Down went the Celt through a cloud of dust and rotten stone. It was a sudden happening and took the others quite off their guard. ‪“Heavens!” cried Frank, recoiling. ‪“What does that mean?” ‪“The stairs have given way!” cried Buckden, with horror. ‪“Barney has gone down with them.” ‪“He is likely killed.” ‪“Massy sakes alibe!” cried Pomp, wildly. “Dat am awful. We must do somfin’ fo’ to sabe Barney.” But now as the dust cleared, a horrible realization dawned upon the explorers. At their feet yawned a dark abyss. How deep it was they could not guess, for the stairs and the floor beneath had succumbed and gone down with Barney. The bottom of the abyss could not be seen. It was safe to assume, however, that it was really a cellar underneath the building, and therefore not more than a dozen feet or more in depth. Frank leaned over and shouted: ‪“Barney! If you are alive, answer me!” “Shure an’ I will that, Misther Frank,” came up the Celt’s voice from the abyss. “It’s not kilt I am.” ‪“Are you badly hurt?” “Shure, an’ not a bit av it, Misther Frank. Only a bit av a bruise on me head an’ me arrum. Oi’m all roight.” ‪“Thank Heaven for that.” But the question now was, how were the three men to descend from their aerial position? There was no other stairs, and it was a little too great a height to risk a jump with safety. But Frank Reade, Jr., was not the one to be long in a quandary. He quickly hit upon a plan. Advancing to one of the windows, he looked down to the pavements below. It was a height of possibly twenty feet. But a jump was out of the question. However, some stout vines grew over the face of the building. These offered a good safe hold, and by means of these the three explorers clambered down to the ground floor. The first thing to do now was to rescue Barney. It was found, however, that the redoubtable Celt did not require any assistance. He had discovered a way to clamber out of the cellar, and in a moment came rushing out of the ruin. Congratulations were in order over the happy escape of all. The incidents of the day had their effect upon the explorers. Already Tony Buckden had begun to sicken of the enterprise. He had really gained the end he sought, which was to visit the city of Mazendla. Of course he had not as yet succeeded in locating the treasure spoken of by the Indian guide Metlo. But the treasure was only a slight inducement for Tony to remain amid the innumerable perils of the Central American wilds. He had in fact more money at his command than he could expend, and, of course, gold had little temptation for him. As for Frank Reade, Jr., the treasure had not constituted the object of his visit. That he had already accomplished in finding Tony Buckden. Not one in the party but was badly disaffected and wanted to go home. “I jus’ fink home am de bes’ place aftah all,” said Pomp.