Finally they paused again, amid the labyrinth of pillars. Without the guide, not one of them could have told which course to follow in order to return to the point from which they started.
Suddenly Bayazid uttered an exclamation and stood up in the boat, staring into the darkness beyond his passengers.
Involuntarily the trio turned their heads to look, wondering what it could be that the guide saw.
Barely were their heads turned in that manner when the treacherous guide snatched the torch from its socket and plunged it into the water. There was a hissing sound and instant darkness.
CHAPTER VII – LOST ON THE BURIED LAKE
Dick Merriwell had brought along a revolver. He drew it in a moment and held it ready for use, expecting something to happen in the Stygian darkness of that terrible place.
Professor Gunn cried out to Bayazid, demanding to know the meaning of his act.
“Get hold of the onery varmint!” advised Buckhart. “Let me put my paws on him!”
The Texan floundered about, rocking the boat somewhat.
“Be careful, Brad!” warned Dick. “You don’t know what he will do! It may be intended for a joke, just to frighten us, and it may be intended for something else. I have a pistol. Keep away from him and let me do the business.”
“Pup-pup-perhaps it’s pup-pup-part of the regular pup-pup-programme,” chattered Professor Gunn. “Pup-pup-perhaps they always pup-pup-put out the tut-tut-torch when they have pup-pup-passengers on this old underground pup-pup-pond.”
“Be quiet,” directed Dick. “Bayazid.”
He called to the guide, but there was no answer.
“Bayazid!”
Again he called. His voice echoed hollowly in the unseen arches above their heads.
“Why doesn’t the blame fool answer?” growled Buckhart.
“Strike a match, Brad,” directed Dick. “I’m holding my revolver ready for use, and I’ll shoot, if necessary, the moment I can see what to shoot at.”
The Texan lost little time in producing a match, but when he attempted to strike it he failed, the brimstone breaking off. Three matches were used before one burned. The light flared up, Buckhart holding it above his head. Its glow fell on the old professor and the two boys, and simultaneously they made an amazing discovery.
They were alone in the boat!
Bayazid, the guide, had disappeared!
Dick had his revolver ready for action, and he was standing in a half-crouching position, peering over the head of Buckhart at the place in the boat lately occupied by the guide.
“He’s gug-gone!” gasped Zenas.
Brad dropped the match, and again they were buried in darkness which seemed to oppress them like an awful weight.
“Great catamounts!” said a voice that sounded strange and husky, but which Dick recognized as that of the Texan. “Where has he gone? What does it mean, partner?”
“It means that we are the victims of trickery of some sort,” answered Dick, speaking in a low tone.
“It means that we are deserted to perish on the bosom of this awful buried lake!” came from the professor, in something like a moan. “I am to blame! I brought you here!”
“But whatever could be the object?” questioned Brad, in a puzzled tone. “If it’s robbery – ”
“It’s a plot – a plot, boys! We are objects of suspicion. That agent of the secret police suspected us of something. In this awful city to be suspected is to be doomed.”
“I can’t realize it yet,” muttered Dick. “How could the guide get out of the boat?”
“I’ll strike another match, pard,” said the Texan. “Keep your gun ready for use.”
“There are other torches,” reminded Dick. “We placed them in the bottom of the boat. Find them, Brad, and light one.”
During the interval that followed the Texan was heard feeling about the bottom of the boat. After a time he confessed:
“I can’t seem to get my paws on them. I’ll have to use another match. The light will show us where they are.”
Another match was lighted, but, though it was held and moved about to illumine the bottom of the boat, not a torch was discovered. When they realized that the extinguished torches were gone they sat up and looked into one another’s eyes by the last gleams of the exhausted match, which Buckhart held until the blaze scorched his fingers.
For some moments silence followed.
Floating there on the motionless bosom of that black lake, no sound came down to them from the great city overhead. The stillness was appalling, yet all feared to speak, dreading the sound of their own voices.
Finally Dick asked:
“How many matches have you, Brad?”
“Not over four or five more.”
“And I have none. How about you, professor – have you any?”
“Not one,” was the despairing answer.
Suddenly Buckhart grated:
“I’d like to get my paws on the treacherous dog who deserted us in this fix! I’d certain fit him for a funeral! You hear me affirm!”
“I’m still unable to account for his action,” said Dick. “If his object is robbery, surely he has taken a strange way to go about it.”
“Perhaps he’s counting on frightening us good and plenty,” observed Brad. “Mebbe when he thinks we’re so frightened that we’ll be glad to cough up liberal he will appear and offer to conduct us back to the outer world.”
“Let’s call to him,” eagerly suggested the professor. Then he lifted his voice and called loudly.
When he had repeated the cry three times, they listened.
“Didn’t you hear a distant answer?” asked Dick.
“I judge whatever we heard was an echo,” said Brad.
After a time they lifted their voices in a united shout, and then listened to the mocking echoes which fled from pillar to pillar and died in the unknown distance.
“No use!” moaned Professor Gunn. “I am satisfied that we are doomed! We’ll never leave this place alive, and our fate will forever remain a mystery!”
“I’m sure that was no echo!” exclaimed Dick, as far away in the darkness they seemed to hear an answer to their repeated shouts. “Be still and let me shout.”
When he had lifted his strong, clear voice all hushed their breathing and listened.
There was a short interval, and then out of the black distance came a faint, far-away answer.
“Some one did shout, pard!” exclaimed the Texan. “It’s a dead-sure thing!”
Excitedly they all joined in the hail that followed. The answer was more distinct.
Dick had found an oar, and he slowly propelled the boat in the direction from which the answering cries seemed to come. Occasionally they bumped against the marble pillars, but these collisions did no damage.
Soon they could hear the answers to their cries and knew they were drawing nearer to the unknown person or persons who were thus responding.
Suddenly a tiny gleam of light showed amid the pillars at some distance.
“Looks like that’s a match, pard,” observed Buckhart. “I reckon I’ll strike one, too.”
He did so, but the other light disappeared even as he held his own above his head. Apparently his match was seen, for the voice of a man reached them, urging them to come in