For a second we struggled, then he released his grip and murmured some
words in a dialect that I did not understand. His hand had touched the
parrot-feather mat that I had drawn about my shoulders, and he was
convinced that I was one of his own companions.
Still holding my shoulder he pushed me a pace or two forward, and
instinctively I knew that I was in the corridor. The faintest tremor
disturbed the heavy air, and a wild surge of joy rushed through my
being. The place of skulls had brought a terror upon me that swept away
my reason, but the knowledge that I was on the way to the open, where I
could fill my lungs with God's pure air, acted as a powerful
restorative.
As my guide's fingers slipped from my shoulder, I stood still and
listened. His heavy breathing was distinctly audible, and with a prayer
to Providence to guide my right hand, I brought the butt of the heavy
revolver down through the darkness. It must have caught him squarely
upon the crown, for he dropped without a groan.
"Holman!" I shrieked. "Where are you, Holman? The passage is here! This
way, quick!"
A revolver cracked within two feet of me, and the bullet ripped through
the tall headdress.
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