“Then perhaps the shaft would be safer,” said Tarzan. “There would be less likelihood of discovery before we reached the bottom, for from what I could see it is as dark as pitch in the shaft.”
“Clamber down the inside of the shaft!” exclaimed Komodoflorensal. “You are mad! You could not clamber from this level to the next without falling, and it must be a full four hundred huals to the bottom.”
“Wait!” Tarzan admonished him.
Komodoflorensal could hear his companion moving around in the dark chamber. He heard the scraping of metal on stone and presently he heard a pounding, not loud, yet heavy.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Wait!” said Tarzan.
And Komodoflorensal waited, wondering. It was Tarzan who spoke next.
“Could you find the chamber in which Talaskar is confined in the quarry?” he asked.
“Why?” demanded the prince.
“We are going after her,” explained Tarzan. “We promised that we would not leave without her.”
“I can find it,” said Komodoflorensal, rather sullenly Tarzan thought.
For some time the ape-man worked on in silence, except for the muffled pounding and the scraping of iron on stone, or of iron on iron.
“Do you know everyone in Trohanadalmakus?” Tarzan asked, suddenly.
“Why, no,” replied Komodoflorensal. “There are a million souls, including all the slaves. I could not know them all.”
“Did you know by sight all those that dwelt in the royal dome?” continued the ape-man.
“No, not even those who lived in the royal dome,” replied the Trohanadalmakusian; “though doubtless I knew practically all of the nobles, and the warrior class by sight if not by name.”
“Did anyone?” asked Tarzan.
“I doubt it,” was the reply.
“Good!” exclaimed Tarzan.
Again there was a silence, broken again by the Englishman.
“Can a warrior go anywhere without question in any dome of his own city?” he inquired.
“Anywhere, under ordinary circumstances, except into the king’s dome, in daytime.”
“One could not go about at night, then?” asked Tarzan.
“No,” replied his companion.
“By day, might a warrior go and come in the quarries as he pleased?”
“If he appeared to be employed he would not be questioned, ordinarily.”
Tarzan worked a little longer in silence. “Come!” he said presently; “we are ready to go.”
“I shall go with you,” said Komodoflorensal, “because I like you and because I think it would be better to be dead than a slave. At least we shall have some pleasure out of what remains to us of life, even though it be not a long life.”
“I think we shall have some pleasure, my friend,” replied Zuanthrol. “We may not escape; but, like you, I should rather die now than remain a slave for life. I have chosen tonight for our first step toward freedom, because I realize that once returned to the quarry our chances for a successful break for liberty will be reduced to almost nothing, and tonight is our only night above ground.”
“How do you propose that we escape from this chamber?”
“By way of the central shaft,” replied Tarzan; “but first tell me, may a white-tunicked slave enter the quarries freely by day?”
Komodoflorensal wondered what bearing all these seemingly immaterial questions had upon the problem of their escape; but he answered patiently:
“No, white tunics are never seen in the quarries.”
“Have you the iron bar I straightened for you?”
“Yes.”
“Then follow me through the embrasure. Bring the other rods that I shall leave in the opening. I will carry the bulk of them. Come!”
Komodoflorensal heard Tarzan crawling into the embrasure, the iron rods that he carried breaking the silence of the little chamber. Then he followed. In the mouth of the embrasure he found the rods that Tarzan had left for him to carry. There were four rods, the ends of each bent into hooks. It had been upon this work that Tarzan had been engaged in the darkness—Komodoflorensal wondered to what purpose. Presently his further advance was halted by Tarzan’s body.
“Just a moment,” said the ape-man. “I am making a hole in the window ledge. When that is done we shall be ready.” A moment later he turned his head back toward his companion. “Pass along the rods,” he said.
After Komodoflorensal had handed the hooked rods to Tarzan he heard the latter working with them, very quietly, for several minutes, and then he heard him moving his body about in the narrow confines of the embrasure and presently when the ape-man spoke again the Trohanadalmakusian realized that he had turned around and that his head was close to that of his companion.
“I shall go first, Komodoflorensal,” he said. “Come to the edge of the embrasure and when you hear me whistle once, follow me.”
“Where?” asked the prince.
“Down the shaft to the first embrasure that will give us foothold, and let us pray that there is one directly below this within the next eighteen huals. I have hooked the rods together, the upper end hooked into the hole I made in the ledge, the lower end dangling down a distance of eighteen huals.”
“Goodbye, my friend,” said Komodoflorensal.
Tarzan smiled and slipped over the edge of the embrasure. In one hand he carried the rod that he had retained as a weapon, with the other he clung to the window ledge. Below him for eighteen huals dangled the slender ladder of iron hooks, and below this, four hundred huals of pitchy darkness hid the stone flagging of the inner courtyard. Perhaps it roofed the great central throne room of the king, as was true in the royal dome of Adendrohahkis; perhaps it was but an open court. The truth was immaterial if the frail support slipped from the shallow hole in the ledge above, or if one of the hooks straightened under the weight of the ape-man.
Now he grasped the upper section of his ladder with the
