The heat was getting stifling, and the men peeled off their mail and leather. I took another look around the shaft in the flickering torchlight. There were slits around us, evidently loopholes of a flanking passage, and before each waited an archer with bow ready strung and arrow in place, ready to loose at the first movement. From the bodies dotted about I guessed that those loopholes had paid for their construction when our people first got into the shaft. But the enemy had been driven out now and made no sign. “I’d like to have driven a chamber under the edge of the trapdoor,” said Wrexham, mopping his face, “but the whole thing’s solid rock. It must have taken years and years to make.” “How are you going to do it now?” “Simply pile up the powder in the middle, and block the passage with sandbags to prevent it blowing back. It’ll be a three-hour job, at least. God send a spark doesn’t push us all off while we’re working. We must have a chain of watermen going all the time to keep things damp.” “Well, I’m going back outside for a bit; it’s too hot in here. I’ll tell Andros to send up more men to relieve your birds at the loopholes, and then I’ll bring up my own people to take a hand.” So, calling Payindah and my men, I went back down the long dark passage with its evil prison cells, and, warned by experience, did not investigate too closely. There were men of ours in most of them seeking round with torches, and from the looks on their faces I argued there would be scant shrift for such of the enemy as were caught above. At last I stood in the bright sunlight at the entrance, blinking like an owl, and drinking in great gulps of clean air after the fœtid atmosphere within, feeling like one come straight out of hell. CHAPTER XXVI THE GATE AGAIN There was no fighting near by, though sounds of battle still came from the buildings on my right, where some of the enemy were resisting. On the far side of the open space our men were being reorganized, and all down the long street small bodies of troops were collecting the inhabitants so as to clear that quarter of the town. The first lust for killing had passed, and, as I entered the main street, I passed sullen groups of prisoners, powerfully built, cruel-looking men, darker-skinned than their captors. Again I remarked that faint trace of Mongoloid blood that I had noticed in Atana’s face. Some looting had started, as was inevitable, but it was quickly put down with a firm hand, and all valuables and stores were collected under guard, to be distributed in due shares later. Kyrlos stood for order and good government, and he intended to administer Shamanland under strict military rule after the war. As he told his people, they could not afford to kill off all the Shamans, since their knowledge of metal-working and their mining skill--they really controlled all the Brown Sakae mines--could ill be spared.