SUDDENLY I sprang to my feet with a triumphant shout. Now everything was clear. The Bridge of Light! The roaring horizontal column of vapor below us! They were one and the same! Through some subterranean passageway, the hissing, bellowing gas traveled to the chasm, the rocks there were filled with the radium ore; the gas was ionized, and as it spouted across the abyss, the molecules, the atoms that had been liquid became electrified ions, cations, solids--countless billions of infinitesimal bits of metal or mineral, moving, to be sure, streaming across the chasm, but under such pressure, so closely packed, that they formed a span as strong and unyielding as solid metal! It seemed incredible, but it was fact, I felt sure. Even a column of water, under pressure, will support a great weight, seems to become almost solid, and this great stream of electrified ions was ten thousand, a million times more solid than water. And how natural, how easily explained everything was after all. No wonder the flames flared from the temple top when the Bridge of Light appeared. These two were one and the same thing in different forms. When the vast stream of gas rushed across the pit before us, its escaping vapors rose up and flamed at the temple summit. Kinchi Haman had nothing to do with it. There was nothing mysterious, nothing secret about it. It was merely a natural force, a phenomenon of nature. At any other time I would have been elated, overjoyed at my discovery, at my solution of the seeming mysteries. At any other time I would have rushed to the chasm, and with Itza by my side, would have sped across the Bridge of Light and would have left Mictolan forever. But now, now what did it matter? Nothing mattered as long as I had lost Itza. I must find her, _would_ find her! But one great worry, one immense load was off my mind. I felt sure she had not been sacrificed to Kinchi Haman’s Monster of the temple. Equally, I felt sure, she had not passed this way. She must have been secreted in some other portion of the temple. We must hurry back, must retrace our steps to the priest’s quarters, must search elsewhere. Already we had lost valuable hours. Sunset and darkness were approaching; we must hurry. Back up the winding, interminable stairs we ran, panting, muscles tired and aching. We neared the top; ahead we could see the opening to Kinchi Haman’s room, when, in the deep shadows, my eye caught the glint of light flashing from some object beside the stairway. My groping hands found it. A glad shout came from my lips, as peering close I examined it. It was a link of gold chain! I would have known it anywhere. There could be no mistake. It was a fragment of a chain I had given Itza! And it was caught, jammed in a crevice, in the crack of a cleverly hidden door! Feverishly we searched for a fastening, a handle, for the door was of stone and fitted perfectly into the surrounding masonry.