Another five minutes and still nothing happened. Harry called
across to Desiree, or rather began to call, for I stopped him
with a jerk. It was impossible for her to aid us, and her
situation was already sufficiently perilous.
Then, becoming impatient, I decided to try to move the stone slab
myself. Kneeling down, I placed the palms of my hands firmly
against its surface and pressed with all my weight.
And then I knew. Complete comprehension flashed through my brain
on the instant. I sprang to my feet, and my thought must have
shown on my face, for Harry looked at me in surprise, demanding:
"What is it? What is it, Paul?"
And I answered calmly:
"We're caught, Hal. Like rats in a trap. Oh, the black devils!
Listen! We have no time to lose. Bend over and touch the palm of
your hand to the ground."
He did so, plainly puzzled. Then he drew his hand hastily away,
exclaiming: "It's hot!"
"Yes." I spoke quickly. "Our boots kept us from feeling it
before, and the stone doesn't throw out enough heat to feel it in
the air. They've built a fire under us in the column. The stone
is thick and heats slowly."
"But what--that means--"
"It means one of two things.
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