A little later, I came upon something that puzzled and interested me even more than the ruins with the arch. Hidden in the brush was an immense stone monument lying half buried in the earth. One portion of its upper surface was elaborately carved with beautiful bas-reliefs, but the lower portion was unmarked, and the plain surface graded evenly into the carved surface. There was every graduation from the deeply-cut sculptures to shallow carvings, from these to mere outlines, and from these to the smooth stone. And there were no signs of tool marks upon it, nothing to show that the design was being chiseled away. Eagerly I examined the other visible surfaces. They were exactly the same. It was precisely as if the immense stone column had been steel and had been dipped into some acid that had deeply etched the submerged portion, leaving the rest untouched. Of course I knew that nothing of the sort actually had occurred. I merely thought of it as an appropriate simile, but the mystery of how the Mayas accomplished their wonderful sculptures had always fascinated me, and I had never before seen, or even heard of, a column that was partly carved like this one. However, it proved the Mayas had been here, and from time to time, during several hours thereafter, I came upon other remains of the ancient race. At any time now, I thought, I might come within sight of Mictolan. Little did I dream what lay ahead of me. CHAPTER VII The Bridge of Light SOON the valley became narrower and deeper, with precipitous cliffs on either side, until coming through a fairly thick wood, I found farther progress barred by a sheer cliff. But my disappointment, my chagrin at thus finding it impossible to continue on my way, was forgotten as I gazed at the rocky wall before me. Cut in the surface of the reddish rock was the huge figure of a Mayan god. So deeply sculptured was the image that it appeared more like a separate monolith set into a recess than a part of the cliff itself; a marvelous piece of work, the most superb example of ancient Mayan art that I had ever seen. The elaborate head-dress of quetzal feathers and rattlesnakes would have identified it as a representation of Kukulcan, even without the bearded face, the long robe covered with the most intricate designs, the symbols of the sacred quetzal and the two-headed serpents, and the whirling wind symbols. Fascinated, I stared at it, taking in every detail and searching for date-glyphs. But not a single cartouche enclosing numerical symbols could be seen. Then--“By Jove!” I exclaimed, as my roving eyes rested upon the oval, pendant ear ornaments. Upon them, so cleverly arranged that they appeared like mere ornamental patterns, were columns of tiny cartouches with the inscriptions for which I had been searching. But from where I stood I could make nothing of them. They were fully thirty feet above my head, and forgetting all else in my desire to examine, and if possible, decipher the dates, I clambered