The blood rushed madly through his veins at the sound, and a cry for help rang from his lips. An instant later--it seemed an hour to the unfortunate lad--the form of the baronet appeared on the brink of the pool. “Great Scott!” he cried as he saw Wilson’s white, despairing face looking up at him; then he plunged in to his friend’s assistance. With Seymour’s strong arm about him the pool lost its terrors for Wilson. Together the two sank with the water, not attempting to do aught but keep afloat until it rose again. When it once more reached its highest level, Seymour assisted his friend to scale the bank, while Haverly, leaning far over from above, quickly dragged him into safety. But the baronet’s escape had yet to be accomplished, and seemed likely to prove a lengthier job than Wilson’s. He made no attempt to climb unassisted, recognising the futility of such a course after the engineer’s experience. Instead, he set his wits to work to evolve a method of escape. Rope they had none, and at first thought it appeared as though there was nought at hand they could use in place of one. Presently Haverly’s inventive genius found an expedient. “Your belts!” he cried. “I guess we can manage it.” He tore off his own as he spoke and buckled it to those which Mervyn and Wilson tendered. Within a few seconds Seymour had been hauled up out of the pool, and the four friends--so strangely reunited--were resting upon the brink of the funnel that had so nearly become Wilson’s tomb. Mervyn had eyes for nothing but the curious phenomenon of the sinking water, until the engineer recovered sufficiently from the effects of his immersion to tell his story. Then even the motion of the pool ceased to interest him, when Wilson told of the great ichthyosaurus, and how Garth slew it, of the vampires, the bell-beetle, and the ruined temple in the valley. The professor drank in every word. “We must see this temple,” he cried as the engineer concluded; “it’s the chance of a lifetime. Where is this valley you speak of? Can you find it again?” “Yes, I can find it,” was the dubious reply; “but will it be safe to hang about here?” “It’s worth the risk,” Mervyn returned eagerly; “let us move on without delay.” Seymour and the Yankee, although they knew that the course suggested by the scientist was not the most prudent one, had not the heart to refuse him; so they rose, and, under the guidance of the engineer, moved on up the valley. “I guess we’ve got to be slick over this deal,” the millionaire remarked, “an’ then we’ll strike for the _Seal_ right away. If the old boat can’t carry us out of this darned underworld, we’ll be considerable safer aboard her than knockin’ around here.” “How about the abyss?” Seymour questioned, “you forget the bridge is gone.” “Not for a second,” retorted Silas. “I calculate we’ve got to pull for the mouth of that there river and take to the water. How much further to this yer location of yours, Wilson?”