Personally I couldn’t see how the thing would help us any in our present quandary, but Itza--who was ever in awe of Nohul Voh and his strange knowledge and seemingly mystic powers--insisted that it would. Curious to see what the result would be, I dug it out of my pack, unstoppered the end, and flashed its rays upon the rock with the carved symbol. As the strange red glare suffused the stone, I jumped as if I had sat on a lively hornet, and stood gaping in amazement. The symbol stood out in brilliant green light, and leading from it down the side of the rock, across the cavern floor, and disappearing between the stone columns in the blackness, was a row of shining green arrows! Itza cried out with delight and clapped her hands at my surprise and her own triumph. Hadn’t she said so? Hadn’t she known Nohul Voh had spoken the truth? We hurried on, following the arrows. Suddenly I burst into a peal of laughter. It all seemed so ridiculously familiar--“Follow the green arrows”--I could almost imagine myself in the subway at Times Square, in New York, glancing at the green line as I hurried towards the Lexington Avenue trains! But of course I couldn’t explain this to Itza, and she glanced apprehensively at me wondering if I had suddenly lost my senses. * * * * * AS we followed the arrows and the symbols that appeared from time to time, I realized how little chance we would have had, had we tried to find the entrance by moving in a direct line across the cavern. The marks turned, twisted, zig-zagged; swung to left, to right; doubled. I lost all sense of direction, but at last, far ahead, a patch of light showed in the blackness, and a moment later we stood at the entrance. Nothing had changed. The stones and the log I had placed there months before were still in position, and, passing through the opening beneath the idol, we stood once more in the blessed sunshine in the fair, green valley. I looked up at the great image leaning far forward as if about to fall upon its knees. A question was in my mind. Should I leave the entrance open, so that any man who passed that way might enter and find Mictolan, so those within the valley might have free egress in case they ever deserted Mictolan? Or should I remove the props, swing the idol back in place and close the entrance? Visions of Mictolan, of the peaceful happy life of its people rose before me. I saw Azcopil ruling the people wisely and well, I saw the lofty temples, heard the pealing of the great bell. Then I visualized the valley overrun with strangers, exploited by rough, unprincipled miners, the Mayas degraded, oppressed, debauched with the rum and vices of the white man. Better by far that they should always remain in their hidden valley, that Mictolan should remain forever unknown, inaccessible to the rest of the world.