The minutes passed like slow-dragging years.  The man above wore shoes and the two men who wore shoes, outside our own party, were Leith and the one-eyed man.  Somehow we felt that Maru and Kaipi had settled with One Eye, so there was only one person on the Isle of Tears who could possibly be listening.

Ten minutes passed, then Holman pointed to his own legs.  I understood the sign and gripped his ankles.  My head was bursting with the terror inspired by the thought that our escape might be cut off after the miraculous manner in which the way out had been shown to us.

Without noise, yet with incredible swiftness, the youngster turned upon his back and wriggled forward till his head and shoulders were again out over the pit.  His body was tense, every muscle showing as he stiffened himself.  Into my mind flashed a picture of the bloodthirsty Wizards of the Centipede stretching out in exactly the same manner centuries before a white man sailed into the Pacific!

The silence seemed to sap my strength.  I watched Holman with eyes that were half-blinded by the perspiration that rolled down my forehead.  There was no movement upon the ledge, and the fingers of the youngster were reaching slowly—­slowly upward.

It was a yell of horror that shattered the awful quiet—­a yell that went up through the hot air like the shriek of a lost soul.  It swirled around and around like a lariat of brass.  It was a terrible yell.  It wrenched my inmost being till the very spirit seemed to go out of me for an instant, and I returned to consciousness to find myself struggling to hold Holman from being dragged into the depths below.

It was the youngster’s voice that seemed to bring me back to a knowledge of the surroundings.  In an instant’s pause in the torrent of blasphemy his words came to me clear and distinct.

“Hold me tight, Verslun!” he cried.  “Hold me tight, man! I have him!”

[Illustration:  “Hold me tight, Verslun!” he cried.  “Hold me tight, man! I have him!”]

I shut my eyes to escape the fascination of the depths, and I gripped Holman’s ankles till my nails burrowed into his flesh.  I felt his body heave with a tremendous effort, then another yell, shorter but more terrifying than the first, told me that the struggle was over.

I dragged Holman back to safety, and, stretched side by side upon the rock, we listened.  Down in the pit—­miles, leagues away, something was falling!

The youngster pulled himself together after the silence had settled upon the place like a film.

“Let’s tie the rope and get the girls up here,” he said quietly, “In a while—­in a little while—­I can crawl on to the ledge and pull them up with a rope.”

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIV

THE WAY TO HEAVEN

With quick-beating pulses we fixed the rope and shouted directions down the slippery passage to the girls and the Professor, and inside of ten minutes they were beside us, looking out with frightened eyes at the coloured wall of the opposite side of the pit.  The faces of Edith and Barbara looked pale and careworn, but they smiled bravely when Holman assured them that we were within a yard of the path by which we had crossed to the Valley of Echoes.