Part 12 (1/2)

Ham had pretended not even to believe Monk's story. ”You dreamed it,” he announced flatly. ”All you've got on your mind is girls, anyway.”

That charge had led to many heated word battles. There was no chance of any other kind of conflict.

Both of them found they were manacled hand and foot to stony, clammy walls.

They had spent their time since then trying to escape. They talked as much as possible, just on the chance someone might be hiding nearby. Sound of their conversation would drown any other sound they might make.

It had been apparent from the first that they were captives in an ancient dungeon. There was the smell of age about the place, the musty, dampish odor that comes only with the centuries.

”Reminds me of that dungeon we were in when we were hunting the 'Crimson Serpent',” Ham had remarked. (Crimson Serpent, Aug. 1939) Monk agreed. But if the dungeon was old, there was nothing ancient about the chains that held them.

They were new. And the rings that held the chains into the old stone walls had been embedded in fresh, hard cement.

The hairy chemist suddenly began to sing. He didn't have a musical voice.

”I'm only an ape in a gilded cage,” he quavered.

”Pipe down,” Ham roared wrathfully. ”Isn't it enough I'm helpless, without having to listen to that?”

Monk spouted a few words in Mayan. Surprisingly, Ham stopped grumbling. He joined in the singing.

His voice wasn't much better than Monk's.

Seated comfortably a hundred yards away, an armed guard put his hands over his ears. Almost he was tempted to go back and lay the two of them cold. But that involved too much effort. He got up, walked the other way, stood where he could get some sun and fresh air.

”At least they're harmless,” the guard grunted.

That was his mistake.MONK had at last succeeded in something he'd been trying to do for days.

Ham had often accused the homely chemist of being related to apes. He wasn't correct, but Monk could do some things that Ham couldn't. He could use the toes of his feet with remarkable dexterity for example.

The occasion for Monk's sudden outburst in song was simple. He had finally worked the heel off one shoe.

It hadn't been hard to rub one foot against the other until he had untied the laces so that he could get the shoe off when he wanted. It had been much more difficult to get the heel off one of those shoes.

But constant prying with the toe of one shoe against the heel of the other had finally worked.

Three small pellets fell to the floor.

Monk skinned the sock off one foot, reached around with his toes, got hold of a pellet. His foot flicked back the full six inches the chain allowed. The pellet shot toward one fettered hand.

The hairy chemist missed the first time. But not the second. The pellet landed squarely in one hairy paw.

Monk handled the pellet carefully. He had to. It was filled with one of the strongest corrosive acids known.

Carefully he placed one end against the chain that connected with the manacles about his wrists. As Ham's voice rose in an unmusical tenor, he crushed one end of the pellet, let the acid pour down on the chain.

The chain had been bright and s.h.i.+ny. It wasn't for long. Even as the acid hit, a remarkable reaction occurred. The chain seemed to rust. At the same time it swelled as the cohesive molecules of the steel swelled.

Monk gave a determined yank. He was bellowing at the top of his voice at the time. His yowls covered the sound as the chain parted.

After that it was only a question of time. With his hands where he could use them, he soon had freed his feet, then he got the manacles off his wrists.

He rose, stretched lazily and yawned. Ham howled. ”Hey, what about me?”

Monk spoke. He spoke at length. He repeated all the insults Ham had handed him during the full length of their stay in the dungeon. ”An' now, daggonit, you think I'll help you!” he concluded.

Ham sighed deeply. It was going to hurt, but there was only one thing to do. ”I apologize,” he conceded humbly.

When the once-dapper lawyer was free, the two went to work swiftly. They kept up a continuous chatter, but they didn't talk about what they were doing or intended to do.

They had agreed upon their course of action long before.

Without hesitation, they took off all their clothes. Then they took straw from the mats that had been provided for them and stuffed the clothes until they had dummies that at least should be good enough for their purpose.The manacles and chains were draped realistically about the dummies' ”wrists” and ”ankles.”

Then there was nothing to do but wait.

THEIR plan was quite simple. Twice a day a guard brought them food and water. It was almost time for the evening visit.

They had no idea where they were, but that didn't bother them. If they could only get to a radio, could get a message to Doc, they were confident he would do the rest.

Minutes ticked by. It was cold standing naked in the dark against moist stone walls. Ham suffered more than Monk did. The chemist's hairy body was protection for him.

Then a sound came, the faint sound of a shoe scuffing against stone. The two became quiet.

The scuffing sound came again, louder this time. They could see the faint glow of a flashlight.

Neither noticed that the guard apparently was approaching from a different direction than usual. They drew back, cowered against the wall on either side of the huge door that led into their cell.

A key grated in the lock outside. Slowly the door to the cell opened. Light flashed in briefly on the two ”figures” chained to the side walls.

A dark figured entered.

Monk and Ham leaped at the same time. They both landed on top of the newcomer. The figure went to the ground.

One of Monk's hairy fists sought the throat, tightened to prevent any outcry. Ham started a hard swing.

A startled cry, one almost of anguish came from Monk. The homely chemist's arm shot up, parried Ham's blow.

”W-we ain't fightin' a man. We're fightin' a girl,” Monk moaned frantically.

Sobbing, gasping cries came from their victim. The girl tried to get up as Monk and Ham both turned loose.

A wail of terror came from the chemist. He leaped forward, caught the flashlight the girl had dropped.

The flashlight had rolled to one side, but its beams gave a dim illumination. Monk snapped the light off.