He resumed his post on the right of the door—­I was on the left.

The stone appeared to be going faster.  It reached the top—­ passed it—­and quickly swung in toward the wall and disappeared, probably to rest on a ledge above.

We stood waiting, tense and alert.  The open doorway gaped on the black, empty corridor, into which the light from our single urn shone dimly.  We could see or hear nothing, no indication that any one was in the passage, but we dared not look out in that darkness.  The suspense was trying enough; Harry ripped out an impatient oath and made a movement as though to step in the entrance, but I waved him back.

Then came the avalanche, with a suddenness and fury that nigh overwhelmed us.

Crouching, rushing forms filled the doorway from both directions and leaped savagely at us.  After so many weary days of dull inaction and helpless, hopeless apathy, a mad joy fired my brain and thrilled my heart as I raised my club on high and struck a blow for freedom and life.

That blow crushed the skull of one whose fingers were at my throat, and he dropped like a log at my feet; but his place was already filled.  Again I swung the club; another swayed, toppling against the doorway and leaning there with the blood streaming from his broken head, quite dead, but held erect by the pressure of his fellows from behind.

If the doorway had been but a foot wider we would have been overwhelmed almost instantly.  As it was, but three or four could get to us at once, and they found the gold which their ancestors had carried from the temples of Huanuco waiting for them.  My arm seemed to have the strength of a hundred arms; it swung the heavy club as though it had been a feather, and with deadly accuracy.

Harry fought like a demon.  I think I did all that a man could do, but he did more, and withal more coolly.  I brought down my club on heads, shoulders, chests, and rarely failed to get my man.

But the impact of Harry’s blows was like the popping of a Maxim.  I saw him reach over and grasp the throat of one who had his teeth set in my shoulder, and, holding him straight before him with his arm extended, break his neck with one blow.  Again, his club descended on one black skull with a glancing blow and shot off to the head of another with the force of a sledge-hammer.

At the time I did not know that I saw these things; it was all one writhing, struggling, bloody horror; but afterward the eyes of memory showed them to me.

Still they came.  My arm rose and fell seemingly without order from the brain; I was not conscious that it moved.  It seemed to me that ever since the beginning of time I had stood in that butcher’s doorway and brought down that bar of gold on thick, black skulls and distorted, grinning faces.  But they would not disappear.  One fell; another took his place; and another, and another, and another.