“I haven’t examined them,” replied the ape-man, “but I shall never give up hope of escaping; that your people do is doubtless the principal reason that they remain forever in bondage. You are too much a fatalist, Komodoflorensal.”
As he spoke Tarzan crossed the room and standing at the prince’s side took hold of the bars at the window. “They do not seem over-heavy,” he remarked, and at the same time exerted pressure upon them. They bent! Tarzan was interested now and Komodoflorensal, as well. The ape-man threw all his strength and weight into the succeeding effort with the result that two bars, bent almost double, were torn from their setting.
Komodoflorensal gazed at him in astonishment. “Zoanthrohago reduced your size, but left you with your former physical prowess,” he cried.
“In no other way can it be accounted for,” replied Tarzan, who now, one by one, was removing the remaining bars from the window embrasure. He straightened one of the shorter ones and handed it to Komodoflorensal. “This will make a good weapon,” he said, “if we are forced to fight for our liberty,” and then he straightened another for himself.
The Trohandalmakusian gazed at him in wonder. “And you intend,” he demanded, “to defy a city of four hundred and eighty thousand people, armed only with a bit of iron rod?”
“And my wits,” added Tarzan.
“You will need them,” said the prince.
“And I shall use them,” Tarzan assured him.
“When shall you start?” asked Komodoflorensal, chaffingly.
“Tonight, tomorrow, next moon—who knows?” replied the ape-man. “Conditions must be ripe. All the time I shall be watching and planning. In that sense I started to escape the instant I regained consciousness and knew that I was a prisoner.”
Komodoflorensal shook his head.
“You have no faith in me?” demanded Tarzan.
“That is precisely what I have—faith,” replied Komodoflorensal. “My judgment tells me that you cannot succeed and yet I shall cast my lot with you, hoping for success, yes, believing in success. If that is not faith I do not know what it might be called.”
The ape-man smiled. He seldom, if ever, laughed aloud. “Let us commence,” he said. “First we will arrange these rods so that they will have the appearance, from the doorway, of not having been disturbed, for I take it we shall have an occasional visitor. Someone will bring us food, at least, and whoever comes must suspect nothing.”
Together they arranged the rods so that they might be quickly removed and as quickly replaced. By that time it was getting quite dark within the chamber. Shortly after they had finished with the rods their door opened and two warriors, lighting their way with candles, appeared escorting a slave who bore food in bucketlike receptacles and water in bottles made of glazed pottery.
As they were going away again, after depositing the food and drink just inside the doorway, taking their candles with them, Komodoflorensal addressed them.
“We are without candles, warrior,” he said to the nearer. “Will you not leave us one of yours?”
“You need no candle in this chamber,” replied the man. “One night in darkness will do you good, and tomorrow you return to the quarry. Zoanthrohago is done with you. In the quarry you will have plenty of candles,” and he passed out of the chamber, closing the door behind him.
The two slaves heard the heavy bolt shot into place upon the opposite side of the door. It was very dark now. With difficulty they found the receptacles containing the food and water.
“Well?” inquired Komodoflorensal, dipping into one of the food jars. “Do you think it is going to be so easy now, when tomorrow you will be back in the quarry perhaps five hundred huals below ground?”
“But I shall not be,” replied Tarzan, “and neither shall you.”
“Why not?” asked the prince.
“Because, since they expect to remove us to the quarries tomorrow, it follows that we must escape tonight,” explained Tarzan.
Komodoflorensal only laughed.
When Tarzan had eaten his fill he arose and walked to the window, where he removed the bars and, taking the one that he had selected for himself, crawled through the passage that led to the opposite end of the embrasure, for even so close to the apex of the dome the wall was quite thick, perhaps ten huals. The hual, which is about three inches in length by our standards, constitutes the Minunian basic unit of measure, corresponding most closely to our foot. At this high level the embrasure was much smaller than those opening at lower levels, practically all of which were of sufficient size to permit a warrior to walk erect within them; but here Tarzan was forced to crawl upon all fours.
At the far end he found himself looking out into a black void above which the stars were shining and about the sides of which were dotted vague reflections of inner lights, marking the lighted chambers within the dome. Above him it was but a short distance to the apex of the dome, below was a sheer drop of four hundred huals.
Tarzan, having seen all that could be seen from the mouth of the embrasure, returned to the chamber. “How far is it, Komodoflorensal,” he asked, “from the floor of this embrasure to the roof of the dome?”
“Twelve huals, perhaps,” replied the Trohanadalmakusian.
Tarzan took the longest of the bars from the embrasure and measured it as best he could. “Too far,” he said.
“What is too far?” demanded Komodoflorensal.
“The roof,” explained Tarzan.
“What difference does it make where the roof is—you did not expect to escape by way of the roof of the dome, did you?”
“Most certainly—had it been accessible,” replied the ape-man; “but now we shall have to go by way of the shaft, which will mean crossing entirely through the dome from the interior shaft to the outer periphery. The other route would have entailed less danger of detection.”
Komodoflorensal laughed aloud. “You seem to think
