“What’s that in our calendar?” Dick asked.
“October 18, a.d. 514,” Tom translated. Turning to Quetzal, he added, “More than three baktuns ago.”
The chief’s eyes widened. “Truly, my people have lived here a long time!”
“We can’t be sure the stone was carved here in your village, Ahau,” Tom pointed out. “Even your sacred stone may have been brought here by people other than your ancestors.”
As simply as he could, Tom explained that it would be necessary to dig up local stone carvings. These would then have to be deciphered, time-94 ELECTRONIC RETROSCOPE
checked, and compared with the sastun and sacred stone to find out if they were made by the same people.
Just as Tom finished speaking, Hutchcraft walked up to the hut. He was holding a rather muddy rock, which he held out to Tom. “Looks as if this has some markings on it,” the Bostonian said. “See what your time machine can make out.”
Tom was doubtful that the rock had ever borne any carvings. But rather than offend Hutchcraft, he placed it in front of the camera and switched on power. The set hummed into operation, but no picture formed on the screen.
Instead, the rock suddenly exploded, showering the onlookers with shrapnellike pieces of debris 1
CHAPTER XI
A NARROW ESCAPE
CRIES and groans went up from the natives. Many had been hit by flying bits of rock. Bud was bleeding from a cut on the cheek, and Dick Folsom had been grazed on the forehead.
“Brand my flyin’ flapjacks, what was in that stone?” Chow gasped in bewilderment. “A charge o’ blastin’ powder?”
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