water-worn, stalagmites covered the floor, and far above my head the flare of the torch reflected faintly from pendant stalactites. The place was immense. I could see only a small part of the floor, only a small portion of the walls.

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LIGHTING my way by the torch, I followed the wall to the right. I had proceeded several hundred feet when, staring from the blackness before me, I saw a pair of glowing red eyes! Beyond them were others--ten, a dozen, a whole line of glowing eyeballs, like living coals, in the darkness beyond the light of my torch. Fear gripped me. Lurking there in the shadows were wild beasts, savage creatures, perhaps--and I shivered at the thought--perhaps more of those fearsome pterodactyls, perhaps some other horrible prehistoric creatures. What a fool I had been to enter the place! In the glare of the torch I was plainly visible to the things crouching there while they were invisible to me. Even if I drew my pistol and fired at those baleful savage eyes, I could not hope to kill more than one, and there were dozens lurking there. If I turned and ran, they might be upon me. I seemed fascinated, hypnotized, unable to move. Something rustled, something was creeping stealthily along the walls! A cold chill ran up and down my back! My scalp tingled! There was a rush of air, a soft swishing sound, and some dreadful invisible thing brushed against my shoulder. I uttered a piercing shriek and leaped aside, trembling from head to foot. But the eyes still remained there, staring, fixed. They fascinated me. Unable to take my eyes from them, shaking with terror, shrinking from dread of that invisible, moving something, I took two, four, six steps forward. Then a wild, a maniacal hysterical laugh came from my lips. Ranged along the wall was a row of squat grotesque figures, their lifeless eyes set with jewels. I had been terrified at the reflection of my own torch! And yet, some living creature had touched me.

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[Illustration: I had proceeded several hundred feet when, staring from the blackness before me, I saw a row of glowing eyes]

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Fearfully I peered about, but all was silent as the grave. I stepped close to the images, and the next instant gasped and stood staring. The things were not idols of carved stone; they were corpses--mummies! There was no doubt about it. The dried skin, drawn tight across the skulls, the grinning jaws, the hair--all were real. Overcoming my momentary dread, my involuntary start, I stepped forward and examined them closely. Upon the heads were most elaborate crowns of feathers and golden ornaments, huge gold discs hung over the ears, upon the shriveled chests were necklaces of jade, crystal, turquoise, lapis-lazuli, carnelian and gold; the shrunken bodies were wrapped in cotton robes woven in intricate patterns. They were the mummies of ancient Mayan chiefs or priests, and unique, marvelous specimens. Before me was a fortune in gold and jewels, several fortunes if I could have transported the mummies to the outer world, where museums would have paid any price for them. But like everything else I had found, like my codex even, it was worthless to me. But other thoughts were racing through my mind as I gazed at these remains of long-dead Mayans. Was I in the tomb of the kings of Mictolan? Were the ruins I had passed all that remained of the hidden city? Or did the place still exist somewhere in the vicinity? It was all conjecture, and turning from the silent dead, I continued on my exploration of the cavern.

Presently, wondering how far I had progressed, I turned and glanced back toward the door. I could not believe my eyes, the door had vanished!

Only a few moments before it had been there, a square of light in the blackness. Now there was no sign of it. I blinked, rubbed my eyes, stared. But the opening had gone. Was it possible the statue had fallen back into place? No, I could not believe that, or I would have heard the jar, heard the crash as it struck the stones and logs I had placed as a barricade. And I felt positive that it could not have shut closely enough to blot out all light from without. And I felt equally sure that I had turned no corner, had passed no outjutting portion of the wall that might hide the opening. Possibly, I thought, one of the stalagmites, or perhaps a rock mass or pillar, in the center of the cavern might conceal the opening. I stepped first to one side, then the other. But all was blackness; not a sign of the opening was to be seen!

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WITH a tremendous effort I conquered my desire to rush madly in the direction of the door. With all my will power I forced myself to remain reasonably calm, to think, to use my brains. I reasoned with myself that the entrance must be there; that it could not have vanished without cause; that it was explicable. My only course, I told myself, was to retrace my steps, locate the mummies, follow the wall and reach the spot where I had last seen the entrance. But the next minute I realized this was impossible. I could not find the wall, could not locate the mummies! Somehow, somewhere I had got turned around, had lost my sense of direction. Wildly I sought about, here, there, everywhere. Whichever way I turned I found only vast, black empty space. I was hopelessly lost! Lost in the great cavern with the Mayan dead! And then, once more, I heard that weird swishing noise and once more that invisible ghostly hand touched me! I screamed and leaped aside. A cold soft hand passed across my face! On every side I heard whisperings, low moans, the swishing of unseen draperies, the passing of invisible bodies! I wonder I did not go mad. I shrieked, cowered, waved my flaming torch madly, threw myself on the ground. Something soft, moving, horrible fell upon my back. Madly, maniacally I grappled with it. The ghastly thing struggled in my grasp. Sharp claws tore at me. Teeth were buried in my flesh. And then I knew, and peal after peal of hysterical mad laughter echoed through the cavern. The awful things were no ghosts, no spirits. They were bats!

And with my realization of this, with the reaction of my tensed, my shattered nerves, came a flash of memory. The Cave of the Bats! Could this be it? Was this the place old Katchilcan had mentioned? Was I on the right trail? Was the end of my journey near?

I felt sure this was the Cave of the Bats of the prophecy, and, forgetting all my fears, all my terrors, of the circling, rustling myriads of bats, forgetting even that I was lost, that the entrance had disappeared, I rose to my feet and peered about. If I were right, if this was the Cave of the Bats of Katchilcan’s legend, then somewhere near at hand should be that Bridge of Light. But where, in what direction? How should I find it? One thing was certain. To stand there idle, gazing into the blackness while my torch burned out was useless. It was getting me nowhere. And, as long as I had no idea which way I had come nor which way to go, one way was as good as another. If I walked straight in any direction, I must eventually reach a wall--no cavern could be endless, and once I reached the wall I could follow along it until I came to the entrance or to some other exit, for there must be another exit, else the bats could not be here. Besides, the air was clear, sweet and fresh.

That gave me an idea. If there was a circulation of air, there must be a current, a draught. I could follow that and find the outlet. I held the torch aloft, steadying it, watching the flame and the oily smoke. Yes, there _was_ a draught, the smoke drifted to one side, the flames flared in that direction. Elated, feeling sure I could find a way out, I stepped forward, stopping frequently to steady the torch and check up my direction. As I proceeded, the draught became stronger; the smoke drew ahead of me, and the flames flickered and flared. Soon I did not even have to hold the torch aloft, the sooty smoke swirling before me led me on, and I made rapid progress.

Ever about me hovered and flitted the bats; often they would brush my body, my head, even my face; but though I instinctively drew away and shuddered at their touch, yet now that I knew they were merely bats--and apparently harmless bats at that--I was not really troubled by them.

How far I followed the smoke of the torch, I do not know. Whether I walked straight, whether I turned many corners, whether I ascended or descended, I cannot say. I lost all sense of time, all sense of distance, all sense of direction. I thanked Heaven I had brought more than one torch. My first fluttered and went out. I lit a second. That, too, burned low, flickered and died. I lit the third and last, and hoped against hope that before that failed, I might find an exit from the accursed place. Terror beyond words filled me as I saw the torch burning steadily, inexorably down. One third, one half was consumed. In less than half an hour it would be finished. My fate was sealed if I did not reach an opening, light, within the next thirty minutes. Strange, incongruous, confused thoughts filled my mind while my feet hurried me on. All that had transpired since I had landed at Vigo passed before my vision like a moving picture. I saw the little quay with the red-sailed fishing smacks moored beside it, the rocky hillside with the tall, square houses, the lounging, red-sashed, beretted boatmen; the Avenida with its stream of motor cars and creaking wine carts; the little Plazuela de Tres Santos. The image of paunchy, tousel-headed, greasy Salceda rose before me. As in a dream I saw myself haggling with him over the old books, heard his suave, flowery words, even smelled the odor of garlic that exuded from him. In the flickering torch and swirling smoke I seemed to see the figures, the strange symbols of the mysterious codex. In turn I visualized the squat, massive, smoke-blackened British Museum, Doctor Joyce with his trim gray Vandyke beard; New York with its thunder of traffic, its roar, its skyscrapers; the great plaza of Mexico; Cervantes bending above my codex, his keen black eyes gleaming with interest, his swarthy face alight. Before me, like a wraith in the glare of my torch, I again saw jolly-faced, rotund Fray José. I passed like a disembodied spirit through the little Mayan village and heard Katchilcan’s droning voice relating the ancient prophecy in the soft guttural Zutugil. As plainly as though it were actually before my eyes, I saw the nude body of the Indian girl, charred and seared upon the altar of the temple on the mountain. I seemed to feel the bonds cutting into my flesh, to see the flash of Maliche’s upraised obsidian knife. Then the terrible cañon, the Valley of Death, the horrible Tunnel of Serpents, the nightmarish Pool of the Alligators.

Again, in my strangely disordered mind, I traversed the scorching, glaring deserts; in my ears rang the unearthly cry of the great pterodactyl. I shuddered as the vision of the awful dinosaur with Maliche’s headless body in his talons rose before me. All had come to pass; all that the prophecy had foretold, all that was written and pictured in the Book of Kukulcan had been borne out, and now I was in the Cave of the Bats, was racing onward, following the streaming smoke of my last torch. No doubt it was the hypnotic effect of gazing steadily at the light that produced the visions; yet I was not dreaming. I was fully awake. One portion of my brain was normal, living in the present, alive to my dangers, to the rapidly diminishing torch; the other half seemed detached, moving back through time, seeing each and every detail of all that I had passed through. I can compare it only to that period between wakefulness and sleep when one dreams impossible things yet knows that one is dreaming. And so thoroughly aware was I that the mental visions were not realities that when I saw a strangely greenish wavering light, I felt it was a part of the phantasma.

BUT the next moment I knew it was no vision. About me the cavern was bathed in a peculiar glow, a soft light that seemed to change from green to blue, to purple, to pink, to red, to yellow--to pass, through every color of the spectrum exactly like the lights thrown upon the curtain of a theatre by multicolored electric lights. With a sharp cry, as the last flicker of the torch burned my fingers, I cast it aside. No need of it now. I could see plainly. The cavern had narrowed. The roof was barely ten feet above my head, the walls were within reach of my outstretched hands. I was in a tunnel, and before me, streaming through a semicircular opening, was the remarkable prismatic glow.

I was safe. I had found an exit. Before me was the open air. I dashed forward towards the opening, gave a horrified yell and checked myself in the nick of time. Beyond the opening yawned a vast, black, fathomless abyss!

Another foot and I would have plunged to death in its awful depths. I shuddered and clung to the rocks as I gazed into it. Still trembling at my narrow escape, I looked up. Above my head the walls rose for hundreds, thousands of feet, until they seemed to meet. To right and left the stupendous precipices joined. It was a vast chasm, a bottomless crevice in the bowels of the mountain, and I was as effectively trapped as though I were still within the vast black cavern.

Yet, I scarcely noticed these things, I hardly realized the predicament I was in, for the marvelous inexplicable phenomena that confronted me held all my attention, all my thoughts. Across the vast rift from where I stood, perhaps two hundred feet distant, was a second opening in the precipice, and from below this, streaming across the chasm as though projected from some titanic searchlight, was a great beam of vari-colored light that shimmered, flashed with rainbow hues, and glowed with transcending beauty. It seemed almost like a solid thing, like a giant beam of transparent iridescent glass spanning the chasm. It was the most marvelous sight I had ever seen.

As I gazed upon it fascinated, forgetting all else, filled with awe and admiration, I gaped and stared with incredulous, unbelieving eyes. Outlined in the opposite opening, seeming to materialize from the light, appeared a woman!

Every detail of her face, her figure, her garments was clearly outlined. And as I gazed at her, feeling that she was a vision, a figment of my overtaxed brain, I drew a sharp short breath, for surely such beauty To describe her as I saw her, bathed in the effulgence of that unearthly radiance, would be beyond words. Her perfect features, her beautiful face, her softly rounded breasts, her graceful arms and her tapering limbs seemed moulded from solid gold. Her hair, lustrous and black, hung below her waist in two long plaits interwoven with strands of gold and pearls. Her eyes, large, soft, fathomless, gazed at me with inexpressible joy and yearning; her scarlet lips parted in a welcoming, inviting smile. Upon her head was a diadem of mosaic in turquoise, rubies and pearls. Her only garment was a skirt of soft, semi-transparent cloth richly embroidered with gold and bordered with feather work in red, white and green. Upon her tiny feet were sandals fastened with golden lacings, and about her slender neck was a golden chain bearing a jewelled pendant that rested in the curve of her breasts and rose and fell and flashed like living fire as she breathed.

For a moment she stood there, her wonderful eyes fixed upon me, compelling, seeming almost to speak. Then lifting her arms, she held them towards me. A madness raced through my veins. My temples throbbed. I longed to throw myself into those outstretched arms, to hold her close, to pour passionate words of love into her ear, to crush her lips with kisses. But hundreds of feet of abyss lay between us; we were as far apart as though we had been on separate planets. Her lips moved. Her words--soft, musical, imploring, floated to me, though they were unintelligible to my ears. I suffered, as I stood there, overwhelmed with love, with longing for that wondrous being calling to me, beckoning to me from across that awful chasm.

And then, with a little gesture of despair, with a contemptuous toss of her head, she stepped forward, stepped over the verge of that terrible chasm! I was too horrified, too overcome, too numbed with the horror of it, to utter a sound.

Then my horror changed to wonder, to incredulous, inexpressible amazement. The girl had not fallen, had not plunged downward to a fearful death. She was floating through air, coming towards me. Could it be possible, could it be real? She was walking upon that beam of light!

Was I dreaming? Had I gone mad? Was it a delusion, a vision of my brain? The next moment she was beside me, and as I seized her in my arms, and felt the pressure of her warm palpitating body, and pressed kisses upon her unresisting lips, and her soft arms stole about my neck, I knew that it was no vision, no dream. She, at least, was very real.

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