In the hurry to run through them and explore the next one, doors had
been left open here and there that had been kept closed in some instances
for centuries.
One door in particular, placed cornerwise in a buttress of the outer
wall, was spotted by Juggut Khan as he circled round the city on
his charger at dusk on the day following their arrival. He brought
his charger back to where the others lay concealed, and then went
on an exploring-expedition on foot--to discover that the outer city
wall was like a sponge, a nest of honey-combed cells and passages
wandering interminably in the fifty-foot-thick brick and rubble rampart.
And while he searched amid the mazy windings of the wall, Bill Brown
sat in the forked top of a tree and studied out the ground-plan of
the city. He was imprinting landmarks in his memory for future
reference, and trying--with a brain that ached from the apparent
hopelessness of the task--to figure out a plan.
He knew by now that the four he had come to rescue were hidden underneath
the powder-magazine, and he could see the magazine itself.
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