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9068	----	APU OLLANTAY A Drama Of The Time Of The Incas Sovereigns Of Peru About A.D. 1470 First Reduced To Writing By Dr. Valdez, Cuba Of Sicuani A.D. 1770 The Original Manuscript Copied By Dr. Justo Pastor Justiniani This Justiniani Text Copied At Laris, In April 1863, By Clements R. Markham A Free Translation Into English By Sir Clements Markham, K.C.B. [1910] INTRODUCTION The drama was cultivated by the Incas, and dramatic performances were enacted before them. Garcilasso de la Vega, Molina, and Salcamayhua are the authorities who received and have recorded the information given by the Amautas respecting the Inca drama. Some of these dramas, and portions of others, were preserved in the memories of members of Inca and Amauta families. The Spanish priests, especially the Jesuits of Juli, soon discovered the dramatic aptitude of the people. Plays were composed and acted, under priestly auspices, which contained songs and other fragments of the ancient Inca drama. These plays were called 'Autos Sacramentales.' But complete Inca dramas were also preserved in the memories of members of the Amauta caste and, until the rebellion of 1781, they were acted. The drama of Ollantay was first reduced to writing and arranged for acting by Dr. Don Antonio Valdez, the Cura of Tinto. It was acted before his friend Jose Gabriel Condorcanqui[1] in about 1775. Taking the name of his maternal ancestor, the Inca Tupac Amaru, the ill-fated Condorcanqui rose in rebellion, was defeated, taken, and put to death under torture, in the great square of Cuzco. In the monstrous sentence 'the representation of dramas as well as all other festivals which the Indians celebrate in memory of their Incas' was prohibited.[2] This is a clear proof that before 1781 these Quichua dramas were acted. The original manuscript of Valdez was copied by his friend Don Justo Pastor Justiniani, and this copy was inherited by his son. There was another copy in the convent of San Domingo at Cuzco, but it is corrupt, and there are several omissions and mistakes of a copyist. Dr. Valdez died, at a very advanced age, in 1816. In 1853 the original manuscript was in the possession of his nephew and heir, Don Narciso Cuentas of Tinta. The Justiniani copy was, in 1853, in the possession of Dr. Don Pablo Justiniani, Cura of Laris, and son of Don Justo Pastor Justiniani. He is a descendant of the Incas.[3] In April 1853 I went to Laris, a secluded valley of the Andes, and made a careful copy of the drama of Ollantay. From this Justiniani text my first very faulty line-for-line translation was made in 1871, as well as the present free translation. The first printed notice of Ollantay appeared in the Museo Erudito, Nos. 5 to 9, published at Cuzco in 1837, and edited by Don Jose Palacios. The next account of the drama, with extracts, was in the 'Antiguedades Peruanas,' a work published in 1851 jointly by Dr. von Tschudi and Don Mariaiao Rivero of Arequipa. The complete text, from the copy in the convent of San Domingo at Cuzco, was first published at Vienna in 1853 by Dr. von Tschudi in his 'Die Kechua Sprache. It was obtained for him by Dr. Ruggendas of Munich. The manuscript was a corrupt version, and in very bad condition, in parts illegible from damp. In 1868 Don Jose Barranca published a Spanish translation, from the Dominican text of von Tschudi. The learned Swiss naturalist, von Tschudi, published a revised edition of his translation at Vienna in 1875, with a parallel German translation. In 1871 I printed the Justiniani text with a literal, line-for-line translation, but with many mistakes, since corrected; and in 1874, a Peruvian, Don Jose Fernandez Nodal, published the Quichua text with a Spanish translation. In 1878 Gavino Pacheco Zegarra published his version of Ollantay, with a free translation in French. His text is a manuscript of the drama which he found in his uncle's library. Zegarra, as a native of Peru whose language was Quichua, had great advantages. He was a very severe, and often unfair, critic of his predecessors. The work of Zegarra is, however, exceedingly valuable. He was not only a Quichua scholar, but also accomplished and well read. His notes on special words and on the construction of sentences are often very interesting. But his conclusions respecting several passages which are in the Justiniani text, but not in the others, are certainly erroneous. Thus he entirely spoils the dialogue between the Uillac Uma and Piqui Chaqui by omitting the humorous part contained in the Justiniani text; and makes other similar omissions merely because the passages are not in his text. Zegarra gives a useful vocabulary at the end of all the words which occur in the drama. The great drawback to the study of Zegarra's work is that he invented a number of letters to express the various modifications of sound as they appealed to his ear. No one else can use them, while they render the reading of his own works difficult and intolerably tiresome. The last publication of a text of Ollantay was by the Rev. J. H. Gybbon Spilsbury, at Buenos Ayres in 1907, accompanied by Spanish, English, and French translations in parallel columns. There is truth in what Zegarra says, that the attempts to translate line for line, by von Tschudi and myself, 'fail to convey a proper idea of the original drama to European readers, the result being alike contrary to the genius of the modern languages of Europe and to that of the Quichua language.' Zegarra accordingly gives a very free translation in French. In the present translation I believe that I have always preserved the sense of the original, without necessarily binding myself to the words. The original is in octosyllabic lines. Songs and important speeches are in quatrains of octosyllabic lines, the first and last rhyming, and the second and third. I have endeavoured to keep to octosyllabic lines as far as possible, because they give a better idea of the original; and I have also tried to preserve the form of the songs and speeches. The drama opens towards the close of the reign of the Inca Pachacuti, the greatest of all the Incas, and the scene is laid at Cuzco or at Ollantay-tampu, in the valley of the Vilcamayu. The story turns on the love of a great chief, but not of the blood-royal, with a daughter of the Inca. This would not have been prohibited in former reigns, for the marriage of a sister by the sovereign or his heir, and the marriage of princesses only with princes of the blood-royal, were rules first introduced by Pachacuti.[4] His imperial power and greatness led him to endeavour to raise the royal family far above all others. The play opens with a dialogue between Ollantay and Piqui Chaqui, his page, a witty and humorous lad. Ollantay talks of his love for the Princess Cusi Coyllur, and wants Piqui Chaqui to take a message to her, while the page dwells on the danger of loving in such a quarter, and evades the question of taking a message. Then to them enters the Uillac Uma, or High Priest of the Sun, who remonstrates with Ollantay--a scene of great solemnity, and very effective. The next scene is in the Queen's palace. Anahuarqui, the Queen, is discovered with the Princess Cusi Coyllur, who bitterly laments the absence of Ollantay. To them enters the Inca Pachacuti, quite ignorant that his daughter has not only married Ollantay in secret, but that she is actually with child by him. Her mother keeps her secret. The Inca indulges in extravagant expressions of love for his daughter. Then boys and girls enter dancing and singing a harvest song. Another very melancholy yarahui is sung; both capable of being turned by the Princess into presages of the fate of herself and her husband. In the third scene Ollantay prefers his suit to the Inca Pachacuti in octosyllabic quatrains, the first and last lines rhyming, and the second and third. His suit is rejected with scorn and contempt. Ollantay next appears on the heights above Cuzco. In a soliloquy he declares himself the implacable enemy of Cuzco and the Inca. Then Piqui Chaqui arrives with the news that the Queen's palace is empty, and abandoned, and that Cusi Coyllur has quite disappeared; while search is being made for Ollantay. While they are together a song is sung behind some rocks, in praise of Cusi Coyllur's beauty. Then the sound of clarions and people approaching is heard, and Ollantay and Piqui Chaqui take to flight. The next scene finds the Inca enraged at the escape of Ollantay, and ordering his general Rumi-naui to march at once, and make him prisoner. To them enters a chasqui, or messenger, bringing the news that Ollantay has collected a great army at Ollantay-tampu, and that the rebels have proclaimed him Inca. The second act opens with a grand scene in the hall of the fortress-palace of Ollantay-tampu. Ollantay is proclaimed Inca by the people, and he appoints the Mountain Chief, Urco Huaranca, general of his army. Urco Huaranca explains the dispositions he has made to oppose the army advancing from Cuzco, and his plan of defence. In the next scene Rumi-naui, as a fugitive in the mountains, describes his defeat and the complete success of the strategy of Ollantay and Urco Huaranca. His soliloquy is in the octosyllabic quatrains. The last scene of the second act is in the gardens of the Convent of Virgins of the Sun. A young girl is standing by a gate which opens on the street. This, as afterwards appears, is Yma Sumac, the daughter of Ollantay and Cusi Coyllur, aged ten, but ignorant of her parentage. To her enters Pitu Salla, an attendant, who chides her for being so fond of looking out at the gate. The conversation which follows shows that Yma Sumac detests the convent and refuses to take the vows. She also has heard the moans of some sufferer, and importunes Pitu Salla to tell her who it is. Yma Sumac goes as Mama Ccacca enters and cross examines Pitu Salla on her progress in persuading Yma Sumac to adopt convent life. This Mama Ccacca is one of the Matrons or Mama Cuna, and she is also the jailer of Cusi Coyllur. The third act opens with an amusing scene between the Uillac Uma and Piqui Chaqui, who meet in a street in Cuzco. Piqui Chaqui wants to get news, but to tell nothing, and in this he succeeds. The death of Inca Pachacuti is announced to him, and the accession of Tupac Yupanqui, and with this news he departs. Next there is an interview between the new Inca Tupac Yupanqui, the Uillac Uma, and the defeated general Rumi-naui, who promises to retrieve the former disaster and bring the rebels to Cuzco, dead or alive. It after wards appears that the scheme of Rumi-naui was one of treachery. He intended to conceal his troops in eaves and gorges near Ollantay-tampu ready to rush in, when a signal was made. Rumi-naui then cut and slashed his face, covered himself with mud, and appeared at the gates of Ollantay-tampu, declaring that he had received this treatment from the new Inca, and imploring protection.[5] Ollantay received him with the greatest kindness and hospitality. In a few days Ollantay and his people celebrated the Raymi or great festival of the sun with much rejoicing and drinking. Rumi-naui pretended to join in the festivities, but when most of them were wrapped in drunken sleep, he opened the gates, let in his own men, and made them all prisoners. There is next another scene in the garden of the convent, in which Yma Sumac importunes Pitu Salla to tell her the secret of the prisoner. Pitu Salla at last yields and opens a stone door. Cusi Coyllur is discovered, fastened to a wall, and in a dying state. She had been imprisoned, by order of her father, Inca Pachacuti on the birth of Yma Sumac. She is restored with food and water, and the relationship is discovered when Cusi Coyllur hears the child's name, for she had given it to her. Next the Inca Tupac Yupanqui is discovered in the great hall of his palace, seated on his tiana or throne, with the Uillac Uma in attendance. To them enters a chasqui, or messenger, who describes the result of Rumi-naui's treachery in octosyllabic quatrains. Rumi-naui himself enters and receives the thanks of his sovereign. Then the prisoners are brought in guarded-Ollantay, Hanco Huayllu, Urco Huaranca, and Piqui Chaqui. The Inca upbraids them for their treason. He then asks the Uillac Uma for his judgment. The High Priest recommends mercy. Rumi-naui advises immediate execution: The Inca seems to concur and they are ordered off, when suddenly the Inca cries 'Stop.' He causes them all to be released, appoints Ollantay to the highest post in the empire next to himself, and Urco Huaranca to a high command. There are rejoicings, and in the midst of it all Yma Sumac forces her way into the hall, and throws herself at the Inca's feet, entreating him to save her mother from death. The Inca hands over the matter to Ollantay, but this Yma Sumac will not have, and, the Uillac Uma intervening, the Inca consents to go with the child. The final scene is in the gardens of the convent. The Inca enters with Yma Sumac, followed by the whole strength of the company. Mama Ccacca is ordered to open the stone door and Cusi Coyllur is brought out. She proves to be the sister of the Inca and the wife of Ollantay. There are explanations, and all ends happily. Of the antiquity of the drama of Ollantay there is now no question. General Mitre wrote an elaborate paper on its authenticity, raising several points to prove that it was of modern origin. But every point he raised has been satisfactorily refuted. At the same time there are many other points, some of them referred to by Zegarra, which establish the antiquity of the drama beyond any doubt. The antiquity of the name Ollantay-tampu, applied to the fortress in memory of the drama, is proved by its use in the narratives of Molina (1560) and of Salcamayhua. An able review of the literature connected with the drama of Ollantay was written by Don E. Larrabure y Unanue, the present Vice-President of Peru, who considers that Ollantay would make a good acting play with magnificent scenic effects. MS. TEXTS. 1. The original text of Valdez. In 1853 the property of Don Narciso Cuentas of Tinta, heir of Dr. Valdez. 2. The Justiniani text. In 1853 at Laris. Copy of the Valdez text. 3. Markham's copy of the Justiniani text (printed 1871). 4. Rosas copy of the Justiniani text. 5. Copy in the convent of San Domingo at Cuzco (the Dominican text). 6. Von Tschudi's copy of the Dominican text (printed 1853). 7. Text of Zegarra (printed 1878). 8. Second text of von Tschudi. 9. Text of Spilsbury. 10. Text of Sahuaraura penes Dr. Gonzalez de la Rosa. There is light thrown upon the name Ollantay by the evidence taken during the journey of the Viceroy Toledo from Jauja to Cuzco, from November 1570 to March 1571. He wanted information respecting the origin of the Inca government, and 200 witnesses were examined, the parentage or lineage of each witness being recorded. Among these we find six witnesses of the Antasayac ayllu. Sayac means a station or division, Anta is a small town near Cuzco. The names of the six Anta witnesses were, ANCAILLO; USCA; HUACRO; MANCOY; AUCA PURI; ULLANTAY; Besides ANTONIO PACROTRICA and PUNICU PAUCAR, Chiefs of Anta. We thus find that the name of Ollantay belonged to Anta. Now the Incas were under great obligations to the chief of Anta, for that chief had rescued the eldest son of Inca Rocca from the chief of Ayamarca, and had restored him to his father. For this great service the chief of Anta was declared to be a noble of the highest rank and cousin to the Inca family. Moreover, the daughter of the Anta chief was married to the Inca Uira-cocha, and was the mother of Pachacuti. Assuming, as seems probable, that Ollantay was a son of the chief of Anta, he would be a cousin of the Inca, and of very high rank, though not an agnate of the reigning family. This, I take it, is what is intended. Pachacuti desired to raise his family high above all others, and that, consequently, there should be no marriages with subjects even of the highest rank; and his excessive severity on the transgression of his rule by his daughter is thus explained. OLLANTAY ACTS AND SCENES ACT 1. Sc. 1.--Open space near Cuzco. Ollantay, Piqui Chaqui, Uillac Uma. Sc. 2.--Hall in the Colcampata. Anahuarqui, Cusi Coyllur, Inca Pachacuti, Boys and Girls, Singers. Sc. 3.--Hall in the Inca's palace. Pachacuti, Rumi-naui, Ollantay. Sc. 4.--Height above Cuzco. Ollantay, Piqui Chaqui, Unseen Singer. Sc. 5.--Hall in the Inca's palace. Pachacuti, Rumi-naui, and a Chasqui. ACT II. Sc. 1.--Ollantay-tampu Hall. Ollantay, Urco Huaranca, Hanco Huayllu, People and Soldiers. Sc. 2.--A wild place in the mountains. Rumi-naui's soliloquy. Sc. 3.--Gardens of the Virgins. Yma Sumac, Pitu Salla, Mama Ccacca. ACT III. Sc. 1.--Pampa Maroni at Cuzco. Uillac Uma and Piqui Chaqui. Sc. 2.--Palace of Tupac Yupanqui. Tupac Yupanqui, Uillac Uma, Rumi-naui. Sc. 3.--Ollantay-tampu, Terrace. Rumi-naui, Ollantay, Guards. Sc. 4.--House of Virgins, Corridor. Yma Sumac, Pitu Salla. Sc. 5.--House of Virgins, Garden. Yma Sumac, Pitu Salla, Cusi Coyllur. Sc. 6.--Palace of Tupac Yupanqui. Tupac Yupanqui, Uillac Uma, a Chasqui, Rumi-naui, Ollantay, Urco Huaranca, Hanco Huayllu, Piqui Chaqui, Chiefs and Guards, then Yma Sumac. Sc. 7.--House of Virgins, Garden. All of Scene 6, and Mama Ccacca, Cusi Coyllur, Pitu Salla. SCENE In Cuzco and its environs, and Ollantay-tampu DRAMATIS PERSONAE APU OLLANTAY.--General of Anti-suyu, the eastern province of the empire. A young chief, but not of the blood-royal. His rank was that of a Tucuyricuo or Viceroy. The name occurs among the witnesses examined by order of the Viceroy Toledo, being one of the six of the Antasayac ayllu. PACHACUTI.--The Sovereign Inca. TUPAC YUPANQUI.--Sovereign. Inca, son and heir of Pachacuti. RUMI-NAUI.--A great chief, General of Colla-suyu. The word means 'Stone-eye.' UILLAC UMA.--High Priest of the Sun. The word Uma means head, and Uillac, a councillor and diviner. URCO HUARANCA.--A chief. The words mean' Mountain Chief.' The word huaranca means 1000; hence, Chief of a Thousand. HANCO HUAYLLU AUQUI.--An old officer, of the blood-royal. PIQUI CHAQUI.--Page to Ollantay. The words mean 'fleet-footed.' ANAHUARQUI.--The Ccoya or Queen, wife of Pachacuti. CUSI COYLLUR NUSTA.--A Princess, daughter of Pachacuti. The words mean 'the joyful star.' YMA SUMAC.--Daughter of Cusi Coyllur. The words mean 'How beautiful.' PITU SALLA.--A girl, companion of Yma Sumac. CCACCA MAMA.--A matron of Virgins of the Sun. Jailer of Cusi Coyllur. Nobles, captains, soldiers, boys and girls dancing, singers, attendants, messengers or Chasqui. ACT I SCENE I An open space near the junction of the two torrents of Cuzco, the Huatanay and Tullumayu or Rodadero, called Pumap Chupan, just outside the gardens of the Sun. The Temple of the Sun beyond the gardens, and the Sacsahuaman hill surmounted by the fortress, rising in the distance. The palace of Colcampata on the hillside. (Enter OLLANTAY L. [in a gilded tunic, breeches of llama sinews, usutas or shoes of llama hide, a red mantle of ccompi or fine cloth, and the chucu or head-dress of his rank, holding a battle-axe (champi) and club (macana)] and PIQUI CHAQUI coming up from the back R. [in a coarse brown tunic of auasca or llama cloth, girdle used as a sling, and chucu or head-dress of a Cuzqueno].) Ollantay. Where, young fleet-foot, hast thou been? Hast thou the starry nusta seen? Piqui Chaqui. The Sun forbids such sacrilege 'Tis not for me to see the star. Dost thou, my master, fear no ill, Thine eyes upon the Inca's child? Ollantay. In spite of all I swear to love That tender dove, that lovely star; My heart is as a lamb[6] with her, And ever will her presence seek. Piqui Chaqui. Such thoughts are prompted by Supay[7]; That evil being possesses thee. All round are beauteous girls to choose Before old age, and weakness come. If the great Inca knew thy plot And what thou seekest to attain, Thy head would fall by his command, Thy body would be quickly burnt. Ollantay. Boy, do not dare to cross me thus. One more such word and thou shalt die. These hands will tear thee limb from limb, If still thy councils are so base. Piqui Chaqui. Well! treat thy servant as a dog, But do not night and day repeat, 'Piqui Chaqui! swift of foot! Go once more to seek the star.' Ollantay. Have I not already said That e'en if death's fell scythe[8] was here, If mountains should oppose my path Like two fierce foes[9] who block the way, Yet will I fight all these combined And risk all else to gain my end, And whether it be life or death I'll cast myself at Coyllur's feet. Piqui Chaqui. But if Supay himself should come? Ollantay. I'd strike the evil spirit down. Piqui Chaqui. If thou shouldst only see his nose, Thou wouldst not speak as thou dost now. Ollantay. Now, Piqui Chaqui, speak the truth, Seek not evasion or deceit. Dost thou not already know, Of all the flowers in the field, Not one can equal my Princess? Piqui Chaqui. Still, my master, thou dost rave. I think I never saw thy love. Stay! was it her who yesterday Came forth with slow and faltering steps And sought a solitary[10] path[11]? If so, 'tis true she's like the sun, The moon less beauteous than her face.[12] Ollantay. It surely was my dearest love. How beautiful, how bright is she This very moment thou must go And take my message to the Star. Piqui Chaqui. I dare not, master; in the day, I fear to pass the palace gate. With all the splendour of the court, I could not tell her from the rest. Ollantay. Didst thou not say thou sawest her? Piqui Chaqui. I said so, but it was not sense. A star can only shine at night Only at night could I be sure. Ollantay. Begone, thou lazy good-for-nought. The joyful star that I adore, If placed in presence of the Sun, Would shine as brightly as before. Piqui Chaqui. Lo! some person hither comes, Perhaps an old crone seeking alms; Yes! Look! he quite resembles one. Lot him the dangerous message take. Send it by him, O noble Chief! From me they would not hear the tale; Thy page is but a humble lad. (Enter the UILLAC UMA, or High Priest of the Sun, at the back, arms raised to the Sun. In a grey tunic and black mantle from the shoulders to the ground, a long knife in his belt, the undress chucu on his head.) Uillac Uma. O giver of all warmth and light O Sun! I fall and worship thee. For thee the victims are prepared, A thousand llamas and their lambs Are ready for thy festal day. The sacred fire'll lap their blood, In thy dread presence, mighty one, After long fast[13] thy victims fall. Ollantay. Who comes hither, Piqui Chaqui? Yes, 'tis the holy Uillac Uma; He brings his tools of augury. No puma[14] more astute and wise I hate that ancient conjurer Who prophesies of evil things, I feel the evils he foretells; 'Tis he who ever brings ill-luck. Piqui Chaqui. Silence, master, do not speak, The old man doubly is informed; Fore-knowing every word you say, Already he has guessed it all. (He lies down on a bank.) Ollantay (aside). He sees me. I must speak to him. (The Uillac Uma comes forward.) O Uillac Uma, Great High Priest, I bow before thee with respect May the skies be clear for thee, And brightest sunshine meet thine eyes. Uillac Uma. Brave Ollantay! Princely one! May all the teeming land be thine; May thy far-reaching arm of might Reduce the wide-spread universe. Ollantay. Old man! thine aspect causes fear, Thy presence here some ill forebodes; All round thee dead men's bones appear, Baskets, flowers, sacrifice. All men when they see thy face Are filled with terror and alarm. What means it all? why comest thou? It wants some months before the least. Is it that the Inca is ill? Perchance hast thou some thought divined Which soon will turn to flowing blood. Why comest thou? the Sun's great day, The Moon's libations are not yet The moon has not yet nearly reached The solemn time for sacrifice. Uillac Uma. Why dost thou these questions put, In tones of anger and reproach? Am I, forsooth, thy humble slave? That I know all I'll quickly prove. Ollantay. My beating heart is filled with dread, Beholding thee so suddenly; Perchance thy coming is a sign, Of evils overtaking me. Uillac Uma. Fear not, Ollantay! not for that, The High Priest comes to thee this day. It is perhaps for love of thee, That, as a straw is blown by wind, A friend, this day, encounters thee. Speak to me as to a friend, Hide nothing from my scrutiny. This day I come to offer thee A last and most momentous choice 'Tis nothing less than life or death. Ollantay. Then make thy words more clear to me, That I may understand the choice Till now 'tis but a tangled skein, Unravel it that I may know. Uillac Uma. 'Tis well. Now listen, warlike. Chief My science has enabled me, To learn and see all hidden things Unknown to other mortal men. My power will enable me To make of thee a greater prince. I brought thee up from tender years, And cherished thee with love and care I now would guide thee in the right, And ward off all that threatens thee. As chief of Anti-suyu now, The people venerate thy name; Thy Sovereign trusts and honours thee, E'en to sharing half his realm. From all the rest he chose thee out, And placed all power in thy hands; He made thy armies great and strong, And strengthened thee against thy foes How numerous soe'er they be, They have been hunted down by thee. Are these good reasons for thy wish, To wound thy Sovereign to the heart? His daughter is beloved by thee; Thy passion thou wouldst fain indulge, Lawless and forbidden though it be. I call upon thee, stop in time, Tear this folly from thy heart. If thy passion is immense, Still let honour hold its place. You reel, you stagger on the brink I'd snatch thee from the very edge. Thou knowest well it cannot be, The Inca never would consent. If thou didst e'en propose it now, He would be overcome with rage; From favoured prince and trusted chief, Thou wouldst descend to lowest rank. Ollantay. How is it that thou canst surely know What still is hidden in my heart? Her mother only knows my love, Yet thou revealest all to me. Uillac Uma. I read thy secret on the moon, As if upon the Quipu knots; And what thou wouldst most surely hide, Is plain to me as all the rest. Ollantay. In my heart I had divined That thou wouldst search me through and through Thou knowest all, O Councillor, And wilt thou now desert thy son? Uillac Uma. How oft we mortals heedless drink, A certain death from golden cup Recall to mind how ills befall, And that a stubborn heart 's the cause. Ollantay (kneeling). Plunge that dagger in my breast, Thou holdst it ready in thy belt; Cut out my sad and broken heart I ask the favour at thy feet. Uillac Uma (to Piqui Chaqui). Gather me that flower, boy. (Piqui Chaqui gives him a withered flower and lies down again, pretending to sleep.) (To Ollantay). Behold, it is quite dead and dry. Once more behold! e'en now it weeps, It weeps. The water flows from it. (Water flows out of the flower.) Ollantay. More easy for the barren rocks Or for sand to send forth water, Than that I should cease to love The fair princess, the joyful star. Uillac Uma. Put a seed into the ground, It multiplies a hundredfold; The more thy crime shall grow and swell, The greater far thy sudden fall. Ollantay. Once for all, I now confess To thee, O great and mighty Priest; Now learn my fault. To thee I speak, Since thou hast torn it from my heart. The lasso to tie me is long, 'Tis ready to twist round my throat Yet its threads are woven with gold, It avenges a brilliant crime. Cusi Coyllur e'en now is my wife, Already we 're bound and are one; My blood now runs in her veins, E'en now I am noble as she. Her mother has knowledge of all, The Queen can attest what I say; Let me tell all this to the King, I pray for thy help and advice. I will speak without fear and with force, He may perhaps give way to his rage Yet he may consider my youth, May remember the battles I've fought; The record is carved on my club. (Holds up his macana.) He may think of his enemies crushed, The thousands I've thrown at his feet. Uillac Uma. Young Prince! thy words are too bold, Thou hast twisted the thread of thy fate-- Beware, before 'tis too late; Disentangle and weave it afresh, Go alone to speak to the King, Alone bear the blow that you seek; Above all let thy words be but few, And say them with deepest respect; Be it life, be it death that you find, I will never forget thee, my son. (Walks up and exit.) Ollantay. Ollantay, thou art a man, No place in thy heart for fear; Cusi Coyllur, surround me with light. Piqui Chaqui, where art thou? Piqui Chaqui (jumping up). I was asleep, my master, And dreaming of evil things. Ollantay. Of what? Piqui Chaqui. Of a fox with a rope round its neck. Ollantay. Sure enough, thou art the fox. Piqui Chaqui. It is true that my nose is growing finer, And my ears a good deal longer. Ollantay. Come, lead me to the Coyllur. Piqui Chaqui. It is still daylight. (Exeunt.) SCENE 2 A great hall in the Colcampata, then the palace of the Queen or Ccoya Anahuarqui. In the centre of the back scene a doorway, and seen through it gardens with the snowy peak of Vilcanota in the distance. Walls covered with golden slabs. On either side of the doorway three recesses, with household gods in the shape of maize-cobs and llamas, and gold vases in them. On R. a golden tiana or throne. On L. two lower seats covered with cushions of fine woollen cloth. (ANAHUARQUI, the Queen or Ccoya (in blue chucu, white cotton bodice, and red mantle secured by a golden topu or pin, set with emeralds, and a blue skirt), and the princess CUSI COYLLUR (in a chucu, with feathers of the tunqui, white bodice and skirt, and grey mantle with topu, set with pearls) discovered seated.) Anahuarqui. Since when art thou feeling so sad, Cusi Coyllur! great Inti's prunelle?[15] Since when hast thou lost all thy joy, Thy smile and thy once merry laugh? Tears of grief now pour down my face, As I watch and mourn over my child; Thy grief makes me ready to die. Thy union filled thee with joy, Already you're really his wife. Is he not the man of thy choice? O daughter, devotedly loved, Why plunged in such terrible grief? (Cusi Coyllur has had her face hidden in the pillows. She now rises to her feet, throwing up her arms.) Cusi Coyllur. O my mother! O most gracious Queen! How can my tears o'er cease to flow, How can my bitter sighs surcease, While the valiant Chief I worship For many days and sleepless nights, All heedless of my tender years, Seems quite to have forgotten me? He has turned his regard from his wife And no longer seeks for his love. O my mother! O most gracious Queen! O my husband so beloved! Since the day when I last saw my love The moon has been hidden from view; The sun shines no more as of old, In rising it rolls among mist; At night the stars are all dim, All nature seems sad and distressed The comet with fiery tail, Announces my sorrow and grief Surrounded by darkness and tears, Evil auguries fill me with fears. O my mother! O most gracious Queen! O my husband so beloved! Anahuarqui. Compose thyself and dry thine eyes, The King, thy father, has arrived. Thou lovest Ollantay, my child? (Enter the INCA PACHACUTI. On his head the mascapaycha, with the llautu or imperial fringe. A tunic of cotton embroidered with gold; on his breast the golden breastplate representing the sun, surrounded by the calendar of months. Round his waist the fourfold belt of tocapu. A crimson mantle of fine vicuna wool, fastened on his shoulders by golden puma's heads. Shoes of cloth of gold. He sits down on the golden tiana.) Inca Pachacuti. Cusi Coyllur! Star of joy, Most lovely of my progeny! Thou symbol of parental love-- Thy lips are like the huayruru.[16] Rest upon thy father's breast, Repose, my child, within mine arms. (Cusi Coyllur comes across. They embrace.) Unwind thyself, my precious one, A thread of gold within the woof. All my happiness rests upon thee, Thou art my greatest delight. Thine eyes are lovely and bright, As the rays of my father the Sun. When thy lips are moving to speak, When thine eyelids are raised with a smile, The wide world is fairly entranced. Thy breathing embalms the fresh air; Without thee thy father would pine, Life to him would be dreary and waste. He seeks for thy happiness, child, Thy welfare is ever his care. (Cusi Coyllur throws herself at his feet.) Cusi Coyllur. O father, thy kindness to me I feel; and embracing thy knees All the grief of thy daughter will cease, At peace when protected by thee. Pachacuti. How is this! my daughter before me On knees at my feet, and in tears? I fear some evil is near-- Such emotion must needs be explained. Cusi Coyllur. The star does weep before Inti, The limpid tears wash grief away. Pachacuti. Rise, my beloved, my star, Thy place is on thy dear father's knee. (Cusi Coyllur rises and sits on a stool by her father. An attendant approaches.) Attendant. O King! thy servants come to please thee. Pachacuti. Let them all enter. (Boys and girls enter dancing. After the dance they sing a harvest song.) Thou must not feed, O Tuyallay,[17] In nusta's field, O Tuyallay. Thou must not rob, O Tuyallay, The harvest maize, O Tuyallay. The grains are white, O Tuyallay, So sweet for food, O Tuyallay. The fruit is sweet, O Tuyallay, The leaves are green O Tuyallay; But the trap is set, O Tuyallay. The lime is there, O Tuyallay. We'll cut thy claws, O Tuyallay, To seize thee quick, O Tuyallay. Ask Piscaca,[18] O Tuyallay, Nailed on a branch, O Tuyallay. Where is her heart, O Tuyallay? Where her plumes, O Tuyallay? She is cut up, O Tuyallay, For stealing grain, O Tuyallay. See the fate, O Tuyallay, Of robber birds, O Tuyallay. Pachacuti. Cusi Coyllur, remain thou here, Thy mother's palace is thy home Fail not to amuse thyself, Surrounded by thy maiden friends. (Exeunt the Inca Pachacuti, the Ccoya Anahuarqui, and attendants.) Cusi Coyllur. I should better like a sadder song. My dearest friends, the last you sang To me foreshadowed evil things;[19] You who sang it leave me now. (Exeunt boys and girls, except one girl who sings.) Two loving birds are in despair,[20] They moan, they weep, they sigh; For snow has fallen on the pair, To hollow tree they fly. But lo! one dove is left alone And mourns her cruel fate; She makes a sad and piteous moan, Alone without a mate. She fears her friend is dead and gone-- Confirmed in her belief, Her sorrow finds relief in song, And thus she tells her grief. 'Sweet mate! Alas, where art thou now? I miss thine eyes so bright, Thy feet upon the tender bough, Thy breast so pure and bright.' She wanders forth from stone to stone, She seeks her mate in vain; 'My love! my love!' she makes her moan, She falls, she dies in pain. Cusi Coyllur. That yarahui is too sad, Leave me alone. (Exit the girl who sang the yarahui.) Now my tears can freely flow. SCENE 3 Great hall in the palace of Pachacuti. The INCA, as before, discovered seated on a golden tiana L. Enter to him R. OLLANTAY and RUMI-NAUI. Pachacuti. The time has arrived, O great Chiefs, To decide on the coming campaign. The spring is approaching us now, And our army must start for the war. To the province of Colla[21] we march-- There is news of Chayanta's[22] advance. The enemies muster in strength, They sharpen their arrows and spears. Ollantay. O King, that wild rabble untaught Can never resist thine array; Cuzco alone with its height Is a barrier that cannot be stormed. Twenty four thousand of mine, With their champis[23] selected with care, Impatiently wait for the sign, The sound of the beat of my drums,[24] The strains of my clarion and fife. Pachacuti. Strive then to stir them to fight, Arouse them to join in the fray, Lest some should desire to yield, To escape the effusion of blood. Rumi-naui. The enemies gather in force, The Yuncas[25] are called to their aid; They have put on their garbs for the war, And have stopped up the principal roads. All this is to hide their defects-- The men of Chayanta are base. We hear they're destroying the roads, But we can force open the way; Our llamas are laden with food-- We are ready to traverse the wilds. Pachacuti. Are you really ready to start To punish those angry snakes? But first you must give them a chance To surrender, retiring in peace, So that blood may not flow without cause, That no deaths of my soldiers befall. Ollantay. I am ready to march with my men, Every detail prepared and in place, But alas! I am heavy with care, Almost mad with anxious suspense. Pachacuti. Speak, Ollantay. Tell thy wish-- 'Tis granted, e'en my royal fringe. Ollantay. Hear me in secret, O King. Pachacuti (to Rumi-naui). Noble Chief of Colla, retire; Seek repose in thy house for a time. I will call thee before very long, Having need of thy valour and skill. Rumi-naui. With respect I obey thy command. (Exit Rumi-naui.) Ollantay. Thou knowest, O most gracious Lord, That I have served thee from a youth, Have worked with fortitude and truth, Thy treasured praise was my reward.[26] All dangers I have gladly met, For thee I always watched by night, For thee was forward in the fight, My forehead ever bathed in sweat. For thee I've been a savage foe, Urging my Antis[27] not to spare, But kill and fill the land with fear, And make the blood of conquered flow. My name is as a dreaded rope,[28] I've made the hardy Yuncas[29] yield, By me the fate of Chancas[30] sealed, They are thy thralls without a hope. 'Twas I who struck the fatal blow, When warlike Huancavilca[31] rose, Disturbing thy august repose, And laid the mighty traitor low. Ollantay ever led the van, Wherever men were doomed to die; When stubborn foes were forced to fly, Ollantay ever was the man. Now every tribe bows down to thee-- Some nations peacefully were led, Those that resist their blood is shed-- But all, O King, was due to me. O Sovereign Inca, great and brave, Rewards I know were also mine, My gratitude and thanks are thine, To me the golden axe you gave. Inca! thou gavest me command And rule o'er all the Anti race, To me they ever yield with grace, And thine, great King, is all their land My deeds, my merits are thine own To thee alone my work is due. For one more favour I would sue, My faithful service--thy renown. (Ollantay kneels before the Inca.) Thy thrall: I bow to thy behest, Thy fiat now will seal my fate. O King, my services are great, I pray thee grant one last request. I ask for Cusi Coyllur's hand If the Nusta's[32] love I've won. O King! you'll have a faithful son, Fearless, well tried, at thy command. Pachacuti. Ollantay, thou dost now presume. Thou art a subject, nothing more. Remember, bold one, who thou art, And learn to keep thy proper place. Ollantay. Strike me to the heart. Pachacuti. 'Tis for me to see to that, And not for thee to choose. Thy presumption is absurd. Be gone! (Ollantay rises and exit R.) SCENE 4 A rocky height above Cuzco to the NE. Distant view of the city of Cuzco and of the Sacsahuaman hill, crowned by the fortress. (Enter OLLANTAY armed.) Ollantay. Alas, Ollantay! Ollantay! Thou master of so many lands, Insulted by him thou servedst well. O my thrice-beloved Coyllur, Thee too I shall lose for ever. O the void[33] within my heart, O my princess! O precious dove! Cuzco! O thou beautiful city! Henceforth behold thine enemy. I'll bare thy breast to stab thy heart, And throw it as food for condors; Thy cruel Inca I will slay. I will call my men in thousands, The Antis will be assembled, Collected as with a lasso. All will be trained, all fully armed, I will guide them to Sacsahuaman. They will be as a cloud of curses, When flames rise to the heavens. Cuzco shall sleep on a bloody couch, The King shall perish in its fall; Then shall my insulter see How numerous are my followers. When thou, proud King, art at my feet, We then shall see if thou wilt say, 'Thou art too base for Coyllur's hand.' Not then will I bow down and ask, For I, not thou, will be the King-- Yet, until then, let prudence rule. (Enter PIQUI CHAQUI from back, R.) Piqui Chaqui, go back with speed, Tell the Princess I come to-night. Piqui Chaqui. I have only just come from there-- The palace was deserted quite, No soul to tell me what had passed, Not even a dog[34] was there. All the doors were closed and fastened, Except the principal doorway, And that was left without a guard. Ollantay. And the servants? Piqui Chaqui. Even the mice had fled and gone, For nothing had been left to eat. Only an owl was brooding there, Uttering its cry of evil omen. Ollantay. Perhaps then her father has taken her, To hide her in his palace bounds. Piqui Chaqui. The Inca may have strangled her; Her mother too has disappeared. Ollantay. Did no one ask for me Before you went away? Piqui Chaqui. Near a thousand men are seeking For you, and all are enemies, Armed with their miserable clubs. Ollantay. If they all arose against me, With this arm I'd fight them all No one yet has beat this hand, Wielding the champi sharp and true. Piqui Chaqui. I too would like to give a stroke At least, if my enemy was unarmed. Ollantay. To whom? Piqui Chaqui. I mean that Urco Huaranca chief, Who lately was in search of thee. Ollantay. Perhaps the Inca sends him here If so my anger is aroused. Piqui Chaqui. Not from the King, I am assured, He cometh of his own accord And yet he is an ignoble man. Ollantay. He has left Cuzco, I believe; My own heart tells me it is so I'm sure that owl announces it. We'll take to the hills, at once. Piqui Chaqui. But wilt thou abandon the Star? Ollantay. What can I do, alas! Since she has disappeared? Alas, my dove! my sweet princess. (Music heard among the rocks.) Piqui Chaqui. Listen to that yarahui, The sound comes from somewhere near. (They sit on rocks.) SONG In a moment I lost my beloved, She was gone, and I never knew where; I sought her in fields and in woods, Asking all if they 'd seen the Coyllur. Her face was so lovely and fair, They called her the beautiful Star. No one else can be taken for her, With her beauty no girl can compare. Both the sun and the moon seem to shine, Resplendent they shine from a height, Their rays to her beauty resign Their brilliant light with delight. Her hair is a soft raven black, Her tresses are bound with gold thread, They fall in long folds down her back, And add charm to her beautiful head. Her eyelashes brighten her face, Two rainbows less brilliant and fair, Her eyes full of mercy and grace, With nought but two, suns can compare. The eyelids with arrows concealed, Gaily shoot their rays into the heart They open, lo! beauty revealed, Pierces through like a glittering dart. Her cheeks Achancara[35] on snow, Her face more fair than the dawn, From her mouth the laughter doth flow, Between pearls as bright as the morn. Smooth as crystal and spotlessly clear Is her throat, like the corn in a sheaf Her bosoms, which scarcely appear, Like flowers concealed by a leaf. Her beautiful hand is a sight, As it rests from all dangers secure, Her fingers transparently white, Like icicles spotless and pure. Ollantay (rising). That singer, unseen and unknown, Has declared Coyllur's beauty and grace; He should fly hence, where grief overwhelms. O Princess! O loveliest Star, I alone am the cause of thy death, I also should die with my love. Piqui Chaqui. Perhaps thy star has passed away, For the heavens are sombre and grey. Ollantay. When they know that their Chief has fled, My people will rise at my call, They will leave the tyrant in crowds And he will be nearly alone. Piqui Chaqui. Thou hast love and affection from men, For thy kindness endears thee to all, For thy hand's always open with gifts, And is closely shut only to me. Ollantay. Of what hast thou need? Piqui Chaqui. What? the means to got this and that, To offer a gift to my girl, To let others see what I have, So that I may be held in esteem. Ollantay. Be as brave as thou art covetous, And all the world will fear thee. Piqui Chaqui. My face is not suited for that; Always gay and ready to laugh, My features are not shaped that way. To look brave! not becoming to me. What clarions sound on the hills? It quickly cometh near to us. (Both look out at different sides.) Ollantay. I doubt not those who seek me--come, Let us depart and quickly march. Piqui Chaqui. When flight is the word, I am here. (Exeunt.) SCENE 5 The great hall of the palace of Pachacuti. The INCA, as before, seated on the tiana. Enter to him RUMI-NAUI. Pachacuti. I ordered a search to be made, But Ollantay was not to be found. My rage I can scarcely control-- Hast thou found this infamous wretch? Rumi-naui. His fear makes him hide from thy wrath. Pachacuti. Take a thousand men fully armed, And at once commence the pursuit. Rumi-naui. Who can tell what direction to take? Three days have gone by since his flight, Perchance he's concealed in some house, And till now he is there, safely hid. (Enter a chasqui or messenger with quipus.) Behold, O King, a messenger From Urubamba he has come. Chasqui. I was ordered to come to my King, Swift as the wind, and behold me. Pachacuti. What news bringest thou? Chasqui. This quipu will tell thee, O King. Pachacuti. Examine it, O Rumi-naui. Rumi-naui. Behold the llanta, and the knots[36] Announce the number of his men. Pachacuti (to Chasqui). And thou, what hast thou seen? Chasqui. 'Tis said that all the Anti host Received Ollantay with acclaim; Many have seen, and they recount, Ollantay wears the royal fringe. Rumi-naui. The quipu record says the same. Pachacuti. Scarcely can I restrain my rage! Brave chief, commence thy march at once, Before the traitor gathers strength. If thy force is not enough, Add fifty thousand men of mine. Advance at once with lightning speed, And halt not till the foe is reached. Rumi-naui. To-morrow sees me on the route, I go to call the troops at once The rebels on the Colla road, I drive them flying down the rocks. Thine enemy I bring to thee, Dead or alive, Ollantay falls. Meanwhile, O Inca, mighty Lord, Rest and rely upon thy thrall. (Exeunt.) END OF ACT I. ACT II SCENE 1 Ollantay-tampu. Hall of the fortress-palace. Back scene seven immense stone, slabs, resting on them a monolith right across. Above masonry. At sides masonry with recesses; in the R. centre a great doorway. A golden tiana against the central slab. (Enter OLLANTAY and URCO HUARANCA, both fully armed.) Urco Huaranca. Ollantay, thou hast been proclaimed By all the Antis as their Lord. The women weep, as you will see-- They lose their husbands and their sons, Ordered to the Chayanta war. When will there be a final stop To distant wars? Year after year They send us all to far-off lands, Where blood is made to flow like rain. The King himself is well supplied With coca and all kinds of food. What cares he that his people starve? Crossing the wilds our llamas die, Our feet are wounded by the thorns, And if we would not die of thirst We carry water on our backs. Ollantay. Gallant friends! Ye hear those words, Ye listen to the mountain chief. Filled with compassion for my men, I thus, with sore and heavy heart, Have spoken to the cruel king: 'The Anti-suyu must have rest; All her best men shan't die for thee, By battle, fire, and disease-- They die in numbers terrible. How many men have ne'er returned, How many chiefs have met their death For enterprises far away?' For this I left the Inca's court,[37] Saying that we must rest in peace; Lot none of us forsake our hearths, And if the Inca still persists, Proclaim with him a mortal feud. (Enter HANCO HUAYLLU, several chiefs, and a great crowd of soldiers and people.) People. Long Eve our king, Ollantay Bring forth the standard and the fringe, Invest him with the crimson fringe In Tampu now the Inca reigns, He rises like the star of day. (The chiefs, soldiers, and people range them selves round. Ollantay is seated on the tiana by Hanco Huayllu, an aged Auqui or Prince.) Hanco Huayllu. Receive from me the royal fringe, 'Tis given by the people's will. Uilcanota[38] is a distant land, Yet, even now, her people come To range themselves beneath thy law. (Ollantay is invested with the fringe. He rises.) Ollantay. Urco Huaranca, thee I name Of Anti-suyu Chief and Lord; Receive the arrows and the plume, (Gives them.) Henceforth thou art our general. People. Long life to the Mountain Chief. Ollantay. Hanco Huayllu,[39] of all my lords Thou art most venerable and wise, Being kin to the august High Priest, It is my wish that thou shouldst give The ring unto the Mountain Chief. (Urco Huaranca kneels, and Hanco Huayllu addresses him.) Hanco Huayllu. This ring around thy finger's placed That thou mayst feel, and ne'er forget, That when in fight thou art engaged, Clemency becomes a hero chief. Urco Huaranca. A thousand times, illustrious king, I bless thee for thy trust in me. Hanco Huayllu. Behold the valiant Mountain Chief, Now fully armed from head to foot, And bristling like the quiscahuan,[40] Accoutred as becomes a knight. (Turning to Urco Huaranca.) Ne'er let thine enemies take thee in rear Man of the Puna,[41] it ne'er can be said You fled or trembled as a reed. Urco Huaranca. Hear me, warriors of the Andes! Already we have a valiant king, It might be he will be attacked; 'Tis said th' old Inca sends a force, The men of Cuzco now advance. We have not a single day to lose; Call from the heights our Puna men, Prepare their arms without delay, Make Tampu strong with rampart walls, No outlet leave without a guard; On hill slopes gather pois'nous herbs To shoot our arrows, carrying death. Ollantay (to Urco Huaranca). Select the chiefs! Fix all the posts for different tribes; Our foes keep marching without sleep-- Contrive to check them by surprise. The compi[42] ruse may cause their flight. Urco Huaranca. Thirty thousand brave Antis are here, Amongst them no weakling is found; Apu Maruti,[43] the mighty in war, From high Uilcapampa[44] will come, On steep Tinquiqueru[45] he'll stand To march when the signal appears; On the opposite side of the stream Prince Chara[46] has mustered his force; In the gorge Charamuni[47] I post Ten thousand armed Antis on watch; Another such force is in wait On the left, in the vale of Pachar.[48] We are ready to meet our foes, We await them with resolute calm; They will march in their confident pride Until their retreat is out off, Then the trumpet of war shall resound, From the mountains the stones shall pour down, Great blocks will be hurled from above. The Huancas[49] are crushed or dispersed, Then the knife shall do its fell work, All will perish by blows from our hands, Our arrows will follow their flight. People and soldiers. It is well! It is very well! (Cheers and martial music.) (Exeunt.) SCENE 2 A wild place the mountains. Distant view of Ollantay-tampu. (Enter Rumi-naui, torn and ragged, and covered with blood, with two attendants.) Rumi-naui. Ah! Rumi-naui--Rumi-naui,[50] Thou art a fated rolling stone,[51] Escaped indeed, but quite alone, And this is now thy yarahui. Ollantay posted on the height, Thou couldst not either fight or see, Thy men did quickly fall or flee; No room was there to move or fight. Thou knowest now thy heart did beat And flutter like a butterfly; Thy skill thou couldst not then apply, No course was left thee but retreat. They had recourse to a surprise, Our warriors immolated quite. Ah! that alone could turn thee white-- From shame like that, canst e'er arise? By thousands did thy warriors fall, I hardly could alone escape, With open mouth fell death did gape, A great disaster did befall. Holding that traitor to be brave, I sought to meet him face to face-- Rushing to seek him with my mace, I nearly found a warrior's grave. My army then was near the hill, When suddenly the massive stones Came crashing down, with cries and moans, While clarions sounded loud and shrill. A rain of stones both great and small Down on the crowd of warriors crashed, On every side destruction flashed, Thy heart the slaughter did appal. Like a strong flood the blood did flow, Inundating the ravine; So sad a sight thou ne'er hast seen-- No man survived to strike a blow. O thou who art by this disgraced, What figure canst thou ever show Before the king, who seeks to know The truth, which must be faced? 'Tis better far myself to kill, Or losing every scrap of hope, To hang my body with this rope. (Takes a sling off his cap--going.) Yet may it not be useful still? (Turns again.) When bold Ollantay's end has come.[52] (Exit.) SCENE 3 A garden in the house of the Virgins of the Sun. Chilca shrubs and mulli trees (Schinus Molle) with panicles of red berries. The walls of the house at the back, with a door. A gate (L.) opening on the street. (YMA SUMAC discovered at the gate looking out. To her enters (R.) PITU SALLA. Both dressed in white with golden belts.) Pitu Salla. Yma Sumac, do not approach So near that gate, and so often; It might arouse the Mother's wrath. Thy name, which is so dear to me, Will surely pass from mouth to mouth. Honour shall be shown to chosen ones,[53] Who wish to close the outer gate. Amuse thyself within the walls, And no one then can say a word. Think well what you can find within-- It gives you all you can desire, Of dresses, gold, and dainty food. Thou art beloved by every one, E'en Virgins of the royal blood. The Mothers love to carry thee, They give thee kisses and caress-- You they prefer to all the rest. What more could any one desire, Than always to remain with them, Destined to be servant of the Sun? In contemplating Him there's peace. Yma Sumac. Pitu Salla, ever you repeat The same thing and the same advice; I will open to thee my whole heart, And say exactly what I think. Know that to me this court and house Are insupportable--no less; The place oppresses--frightens me-- Each day I curse my destiny. The faces of all the Mama Cuna Fill me with hatred and disgust, And from the place they make me sit, Nothing else is visible. Around me there is nothing bright, All are weeping and ne'er cease If I could ever have my way, No person should remain within. I see the people pass outside, Laughing as they walk along. The reason it is plain to see-- They are not mewed and cloistered here. Is it because I have no mother, That I am kept a prisoner? Or is it I 'm a rich novice? Then from to-day I would be poor. Last night I could not get to sleep, I wandered down a garden walk; In the dead silence of the night, I heard one mourn. A bitter cry, As one who sought and prayed for death. On every side I looked about, My hair almost on end with fright, Trembling, I cried, 'Who canst thou be?' Then the voice murmured these sad words: 'O Sun, release me from this place!' And this, amidst such sighs and groans! I searched about, but nothing found-- The grass was rustling in the wind. I joined my tears to that sad sound, My heart was torn with trembling fear. When now the recollection comes, I'm filled with sorrow and with dread. You know now why I hate this place. Speak no more, my dearest friend, Of reasons for remaining here. Pitu Salla. At least go in. The Mother may appear. Yma Sumac. But pleasant is the light of day. (Exit, R.) (Enter MAMA CCACCA, L., in grey with black edges and belt.) Mama Ccacca. Pitu Salla, hast thou spoken All I told thee to that child? Pitu Salla. I have said all to her. Mama Ccacca. And she, does she answer freely? Pitu Salla. She has wept and asked for pity, Refusing to comply at all. She will not take the virgin's oath. Mama Ccacca. And this in spite of thy advice? Pitu Salla. I showed her the dress she will wear, Telling her misfortune would befall If she refused to be a chosen one-- That she would ever be an outcast, And for us a child accursed. Mama Ccacca. What can she imagine, Wretched child of an unknown father, A maid without a mother, Just a fluttering butterfly? Tell her plainly, very plainly, That these walls offer her a home, Suited for outcasts such as she, And here no light is seen. (Exit, L.) Pitu Salla. Ay, my Sumac! Yma Sumac! These walls will be cruel indeed, To hide thy surpassing beauty. (Glancing to where Mama Ccacca went out.) What a serpent! What a puma! ACT III SCENE 1 The Pampa Moroni, a street in Cuzco. Enter RUMI-NAUI (L.)[54] in a long black cloak with a train, and PIQUI CHAQUI (R.), meeting each other. Rumi-naui. Whence, Piqui Chaqui, comest thou? Dost thou here seek Ollantay's fate? Piqui Chaqui. Cuzco, great lord, is my birthplace; I hasten back unto my home. I care not more to pass my days In dismal and profound ravines. Rumi-naui. Tell me, Ollantay--what does he? Piqui Chaqui. He is busy now entangling An already entangled skein. Rumi-naui. What skein? Piqui Chaqui. Should you not give me some present If you want me to talk to you. Rumi-naui. With a stick will I give thee blows, With a rope I will hang thee. Piqui Chaqui. O, do not frighten me! Rumi-naui. Speak then. Piqui Chaqui. Ollantay. Is it Ollantay? I can remember no more. Rumi-naui. Piqui Chaqui! Take care! Piqui Chaqui. But you will not listen! I am turning blind, My ears are getting deaf, My grandmother is dead, My mother is left alone. Rumi-naui. Where is Ollantay? Tell me. Piqui Chaqui. I am in want of bread, And the Paccays[55] are not ripe. I have a long journey to-day-- The desert is very far off. Rumi-naui. If you continue to vex me I will take your life. Piqui Chaqui. Ollantay, is it? He is at work. Ollantay! He is building a wall, With very small stones indeed; They are brought by little dwarfs-- So small that to be a man's size They have to climb on each other's backs. But tell me, O friend of the King,[56] Why art thou in such long clothes, Trailing like the wings of a sick bird[57]-- As they are black it is better. Rumi-naui. Hast thou not seen already That Cuzco is plunged in grief? The great Inca Pachacuti[58] is dead, All the people are in mourning, Every soul is shedding tears. Piqui Chaqui. Who, then, succeeds to the place Which Pachacuti has left vacant? If Tupac Yupanqui succeeds, That Prince is the youngest There are some others older.[59] Rumi-naui. All Cuzco has elected him, For the late king chose him, Giving him the royal fringe; We could elect no other. Piqui Chaqui. I hasten to bring my bed here.[60] (Exit running.) SCENE 2 Great hall of the palace of Tupac Yupanqui. The INCA seated on golden tiana (C.). (Enter the HIGH PRIEST or UILLAC UMA, with priests and chosen Virgins of the Sun. The INCA dressed as his father. Uillac Uma in full dress, wearing the huampar chucu. Virgins in white with gold belts and diadems. They range themselves by the throne (L.). Then enter RUMI-NAUI and a crowd of chiefs, all in full dress, ranging themselves by the throne (R.).) Tupac Yupanqui. This day, O Councillors and Chiefs, Let all receive my benison; You Holy Virgins of the Sun[61] Receive our father's tenderest care. The realm, rejoicing, hails me king; From deep recesses of my heart I swear to seek the good of all. Uillac Uma. To-day the smoke of many beasts Ascends on high towards the sun, The Deity with joy accepts The sacrifice of prayer and praise. We found in ashes of the birds Our only Inca, King, and Lord, In the great llama sacrifice; All there beheld an eagle's form, We opened it for augury, But lo! the heart and entrails gone. The eagle Anti-suyu means-- To thy allegiance they return. (Bowing to the Inca.) Thus I, thy augur, prophesy. (Acclamation.) (Exeunt all but Uillac Uma and Rumi-naui.) Tupac Yupanqui (turning to Rumi-naui). Behold the Hanan-suyu Chief Who let the enemy escape, Who led to almost certain death So many thousands of my men. Rumi-naui. Before his death thy father knew Disaster had befallen me; 'Tis true, O King, it was my fault, Like a stone[62] I gave my orders, And volleying stones soon beat me down; It was with stones I had to fight, And in the end they crushed my men. Oh! grant me, Lord, a single chance, Give perfect freedom to my plans, Myself will to the fortress march, And I will leave it desolate. Tupac Yupanqui. For thee to strive with all thy might, For thee thine honour to regain, For thou shalt ne'er command my men Unless thy worthiness is proved. Uillac Uma. Not many days shall pass, O King, E'er all the Antis are subdued. I've seen it in the quipu roll, Haste! Haste! thou Rumi Tunqui. [63] (Exeunt.) SCENE 3 The great terrace entrance to Ollantay-tampu. On R. a long masonry wall with recesses at intervals. At back a great entrance doorway. On L. terraces descend, with view of valley and mountains. (Guards discovered at entrance doorway. To them enter RUMI-NAUI in rags, his face cut and slashed with wounds, and covered with blood.) Rumi-naui. Will no one here have pity on me? One of the Guards. Who art thou, man? Who has ill-treated thee? Thou comest in a frightful state, Covered with blood and gaping wounds. Rumi-naui. Go quickly to thy king and say That one he loves has come to him. One of the Guards. Thy name? Rumi-naui. There is no need to give a name. One of the Guards. Wait here. (Exit one of the guards.) (Enter OLLANTAY with guards, R. front.) Rumi-naui. A thousand times I thee salute, Ollantay, great and puissant king! Have pity on a fugitive Who seeks a refuge here with thee. Ollantay. Who art thou, man? Approach nearer. Who has thus ill-treated thee? Were such deep and fearful wounds Caused by a fall, or what mishap? Rumi-naui. Thou knowest me, O mighty chief. I am that stone that fell down once, But now I fall before thy feet; O Inca! mercy! Raise me up! (Kneels.) Ollantay. Art thou the noble Rumi-naui, Great Chief and Lord of Hanan-suyu? Rumi-naui. Yes, I was that well-known Chief-- A bleeding fugitive to-day. Ollantay. Rise, comrade mine. Let us embrace. (Rises.) Who has dared to treat thee thus, And who has brought thee here to me Within my fortress, on my hearth? (To attendants.) Bring new clothes for my oldest friend. (Exit an attendant.) How is it that thou art alone? Camest thou not fearing death? Rumi-naui. A new king reigns in Cuzco now-- Tupac Yupanqui is installed. Against the universal wish, He rose upon a wave of blood; Safety he sees in headless trunks, The sunchu[64] and the nucchu[65] red Are sent to all he would destroy. Doubtless you have not forgot That I was Hanan-suyu's Chief. Yupanqui ordered me to come; Arrived, I came before the king, And as he has a cruel heart, He had me wounded as you see; And now thou knowest, king and friend, How this new Inca treated me. Ollantay. Grieve not, old friend Rumi-naui, Thy wounds before all must be cured; I see in thee th' avenging knife, To use against the tyrant's heart. At Tampu now we celebrate The Sun's great Raymi festival; On that day all who love my name, Throughout my realms hold festival. Rumi-naui. Those three days of festival To me will be a time of joy, Perhaps I may be healed by then, So that my heart may pleasure seek. Ollantay. It will be so. For three whole nights We drink and feast, to praise the Sun, The better to cast all care aside We shall be shut in Tampu fort. Rumi-naui. The youths, as is their wont, will find Their great delight in those three nights, Then will they rest from all their toils, And carry off the willing girls. SCENE 4 A corridor in the palace of Chosen Virgins. (Enter YMA SUMAC and PITU SALLA.) Yma Sumac. Pitu Salla, beloved friend, How long wilt thou conceal from me The secret that I long to know? Think, dearest, of my anxious heart, How I shall be in constant grief Until you tell the truth to me. Within these hard and cruel bounds Does some one suffer for my sins? My sweet companion, do not hide From me, who 'tis that mourns and weeps Somewhere within the garden walls. How is it she is so concealed That I can never find the place? Pitu Salla. My Sumac, now I'll tell thee all-- Only concerning what you hear, And still more surely what you see, You must be dumb as any stone; And you too must be well prepared For a most sad heart-rending sight-- 'Twill make thee weep for many days. Yma Sumac. I will not tell a living soul What you divulge. But tell me all, I'll shut it closely in my heart. SCENE 5 A secluded part of the gardens of the Virgins, (L.) flowers, (R.) a thicket of mulli[66] and chilca,[67] concealing a stone door. (PITU SALLA and YMA SUMAC.) Pitu Salla. In this garden is a door of stone, But wait until the Mothers sleep, The night comes on. Wait here for me. (Exit.) (Yma Sumac reclines on a bank and sleeps. Night comes on, Yma Sumac awakes.) Yma Sumac. A thousand strange presentiments Crowd on me now, I scarce know what-- Perhaps I shall see that mournful one Whose fate already breaks my heart. (Pitu Salla returns with a cup of water, a small covered vase containing food, and a torch which she gives to Yma Sumac. She leads Yma Sumac through bushes to the stone door, fixes the torch, presses something, and the door swings round.) (CUSI COYLLUR is discovered senseless, extended on the ground, a snake twining itself round her waist.) Pitu Salla. Behold the princess for whom you seek. Well! is thy heart now satisfied? Yma Sumac. Oh, my friend, what do I behold? Is it a corpse that I must see? Oh, horror! A dungeon for the dead! (She faints.) Pitu Salla. What misfortune has now arrived? O my Sumac, my dearest love, O come to thyself without delay! Arouse thee. Arise, my lovely flower. (Yma Sumac revives.) Fear not, my dove, my lovely friend, 'Tis not a corpse. The princess lives, Unhappy, forlorn, she lingers here. Yma Sumac. Is she, then, still a living being? Pitu Salla. Approach nearer, and you can help. She lives indeed. Look. Watch her now. Give me the water and the food. (To Cusi Coyllur, while helping her to sit up.) O fair princess, I bring thee food And cooling water to refresh. Try to sit up. I come with help. Yma Sumac. Who art thou, my sweetest dove? Why art thou shut in such a place? Pitu Salla. Take a little food, we pray. Perchance without it, you may die. Cusi Coyllur. How happy am I now to see, After these long and dismal years, The new and lovely face of one Who comes with thee and gives me joy. Yma Sumac. O my princess, my sister dear, Sweet bird, with bosom of pure gold, What crime can they accuse thee of, That they can make thee suffer thus? What cruel fate has placed thee here With death on watch in serpent's form? Cusi Coyllur. O charming child, the seed of love, Sweet flower for my broken heart, I have been thrust in this abyss. I once was joined to a man As pupil is part of the eye; But alas! has he forgotten me? The King know not that we were joined By such indissoluble bonds, And when he came to ask my hand, That King dismissed him in a rage, And cruelly confined me here. Many years have passed since then, Yet, as you see, I'm still alive; No single soul have I beheld For all those sad and dismal years, Nor have I found relief nor hope. But who art thou, my dear, my love, So young, so fresh, so pitiful? Yma Sumac. I too, like thee, am full of grief, For long I've wished to see and love, My poor forlorn and sad princess. No father, no mother are mine, And there are none to care for me. Cusi Coyllur. What age art thou? Yma Sumac. I ought to number many years, For I detest this dreadful house, And as it is a dreary place, The time in it seems very long. Pitu Salla. She ought to number just ten years According to the account I've kept. Cusi Coyllur. And what is thy name? Yma Sumac. They call me Yma Sumac now, But to give it me is a mistake. Cusi Coyllur. O my daughter! O my lost love, Come to thy mother's yearning heart. (Embraces Yma Sumac.) Thou art all my happiness, My daughter, come, O come to me; This joy quite inundates my soul, It is the name I gave to thee. Yma Sumac. O my mother, to find thee thus! We must be parted never more. Do not abandon me in grief. To whom can I turn to free thee, To whom can I appeal for right? Pitu Salla. Make no noise, my dearest friend. To find us thus would ruin me. Let us go. I fear the Mothers. Yma Sumac (to Cusi Coyllur). Suffer a short time longer here, Until I come to take thee hence, Patience for a few more days. Alas! my mother dear! I go, But full of love, to seek for help. (Exeunt closing the stone door, all but Cusi Coyllur. They extinguish the torch.) SCENE 6 Great hall in the palace of Tupac Yupanqui. (The INCA discovered seated on the tiana. To him enter the UILLAC UMA, in full dress.) Tupac Yupanqui. I greet thee, great and noble Priest! Hast thou no news of Rumi-naui. Uillac Uma. Last night, with guards, I wandered out On heights towards Uilcanuta. Far off I saw a crowd in chains, No doubt the Anti prisoners, For they are all defeated quite. The cacti[68] on the mountains smoke, E'en now the fortress is in flames. Tupac Yupanqui. And Ollantay, is he taken? Perhaps--I hope his life is saved. Uillac Uma. Ollantay was among the flames, 'Tis said that no one has escaped. Tupac Yupanqui. The Sun, my Father, is my shield, I am my father's chosen child. We must subdue the rebel host, For that I am appointed here. (Enter a CHASQUI with a quipu in his hand.) The Chasqui. This morning at the dawn of day, Rumi-naui despatched this quipu. Tupac Yupanqui (to the Uillac Uma). See what it says. Uillac Uma. This knot, coloured burnt ahuarancu, Tells us that Tampu too is burnt; This triple knot to which is hung Another which is quintuple, In all of quintuples are three, Denotes that Anti-suyu's thine, Its ruler prisoner of war. Tupac Yupanqui (to the Chasqui). And thou. Where wert thou? The Chasqui. Sole King and Lord! Child of the Sun! I am the first to bring the news, That thou mayst trample on the foe, And in thine anger drink their blood. Tupac Yupanqui. Did I not reiterate commands To spare and not to shed their blood-- Not anger but pity is my rule. The Chasqui. O Lord, we have not shed their blood; They were all captured in the night, Unable to resist our force. Tupac Yupanqui. Recount to me in full detail The circumstances of the war. The Chasqui. For a signal thy warriors wait. The nights passed at Tinquiqueru,[69] Concealed in the cavern below, Yanahuara[70] men joining us late. We waited within the large cave, Thy men always ready to fight, Behind foliage well out of sight, Thy warriors patient and brave. But for three long days and dark nights, No food for the zealous and bold; Feeling hungry, thirsty, and cold, We waited and watched for the lights.[71] Rumi-naui sent orders at length, When the Raymi[72] they carelessly keep, And all of them drunk or asleep, We were then to rush on with our strength. Word came to surprise our foes, Rumi-naui had opened the gate, As cautious and silent as fate-- We were masters with none to oppose. Those rebels fell into the trap, The arrows came on them like rain, Most died in their sleep without pain, Not knowing their fatal mishap. Ollantay, still trusting, was ta'en, The same Urco Huaranca befell; Hanco Huayllu is captive as well, We thy rebels in fetters detain. The Antis by thousands are slain, A fearful example is made, They are beaten, crushed, and betrayed, Their women in sorrow and pain. Tupac Yupanqui. As witness of what has occurred, On Vilcamayu's storied banks, No doubt thou hast told me the truth. It was a well designed attack. (Enter RUMI-nAUI followed by several chiefs.) Rumi-naui. Great Inca, I kneel at thy feet, This time You will hear my report, I beseech thee to deign to restore The trust that I forfeited once. (Kneels.) Tupac Yupanqui. Rise, great Chief, receive my regard, I accept thy great service with joy; Thou didst cast o'er the waters thy net, And hast captured a marvellous fish. Rumi-naui. Our enemies perished in crowds, Their chiefs were captured and bound, Overwhelmed by my terrible force, Like a rook detached from the heights. Tupac Yupanqui. Was much blood shed in the assault? Rumi-naui. No, Lord, not a drop has been shed, To thine orders I strictly adhered. Those Antis were strangled in sleep, But the fort is entirely razed. Tupac Yupanqui. Where are the rebels? Rumi-naui. They are waiting with agonised fear, For their fate, to perish by cords. The people are sending up cries, Demanding their deaths without fail. Their women are now in their midst, The children raise hideous cries; It is well that thine order should pass To finish their traitorous lives. Tupac Yupanqui. It must be so without any doubt, That the orphans may not be alone, Let all perish, not sparing one, Thus Cuzco recovers her peace, Let the traitors be brought before me. In my presence the sentence they'll hear. (Exit Rumi-naui, and re-enter followed by guards in charge of OLLANTAY, URCO HUARANCA, and HANCO HAUYLLU, bound and blindfold, followed by guards with PIQUI CHAQUI bound.) Tupac Yupanqui. Take the bands off the eyes of those men. And now, Ollantay, where art thou? And where art thou, O Mountain Chief? Soon thou wilt roll down from the heights. (To the soldiers who bring in Piqui Chaqui.) Whom have we here? Piqui Chaqui. Many fleas in the Yuncas abound, And torment the people full sore, With boiling water they are killed, And I, poor flea,[73] must also die. Tupac Yupanqui. Tell me, Hanco Huayllu, tell me, Why art thou Ollantay's man? Did not my father honour thee? Did he not grant thy requests? Did he ever have a secret from thee? Speak also, you, the other rebels, Ollantay and the Mountain Chief. Ollantay. O father, we have nought to say, Our crimes are overwhelming us. Tupac Yupanqui (to the Uillac Uma). Pronounce their sentence, great High Priest. Uillac Uma. The light that fills me from the Sun Brings mercy and pardon to my heart. Tupac Yupanqui. Now thy sentence, Rumi-naui. Rumi-naui. For crimes enormous such as these Death should ever be the doom It is the only way, O King! To warn all others from such guilt. To stout tocarpus[74] they should be Secured and bound with toughest rope, Then should the warriors freely shoot Their arrows until death is caused. Piqui Chaqui. Must it be that evermore The Antis must all perish thus? Alas! then let the branches burn What pouring out of blood is here.[75] Rumi-naui. Silence, rash man, nor dare to speak, (General lamentation outside.) Having been rolled just like a stone, My heart has now become a stone.[76] Tupac Yupanqui. Know that tocarpus are prepared. Remove those traitors from my sight, Let them all perish, and at once. Rumi-naui. Take these three men without delay To the dreaded execution stakes; Secure them with unyielding ropes, And hurl them from the lofty rocks. Tupac Yupanqui. Stop! Cast off their bonds. (The guards unbind them. They all kneel.) (To Ollantay, kneeling). Rise from thy knees; come to my side. (Rises.) Now thou hast seen death very near, You that have shown ingratitude, Learn how mercy flows from my heart; I will raise thee higher than before. Thou wert Chief of Anti-suyu, Now see how far my love will go; I make thee Chief in permanence. Receive this plume[77] as general, This arrow[77] emblem of command.[78] Tupac Yupanqui (to the Uillac Uma). Thou mighty Pontiff of the Sun, Robe him in the regal dress. Raise up the others from their knees, And free them from the doom of death. (Urco Huaranca, Hanco Huayllu, and Piqui Chaqui rise, the latter looking much relieved. The Uillac Uma places the robe on Ollantay's shoulders.) Uillac Uma. Ollantay, learn to recognise Tupac Yupanqui's generous mind; From this day forth be thou his friend, And bless his magnanimity. This ring contains my potent charm, For this I place it on thy hand. (Gives him a ring, or bracelet.) This mace receive, 'tis from the king, (Gives him a mace (champi).) It is his gracious gift to thee. Ollantay. With tears I shall nearly consume That mace thus presented to me; I am tenfold the great Inca's slave, In this world no equal is found, My heart's fibres his latchets shall be; From this moment my body and soul To his service alone shall belong. Tupac Yupanqui. Now, Mountain Chief! come near to me, Ollantay is given the arrow and plume, Though to me he gave fury and war. Notwithstanding all that has passed He continues the Andean chief, And will lead his rebels to peace; Thee also I choose for the plume; From this day thou art a great chief, And never forget in thy thoughts, I saved thee from death and disgrace. Urco Huaranca. Great King and most merciful Lord, But now, expecting my death, I am ever thy most faithful slave. (Uillac Uma gives him the plume and arrow.) Uillac Uma. O Urco, the Inca has made A great and a powerful chief, And grants thee with marvellous grace The arrow and also the plume. Rumi-naui. Illustrious King, I venture to ask, Will Anti-suyu have two chiefs. Tupac Yupanqui. There will not be two, O Rumi-naui The Mountain Chief will rule the Antis; In Cuzco Ollantay will reign-- As Viceroy deputed by me His duties will call him to act As ruler throughout the whole realm. Ollantay. O King! thou dost raise me too high, A man without service or claim; I am thy obedient slave-- Mayst thou live for a thousand years. Tupac Yupanqui. The mascapaycha now bring forth, And to it the llautu attach. Uillac Uma, adorn him with these, And proclaim his state to the world. Yes, Ollantay shall stand in my place, Raised up like the star of the morn, For Colla this month I shall start; All preparations are made. In Cuzco Ollantay will stay, My Ranti[79] and Viceroy and friend. Ollantay. I would fain, O magnanimous King, Follow thee in the Chayanta war; Thou knowest my love for such work. Peaceful Cuzco is not to my taste, I prefer to be thy Canari,[80] To march in the van of thy force, And not to be left in the rear. Tupac Yupanqui. Thou shouldst find the wife of thy choice, And with her reign happily here In Cuzco; repose without care; Rest here while I'm absent in war. Ollantay. Great King, thy sorrowful slave Already had chosen a wife. Tupac Yupanqui. How is it I know not of this? It should be reported to me. I will load her with suitable gifts; Why was this concealed from my eyes? Ollantay. In Cuzco itself disappeared That sweet and adorable dove; One day she did rest in my arms, And the next no more to be seen. In grief I made search far and near, Earth seemed to have swallowed her up, To have buried her far from my sight; O such, mighty King, is my grief. Tupac Yupanqui. Ollantay! afflict not thyself, For now thou must take up thy place Without turning thy eyes from thy work. (To Uillac Uma.) High priest, obey my command. (The Uillac Uma goes to the wings (R.) and addresses the people outside.) Uillac Uma. O people, hear what I say: The Inca, our King and our Lord, Thus declares his imperial will: Ollantay shall reign in his place. People outside. Ollantay Ranti! Ollantay Ranti! (Shouts and acclamations.) Tupac Yupanqui (to Rumi-naui and other chiefs.) You also render him homage. Rumi-naui. Prince Ollantay! Incap Ranti! Thy promotion gives me joy. All the Antis now released, Return rejoicing to their homes. (He and all the Chiefs bow to Ollantay.) Guards without. You cannot pass. Go back! go back! Voice without. Why, is this a festive day? Let me pass. I must see the king; I pray you do not stop me, Do not drive me from the door; If you stop me I shall die. Have a care. You will kill me. Tupac Yupanqui. What noise is that without? Guard. It is a young girl who comes weeping And insists upon seeing the king. Tupac Yupanqui. Let her come in. (Enter Yma Sumac.) Yma Sumac. Which is the Inca, my lord, That I may kneel down at his feet? Uillac Uma. Who art thou, charming maid? Behold the King. (Yma Sumac throws herself at the King's feet.) Yma Sumac. O my King! be thou my father, Snatch from evil thy poor servant. Extend thy royal hand to me. O merciful child of the Sun, My mother is dying at this hour In a foul and loathsome cave; She is killed in cruel martyrdom-- Alas I she is bathed in her own blood. Tupac Yupanqui. What inhumanity, poor child! Ollantay, take this case in hand. Ollantay. Young maiden, take me quickly there; We will see who it is that suffers. Yma Sumac. No, sir. Not so. It is the King himself Should go with me. Perhaps he may recognise her; (To Ollantay.) For you, I know not who you are. O King, arise, do not delay, I fear my mother breathes her last, At least may be in mortal pain; O Inca! Father! grant my prayer. Uillac Uma. Illustrious King, thou wilt consent; Let us all seek this luckless one-- Thou canst release from cruel bonds. Lot us go, O King! Tupac Yupanqui (rising). Come all! Come all! In midst of reconciliations This young maid assaults my heart. (Exeunt.) SCENE 7 The garden in the palace of Virgins of the Sun (same scene as Act III, Scene 5). Stone door more visible. (Enter the INCA TUPAC YUPANQUI with YMA SUMAC, OLLANTAY, UILLAC UMA and RUMI nAUI; URCO HUARANCA, HANCO HUAYLLU and PIQUI CHAQUI in the background.) Tupac Yupanqui. But this is the Aclla Huasi;[81] My child, art thou not mistaken? Where is thy imprisoned mother? Yma Sumac. In a dungeon within these bounds My mother has suffered for years, Perhaps even now she is dead. (She points to the stone door.) Tupac Yupanqui. What door is this? (Enter MAMA CCACCA and PITU SALLA. Mama Ccacca kneels and kisses the Inca's hand.) Mama Ccacca. Is it a dream or reality, That I behold my sovereign? Tupac Yupanqui. Open that door. (Mama Ccacca opens the door.) (CUSI COYLLUR discovered chained and fainting, with a puma and a snake, one on each side of her.) Yma Sumac. O my mother, I feared to find That you had already passed away; Pitu Salla! Haste. Bring water. Perhaps my dove may still revive. (Exit Pitu Salla.) Tupac Yupanqui. What horrid cavern do I see? Who is this woman? what means it? What cruel wretch thus tortures her? What means that chain bound around her? Mama Ccacca, come near to me What hast thou to say to this? Is it the effect of malice That this poor creature lingers here? Mama Ccacca. It was thy father's dread command; A punishment for lawless love. Tupac Yupanqui. Begone! begone! harder than rock.[82] Turn out that puma and the snake,[83] Break down that door of carved stone. (To Mama Ccacca.) Let me not see thy face again. A woman living as a bat; This child has brought it all to light. (Enter Pitu Salla with water. She sprinkles it over Cusi Coyllur, who revives.) Cusi Coyllur. Where am I? who are these people? Yma Sumac, my beloved child, Come to me, my most precious dove. Who are all these men before me? (She begins to faint again and is restored by water.) Yma Sumac. Fear not, my mother, 'tis the King; The King himself comes to see you. The great Yupanqui is now here. Speak to him. Awake from thy trance. Tupac Yupanqui. My heart is torn and sorrowful At sight of so much misery. Who art thou, my poor sufferer? Child, tell me now thy mother's name? Yma Sumac. Father! Inca! Clement Prince! Have those cruel bonds removed. The Uillac Uma. It is for me to remove them, And to relieve this sore distress. (Cuts the rope fastening Cusi Coyllur to the wall.) Ollantay (to Yma Sumac). What is thy mother's name? Yma Sumac. Her name was once Cusi Coyllur, But it seems a mistake. Her joy Was gone when she was prisoned here. Ollantay. O renowned King, great Yupanqui, In her you see my long lost wife. (Prostrates himself before the Inca.) Tupac Yupanqui. It all appears a dream to me. The 'Star'! my sister![84] and thy wife. O sister! what newly found joy. O Cusi Coyllur, my sister, Come here to me, and embrace me, Now thou art delivered from woe. (Music.) Thou hast found thy loving brother; Joy calms the anguish of my heart. (Embraces Cusi Coyllur.) Cusi Coyllur. Alas! my brother, now you know The cruel tortures I endured During those years of agony; Thy compassion now has saved me. Tupac Yupanqui. Who art thou, dove, that hast suffered? For what sin were you prisoned here? Thou mightest have lost thy reason. Thy face is worn, thy beauty gone, Thy looks as one risen from death. Ollantay. Cusi Coyllur, I had lost thee, Thou wast quite hidden from my sight, But thou art brought again to life-- Thy father should have killed us both. My whole heart is torn with sorrow. Star of joy, where is now thy joy? Where now thy beauty as a star? Art thou under thy father's curse? Cusi Coyllur. Ollantay, for ten dreary years That dungeon has kept us apart; But now, united for new life, Some happiness may yet be ours. Yupanqui makes joy succeed grief, He may well count[85] for many years. Uillac Uma. Bring new robes to dress the princess. (They put on her royal robes. The High Priest kisses her hand.) Tupac Yupanqui. Ollantay, behold thy royal wife, Honour and cherish her henceforth. And thou, Yma Sumac, come to me, I enlace you in the thread of love; Thou art the pure essence of Coyllur. (Embraces her.) Ollantay. Thou art our protector, great King, Thy noble hands disperse our grief; Thou art our faith and only hope-- Thou workest by virtue's force. Tupac Yupanqui. Thy wife is now in thy arms; All sorrow now should disappear, Joy, new born, shall take its place. (Acclamations from the Chiefs, and Piqui Chaqui. Music: huancars (drums), pincullus (flutes), and pututus (clarions).) FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 1: INCA-PACHACUTI | TUPAC YUPANQUI | INCA HUAYNA CCAPAC | MANCO INCA | TUPAC AMARU | JUANA NUSTA = DIEGO CONDORCANQUI | FELIPE CONDORCANQUI | PEDRO CONDORCANQUI | MIGUEL CONDORCANQUI | JOSE GABRIEL CONDORCANQUI (TUPAC AMARU)] [Footnote 2: 'Sentencia pronunciada en el Cuzco por el Visitador Don Jose Antonio de Areche, contra Jose Gabriel Tupac Amaru.' In Coleccion de obras y documentos de Don Pedro de Angelis, vol. V. (Buenos Ayres, 1836- 7).] [Footnote 3: INCA PACHACUTI. | TUPAC YUPANQUI | HUAYNA CCAPAC | MANCO INCA | MARIA TUPAC USCA = PEDRO ORTIZ DE ORUE | CATALINA ORTIZ =LUIS JUSTINIANI | LUIS JUSTINIANI | LUIS JUSTINIANI | NICOLO JUSTINIANI | JUSTO PASTOR JUSTINIANI | Dr. PABLO POLICARPO JUSTINIANI(Cura of Laris)] [Footnote 4: The wives of the Incas were called ccoya. The ccoya of the second Inca was a daughter of the chief of Sanoc. The third Inca married a daughter of the chief of Oma, the fourth married a girl of Tacucaray, the wife of the fifth was a daughter of a Cuzco chief. The sixth Inca married a daughter of the chief of Huayllacan, the seventh married a daughter of the chief of Ayamarca, and the eighth went to Anta for a wife. This Anta lady was the mother of Pachacuti. The wife of Pachacuti, named Anahuarqui, was a daughter of the chief of Choco. There was no rule about marrying sisters when Pachacuti succeeded. He introduced it by making his son Tupac Yupanqui marry his daughter Mama Ocllo, but this was quite unprecedented. The transgression of a rule which he had just made may account for his extreme severity.] [Footnote 5: A bust, on an earthen vase, was presented to Don Antonio Maria Alvarez, the political chief of Cuzco, in 1837, by an Indian who declared that it had been handed down in his family from time immemorial, as a likeness of the general, Rumi-naui, who plays an important part in this drama of Ollantay. The person represented must have been a general, from the ornament on the forehead, called mascapaycha, and there are wounds cut on the face.--Museo Erudito, No. B.] [Footnote 6: Chita is the lamb of the llama. A lamb of two or three months was a favourite pet in the time of the Incas. It followed its mistress, adorned with a little bell and ribbons.] [Footnote 7: Supay, an evil spirit, according to some authorities.] [Footnote 8: Ichuna, a sickle or scythe. The expression has been cited by General Mitre and others as an argument that the drama is modern, because this is a metaphor confined to the old world. But ichuna was in use, in Quichua, in this sense, before the Spaniards came. The word is from Ichu, grass.] [Footnote 9: The Peruvians personified a mountain as two spirits, good and evil. In writing poetically of a mountain opposing, it would be referred to in the persons of its genii or spirits, and spoken of as two foes, not one.] [Footnote 10: Rurun, desert, solitude.] [Footnote 11: Tasquiy, to march; tasquina, promenade, path.] [Footnote 12: Cusi Coyllur, while daylight lasted, was, in the eyes of Piqui Chaqui, like the sun. A change takes place at twilight, and at night she is like the moon.] [Footnote 13: Fasting was a preparation for all great religious ceremonies. Victims for sacrifice underwent a previous fast, which was looked upon in the fight of purification before being offered to the Deity.] [Footnote 14: They gave the attributes we usually assign to the fox to the puma.] [Footnote 15: Intip llirpun, 'apple of the sun's eye.' There is no English equivalent that is suitable.] [Footnote 16: Huayruru is the seed of a thorny bush, erythrina rubra, of a bright red colour. Zegarra has coral as the equivalent for huayruru.] [Footnote 17: The tuya (coccoborus chrysogaster) is a small finch, and tuyallay means 'my little tuya.'] [Footnote 18: The piscaca is a much larger bird than the tuya. These piscacas (coccoborus torridus) are nailed to trees as a warning to other birds. They are black, with white breasts.] [Footnote 19: In the tuya she sees her husband Ollantay, while the poor princess herself is the forbidden grain.] [Footnote 20: This is a yarahui or mournful elegy, of which there are so many in the Quichua language. The singers of them were known as yarahuec.] [Footnote 21: Colla-suyu, the basin of lake Titicaca.] [Footnote 22: Chayanta, a tribe in the montana south of the Collas.] [Footnote 23: Champi, a one-handed battle-axe.] [Footnote 24: Huancar, a drum; pututu, fife.] [Footnote 25: Yunca, inhabitant of warm valley. Here it refers to the wild tribes of the montana.] [Footnote 26: In the original Quichua, Ollantay makes his appeal to the Inca in quatrains of octosyllabic verses, the first line rhyming with the last, and the second with the third. Garcilasso de la Vega and others testify to the proficiency of the Incas in this form of composition.] [Footnote 27: Ollantay was Viceroy of Anti-suyu.] [Footnote 28: Chahuar, a rope of aloe fibre. A curb or restraint.] [Footnote 29: Raprancutan cuchurcani: literally, 'I have clipped their wings.' Rapra, a wing.] [Footnote 30: The powerful nation of Chancas, with their chief, Huancavilca, inhabited the great valley of Andahuaylas and were formidable rivals of the Incas. But they were subdued by Pachacuti long before Ollantay can have been born. An allowable dramatic anachronism.] [Footnote 31: Huancavilca was chief of the powerful nation of Chancas.] [Footnote 32: Nusta, Princess.] [Footnote 33: Pisipachiyqui, to suffer from the void caused by absence. Pisipay, to regret the absence of, to miss any one.] [Footnote 34: The Dominican text has misi, a cat, instead of allco, a dog. Von Tschudi thought that misi was a word of Spanish origin. Zegarra says that it is not. Before the Spaniards came, there was a small wild cat in the Andes called misi-puna. But the Justiniani text has allco, a dog.] [Footnote 35: Achancara, a begonia. A red flower in the neighbourhood of Cuzco, according to Zegarra. One variety is red and white.] [Footnote 36: The llanta is the main rope of the quipu, about a yard long. The small cords of llama wool, of various colours, denoting different subjects, each with various kinds of knots, recording numbers.] [Footnote 37: This, as we have seen, was not the reason why Ollantay fled from Cuzco; but, from a leader's point of view, it was an excellent reason to give to the people of Anti-suyu. The great wars of the Incas were, to some extent, a heavy drain upon the people, but the recruiting was managed with such skill, and was so equally divided among a number of provinces, that it was not much felt.] [Footnote 38: The snowy mountain far to the south, in sight from Cuzco. Uilca, sacred; unuta, water. Here is the source of the river Uilcamayu, which flows by Ollantay-tampu.] [Footnote 39: The aged Hanco Huayllu as Auqui, or Prince of the Blood, and relation of the High Priest, gave eclat to these ceremonies.] [Footnote 40: Quiscahuan. anything full of thorns.] [Footnote 41: Puna, the loftier parts of the Andes.] [Footnote 42: Compi, cloth or a cloak. This was an expression of the ancient Peruvians, perhaps equivalent to our 'hoodwinking.'] [Footnote 43: Apu Maruti was the head of the ayllu of the Inca Yahuar Huaccac, grandfather of Pachacuti. It was called the ayllu Aucaylli Panaca.--Mesa, Anales del Cuzco, quoted by Zegarra.] [Footnote 44: Uilcapampa, mass of mountains between the Uilcamayu and Apurimac.] [Footnote 45: Tinqui Queru, between Urupampa and Tampu. The word means 'two vases coupled.' Here are two rounded hills connected by a saddle, three and a half miles from Tampu.] [Footnote 46: Chara, was another descendant of Yahuar Huaccac.] [Footnote 47: A ravine on the right bank of the Vilcamayu.] [Footnote 48: Pachar is on the left bank of the Vilcamayu opposite Ollantay-tampu, with which it is connected by a rope bridge.] [Footnote 49: Huancas, natives of the valley of Jauja--Inca recruits.] [Footnote 50: Like Ollantay in his appeal to the Inca, Rumi-naui, in the original Quichua, has recourse to octosyllabic quatrains, the first and last lines rhyming, and the second and third.] [Footnote 51: Rumi, a stone.] [Footnote 52: Clearly, from Rumi-naui's own account, the strategy of Urco Huaranca had been a complete and brilliant success.] [Footnote 53: Aclla Cuna, the selected ones, the Virgins of the Sun. They were under the supervision of so called Mothers--Mama Cuna. The novices were not obliged to take the oaths at the end of their novitiate.] [Footnote 54: Rumi-naui is the interlocutor in the Justiniani text, in the Dominican text, and in the text of Spilsbury. Yet Zegarra would substitute the Uillac Uma or High Priest for Rumi-naui. His argument is that the interlocutor was of the blood-royal, and that the High Priest was always of the blood-royal, while Rumi-naui was not. But the text does not say that the interlocutor was of the royal blood. Zegarra also says that the interlocutor wore a black cloak with a long train, and that this was the dress of the High Priest. But it was not the dress of the High Priest as described by the best authorities. It was probably the general mourning dress. The threats addressed to Piqui Chaqui were likely enough to come from a soldier, but not from the High Priest as he is portrayed in this drama.] [Footnote 55: Paccay (mimosa incana), a tree with large pods, having a snow-white woolly substance round the seeds, with sweet juice.] [Footnote 56: The Zegarra and Spilsbury texts have Ccan Incacri, which Zegarra translates, 'relation of the Inca, of the royal family.' Spilsbury is more correct. He has 'partisan of the Inca.' The more authentic Justiniani text has Ccan Pana. The particle ri is one of emphasis or repetition. It does not mean a relation.] [Footnote 57: The Zegarra and Spilsbury texts have hualpa, a game bird. The Justiniani text has anca, an eagle, which is the correct reading.] [Footnote 58: The Inca Pachacuti does not appear to advantage in the drama. But he was the greatest man of his dynasty, indeed the greatest that the red race has produced. He was a hero in his youth, a most able administrator in mature age. As a very old man some needless cruelties are reported of him which annoyed his son.] [Footnote 59: The eldest son was Amaru Tupac. He was passed over by his father with his own consent, and was ever faithful to his younger brother. He was an able general.] [Footnote 60: This was exactly what Piqui Chaqui was sent to Cuzco to find out. The expression Apumusac pununayta, 'I go to fetch my bed,' is one of joy at any fortunate event, in Quichua.] [Footnote 61: Intic Huamin Caccunan (Intic Huarminca Caycuna, correct), 'Ye women of the Sun.' Zegarra thought, on the authority of Garcilasso de la Vega, that these could not be select Virgins of the Sun, because the virgins were never allowed outside their convent, and not even women might enter. He is clearly wrong. Much higher authorities than Garcilasso, as regards this point, especially Valera, tell us that the virgins were treated with the greatest honour and respect. They took part in great receptions and festivals, and when they passed along the streets they had a guard of honour.] [Footnote 62: Rumi. He keeps playing upon his name.] [Footnote 63: Again playing upon the name of Rumi-naui. The High Priest calls for haste, so he substitutes Tunqui for naui (eye), the tunqui (Rupicola Peruviana) being one of the most beautiful birds in the forests.] [Footnote 64: Sunchu, a very large composita with a yellow flower, growing round Cuzco. It was one of those which were used on sacred festivals.] [Footnote 65: Nucchu is a salvia, also considered sacred. A red flower. Perhaps these flowers were sent as a summons from the Inca, but I have not seen the custom mentioned elsewhere.] [Footnote 66: Schineus Molle, a tree with pinnate leaves, and panicles of red berries, well known in the Mediterranean countries, into which it was introduced from Peru. Called by the English 'pepper tree.'] [Footnote 67: Several bushes are called chilca in Peru. Eupatorium chilca (R. P.), baccharis scandens, and molina latifolia. Stereoxylon pendulum is called puna chilca.] [Footnote 68: A kind of cactus, of which they make needles, grows abundantly on the mountains round Ollantay-tampu. It is called ahuarancu. They set fire to the cacti as a war signal. Zegarra calls it a thistle. The word in the Justiniani text is ahuarancu.] [Footnote 69: Tinqui Queru, between Urupampa and Tampu. The word means 'two vases coupled.' Here are two rounded hills connected by a saddle, three and a half miles from Tampu. (Taken from FN#45.)] [Footnote 70: Yanahuara, a ravine near Urubamba, where some of the troops of Rumi-naui had been posted.] [Footnote 71: Signal lights.] [Footnote 72: Ccapac Raymi, the great festival of the Sun. December 22.] [Footnote 73: Piqui Chaqui is literally 'flea foot.' He is punning on his name.] [Footnote 74: Tocarpu, a pole or stake used at executions. Condemned prisoners were fastened to a tocarpu before being hurled over a precipice.] [Footnote 75: Piqui Chaqui had an inkling that the Inca had expressed dislike at the shedding of blood. He ventured to say these words in the faint hope that they might remind the Inca of this dislike.] [Footnote 76: Rumi-naui at it again: for ever ringing changes on his name rumi, a stone.] [Footnote 77: The plume and the arrow were the insignia of a general.] [Footnote 78: Rather a staggerer for Rumi-naui! Perhaps, too, the change is too sudden, and infringes the probabilities. Tupac Yupanqui may have thought that his father had been unjust and that there were excuses. It is known that the young Inca was indignant at some other cruelties of his father. As a magnanimous warrior he may have despised the treacherous methods of Rumi-naui. He may have valued Ollantay's known valour and ability, and have been loth to lose his services. All these considerations may have influenced him more or less. The rebels were the best men he had.] [Footnote 79: Ranti, a deputy.] [Footnote 80: Canari, a warlike tribe of Indians, in the south part of the kingdom of Quito. They were first conquered by Tupac Yupanqui, and they became devoted to him.] [Footnote 81: Aclla, chosen; Huasi, house: palace of the Virgins of the sun.] [Footnote 82: Ccacca means a rock.] [Footnote 83: My former translation, and those of Barranca and Tschudi, treated puma and amaru (snake) as epithets applied to Mama Ccacca. Zegarra considers that the puma and snake were intended to be actually in the dungeon, and I believe he is right. The puma would not have hurt his fellow-prisoner. Unpleasant animals were occasionally put into the prisons of criminals. The Incas kept pumas as pets.] [Footnote 84: The early Incas never married their sisters or relations. Pachacuti's mother was daughter of the chief of Anta. His wife, Anahuarqui, was no relation. But the wife of Tupac Yupanqui was his sister Mama Ocllo.] [Footnote 85: A play upon the word yupanqui, which means literally, 'you will count.' The word was a title of the Incas, meaning, 'you will count as virtuous, brave,' &c.] 
10772	----	INCA LAND Explorations in the Highlands of Peru By Hiram Bingham 1922 ------ FIGURE "Something hidden. Go and find it. Go and look behind the Ranges--Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!" Kipling: "The Explorer" ------ This Volume is affectionately dedicated to the Muse who inspired it the Little Mother of Seven Sons Preface The following pages represent some of the results of four journeys into the interior of Peru and also many explorations into the labyrinth of early writings which treat of the Incas and their Land. Although my travels covered only a part of southern Peru, they took me into every variety of climate and forced me to camp at almost every altitude at which men have constructed houses or erected tents in the Western Hemisphere--from sea level up to 21,703 feet. It has been my lot to cross bleak Andean passes, where there are heavy snowfalls and low temperatures, as well as to wend my way through gigantic canyons into the dense jungles of the Amazon Basin, as hot and humid a region as exists anywhere in the world. The Incas lived in a land of violent contrasts. No deserts in the world have less vegetation than those of Sihuas and Majes; no luxuriant tropical valleys have more plant life than the jungles of Conservidayoc. In Inca Land one may pass from glaciers to tree ferns within a few hours. So also in the labyrinth of contemporary chronicles of the last of the Incas--no historians go more rapidly from fact to fancy, from accurate observation to grotesque imagination; no writers omit important details and give conflicting statements with greater frequency. The story of the Incas is still in a maze of doubt and contradiction. It was the mystery and romance of some of the wonderful pictures of a nineteenth-century explorer that first led me into the relatively unknown region between the Apurimac and the Urubamba, sometimes called "the Cradle of the Incas." Although my photographs cannot compete with the imaginative pencil of such an artist, nevertheless, I hope that some of them may lead future travelers to penetrate still farther into the Land of the Incas and engage in the fascinating game of identifying elusive places mentioned in the chronicles. Some of my story has already been told in Harper's and the National Geographic, to whose editors acknowledgments are due for permission to use the material in its present form. A glance at the Bibliography will show that more than fifty articles and monographs have been published as a result of the Peruvian Expeditions of Yale University and the National Geographic Society. Other reports are still in course of preparation. My own observations are based partly on a study of these monographs and the writings of former travelers, partly on the maps and notes made by my companions, and partly on a study of our Peruvian photographs, a collection now numbering over eleven thousand negatives. Another source of information was the opportunity of frequent conferences with my fellow explorers. One of the great advantages of large expeditions is the bringing to bear on the same problem of minds which have received widely different training. My companions on these journeys were, in 1909, Mr. Clarence L. Hay; in 1911, Dr. Isaiah Bowman, Professor Harry Ward Foote, Dr. William G. Erving, Messrs. Kai Hendriksen, H. L. Tucker, and Paul B. Lanius; in 1912, Professor Herbert E. Gregory, Dr. George F. Eaton, Dr. Luther T. Nelson, Messrs. Albert H. Bumstead, E. C. Erdis, Kenneth C. Heald, Robert Stephenson, Paul Bestor, Osgood Hardy, and Joseph Little; and in 1915, Dr. David E. Ford, Messrs. O. F. Cook, Edmund Heller, E. C. Erdis, E. L. Anderson, Clarence F. Maynard, J. J. Hasbrouck, Osgood Hardy, Geoffrey W. Morkill, and G. Bruce Gilbert. To these, my comrades in enterprises which were not always free from discomfort or danger, I desire to acknowledge most fully my great obligations. In the following pages they will sometimes recognize their handiwork; at other times they may wonder why it has been overlooked. Perhaps in another volume, which is already under way and in which I hope to cover more particularly Machu Picchu [1] and its vicinity, they will eventually find much of what cannot be told here. Sincere and grateful thanks are due also to Mr. Edward S. Harkness for offering generous assistance when aid was most difficult to secure; to Mr. Gilbert Grosvenor and the National Geographic Society for liberal and enthusiastic support; to President Taft of the United States and President Leguia of Peru for official help of a most important nature; to Messrs. W. R. Grace & Company and to Mr. William L. Morkill and Mr. L. S. Blaisdell, of the Peruvian Corporation, for cordial and untiring coöperation; to Don Cesare Lomellini, Don Pedro Duque, and their sons, and Mr. Frederic B. Johnson, of Yale University, for many practical kindnesses; to Mrs. Blanche Peberdy Tompkins and Miss Mary G. Reynolds for invaluable secretarial aid; and last, but by no means least, to Mrs. Alfred Mitchell for making possible the writing of this book. Hiram Bingham Yale University October 1, 1922 Contents I. Crossing the Desert 1 II. Climbing Coropuna 23 III. To Parinacochas 50 IV. Flamingo Lake 74 V. Titicaca 95 VI. The Vilcanota Country and the Peruvian Highlanders 110 VII. The Valley of the Huatanay 133 VIII. The Oldest City in South America 157 IX. The Last Four Incas 170 X. Searching for the Last Inca Capital 198 XI. The Search Continued 217 XII. The Fortress of Uiticos and the House of the Sun 241 XIII. Vilcabamba 255 XIV. Conservidayoc 266 XV. The Pampa of Ghosts 292 XVI. The Story of Tampu-tocco, a Lost City of the First Incas 306 XVII. Machu Picchu 314 XVIII. The Origin of Machu Picchu 326 Glossary 341 Bibliography of the Peruvian Expeditions of Yale University and the National Geographic Society 345 Index 353 Illustrations "Something Hidden. Go and find it. Go and look behind the Ranges" Frontispiece Sketch Map of Southern Peru 1 Mt. Coropuna from the Northwest 12 Mt. Coropuna from the South 24 The Base Camp, Coropuna, at 17,300 Feet 32 Photograph by H. L. Tucker Camping at 18,450 Feet on the Slopes of Coropuna 32 Photograph by H. L. Tucker One of the Frequent Rests in the Ascent of Coropuna 42 Photograph by H. L. Tucker The Camp on the Summit 42 Photograph by H. L. Tucker The Sub-Prefect of Cotahuasi, his Military Aide, and Messrs. Tucker, Hendriksen, Bowman, and Bingham inspecting the Local Rug-weaving Industry 60 Photograph by C. Watkins Inca Storehouses at Chichipampa, near Colta 66 Photograph by H. L. Tucker Flamingoes on Lake Parinacochas, and Mt. Sarasara 78 Mr. Tucker on a Mountain Trail near Caraveli 90 The Main Street of Chuquibamba 90 Photograph by H. L. Tucker A Lake Titicaca Balsa at Puno 98 A Step-topped Niche on the Island of Koati 98 Indian Alcaldes at Santa Rosa 114 Native Druggists in the Plaza of Sicuani 114 Laying Down the Warp for a Blanket; near the Pass of La Raya 120 Plowing a Potato-field at La Raya 120 The Ruins of the Temple of Viracocha at Racche 128 Route Map of the Peruvian Expedition of 1912 132 Lucre Basin, Lake Muyna, and the City Wall of Piquillacta 136 Sacsahuaman: Detail of Lower Terrace Wall 140 Ruins of the Aqueduct of Rumiccolca 140 Huatanay Valley, Cuzco, and the Ayahuaycco Quebrada 150 Map of Peru and View of Cuzco 158 From the "Speculum Orbis Terrarum," Antwerp, 1578 Towers of Jesuit Church with Cloisters and Tennis Court of University, Cuzco 162 Glaciers Between Cuzco and Uiticos 170 The Urubamba Canyon: A Reason for the Safety of the Incas in Uilcapampa 176 Yucay, Last Home of Sayri Tupac 186 Part of the Nuremberg Map of 1599, showing Pincos and the Andes Mountains 198 Route Map of the Peruvian Expedition of 1915 202 Mt. Veronica and Salapunco, the Gateway to Uilcapampa 206 Grosvenor Glacier and Mt. Salcantay 210 The Road between Maquina and Mandor Pampa, near Machu Picchu 214 Huadquiña 220 Ruins of Yurak Rumi near Huadquiña 225 Plan and elevations drawn by A. H. Bumstead Pucyura and the Hill of Rosaspata in the Vilcabamba Valley 238 Principal Doorway of the Long Palace at Rosaspata 242 Photograph by E. C. Erdis Another Doorway in the Ruins of Rosaspata 242 Northeast Face of Yurak Rumi 246 Plan of the Ruins of the Temple of the Sun at Ñusta Isppana 248 Drawn by R. H. Bumstead Carved Seats and Platforms of Ñusta Isppana 250 Two of the Seven Seats near the Spring under the Great White Rock 250 Photograph by A. H. Bumstead Ñusta Isppana 256 Quispi Cusi testifying about Inca Ruins 268 Photograph by H. W. Foote One of our Bearers crossing the Pampaconas River 268 Photograph by H. W. Foote Saavedra and his Inca Pottery 288 Inca Gable at Espiritu Pampa 288 Inca Ruins in the Jungles of Espiritu Pampa 294 Photograph by H. W. Foote Campa Men at Espiritu Pampa 302 Photograph by H. L. Tucker Campa Women and Children at Espiritu Pampa 302 Photograph by H. L. Tucker Puma Urco, near Paccaritampu 306 The Best Inca Wall at Maucallacta, near Paccaritampu 312 The Caves of Puma Urco, Near Paccaritampu 312 Flashlight View of Interior of Cave, Machu Picchu 320 Temple over Cave at Machu Picchu; suggested by the Author as the Probable Site of Tampu-tocco 320 Detail of Principal Temple, Machu Picchu 324 Detail of Exterior of Temple of the Three Windows, Machu Picchu 324 The Masonry Wall with Three Windows, Machu Picchu 328 The Gorges, opening Wide Apart, reveal Uilcapampa's Granite Citadel, the Crown of Inca Land 338 Except as otherwise indicated the illustrations are from photographs by the author. ------ FIGURE Sketch Map of Southern Peru. ------ INCA LAND CHAPTER I Crossing the Desert A kind friend in Bolivia once placed in my hands a copy of a most interesting book by the late E. George Squier, entitled "Peru. Travel and Exploration in the Land of the Incas." In that volume is a marvelous picture of the Apurimac Valley. In the foreground is a delicate suspension bridge which commences at a tunnel in the face of a precipitous cliff and hangs in mid-air at great height above the swirling waters of the "great speaker." In the distance, towering above a mass of stupendous mountains, is a magnificent snow-capped peak. The desire to see the Apurimac and experience the thrill of crossing that bridge decided me in favor of an overland journey to Lima. As a result I went to Cuzco, the ancient capital of the mighty empire of the Incas, and was there urged by the Peruvian authorities to visit some newly re-discovered Inca ruins. As readers of "Across South America" will remember, these ruins were at Choqquequirau, an interesting place on top of a jungle-covered ridge several thousand feet above the roaring rapids of the great Apurimac. There was some doubt as to who had originally lived here. The prefect insisted that the ruins represented the residence of the Inca Manco and his sons, who had sought refuge from Pizarro and the Spanish conquerors of Peru in the Andes between the Apurimac and Urubamba rivers. While Mr. Clarence L. Hay and I were on the slopes of Choqquequirau the clouds would occasionally break away and give us tantalizing glimpses of snow-covered mountains. There seemed to be an unknown region, "behind the Ranges," which might contain great possibilities. Our guides could tell us nothing about it. Little was to be found in books. Perhaps Manco's capital was hidden there. For months afterwards the fascination of the unknown drew my thoughts to Choqquequirau and beyond. In the words of Kipling's "Explorer": "... a voice, as bad as Conscience, rang interminable changes On one everlasting Whisper day and night repeated--so: 'Something hidden. Go and find it. Go and look behind the Ranges-- Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!' " To add to my unrest, during the following summer I read Bandelier's "Titicaca and Koati," which had just appeared. In one of the interesting footnotes was this startling remark: "It is much to be desired that the elevation of the most prominent peaks of the western or coast range of Peru be accurately determined. It is likely ... that Coropuna, in the Peruvian coast range of the Department Arequipa, is the culminating point of the continent. It exceeds 23,000 feet in height, whereas Aconcagua [conceded to be the highest peak in the Western Hemisphere] is but 22,763 feet (6940 meters) above sea level." His estimate was based on a survey made by the civil engineers of the Southern Railways of Peru, using a section of the railroad as a base. My sensations when I read this are difficult to describe. Although I had been studying South American history and geography for more than ten years, I did not remember ever to have heard of Coropuna. On most maps it did not exist. Fortunately, on one of the sheets of Raimondi's large-scale map of Peru, I finally found "Coropuna--6,949 m."--9 meters higher than Aconcagua!--one hundred miles northwest of Arequipa, near the 73d meridian west of Greenwich. Looking up and down the 73d meridian as it crossed Peru from the Amazon Valley to the Pacific Ocean, I saw that it passed very near Choqquequirau, and actually traversed those very lands "behind the Ranges" which had been beckoning to me. The coincidence was intriguing. The desire to go and find that "something hidden" was now reënforced by the temptation to go and see whether Coropuna really was the highest mountain in America. There followed the organization of an expedition whose object was a geographical reconnaissance of Peru along the 73d meridian, from the head of canoe navigation on the Urubamba to tidewater on the Pacific. We achieved more than we expected. Our success was due in large part to our "unit-food-boxes," a device containing a balanced ration which Professor Harry W. Foote had cooperated with me in assembling. The object of our idea was to facilitate the provisioning of small field parties by packing in a single box everything that two men would need in the way of provisions for a given period. These boxes have given such general satisfaction, not only to the explorers themselves, but to the surgeons who had the responsibility of keeping them in good condition, that a few words in regard to this feature of our equipment may not be unwelcome. The best unit-food-box provides a balanced ration for two men for eight days, breakfast and supper being hearty, cooked meals, and luncheon light and uncooked. It was not intended that the men should depend entirely on the food-boxes, but should vary their diet as much as possible with whatever the country afforded, which in southern Peru frequently means potatoes, corn, eggs, mutton, and bread. Nevertheless each box contained sliced bacon, tinned corned beef, roast beef, chicken, salmon, crushed oats, milk, cheese, coffee, sugar, rice, army bread, salt, sweet chocolates, assorted jams, pickles, and dried fruits and vegetables. By seeing that the jam, dried fruits, soups, and dried vegetables were well assorted, a sufficient variety was procured without destroying the balanced character of the ration. On account of the great difficulty of transportation in the southern Andes we had to eliminate foods that contained a large amount of water, like French peas, baked beans, and canned fruits, however delicious and desirable they might be. In addition to food, we found it desirable to include in each box a cake of laundry soap, two yards of dish toweling, and three empty cotton-cloth bags, to be used for carrying lunches and collecting specimens. The most highly appreciated article of food in our boxes was the rolled oats, a dish which on account of its being already partially cooked was easily prepared at high elevations, where rice cannot be properly boiled. It was difficult to satisfy the members of the Expedition by providing the right amount of sugar. At the beginning of the field season the allowance--one third of a pound per day per man--seemed excessive, and I was criticized for having overloaded the boxes. After a month in the field the allowance proved to be too small and had to be supplemented. Many people seem to think that it is one of the duties of an explorer to "rough it," and to "trust to luck" for his food. I had found on my first two expeditions, in Venezuela and Colombia and across South America, that the result of being obliged to subsist on irregular and haphazard rations was most unsatisfactory. While "roughing it" is far more enticing to the inexperienced and indiscreet explorer, I learned in Peru that the humdrum expedient of carefully preparing, months in advance, a comprehensive bill of fare sufficiently varied, wholesome, and well-balanced, is "the better part of valor," The truth is that providing an abundance of appetizing food adds very greatly to the effectiveness of a party. To be sure, it may mean trouble and expense for one's transportation department, and some of the younger men may feel that their reputations as explorers are likely to be damaged if it is known that strawberry jam, sweet chocolate and pickles are frequently found on their menu! Nevertheless, experience has shown that the results of "trusting to luck" and "living as the natives do" means not only loss of efficiency in the day's work, but also lessened powers of observation and diminished enthusiasm for the drudgery of scientific exploration. Exciting things are always easy to do, no matter how you are living, but frequently they produce less important results than tasks which depend upon daily drudgery; and daily drudgery depends upon a regular supply of wholesome food. We reached Arequipa, the proposed base for our campaign against Mt. Coropuna, in June, 1911. We learned that the Peruvian "winter" reaches its climax in July or August, and that it would be folly to try to climb Coropuna during the winter snowstorms. On the other hand, the "summer months," beginning with November, are cloudy and likely to add fog and mist to the difficulties of climbing a new mountain. Furthermore, June and July are the best months for exploration in the eastern slopes of the Andes in the upper Amazon Basin, the lands "behind the Ranges." Although the montaña, or jungle country, is rarely actually dry, there is less rain then than in the other months of the year; so we decided to go first to the Urubamba Valley. The story of our discoveries there, of identifying Uiticos, the capital of the last Incas, and of the finding of Machu Picchu will be found in later chapters. In September I returned to Arequipa and started the campaign against Coropuna by endeavoring to get adequate transportation facilities for crossing the desert. Arequipa, as everybody knows, is the home of a station of the Harvard Observatory, but Arequipa is also famous for its large mules. Unfortunately, a "mule trust" had recently been formed--needless to say, by an American--and I found it difficult to make any satisfactory arrangements. After two weeks of skirmishing, the Tejada brothers appeared, two arrieros, or muleteers, who seemed willing to listen to our proposals. We offered them a thousand soles (five hundred dollars gold) if they would supply us with a pack train of eleven mules for two months and go with us wherever we chose, we agreeing not to travel on an average more than seven leagues [2] a day. It sounds simple enough but it took no end of argument and persuasion on the part of our friends in Arequipa to convince these worthy arrieros that they were not going to be everlastingly ruined by this bargain. The trouble was that they owned their mules, knew the great danger of crossing the deserts that lay between us and Mt. Coropuna, and feared to travel on unknown trails. Like most muleteers, they were afraid of unfamiliar country. They magnified the imaginary evils of the road to an inconceivable pitch. The argument that finally persuaded them to accept the proffered contract was my promise that after the first week the cargo would be so much less that at least two of the pack mules could always be free. The Tejadas, realizing only too well the propensity of pack animals to get sore backs and go lame, regarded my promise in the light of a factor of safety. Lame mules would not have to carry loads. Everything was ready by the end of the month. Mr. H. L. Tucker, a member of Professor H. C. Parker's 1910 Mr. McKinley Expedition and thoroughly familiar with the details of snow-and-ice-climbing, whom I had asked to be responsible for securing the proper equipment, was now entrusted with planning and directing the actual ascent of Coropuna. Whatever success was achieved on the mountain was due primarily to Mr. Tucker's skill and foresight. We had no Swiss guides, and had originally intended to ask two other members of the Expedition to join us on the climb. However, the exigencies of making a geological and topographical cross section along the 73d meridian through a practically unknown region, and across one of the highest passes in the Andes (17,633 ft.), had delayed the surveying party to such an extent as to make it impossible for them to reach Coropuna before the first of November. On account of the approach of the cloudy season it did not seem wise to wait for their coöperation. Accordingly, I secured in Arequipa the services of Mr. Casimir Watkins, an English naturalist, and of Mr. F. Hinckley, of the Harvard Observatory. It was proposed that Mr. Hinckley, who had twice ascended El Misti (19,120 ft.), should accompany us to the top, while Mr. Watkins, who had only recently recovered from a severe illness, should take charge of the Base Camp. The prefect of Arequipa obligingly offered us a military escort in the person of Corporal Gamarra, a full-blooded Indian of rather more than average height and considerably more than average courage, who knew the country. As a member of the mounted gendarmerie, Gamarra had been stationed at the provincial capital of Cotahuasi a few months previously. One day a mob of drunken, riotous revolutionists stormed the government buildings while he was on sentry duty. Gamarra stood his ground and, when they attempted to force their way past him, shot the leader of the crowd. The mob scattered. A grateful prefect made him a corporal and, realizing that his life was no longer safe in that particular vicinity, transferred him to Arequipa. Like nearly all of his race, however, he fell an easy prey to alcohol. There is no doubt that the chief of the mounted police in Arequipa, when ordered by the prefect to furnish us an escort for our journey across the desert, was glad enough to assign Gamarra to us. His courage could not be called in question even though his habits might lead him to become troublesome. It happened that Gamarra did not know we were planning to go to Cotahuasi. Had he known this, and also had he suspected the trials that were before him on Mt. Coropuna, he probably would have begged off--but I am anticipating. On the 2d of October, Tucker, Hinckley, Corporal Gamarra and I left Arequipa; Watkins followed a week later. The first stage of the journey was by train from Arequipa to Vitor, a distance of thirty miles. The arrieros sent the cargo along too. In addition to the food-boxes we brought with us tents, ice axes, snowshoes, barometers, thermometers, transit, fiber cases, steel boxes, duffle bags, and a folding boat. Our pack train was supposed to have started from Arequipa the day before. We hoped it would reach Vitor about the same time that we did, but that was expecting too much of arrieros on the first day of their journey. So we had an all-day wait near the primitive little railway station. We amused ourselves wandering off over the neighboring pampa and studying the médanos, crescent-shaped sand dunes which are common in the great coastal desert. One reads so much of the great tropical jungles of South America and of wellnigh impenetrable forests that it is difficult to realize that the West Coast from Ecuador, on the north, to the heart of Chile, on the south, is a great desert, broken at intervals by oases, or valleys whose rivers, coming from melting snows of the Andes, are here and there diverted for purposes of irrigation. Lima, the capital of Peru, is in one of the largest of these oases. Although frequently enveloped in a damp fog, the Peruvian coastal towns are almost never subjected to rain. The causes of this phenomenon are easy to understand. Winds coming from the east, laden with the moisture of the Atlantic Ocean and the steaming Amazon Basin, are rapidly cooled by the eastern slopes of the Andes and forced to deposit this moisture in the montaña. By the time the winds have crossed the mighty cordillera there is no rain left in them. Conversely, the winds that come from the warm Pacific Ocean strike a cold area over the frigid Humboldt Current, which sweeps up along the west coast of South America. This cold belt wrings the water out of the westerly winds, so that by the time they reach the warm land their relative humidity is low. To be sure, there are months in some years when so much moisture falls on the slopes of the coast range that the hillsides are clothed with flowers, but this verdure lasts but a short time and does not seriously affect the great stretches of desert pampa in the midst of which we now were. Like the other pampas of this region, the flat surface inclines toward the sea. Over it the sand is rolled along by the wind and finally built into crescent-shaped dunes. These médanos interested us greatly. The prevailing wind on the desert at night is a relatively gentle breeze that comes down from the cool mountain slopes toward the ocean. It tends to blow the lighter particles of sand along in a regular dune, rolling it over and over downhill, leaving the heavier particles behind. This is reversed in the daytime. As the heat increases toward noon, the wind comes rushing up from the ocean to fill the vacuum caused by the rapidly ascending currents of hot air that rise from the overheated pampas. During the early afternoon this wind reaches a high velocity and swirls the sand along in clouds. It is now strong enough to move the heavier particles of sand, uphill. It sweeps the heaviest ones around the base of the dune and deposits them in pointed ridges on either side. The heavier material remains stationary at night while the lighter particles are rolled downhill, but the whole mass travels slowly uphill again during the gales of the following afternoon. The result is the beautiful crescent-shaped médano. About five o'clock our mules, a fine-looking lot--far superior to any that we had been able to secure near Cuzco--trotted briskly into the dusty little plaza. It took some time to adjust the loads, and it was nearly seven o'clock before we started off in the moonlight for the oasis of Vitor. As we left the plateau and struck the dusty trail winding down into a dark canyon we caught a glimpse of something white shimmering faintly on the horizon far off to the northwest; Coropuna! Shortly before nine o'clock we reached a little corral, where the mules were unloaded. For ourselves we found a shed with a clean, stone-paved floor, where we set up our cots, only to be awakened many times during the night by passing caravans anxious to avoid the terrible heat of the desert by day. ------ FIGURE Mt. Coropuna from the Northwest ------ Where the oases are only a few miles apart one often travels by day, but when crossing the desert is a matter of eight or ten hours' steady jogging with no places to rest, no water, no shade, the pack animals suffer greatly. Consequently, most caravans travel, so far as possible, by night. Our first desert, the pampa of Sihuas, was reported to be narrow, so we preferred to cross it by day and see what was to be seen. We got up about half-past four and were off before seven. Then our troubles began. Either because he lived in Arequipa or because they thought he looked like a good horseman, or for reasons best known to themselves, the Tejadas had given Mr. Hinckley a very spirited saddle-mule. The first thing I knew, her rider, carrying a heavy camera, a package of plate-holders, and a large mercurial barometer, borrowed from the Harvard Observatory, was pitched headlong into the sand. Fortunately no damage was done, and after a lively chase the runaway mule was brought back by Corporal Gamarra. After Mr. Hinckley was remounted on his dangerous mule we rode on for a while in peace, between cornfields and vineyards, over paths flanked by willows and fig trees. The chief industry of Vitor is the making of wine from vines which date back to colonial days. The wine is aged in huge jars, each over six feet high, buried in the ground. We had a glimpse of seventeen of them standing in a line, awaiting sale. It made one think of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, who would have had no trouble at all hiding in these Cyclopean crocks. The edge of the oasis of Vitor is the contour line along which the irrigating canal runs. There is no gradual petering out of foliage. The desert begins with a stunning crash. On one side is the bright, luxurious green of fig trees and vineyards; on the other side is the absolute stark nakedness of the sandy desert. Within the oasis there is an abundance of water. Much of it runs to waste. The wine growers receive more than they can use; in fact, more land could easily be put under cultivation. The chief difficulties are the scarcity of ports from which produce can be shipped to the outer world, the expense of the transportation system of pack trains over the deserts which intervene between the oases and the railroad, and the lack of capital. Otherwise the irrigation system might be extended over great stretches of rich, volcanic soil, now unoccupied. A steady climb of three quarters of an hour took us to the northern rim of the valley. Here we again saw the snowy mass of Coropuna, glistening in the sunlight, seventy-five miles away to the northwest. Our view was a short one, for in less than three minutes we had to descend another canyon. We crossed this and climbed out on the pampa of Sihuas. There was little to interest us in our immediate surroundings, but in the distance was Coropuna, and I had just begun to study the problem of possible routes for climbing the highest peak when Mr. Hinckley's mule trotted briskly across the trail directly in front of me, kicked up her heels, and again sent him sprawling over the sand, barometer, camera, plates, and all. Unluckily, this time his foot caught in a stirrup and, still holding the bridle, he was dragged some distance before he got it loose. He struggled to his feet and tried to keep the mule from running away, when a violent kick released his hold and knocked him out. We immediately set up our little "Mummery" tent on the hot, sandy floor of the desert and rendered first-aid to the unlucky astronomer. We found that the sharp point of one of the vicious mule's new shoes had opened a large vein in Mr. Hinckley's leg. The cut was not dangerous, but too deep for successful mountain climbing. With Gamarra's aid, Mr. Hinckley was able to reach Arequipa that night, but his enforced departure not only shattered his own hopes of climbing Coropuna, but also made us wonder how we were going to have the necessary three-men-on-the-rope when we reached the glaciers. To be sure, there was the corporal--but would he go? Indians do not like snow mountains. Packing up the tent again, we resumed our course over the desert. The oasis of Sihuas, another beautiful garden in the bottom of a huge canyon, was reached about four o'clock in the afternoon. We should have been compelled to camp in the open with the arrieros had not the parish priest invited us to rest in the cool shade of his vine-covered arbor. He graciously served us with cakes and sweet native wine, and asked us to stay as long as we liked. The desert of Majes, which now lay ahead of us, is perhaps the widest, hottest, and most barren in this region. Our arrieros were unwilling to cross it in the daytime. They said it was forty-five miles between water and water. The next day we enjoyed the hospitality of our kindly host until after supper. So sure are the inhabitants of these oases that it is not going to rain that their houses are built merely as a shelter against the sun and wind. They are made of the canes that grow in the jungles of the larger river bottoms, or along the banks of irrigating ditches. On the roof the spaces between the canes are filled with adobe, sun-dried mud. It is not necessary to plaster the sides of the houses, for it is pleasant to let the air have free play, and it is amusing to look out through the cracks and see everything that is passing. That evening we saddled in the moonlight. Slowly we climbed out of the valley, to spend the night jogging steadily, hour after hour, across the desert. As the moon was setting we entered a hilly region, and at sunrise found ourselves in the midst of a tumbled mass of enormous sand dunes--the result of hundreds of médanos blown across the pampa of Majes and deposited along the border of the valley. It took us three hours to wind slowly down from the level of the desert to a point where we could see the great canyon, a mile deep and two miles across. Its steep sides are of various colored rocks and sand. The bottom is a bright green oasis through which flows the rapid Majes River, too deep to be forded even in the dry season. A very large part of the flood plain of the unruly river is not cultivated, and consists of a wild jungle, difficult of access in the dry season and impossible when the river rises during the rainy months. The contrast between the gigantic hills of sand and the luxurious vegetation was very striking; but to us the most beautiful thing in the landscape was the long, glistening, white mass of Coropuna, now much larger and just visible above the opposite rim of the valley. At eight o'clock in the morning, as we were wondering how long it would be before we could get down to the bottom of the valley and have some breakfast, we discovered, at a place called Pitas (or Cerro Colorado), a huge volcanic boulder covered with rude pictographs. Further search in the vicinity revealed about one hundred of these boulders, each with its quota of crude drawings. I did not notice any ruins of houses near the rocks. Neither of the Tejada brothers, who had been past here many times, nor any of the natives of this region appeared to have any idea of the origin or meaning of this singular collection of pictographic rocks. The drawings represented jaguars, birds, men, and dachshund-like dogs. They deserved careful study. Yet not even the interest and excitement of investigating the "rocas jeroglificos," as they are called here, could make us forget that we had had no food or sleep for a good many hours. So after taking a few pictures we hastened on and crossed the Majes River on a very shaky temporary bridge. It was built to last only during the dry season. To construct a bridge which would withstand floods is not feasible at present. We spent the day at Coriri, a pleasant little village where it was almost impossible to sleep, on account of the myriads of gnats. The next day we had a short ride along the western side of the valley to the town of Aplao, the capital of the province of Castilla, called by its present inhabitants "Majes," although on Raimondi's map that name is applied only to the river and the neighboring desert. In 1865, at the time of his visit, it had a bad reputation for disease. Now it seems more healthy. The sub-prefect of Castilla had been informed by telegraph of our coming, and invited us to an excellent dinner. The people of Majes are largely of mixed white and Indian ancestry. Many of them appeared to be unusually businesslike. The proprietor of one establishment was a great admirer of American shoes, the name of which he pronounced in a manner that puzzled us for a long time. "W" is unknown in Spanish and the letters "a," "l," and "k" are never found in juxtaposition. When he asked us what we thought of "Valluck-ofair'," accenting strongly the last syllable, we could not imagine what he meant. He was equally at a loss to understand how we could be so stupid as not to recognize immediately the well-advertised name of a widely known shoe. At Majes we observed cotton, which is sent to the mills at Arequipa, alfalfa, highly prized as fodder for pack animals, sugar cane, from which aguardiente, or white rum, is made, and grapes. It is said that the Majes vineyards date back to the sixteenth century, and that some of the huge, buried, earthenware wine jars now in use were made as far back as the reign of Philip II. The presence of so much wine in the community does not seem to have a deleterious effect on the natives, who were not only hospitable but energetic--far more so, in fact, than the natives of towns in the high Andes, where the intense cold and the difficulty of making a living have reacted upon the Indians, often causing them to be morose, sullen, and without ambition. The residences of the wine growers are sometimes very misleading. A typical country house of the better class is not much to look at. Its long, low, flat roof and rough, unwhitewashed, mud-colored walls give it an unattractive appearance; yet to one's intense surprise the inside may be clean and comfortable, with modern furniture, a piano, and a phonograph. Our conscientious and hard-working arrieros rose at two o'clock the next morning, for they knew their mules had a long, hard climb ahead of them, from an elevation of 1000 feet above sea level to 10,000 feet. After an all-day journey we camped at a place where forage could be obtained. We had now left the region of tropical products and come back to potatoes and barley. The following day a short ride brought us past another pictographic rock, recently blasted open by an energetic "treasure seeker" of Chuquibamba. This town has 3000 inhabitants and is the capital of the province of Condesuyos. It was the place which we had selected several months before as the rendezvous for the attack on Coropuna. The climate here is delightful and the fruits and cereals of the temperate zone are easily raised. The town is surrounded by gardens, vineyards, alfalfa and grain fields; all showing evidence of intensive cultivation. It is at the head of one of the branches of the Majes Valley and is surrounded by high cliffs. The people of Chuquibamba were friendly. We were kindly welcomed by Señor Benavides, the sub-prefect, who hospitably told us to set up our cots in the grand salon of his own house. Here we received calls from the local officials, including the provincial physician, Dr. Pastór, and the director of the Colegio Nacional, Professor Alejandro Coello. The last two were keen to go with us up Mt. Coropuna. They told us that there was a hill near by called the Calvario, whence the mountain could be seen, and offered to take us up there. We accepted, thinking at the same time that this would show who was best fitted to join in the climb, for we needed another man on the rope. Professor Coello easily distanced the rest of us and won the coveted place. From the Calvario hill we had a splendid view of those white solitudes whither we were bound, now only twenty-five miles away. It seemed clear that the western or truncated peak, which gives its name to the mass (koro = "cut off at the top"; puna = "a cold, snowy height"), was the highest point of the range, and higher than all the eastern peaks. Yet behind the flat-topped dome we could just make out a northerly peak. Tucker wondered whether or not that might prove to be higher than the western peak which we decided to climb. No one knew anything about the mountain. There were no native guides to be had. The wildest opinions were expressed as to the best routes and methods of getting to the top. We finally engaged a man who said he knew how to get to the foot of the mountain, so we called him "guide" for want of a more appropriate title. The Peruvian spring was now well advanced and the days were fine and clear. It appeared, however, that there had been a heavy snowstorm on the mountain a few days before. If summer were coming unusually early it behooved us to waste no time, and we proceeded to arrange the mountain equipment as fast as possible. Our instruments for determining altitude consisted of a special mountain-mercurial barometer made by Mr. Henry J. Green, of Brooklyn, capable of recording only such air pressures as one might expect to find above 12,000 feet; a hypsometer loaned us by the Department of Terrestrial Magnetism of the Carnegie Institution of Washington, with thermometers especially made for us by Green; a large mercurial barometer, borrowed from the Harvard Observatory, which, notwithstanding its rough treatment by Mr. Hinckley's mule, was still doing good service; and one of Green's sling psychrometers. Our most serious want was an aneroid, in case the fragile mercurials should get broken. Six months previously I had written to J. Hicks, the celebrated instrument maker of London, asking him to construct, with special care, two large "Watkins" aneroids capable of recording altitudes five thousand feet higher than Coropuna was supposed to be. His reply had never reached me, nor did any one in Arequipa know anything about the barometers. Apparently my letter had miscarried. It was not until we opened our specially ordered "mountain grub" boxes here in Chuquibamba that we found, alongside of the pemmican and self-heating tins of stew which had been packed for us in London by Grace Brothers, the two precious aneroids, each as large as a big alarm clock. With these two new aneroids, made with a wide margin of safety, we felt satisfied that, once at the summit, we should know whether there was a chance that Bandelier was right and this was indeed the top of America. For exact measurements we depended on Topographer Hendriksen, who was due to triangulate Coropuna in the course of his survey along the 73d meridian. My chief excuse for going up the mountain was to erect a signal at or near the top which Hendriksen could use as a station in order to make his triangulation more exact. My real object, it must be confessed, was to enjoy the satisfaction, which all Alpinists feel, of conquering a "virgin peak." CHAPTER II Climbing Coropuna The desert plateau above Chuquibamba is nearly 2500 feet higher than the town, and it was nine o'clock on the morning of October 10th before we got out of the valley. Thereafter Coropuna was always in sight, and as we slowly approached it we studied it with care. The plateau has an elevation of over 15,000 feet, yet the mountain stood out conspicuously above it. Coropuna is really a range about twenty miles long. Its gigantic massif was covered with snow fields from one end to the other. So deep did the fresh snow lie that it was generally impossible to see where snow fields ended and glaciers began. We could see that of the five well-defined peaks the middle one was probably the lowest. The two next highest are at the right, or eastern, end of the massif. The culminating truncated dome at the western end, with its smooth, uneroded sides, apparently belonged to a later volcanic period than the rest of the mountain. It seemed to be the highest peak of all. To reach it did not appear to be difficult. Rock-covered slopes ran directly up to the snow. Snow fields, without many rock-falls, appeared to culminate in a saddle at the base of the great snowy dome. The eastern slope of the dome itself offered an unbroken, if steep, path to the top. If we could once reach the snow line, it looked as though, with the aid of ice-creepers or snowshoes, we could climb the mountain without serious trouble. ------ FIGURE Mt. Coropuna from the South ------ Between us and the first snow-covered slopes, however, lay more than twenty miles of volcanic desert intersected by deep canyons, steep quebradas, and very rough aa lava. Directed by our "guide," we left the Cotahuasi road and struck across country, dodging the lava flows and slowly ascending the gentle slope of the plateau. As it became steeper our mules showed signs of suffering. While waiting for them to get their wind we went ahead on foot, climbed a short rise, and to our surprise and chagrin found ourselves on the rim of a steep-walled canyon, 1500 feet deep, which cut right across in front of the mountain and lay between us and its higher slopes. After the mules had rested, the guide now decided to turn to the left instead of going straight toward the mountain. A dispute ensued as to how much he knew, even about the foot of Coropuna. He denied that there were any huts whatever in the canyon. "Abandonado; despoblado; desierto." "A waste; a solitude; a wilderness." So he described it. Had he been there? "No, Señor." Luckily we had been able to make out from the rim of the canyon two or three huts near a little stream. As there was no question that we ought to get to the snow line as soon as possible, we decided to dispense with the services of so well-informed a "guide," and make such way as we could alone. The altitude of the rim of the canyon was 16,000 feet; the mules showed signs of acute distress from mountain sickness. The arrieros began to complain loudly, but did what they could to relieve the mules by punching holes in their ears; the theory being that bloodletting is a good thing for soroche. As soon as the timid arrieros reached a point where they could see down into the canyon, they spotted some patches of green pasture, cheered up a bit, and even smiled over the dismal ignorance of the "guide." Soon we found a trail which led to the huts. Near the huts was a taciturn Indian woman, who refused to furnish us with either fuel or forage, although we tried to pay in advance and offered her silver. Nevertheless, we proceeded to pitch our tents and took advantage of the sheltering stone wall of her corral for our camp fire. After peace had settled down and it became perfectly evident that we were harmless, the door of one of the huts opened and an Indian man appeared. Doubtless the cause of his disappearance before our arrival had been the easily discernible presence in our midst of the brass buttons of Corporal Gamarra. Possibly he who had selected this remote corner of the wilderness for his abode had a guilty conscience and at the sight of a gendarme decided that he had better hide at once. More probably, however, he feared the visit of a recruiting party, since it is quite likely that he had not served his legal term of military service. At all events, when his wife discovered that we were not looking for her man, she allowed his curiosity to overcome his fears. We found that the Indians kept a few llamas. They also made crude pottery, firing it with straw and llama dung. They lived almost entirely on gruel made from chuño, frozen bitter potatoes. Little else than potatoes will grow at 14,000 feet above the sea. For neighbors the Indians had a solitary old man, who lived half a mile up nearer the glaciers, and a small family, a mile and a half down the valley. Before dark the neighbors came to call, and we tried our best to persuade the men to accompany us up the mountain and help to carry the loads from the point where the mules would have to stop; but they declined absolutely and positively. I think one of the men might have gone, but as soon as his quiet, well-behaved wife saw him wavering she broke out in a torrent of violent denunciation, telling him the mountain would "eat him up" and that unless he wanted to go to heaven before his time he had better let well enough alone and stay where he was. Cieza de Leon, one of the most careful of the early chroniclers (1550), says that at Coropuna "the devil" talks "more freely" than usual. "For some secret reason known to God, it is said that devils walk visibly about in that place, and that the Indians see them and are much terrified. I have also heard that these devils have appeared to Christians in the form of Indians." Perhaps the voluble housewife was herself one of the famous Coropuna devils. She certainly talked "more freely" than usual. Or possibly she thought that the Coropuna "devils" were now appearing to Indians "in the form of" Christians! Anyhow the Indians said that on top of Coropuna there was a delightful, warm paradise containing beautiful flowers, luscious fruits, parrots of brilliant plumage, macaws, and even monkeys, those faithful denizens of hot climates. The souls of the departed stop to rest and enjoy themselves in this charming spot on their upward flight. Like most primitive people who live near snow-capped mountains, they had an abject terror of the forbidding summits and the snowstorms that seem to come down from them. Probably the Indians hope to propitiate the demons who dwell on the mountain tops by inventing charming stories relating to their abode. It is interesting to learn that in the neighboring hamlet of Pampacolca, the great explorer Raimondi, in 1865, found the natives "exiled from the civilized world, still preserving their primitive customs... carrying idols to the slopes of the great snow mountain Coropuna, and there offering them as a sacrifice." Apparently the mountain still inspires fear in the hearts of all those who live near it. The fact that we agreed to pay in advance unheard-of wages, ten times the usual amount earned by laborers in this vicinity, that we added offers of the precious coca leaves, the greatly-to-be-desired "fire-water," the rarely seen tobacco, and other good things usually coveted by Peruvian highlanders, had no effect in the face of the terrors of the mountain. They knew only too well that snow-blindness was one of the least of ills to be encountered; while the advantages of dark-colored glasses, warm clothes, kerosene stoves, and plenty of good food, which we freely offered, were far too remote from the realm of credible possibilities. Professor Coello understood all these matters perfectly and, being able to speak Quichua, the language of our prospective carriers, did his best in the way of argument, not only out of loyalty to the Expedition, but because Peruvian gentlemen always regard the carrying of a load as extremely undignified and improper. I have known one of the most energetic and efficient business men in Peru, a highly respected gentleman in a mountain city, so to dislike being obliged to carry a rolled and unmounted photograph, little larger than a lead pencil, that he sent for a cargador, an Indian porter, to bear it for him! As a matter of fact, Professor Coello was perfectly willing to do his share and more; but neither he nor we were anxious to climb with heavy packs on our backs, in the rarefied air of elevations several thousand feet higher than Mont Blanc. The argument with the Indians was long and verbose and the offerings of money and goods were made more and more generous. All was in vain. We finally came to realize that whatever supplies and provisions were carried up Coropuna would have to be borne on our own shoulders. That evening the top of the truncated dome, which was just visible from the valley near our camp, was bathed in a roseate Alpine glow, unspeakably beautiful. The air, however, was very bitter and the neighboring brook froze solid. During the night the gendarme's mule became homesick and disappeared with Coello's horse. Gamarra was sent to look for the strays, with orders to follow us as soon as possible. As no bearers or carriers were to be secured, it was essential to persuade the Tejadas to take their pack mules up as far as the snow, a feat they declined to do. The mules, Don Pablo said, had already gone as far as and farther than mules had any business to go. Soon after reaching camp Tucker had gone off on a reconnaissance. He reported that there was a path leading out of the canyon up to the llama pastures on the lower slopes of the mountains. The arrieros denied the accuracy of his observations. However, after a long argument, they agreed to go as far as there was a good path, and no farther. There was no question of our riding. It was simply a case of getting the loads as high up as possible before we had to begin to carry them ourselves. It may be imagined that the arrieros packed very slowly and grudgingly, although the loads were now considerably reduced. Finally, leaving behind our saddles, ordinary supplies, and everything not considered absolutely necessary for a two weeks' stay on the mountain, we set off. We could easily walk faster than the loaded mules, and thought it best to avoid trouble by keeping far enough ahead so as not to hear the arrieros' constant complaints. After an hour of not very hard climbing over a fairly good llama trail, the Tejadas stopped at the edge of the pastures and shouted to us to come back. We replied equally vociferously, calling them to come ahead, which they did for half an hour more, slowly zigzagging up a slope of coarse, black volcanic sand. Then they not only stopped but commenced to unload the mules. It was necessary to rush back and commence a violent and acrimonious dispute as to whether the letter of the contract had been fulfilled and the mules had gone "as far as they could reasonably be expected to go." The truth was, the Tejadas were terrified at approaching mysterious Coropuna. They were sure it would take revenge on them by destroying their mules, who would "certainly die the following day of soroche." We offered a bonus of thirty soles--fifteen dollars--if they would go on for another hour, and threatened them with all sorts of things if they would not. At last they readjusted the loads and started climbing again. The altitude was now about 16,000 feet, but at the foot of a steep little rise the arrieros stopped again. This time they succeeded in unloading two mules before we could scramble down over the sand and boulders to stop them. Threats and prayers were now of no avail. The only thing that would satisfy was a legal document! They demanded an agreement "in writing" that in case any mule or mules died as a result of this foolish attempt to get up to the snow line, I should pay in gold two hundred soles for each and every mule that died. Further, I must agree to pay a bonus of fifty soles if they would keep climbing until noon or until stopped by snow. This document, having been duly drawn up by Professor Coello, seated on a lava rock amidst the clinker-like cinders of the old volcano, was duly signed and sealed. In order that there might be no dispute as to the time, my best chronometer was handed over to Pablo Tejada to carry until noon. The mules were reloaded and again the ascent began. Presently the mules encountered some pretty bad going, on a steep slope covered with huge lava boulders and scoriaceous sand. We expected more trouble every minute. However, the arrieros, having made an advantageous bargain, did their best to carry it out. Fortunately the mules reached the snow line just fifteen minutes before twelve o'clock. The Tejadas lost no time in unloading, claimed their bonus, promised to return in ten days, and almost before we knew it had disappeared down the side of the mountain. We spent the afternoon establishing our Base Camp. We had three tents, the "Mummery," a very light and diminutive wall tent about four feet high, made by Edgington of London; an ordinary wall tent, 7 by 7, of fairly heavy material, with floor sewed in; and an improved pyramidal tent, made by David Abercrombie, but designed by Mr. Tucker after one used on Mt. McKinley by Professor Parker. Tucker's tent had two openings--a small vent in the top of the pyramid, capable of being closed by an adjustable cap in case of storm, and an oval entrance through which one had to crawl. This opening could be closed to any desired extent with a pucker string. A fairly heavy, waterproof floor, measuring 7 by 7, was sewed to the base of the pyramid so that a single pole, without guy ropes, was all that was necessary to keep the tent upright after the floor had been securely pegged to the ground, or snow. Tucker's tent offered the advantages of being carried without difficulty, easily erected by one man, readily ventilated and yet giving shelter to four men in any weather. We proposed to leave the wall tent at the Base, but to take the pyramidal tent with us on the climb. We determined to carry the "Mummery" to the top of the mountain to use while taking observations. The elevation of the Base Camp was 17,300 feet. We were surprised and pleased to find that at first we had good appetites and no soroche. Less than a hundred yards from the wall tent was a small diurnal stream, fed by melting snow. Whenever I went to get water for cooking or washing purposes I noticed a startling and rapid rise in pulse and increasing shortness of breath. My normal pulse is 70. After I walked slowly a hundred feet on a level at this altitude it rose to 120. After I had been seated awhile it dropped down to 100. Gradually our sense of well-being departed and was followed by a feeling of malaise and general disability. There was a splendid sunset, but we were too sick and cold to enjoy it. That night all slept badly and had some headache. A high wind swept around the mountain and threatened to carry away both of our tents. As we lay awake, wondering at what moment we should find ourselves deserted by the frail canvas shelters, we could not help thinking that Coropuna was giving us a fair warning of what might happen higher up. ------ FIGURE The Base Camp, Coropuna, at 17,300 Feet ------ ------ FIGURE Camping at 18,450 Feet on the Slopes of Coropuna ------ For breakfast we had pemmican, hard-tack, pea soup and tea. We all wanted plenty of sugar in our tea and drank large quantities of it. Experience on Mt. McKinley had led Tucker to believe heartily in the advantages of pemmican, a food especially prepared for Arctic explorers. Neither Coello nor Gamarra nor I had ever tasted it before. We decided that it is not very palatable on first acquaintance. Although doubtless of great value when one has to spend long periods of time in the Arctic, where even seal's blubber is a delicacy "as good as cow's cream," I presume we could have done just as well without it. It was decided to carry with us from the Base enough fuel and supplies to last through any possible misadventure, even of a week's duration. Accounts of climbs in the high Andes are full of failures due to the necessity of the explorers' being obliged to return to food, warmth, and shelter before having effected the conquest of a new peak. One remembers the frequent disappointments that came to such intrepid climbers as Whymper in Ecuador, Martin Conway in Bolivia and Fitzgerald in Chile and Argentina, due to high winds, the sudden advent of terrific snowstorms and the weakness caused by soroche. At the cost of carrying extra-heavy loads we determined to try to avoid being obliged to turn back. We could only hope that no unforeseen event would finally defeat our efforts. Tucker decided to establish a cache of food and fuel as far up the mountain side as he and Coello could carry fifty pounds in a single day's climb. Leaving me to reset the demoralized tents and do other chores, they started off, packing loads of about twenty-five pounds each. To me their progress up the mountain side seemed extraordinarily slow. Were they never going to get anywhere? Their frequent stops seemed ludicrous. I was to learn later that it is as difficult at a high elevation for one who is not climbing to have any sympathy for those suffering from soroche as it is for a sailor to appreciate the sensations of one who is seasick. During the morning I set up the barometers and took a series of observations. It was pleasant to note that the two new mountain aneroids registered exactly alike. All the different units of the cargo that was to be taken up the mountain then had to be weighed, so that they might be equitably distributed in our loads the following day. We had two small kerosene stoves with Primus burners. Our grub, ordered months before, specially for this climb, consisted of pemmican in 8 1/4-pound tins, Kola chocolate in half-pound tins, seeded raisins in 1-pound tins, cube sugar in 4-pound tins, hard-tack in 6 1/2-pound tins, jam, sticks of dried pea soup, Plasmon biscuit, tea, and a few of Silver's self-heating "messtins" containing Irish stew, beef à la mode, et al. Corporal Gamarra appeared during the day, having found his mule, which had strayed twelve miles down the canyon. He did not relish the prospect of climbing Coropuna, but when he saw the warm clothes which we had provided for him and learned that he would get a bonus of five gold sovereigns on top of the mountain, he decided to accept his duties philosophically. Tucker and Coello returned in the middle of the afternoon, reported that there seemed to be no serious difficulties in the first part of the climb and that a cache had been established about 2000 feet above the Base Camp, on a snow field. Tucker now assigned our packs for the morrow and skillfully prepared the tump-lines and harness with which we were to carry them. Notwithstanding an unusual headache which lasted all day long, I still had some appetite. Our supper consisted of pemmican pudding with raisins, hard-tack and pea soup, which every one was able to eat, if not to enjoy. That night we slept better, one reason being that the wind did not blow as hard as it had the night before. The weather continued fine. Watkins was due to arrive from Arequipa in a day or two, but we decided not to wait for him or run any further risk of encountering an early summer snowstorm. The next morning, after adjusting our fifty-pound loads to our unaccustomed backs, we left camp about nine o'clock. We wore Appalachian Mountain Club snow-creepers, or crampons, heavy Scotch mittens, knit woolen helmets, dark blue snow-glasses, and very heavy clothing. It will be remembered by visitors to the Zermatt Museum that the Swiss guides who once climbed Huascaran, in the northern Peruvian Andes, had been maimed for life by their experiences in the deep snows of those great altitudes. We determined to take no chances, and in order to prevent the possibility of frost-bite each man was ordered to put on four pairs of heavy woolen socks and two or three pairs of heavy underdrawers. Professor Coello and Corporal Gamarra wore large, heavy boots. I had woolen puttees and "Arctic" overshoes. Tucker improvised what he regarded as highly satisfactory sandals out of felt slippers and pieces of a rubber poncho. Since there seemed to be no rock-climbing ahead of us, we decided to depend on crampons rather than on the heavy hob-nailed climbing boots with which Alpinists are familiar. The snow was very hard until about one o'clock. By three o'clock it was so soft as to make further progress impossible. We found that, loaded as we were, we could not climb a gentle rise faster than twenty steps at a time. On the more level snow fields we took twenty-five or thirty steps before stopping to rest. At the end of each stint it seemed as though they would be the last steps we should ever take. Panting violently, fatigued beyond belief, and overcome with mountain-sickness, we would stop and lean on our ice axes until able to take twenty-five steps more. It did not take very long to recover one's wind. Finally we reached a glacier marked by a network of crevasses, none very wide, and nearly all covered with snow-bridges. We were roped together, and although there was an occasional fall no great strain was put on the rope. Then came great snow fields with not a single crevasse. For the most part our day was simply an unending succession of stints--twenty-five steps and a rest, repeated four or five times and followed by thirty-five steps and a longer rest, taken lying down in the snow. We pegged along until about half-past two, when the rapidly melting snow stopped all progress. At an altitude of about 18,450 feet, the Tucker tent was pitched on a fairly level snow field. We now noticed with dismay that the two big aneroids had begun to differ. As the sun declined the temperature fell rapidly. At half-past five the thermometer stood at 22° F. During the night the minimum thermometer registered 9° F. We noticed a considerable number of lightning flashes in the northeast. They were not accompanied by any thunder, but alarmed us considerably. We feared the expected November storms might be ahead of time. We closed the tent door on account of a biting wind. Owing to the ventilating device at the top of the tent, we managed to breathe fairly well. Mountain climbers at high altitudes have occasionally observed that one of the symptoms of acute soroche is a very annoying, racking cough, as violent as whooping cough and frequently accompanied by nausoa. We had not experienced this at 17,000 feet, but now it began to be painfully noticeable, and continued during the ensuing days and nights, particularly nights, until we got back to the Indians' huts again. We slept very poorly and continually awakened one another by coughing. The next morning we had very little appetite, no ambition, and a miserable sense of malaise and great fatigue. There was nothing for it but to shoulder our packs, arrange our tump-lines, and proceed with the same steady drudgery--now a little harder than the day before. We broke camp at half-past seven and by noon had reached an altitude of about 20,000 feet, on a snow field within a mile of the saddle between the great truncated peak and the rest of the range. It looked possible to reach the summit in one more day's climb from here. The aneroids now differed by over five hundred feet. Leaving me to pitch the tent, the others went back to the cache to bring up some of the supplies. Due to the fact that we were carrying loads twice as heavy as those which Tucker and Coello had first brought up, we had not passed their cache until to-day. By the time my companions appeared again I was so completely rested that I marveled at the snail-like pace they made over the nearly level snow field. It seemed incredible that they should find it necessary to rest four times after they were within one hundred yards of the camp. We were none of us hungry that evening. We craved sweet tea. Before turning in for the night we took the trouble to melt snow and make a potful of tea which could be warmed up the first thing in the morning. We passed another very bad night. The thermometer registered 7° F., but we did not suffer from the cold. In fact, when you stow away four men on the floor of a 7 by 7 tent they are obliged to sleep so close together as to keep warm. Furthermore, each man had an eiderdown sleeping-bag, blankets, and plenty of heavy clothes and sweaters. We did, however, suffer from soroche. Violent whooping cough assailed us at frequent intervals. None of us slept much. I amused myself by counting my pulse occasionally, only to find that it persistently refused to go below 120, and if I moved would jump up to 135. I don't know where it went on the actual climb. So far as I could determine, it did not go below 120 for four days and nights. On the morning of October 15th we got up at three o'clock. Hot sweet tea was the one thing we all craved. The tea-pot was found to be frozen solid, although it had been hung up in the tent. It took an hour to thaw and the tea was just warm enough for practical purposes when I made an awkward move in the crowded tent and kicked over the tea-pot! Never did men keep their tempers better under more aggravating circumstances. Not a word of reproach or indignation greeted my clumsy accident, although poor Corporal Gamarra, who was lying on the down side of the tent, had to beat a hasty retreat into the colder (but somewhat drier) weather outside. My clumsiness necessitated a delay of nearly an hour in starting. While we were melting more frozen snow and re-making the tea, we warmed up some pea soup and Irish stew. Tucker and I managed to eat a little. Coello and Gamarra had no stomachs for anything but tea. We decided to leave the Tucker tent at the 20,000 foot level, together with most of our outfit and provisions. From here to the top we were to carry only such things as were absolutely necessary. They included the Mummery tent with pegs and poles, the mountain-mercurial barometer, the two Watkins aneroids, the hypsometer, a pair of Zeiss glasses, two 3A kodaks, six films, a sling psychrometer, a prismatic compass and clinometer, a Stanley pocket level, an eighty-foot red-strand mountain rope, three ice axes, a seven-foot flagpole, an American flag and a Yale flag. In order to avoid disaster in case of storm, we also carried four of Silver's self-heating cans of Irish stew and mock-turtle soup, a cake of chocolate, and eight hard-tack, besides raisins and cubes of sugar in our pockets. Our loads weighed about twenty pounds each. To our great satisfaction and relief, the weather continued fine and there was very little wind. On the preceding afternoon the snow had been so soft one frequently went in over one's knees, but now everything was frozen hard. We left camp at five o'clock. It was still dark. The great dome of Coropuna loomed up on our left, cut off from direct attack by gigantic ice falls. To reach it we must first surmount the saddle on the main ridge. From there an apparently unbroken slope extended to the top. Our progress was distressingly slow, even with the light loads. When we reached the saddle there came a painful surprise. To the north of us loomed a great snowy cone, the peak which we had at first noticed from the Chuquibamba Calvario. Now it actually looked higher than the dome we were about to climb! From the Sihuas Desert, eighty miles away, the dome had certainly seemed to be the highest point. So we stuck to our task, although constantly facing the possibility that our painful labors might be in vain and that eventually, this north peak would prove to be higher. We began to doubt whether we should have strength enough for both. Loss of sleep, soroche, and lack of appetite were rapidly undermining our endurance. The last slope had an inclination of thirty degrees. We should have had to cut steps with our ice axes all the way up had it not been for our snow-creepers, which worked splendidly. As it was, not more than a dozen or fifteen steps actually had to be cut even in the steepest part. Tucker was first on the rope, I was second, Coello third, and Gamarra brought up the rear. We were not a very gay party. The high altitude was sapping all our ambition. I found that an occasional lump of sugar acted as the best rapid restorative to sagging spirits. It was astonishing how quickly the carbon in the sugar was absorbed by the system and came to the relief of smoldering bodily fires. A single cube gave new strength and vigor for several minutes. Of course, one could not eat sugar without limit, but it did help to tide over difficult places. We zigzagged slowly up, hour after hour, alternately resting and climbing, until we were about to reach what seemed to be the top, obviously, alas, not as high as our enemy to the north. Just then Tucker gave a great shout. The rest of us were too much out of breath to ask him why he was wasting his strength shouting. When at last we painfully came to the edge of what looked like the summit we saw the cause of his joy. There, immediately ahead of us, lay another slope three hundred feet higher than where we were standing. It may seem strange that in our weakened condition we should have been glad to find that we had three hundred feet more to climb. Remember, however, that all the morning we had been gazing with dread at that aggravating north peak. Whenever we had had a moment to give to the consideration of anything but the immediate difficulties of our climb our hearts had sunk within us at the thought that possibly, after all, we might find the north peak higher. The fact that there lay before us another three hundred feet, which would undoubtedly take us above the highest point of that aggravating north peak, was so very much the less of two possible evils that we understood Tucker's shout. Yet none of us was lusty enough to echo it. With faint smiles and renewed courage we pegged along, resting on our ice axes, as usual, every twenty-five steps until at last, at half-past eleven, after six hours and a half of climbing from the 20,000-foot camp, we reached the culminating point of Coropuna. As we approached it, Tucker, although naturally much elated at having successfully engineered the first ascent of this great mountain, stopped and with extraordinary courtesy and self-abnegation smilingly motioned me to go ahead in order that the director of the Expedition might be actually the first person to reach the culminating point. In order to appreciate how great a sacrifice he was willing to make, it should be stated that his willingness to come on the Expedition was due chiefly to a fondness for mountain climbing and his desire to add Coropuna to his sheaf of victories. Greatly as I appreciated his kindness in making way for me, I could only acquiesce in so far as to continue the climb by his side. We reached the top together, and sank down to rest and look about. ------ FIGURE The Camp on the Summit of Coropuna Elevation, 21,703 Feet ------ ------ FIGURE One of the Frequent Rests in the Ascent of Coropuna ------ The truncated summit is an oval-shaped snow field, almost flat, having an area of nearly half an acre, about 100 feet north and south and 175 feet east and west. If it once were, as we suppose, a volcanic crater, the pit had long since been filled up with snow and ice. There were no rocks to be seen on the rim--only the hard crust of the glistening white surface. The view from the top was desolate in the extreme. We were in the midst of a great volcanic desert dotted with isolated peaks covered with snow and occasional glaciers. Not an atom of green was to be seen anywhere. Apparently we stood on top of a dead world. Mountain climbers in the Andes have frequently spoken of seeing condors at great altitudes. We saw none. Northwest, twenty miles away across the Pampa Colorada, a reddish desert, rose snow-capped Solimana. In the other direction we looked along the range of Coropuna itself; several of the lesser peaks being only a few hundred feet below our elevation. Far to the southwest we imagined we could see the faint blue of the Pacific Ocean, but it was very dim. My father was an ardent mountain climber, glorying not only in the difficulties of the ascent, but particularly in the satisfaction coming from the magnificent view to be obtained at the top. His zeal had led him once, in winter, to ascend the highest peak in the Pacific, Mauna Kea on Hawaii. He taught me as a boy to be fond of climbing the mountains of Oahu and Maui and to be appreciative of the views which could be obtained by such expenditure of effort. Yet now I could not take the least interest or pleasure in the view from the top of Coropuna, nor could my companions. No sense of satisfaction in having attained a difficult objective cheered us up. We all felt greatly depressed and said little, although Gamarra asked for his bonus and regarded the gold coins with grim complacency. After we had rested awhile we began to take observations. Unslinging the aneroid which I had been carrying, I found to my surprise and dismay that the needle showed a height of only 21,525 feet above sea level. Tucker's aneroid read more than a thousand feet higher, 22,550 feet, but even this fell short of Raimondi's estimate of 22,775 feet, and considerably below Bandelier's "23,000 feet." This was a keen disappointment, for we had hoped that the aneroids would at least show a margin over the altitude of Mt. Aconcagua, 22,763 feet. This discovery served to dampen our spirits still further. We took what comfort we could from the fact that the aneroids, which had checked each other perfectly up to 17,000 feet, were now so obviously untrustworthy. We could only hope that both might prove to be inaccurate, as actually happened, and that both might now be reading too low. Anyhow, the north peak did look lower than we were. To satisfy any doubts on this subject, Tucker took the wooden box in which we had brought the hypsometer, laid it on the snow, leveled it up carefully with the Stanley pocket level, and took a squint over it toward the north peak. He smiled and said nothing. So each of us in turn lay down in the snow and took a squint. It was all right. We were at least 250 feet higher than that aggravating peak. We were also 450 feet higher than the east peak of Coropuna, and a thousand feet higher than any other mountain in sight. At any rate, we should not have to call upon our fast-ebbing strength for any more hard climbs in the immediate future. After arriving at this satisfactory conclusion we pitched the little Mummery tent, set up the tripod for the mercurial barometer, arranged the boiling point thermometer with its apparatus, and with the aid of kodaks and notebooks proceeded to take as many observations as possible in the next four hours. At two o'clock we read the mercurial, knowing that at the same hour readings were being made by Watkins at the Base Camp and by the Harvard astronomers in the Observatory at Arequipa. The barometer was suspended from a tripod set up in the shade of the tent. The mercury, which at sea level often stands at 31 inches, now stood at 13.838 inches. The temperature of the thermometer on the barometer was exactly +32° F. At the same time, inside the tent we got the water to boiling and took a reading with the hypsometer. Water boils at sea level at a temperature of 212° F. Here it boiled at 174° F. After taking the reading we greedily drank the water which had been heated for the hypsometer. We were thirsty enough to have drunk five times as much. We were not hungry, and made no use of our provisions except a few raisins, some sugar, and chocolate. After completing our observations, we fastened the little tent as securely as possible, banking the snow around it, and left it on top, first having placed in it one of the Appalachian Mountain Club's brass record cylinders, in which we had sealed the Yale flag, a contemporary map of Peru, and two brief statements regarding the ascent. The American flag was left flying from a nine-foot pole, which we planted at the northwest rim of the dome, where it could be seen from the road to Cotahuasi. Here Mr. Casimir Watkins saw it a week later and Dr. Isaiah Bowman two weeks later. When Chief Topographer Hendriksen arrived three weeks later to make his survey, it had disappeared. Probably a severe storm had blown it over and buried it in the snow. We left the summit at three o'clock and arrived at the 20,000 foot camp two hours and fifteen minutes later. The first part of the way down to the saddle we attempted a glissade. Then the slope grew steeper and we got up too much speed for comfort, so we finally had to be content with a slower method of locomotion. That night there was very little wind. Mountain climbers have more to fear from excessively high winds than almost any other cause. We were very lucky. Nothing occurred to interfere with the best progress we were physically capable of making. It turned out that we did not need to have brought so many supplies with us. In fact, it is an open question whether our acute mountain-sickness would have permitted us to outlast a long storm, or left us enough appetite to use the provisions. Although one does get accustomed to high altitudes, we felt very doubtful. No one in the Western Hemisphere had ever made night camps at 20,000 feet or pitched a tent as high as the summit of Coropuna. The severity of mountain-sickness differs greatly in different localities, apparently not depending entirely on the altitude. I do not know how long we could have stood it. It is difficult to believe that with strength enough to achieve the climb we should have felt as weak and ill as we did. That night, although we were very weary, none of us slept much. The violent whooping cough continued and all of us were nauseated again in the morning. We felt so badly and were able to take so little nourishment that it was determined to get to a lower altitude as fast as possible. To lighten our loads we left behind some of our supplies. We broke camp at 9:20. Eighteen minutes later, without having to rest, the cache was reached and the few remnants were picked up. Although many things had been abandoned, our loads seemed heavier than ever. We had some difficulty in negotiating the crevasses, but Gamarra was the only one actually to fall in, and he was easily pulled out again. About noon we heard a faint halloo, and finally made out two animated specks far down the mountain side. The effect of again seeing somebody from the outside world was rather curious. I had a choking sensation. Tucker, who led the way, told me long afterward that he could not keep the tears from running down his cheeks, although we did not see it at the time. The "specks" turned out to be Watkins and an Indian boy, who came up as high as was safe without ropes or crampons, and relieved us of some weight. The Base Camp was reached at half-past twelve. One of the first things Tucker did on returning was to weigh all the packs. To my surprise and disgust I learned that on the way down Tucker, afraid that some of us would collapse, had carried sixty-one pounds, and Gamarra sixty-four, while he had given me only thirty-one pounds, and the same to Coello. This, of course, does not include the weight of our ice-creepers, axes, or rope. The next day all of us felt very tired and drowsy. In fact, I was almost overcome with inertia. It was a fearful task even to lift one's hand. The sun had burned our faces terribly. Our lips were painfully swollen. We coughed and whooped. It seemed best to make every effort to get back to a still lower altitude for the mules. So we broke camp, got the loads ready without waiting, put our sleeping-bags and blankets on our backs, and went rapidly down to the Indians' huts. Immediately our malaise left us. We felt physically stronger. We took deep breaths as though we had gotten back to sea level. There was no sensation of oppression on the chest. Yet we were still actually higher than the top of Pike's Peak. We could move rapidly about without getting out of breath; the aggravating "whooping cough" left us; and our appetites returned. To be sure, we still suffered from the effects of snow and sun. On the ascent I had been very thirsty and foolishly had allowed myself to eat a considerable amount of snow. As a result my tongue was now so extremely sensitive that pieces of soda biscuit tasted like broken glass. Corporal Gamarra, who had been unwilling to keep his snow-glasses always in place and thought to relieve his eyes by frequently dispensing with them, now suffered from partial snow-blindness. The rest of us were spared any inflammation of the eyes. There followed two days of resting and waiting. Then the smiling arrieros, surprised and delighted at seeing us alive again after our adventure with Coropuna, arrived with our mules. The Tejadas gave us hearty embraces and promptly went off up to the snow line to get the loads. The next day we returned to Chuquibamba. In November Chief Topographer Hendriksen completed his survey and found the latitude of Coropuna to be 15° 31' South, and the longitude to be 72° 42' 40'' West of Greenwich. He computed its altitude to be 21,703 feet above sea level. The result of comparing the readings of our mercurial barometer, taken at the summit, with the simultaneous readings taken at Arequipa gave practically the same figures. There was less than sixty feet difference between the two. Although Coropuna proves to be thirteen hundred feet lower than Bandelier's estimate, and a thousand feet lower than the highest mountain in South America, still it is a thousand feet higher than the highest mountain in North America. While we were glad we were the first to reach the top, we all agreed we would never do it again! CHAPTER III To Parinacochas After a few days in the delightful climate of Chuquibamba we set out for Parinacochas, the "Flamingo Lake" of the Incas. The late Sir Clements Markham, literary and historical successor of the author of "The Conquest of Peru," had called attention to this unexplored lake in one of the publications of the Royal Geographical Society, and had named a bathymetric survey of Parinacochas as one of the principal desiderata for future exploration in Peru. So far as one could judge from the published maps Parinacochas, although much smaller than Titicaca, was the largest body of water entirely in Peru. A thorough search of geographical literature failed to reveal anything regarding its depth. The only thing that seemed to be known about it was that it had no outlet. General William Miller, once British consul general in Honolulu, who had as a young man assisted General San Martin in the Wars for the Independence of Chile and Peru, published his memoirs in London in 1828. During the campaigns against the Spanish forces in Peru he had had occasion to see many out-of-the-way places in the interior. On one of his rough sketch maps he indicates the location of Lake Parinacochas and notes the fact that the water is "brackish." This statement of General Miller's and the suggestion of Sir Clements Markham that a bathymetric survey of the lake would be an important contribution to geographical knowledge was all that we were able to learn. Our arrieros, the Tejadas, had never been to Parinacochas, but knew in a general way its location and were not afraid to try to get there. Some of their friends had been there and come back alive! First, however, it was necessary for us to go to Cotahuasi, the capital of the Province of Antabamba, and meet Dr. Bowman and Mr. Hendriksen, who had slowly been working their way across the Andes from the Urubamba Valley, and who would need a new supply of food-boxes if they were to complete the geographical reconnaissance of the 73d meridian. Our route led us out of the Chuquibamba Valley by a long, hard climb up the steep cliffs at its head and then over the gently sloping, semi-arid desert in a northerly direction, around the west flanks of Coropuna. When we stopped to make camp that night on the Pampa of Chumpillo, our arrieros used dried moss and dung for fuel for the camp fire. There was some bunch-grass, and there were llamas pasturing on the plains. Near our tent were some Inca ruins, probably the dwelling of a shepherd chief, or possibly the remains of a temple described by Cieza de Leon (1519-1560), whose remarkable accounts of what he saw and learned in Peru during the time of the Pizarros are very highly regarded. He says that among the five most important temples in the Land of the Incas was one "much venerated and frequented by them, named Coropuna." "It is on a very lofty mountain which is covered with snow both in summer and winter. The kings of Peru visited this temple making presents and offerings .... It is held for certain [by treasure hunters!] that among the gifts offered to this temple there were many loads of silver, gold, and precious stones buried in places which are now unknown. The Indians concealed another great sum which was for the service of the idol, and of the priests and virgins who attended upon it. But as there are great masses of snow, people do not ascend to the summit, nor is it known where these are hidden. This temple possessed many flocks, farms, and service of Indians." No one lives here now, but there are many flocks and llamas, and not far away we saw ancient storehouses and burial places. That night we suffered from intense cold and were kept awake by the bitter wind which swept down from the snow fields of Coropuna and shook the walls of our tent violently. The next day we crossed two small oases, little gulches watered from the melting snow of Coropuna. Here there was an abundance of peat and some small gnarled trees from which Chuquibamba derives part of its fuel supply. We climbed slowly around the lower spurs of Coropuna into a bleak desert wilderness of lava blocks and scoriaceous sand, the Red Desert, or Pampa Colorada. It is for the most part between 15,000 and 16,000 feet above sea level, and is bounded on the northwest by the canyon of the Rio Arma, 2000 feet deep, where we made our camp and passed a more agreeable night. The following morning we climbed out again on the farther side of the canyon and skirted the eastern slopes of Mt. Solimana. Soon the trail turned abruptly to the left, away from our old friend Coropuna. We wondered how long ago our mountain was an active volcano. To-day, less than two hundred miles south of here are live peaks, like El Misti and Ubinas, which still smolder occasionally and have been known in the memory of man to give forth great showers of cinders covering a wide area. Possibly not so very long ago the great truncated peak of Coropuna was formed by a last flickering of the ancient fires. Dr. Bowman says that the greater part of the vast accumulation of lavas and volcanic cinders in this vicinity goes far back to a period preceding the last glacial epoch. The enormous amount of erosion that has taken place in the adjacent canyons and the great numbers of strata, composed of lava flows, laid bare by the mighty streams of the glacial period all point to this conclusion. My saddle mule was one of those cantankerous beasts that are gentle enough as long as they are allowed to have their own way. In her case this meant that she was happy only when going along close to her friends in the caravan. If reined in, while I took some notes, she became very restive, finally whirling around, plunging and kicking. Contrariwise, no amount of spurring or lashing with a stout quirt availed to make her go ahead of her comrades. This morning I was particularly anxious to get a picture of our pack train jogging steadily along over the desert, directly away from Coropuna. Since my mule would not gallop ahead, I had to dismount, run a couple of hundred yards ahead of the rapidly advancing animals and take the picture before they reached me. We were now at an elevation of 16,000 feet above sea level. Yet to my surprise and delight I found that it was relatively as easy to run here as anywhere, so accustomed had my lungs and heart become to very rarefied air. Had I attempted such a strenuous feat at a similar altitude before climbing Coropuna it would have been physically impossible. Any one who has tried to run two hundred yards at three miles above sea level will understand. We were still in a very arid region; mostly coarse black sand and pebbles, with typical desert shrubs and occasional bunches of tough grass. The slopes of Mt. Solimana on our left were fairly well covered with sparse vegetation. Among the bushes we saw a number of vicuñas, the smallest wild camels of the New World. We tried in vain to get near enough for a photograph. They were extremely timid and scampered away before we were within three hundred yards. Seven or eight miles more of very gradual downward slope brought us suddenly and unexpectedly to the brink of a magnificent canyon, the densely populated valley of Cotahuasi. The walls of the canyon were covered with innumerable terraces--thousands of them. It seemed at first glance as though every available spot in the canyon had been either terraced or allotted to some compact little village. One could count more than a score of towns, including Cotahuasi itself, its long main street outlined by whitewashed houses. As we zigzagged down into the canyon our road led us past hundreds of the artificial terraces and through little villages of thatched huts huddled together on spurs rescued from the all-embracing agriculture. After spending several weeks in a desert region, where only the narrow valley bottoms showed any signs of cultivation, it seemed marvelous to observe the extent to which terracing had been carried on the side of the Cotahuasi Valley. Although we were now in the zone of light annual rains, it was evident from the extraordinary irrigation system that agriculture here depends very largely on ability to bring water down from the great mountains in the interior. Most of the terraces and irrigation canals were built centuries ago, long before the discovery of America. No part of the ancient civilization of Peru has been more admired than the development of agriculture. Mr. Cook says that there is no part of the world in which more pains have been taken to raise crops where nature made it hard for them to be planted. In other countries, to be sure, we find reclamation projects, where irrigation canals serve to bring water long distances to be used on arid but fruitful soil. We also find great fertilizer factories turning out, according to proper chemical formula, the needed constituents to furnish impoverished soils with the necessary materials for plant growth. We find man overcoming many obstacles in the way of transportation, in order to reach great regions where nature has provided fertile fields and made it easy to raise life-giving crops. Nowhere outside of Peru, either in historic or prehistoric times, does one find farmers spending incredible amounts of labor in actually creating arable fields, besides bringing the water to irrigate them and the guano to fertilize them; yet that is what was done by the ancient highlanders of Peru. As they spread over a country in which the arable flat land was usually at so great an elevation as to be suitable for only the hardiest of root crops, like the white potato and the oca, they were driven to use narrow valley bottoms and steep, though fertile, slopes in order to raise the precious maize and many of the other temperate and tropical plants which they domesticated for food and medicinal purposes. They were constantly confronted by an extraordinary scarcity of soil. In the valley bottoms torrential rivers, meandering from side to side, were engaged in an endless endeavor to tear away the arable land and bear it off to the sea. The slopes of the valleys were frequently so very steep as to discourage the most ardent modern agriculturalist. The farmer might wake up any morning to find that a heavy rain during the night had washed away a large part of his carefully planted fields. Consequently there was developed, through the centuries, a series of stone-faced andenes, terraces or platforms. Examination of the ancient andenes discloses the fact that they were not made by simply hoeing in the earth from the hillside back of a carefully constructed stone wall. The space back of the walls was first filled in with coarse rocks, clay, and rubble; then followed smaller rocks, pebbles, and gravel, which would serve to drain the subsoil. Finally, on top of all this, and to a depth of eighteen inches or so, was laid the finest soil they could procure. The result was the best possible field for intensive cultivation. It seems absolutely unbelievable that such an immense amount of pains should have been taken for such relatively small results. The need must have been very great. In many cases the terraces are only a few feet wide, although hundreds of yards in length. Usually they follow the natural contours of the valley. Sometimes they are two hundred yards wide and a quarter of a mile long. To-day corn, barley, and alfalfa are grown on the terraces. Cotahuasi itself lies in the bottom of the valley, a pleasant place where one can purchase the most fragrant and highly prized of all Peruvian wines. The climate is agreeable, and has attracted many landlords, whose estates lie chiefly on the bleak plateaus of the surrounding highlands, where shepherds tend flocks of llamas, sheep, and alpacas. We were cordially welcomed by Señor Viscarra, the sub-prefect, and invited to stay at his house. He was a stranger to the locality, and, as the visible representative of a powerful and far-away central government, was none too popular with some of the people of his province. Very few residents of a provincial capital like Cotahuasi have ever been to Lima;--probably not a single member of the Lima government had ever been to Cotahuasi. Consequently one could not expect to find much sympathy between the two. The difficulties of traveling in Peru are so great as to discourage pleasure trips. With our letters of introduction and the telegrams that had preceded us from the prefect at Arequipa, we were known to be friends of the government and so were doubly welcome to the sub-prefect. By nature a kind and generous man, of more than usual education and intelligence, Señor Viscarra showed himself most courteous and hospitable to us in every particular. In our honor he called together his friends. They brought pictures of Theodore Roosevelt and Elihu Root, and made a large American flag; a courtesy we deeply appreciated, even if the flag did have only thirty-six stars. Finally, they gave us a splendid banquet as a tribute of friendship for America. One day the sub-prefect offered to have his personal barber attend us. It was some time since Mr. Tucker and I had seen a barber-shop. The chances were that we should find none at Parinacochas. Consequently we accepted with pleasure. When the barber arrived, closely guarded by a gendarme armed with a loaded rifle, we learned that he was a convict from the local jail! I did not like to ask the nature of his crime, but he looked like a murderer. When he unwrapped an ancient pair of clippers from an unspeakably soiled and oily rag, I wished I was in a position to decline to place myself under his ministrations. The sub-prefect, however, had been so kind and was so apologetic as to the inconveniences of the "barber-shop" that there was nothing for it but to go bravely forward. Although it was unpleasant to have one's hair trimmed by an uncertain pair of rusty clippers, I could not help experiencing a feeling of relief that the convict did not have a pair of shears. He was working too near my jugular vein. Finally the period of torture came to an end, and the prisoner accepted his fees with a profound salutation. We breathed sighs of relief, not unmixed with sympathy, as we saw him marched safely away by the gendarme. We had arrived in Cotahuasi almost simultaneously with Dr. Bowman and Topographer Hendriksen. They had encountered extraordinary difficulties in carrying out the reconnaissance of the 73d meridian, but were now past the worst of it. Their supplies were exhausted, so those which we had brought from Arequipa were doubly welcome. Mr. Watkins was assigned to assist Mr. Hendriksen and a few days later Dr. Bowman started south to study the geology and geography of the desert. He took with him as escort Corporal Gamarra, who was only too glad to escape from the machinations of his enemies. It will be remembered that it was Gamarra who had successfully defended the Cotahuasi barracks and jail at the time of a revolutionary riot which occurred some months previous to our visit. The sub-prefect accompanied Dr. Bowman out of town. For Gamarra's sake they left the house at three o'clock in the morning and our generous host agreed to ride with them until daybreak. In his important monograph, "The Andes of Southern Peru," Dr. Bowman writes: "At four o'clock our whispered arrangements were made. We opened the gates noiselessly and our small cavalcade hurried through the pitch-black streets of the town. The soldier rode ahead, his rifle across his saddle, and directly behind him rode the sub-prefect and myself. The pack mules were in the rear. We had almost reached the end of the street when a door opened suddenly and a shower of sparks flew out ahead of us. Instantly the soldier struck spurs into his mule and turned into a side street. The sub-prefect drew his horse back savagely, and when the next shower of sparks flew out pushed me against the wall and whispered, 'For God's sake, who is it?' Then suddenly he shouted. 'Stop blowing! Stop blowing!' " The cause of all the disturbance was a shabby, hard-working tailor who had gotten up at this unearthly hour to start his day's work by pressing clothes for some insistent customer. He had in his hand an ancient smoothing-iron filled with live coals, on which he had been vigorously blowing. Hence the sparks! That a penitent tailor and his ancient goose should have been able to cause such terrific excitement at that hour in the morning would have interested our own Oliver Wendell Holmes, who was fond of referring to this picturesque apparatus and who might have written an appropriate essay on The Goose that Startled the Soldier of Cotahuasi; with Particular Reference to His Being a Possible Namesake of the Geese that Aroused the Soldiers of Ancient Rome. ------ FIGURE The sub-perfect of Cotahuasi, his military aide, and Messrs. Tucker, Hendriksen, Bowman, and Bingham inspecting the local rug-weaving industry. ------ The most unusual industry of Cotahuasi is the weaving of rugs and carpets on vertical hand looms. The local carpet weavers make the warp and woof of woolen yarn in which loops of alpaca wool, black, gray, or white, are inserted to form the desired pattern. The loops are cut so as to form a deep pile. The result is a delightfully thick, warm, gray rug. Ordinarily the native Peruvian rug has no pile. Probably the industry was brought from Europe by some Spaniard centuries ago. It seems to be restricted to this remote region. The rug makers are a small group of Indians who live outside the town but who carry their hand looms from house to house, as required. It is the custom for the person who desires a rug to buy the wool, supply the pattern, furnish the weaver with board, lodging, coca, tobacco and wine, and watch the rug grow from day to day under the shelter of his own roof. The rug weavers are very clever in copying new patterns. Through the courtesy of Señor Viscarra we eventually received several small rugs, woven especially for us from monogram designs drawn by Mr. Hendriksen. Early one morning in November we said good-bye to our friendly host, and, directed by a picturesque old guide who said he knew the road to Parinacochas, we left Cotahuasi. The highway crossed the neighboring stream on a treacherous-looking bridge, the central pier of which was built of the crudest kind of masonry piled on top of a gigantic boulder in midstream. The main arch of the bridge consisted of two long logs across which had been thrown a quantity of brush held down by earth and stones. There was no rail on either side, but our mules had crossed bridges of this type before and made little trouble. On the northern side of the valley we rode through a compact little town called Mungi and began to climb out of the canyon, passing hundreds of very fine artificial terraces, at present used for crops of maize and barley. In one place our road led us by a little waterfall, an altogether surprising and unexpected phenomenon in this arid region. Investigation, however, proved that it was artificial, as well as the fields. Its presence may be due to a temporary connection between the upper and lower levels of ancient irrigation canals. Hour after hour our pack train painfully climbed the narrow, rocky zigzag trail. The climate is favorable for agriculture. Wherever the sides of the canyon were not absolutely precipitous, stone-faced terraces and irrigation had transformed them long ago into arable fields. Four thousand feet above the valley floor we came to a very fine series of beautiful terraces. On a shelf near the top of the canyon we pitched our tent near some rough stone corrals used by shepherds whose flocks grazed on the lofty plateau beyond, and near a tiny brook, which was partly frozen over the next morning. Our camp was at an elevation of 14,500 feet above the sea. Near by were turreted rocks, curious results of wind-and-sand erosion. The next day we entered a region of mountain pastures. We passed occasional swamps and little pools of snow water. From one of these we turned and looked back across the great Cotahuasi Canyon, to the glaciers of Solimana and snow-clad Coropuna, now growing fainter and fainter as we went toward Parinacochas. At an altitude of 16,500 feet we struck across a great barren plateau covered with rocks and sand--hardly a living thing in sight. In the midst of it we came to a beautiful lake, but it was not Parinacochas. On the plateau it was intensely cold. Occasionally I dismounted and jogged along beside my mule in order to keep warm. Again I noticed that as the result of my experiences on Coropuna I suffered no discomfort, nor any symptoms of mountain-sickness, even after trotting steadily for four or five hundred yards. In the afternoon we began to descend from the plateau toward Lampa and found ourselves in the pasture lands of Ajochiucha, where ichu grass and other little foliage plants, watered by rain and snow, furnish forage for large flocks of sheep, llamas, and alpacas. Their owners live in the cultivated valleys, but the Indian herdsmen must face the storms and piercing winds of the high pastures. Alpacas are usually timid. On this occasion, however, possibly because they were thirsty and were seeking water holes in the upper courses of a little swale, they stopped and allowed me to observe them closely. The fleece of the alpaca is one of the softest in the world. However, due to the fact that shrewd tradesmen, finding that the fabric manufactured from alpaca wool was highly desired, many years ago gave the name to a far cheaper fabric, the "alpaca" of commerce, a material used for coat linings, umbrellas, and thin, warm-weather coats, is a fabric of cotton and wool, with a hard surface, and generally dyed black. It usually contains no real alpaca wool at all, and is fairly cheap. The real alpaca wool which comes into the market to-day is not so called. Long and silky, straighter than the sheep's wool, it is strong, small of fiber, very soft, pliable and elastic. It is capable of being woven into fabrics of great beauty and comfort. Many of the silky, fluffy, knitted garments that command the highest prices for winter wear, and which are called by various names, such as "vicuña," "camel's hair," etc., are really made of alpaca. The alpaca, like its cousin, the llama, was probably domesticated by the early Peruvians from the wild guanaco, largest of the camels of the New World. The guanaco still exists in a wild state and is always of uniform coloration. Llamas and alpacas are extremely variegated. The llama has so coarse a hair that it is seldom woven into cloth for wearing apparel, although heavy blankets made from it are in use by the natives. Bred to be a beast of burden, the llama is accustomed to the presence of strangers and is not any more timid of them than our horses and cows. The alpaca, however, requiring better and scarcer forage--short, tender grass and plenty of water--frequents the most remote and lofty of the mountain pastures, is handled only when the fleece is removed, seldom sees any one except the peaceful shepherds, and is extremely shy of strangers, although not nearly as timid as its distant cousin the vicuña. I shall never forget the first time I ever saw some alpacas. They looked for all the world like the "woolly-dogs" of our toys shops--woolly along the neck right up to the eyes and woolly along the legs right down to the invisible wheels! There was something inexpressibly comic about these long-legged animals. They look like toys on wheels, but actually they can gallop like cows. The llama, with far less hair on head, neck, and legs, is also amusing, but in a different way. His expression is haughty and supercilious in the extreme. He usually looks as though his presence near one is due to circumstances over which he really had no control. Pride of race and excessive haughtiness lead him to carry his head so high and his neck so stiffly erect that he can be corralled, with others of his kind, by a single rope passed around the necks of the entire group. Yet he can be bought for ten dollars. On the pasture lands of Ajochiucha there were many ewes and lambs, both of llamas and alpacas. Even the shepherds were mostly children, more timid than their charges. They crouched inconspicuously behind rocks and shrubs, endeavoring to escape our notice. About five o'clock in the afternoon, on a dry pampa, we found the ruins of one of the largest known Inca storehouses, Chichipampa, an interesting reminder of the days when benevolent despots ruled the Andes and, like the Pharaohs of old, provided against possible famine. The locality is not occupied, yet near by are populous valleys. As soon as we left our camp the next morning, we came abruptly to the edge of the Lampa Valley. This was another of the mile-deep canyons so characteristic of this region. Our pack mules grunted and groaned as they picked their way down the corkscrew trail. It overhangs the mud-colored Indian town of Colta, a rather scattered collection of a hundred or more huts. Here again, as in the Cotahuasi Valley, are hundreds of ancient terraces, extending for thousands of feet up the sides of the canyon. Many of them were badly out of repair, but those near Colta were still being used for raising crops of corn, potatoes, and barley. The uncultivated spots were covered with cacti, thorn bushes, and the gnarled, stunted trees of a semi-arid region. In the town itself were half a dozen specimens of the Australian eucalyptus, that agreeable and extraordinarily successful colonist which one encounters not only in the heart of Peru, but in the Andes of Colombia and the new forest preserves of California and the Hawaiian Islands. ------ FIGURE Inca Storehouses at Chinchipampa, near Colta ------ Colta has a few two-storied houses, with tiled roofs. Some of them have open verandas on the second floor--a sure indication that the climate is at times comfortable. Their walls are built of sun-dried adobe, and so are the walls of the little grass-thatched huts of the majority. Judging by the rather irregular plan of the streets and the great number of terraces in and around town, one may conclude that Colta goes far back of the sixteenth century and the days of the Spanish Conquest, as indeed do most Peruvian towns. The cities of Lima and Arequipa are noteworthy exceptions. Leaving Colta, we wound around the base of the projecting ridge, on the sides of which were many evidences of ancient culture, and came into the valley of Huancahuanca, a large arid canyon. The guide said that we were nearing Parinacochas. Not many miles away, across two canyons, was a snow-capped peak, Sarasara. Lampa, the chief town in the Huancahuanca Canyon, lies on a great natural terrace of gravel and alluvium more than a thousand feet above the river. Part of the terrace seemed to be irrigated and under cultivation. It was proposed by the energetic farmers at the time of our visit to enlarge the system of irrigation so as to enable them to cultivate a larger part of the pampa on which they lived. In fact, the new irrigation scheme was actually in process of being carried out and has probably long since been completed. Our reception in Lampa was not cordial. It will be remembered that our military escort, Corporal Gamarra, had gone back to Arequipa with Dr. Bowman. Our two excellent arrieros, the Tejada brothers, declared they preferred to travel without any "brass buttons," so we had not asked the sub-prefect of Cotahuasi to send one of his small handful of gendarmes along with us. Probably this was a mistake. Unless one is traveling in Peru on some easily understood matter, such as prospecting for mines or representing one of the great importing and commission houses, or actually peddling goods, one cannot help arousing the natural suspicions of a people to whom traveling on muleback for pleasure is unthinkable, and scientific exploration for its own sake is incomprehensible. Of course, if the explorers arrive accompanied by a gendarme it is perfectly evident that the enterprise has the approval and probably the financial backing of the government. It is surmised that the explorers are well paid, and what would be otherwise inconceivable becomes merely one of the ordinary experiences of life. South American governments almost without exception are paternalistic, and their citizens are led to expect that all measures connected with research, whether it be scientific, economic, or social, are to be conducted by the government and paid for out of the national treasury. Individual enterprise is not encouraged. During all my preceding exploration in Peru I had had such an easy time that I not only forgot, but failed to realize, how often an ever-present gendarme, provided through the courtesy of President Leguia's government, had quieted suspicions and assured us a cordial welcome. Now, however, when without a gendarme we entered the smart little town of Lampa, we found ourselves immediately and unquestionably the objects of extreme suspicion and distrust. Yet we could not help admiring the well-swept streets, freshly whitewashed houses, and general air of prosperity and enterprise. The gobernador of the town lived on the main street in a red-tiled house, whose courtyard and colonnade were probably two hundred years old. He had heard nothing of our undertaking from the government. His friends urged him to take some hostile action. Fortunately, our arrieros, respectable men of high grade, although strangers in Lampa, were able to allay his suspicions temporarily. We were not placed under arrest, although I am sure his action was not approved by the very suspicious town councilors, who found it far easier to suggest reasons for our being fugitives from justice than to understand the real object of our journey. The very fact that we were bound for Lake Parinacochas, a place well known in Lampa, added to their suspicion. It seems that Lampa is famous for its weavers, who utilize the wool of the countless herds of sheep, alpacas, and vicuñas in this vicinity to make ponchos and blankets of high grade, much desired not only in this locality but even in Arequipa. These are marketed, as so often happens in the outlying parts of the world, at a great annual fair, attended by traders who come hundreds of miles, bringing the manufactured articles of the outer world and seeking the highly desired products of these secluded towns. The great fair for this vicinity has been held, for untold generations, on the shores of Lake Parinacochas. Every one is anxious to attend the fair, which is an occasion for seeing one's friends, an opportunity for jollification, carousing, and general enjoyment--like a large county fair at home. Except for this annual fair week, the basin of Parinacochas is as bleak and desolate as our own fair-grounds, with scarcely a house to be seen except those that are used for the purposes of the fair. Had we been bound for Parinacochas at the proper season nothing could have been more reasonable and praiseworthy. Why anybody should want to go to Parinacochas during one of the other fifty-one weeks in the year was utterly beyond the comprehension or understanding of these village worthies. So, to our "selectmen," are the idiosyncrasies of itinerant gypsies who wish to camp in our deserted fair-grounds. The Tejadas were not anxious to spend the night in town--probably because, according to our contract, the cost of feeding the mules devolved entirely upon them and fodder is always far more expensive in town than in the country. It was just as well for us that this was so, for I am sure that before morning the village gossips would have persuaded the gobernador to arrest us. As it was, however, he was pleasant and hospitable, and considerably amused at the embarrassment of an Indian woman who was weaving at a hand loom in his courtyard and whom we desired to photograph. She could not easily escape, for she was sitting on the ground with one end of the loom fastened around her waist, the other end tied to a eucalyptus tree. So she covered her eyes and mouth with her hands, and almost wept with mortification at our strange procedure. Peruvian Indian women are invariably extremely shy, rarely like to be photographed, and are anxious only to escape observation and notice. The ladies of the gobernador's own family, however, of mixed Spanish and Indian ancestry, not only had no objection to being photographed, but were moved to unseemly and unsympathetic laughter at the predicament of their unfortunate sister. After leaving Lampa we found ourselves on the best road that we had seen in a long time. Its excellence was undoubtedly due to the enterprise and energy of the people of this pleasant town. One might expect that citizens who kept their town so clean and neat and were engaged in the unusual act of constructing new irrigation works would have a comfortable road in the direction toward which they usually would wish to go, namely, toward the coast. As we climbed out of the Huancahuanca Valley we noticed no evidences of ancient agricultural terraces, either on the sides of the valley or on the alluvial plain which has given rise to the town of Lampa and whose products have made its people well fed and energetic. The town itself seems to be of modern origin. One wonders why there are so few, if any, evidences of the ancient régime when there are so many a short distance away in Colta and the valley around it. One cannot believe that the Incas would have overlooked such a fine agricultural opportunity as an extensive alluvial terrace in a region where there is so little arable land. Possibly the very excellence of the land and its relative flatness rendered artificial terracing unnecessary in the minds of the ancient people who lived here. On the other hand, it may have been occupied until late Inca times by one of the coast tribes. Whatever the cause, certainly the deep canyon of Huancahuanca divides two very different regions. To come in a few hours, from thickly terraced Colta to unterraced Lampa was so striking as to give us cause for thought and speculation. It is well known that in the early days before the Inca conquest of Peru, not so very long before the Spanish Conquest, there were marked differences between the tribes who inhabited the high plateau and those who lived along the shore of the Pacific. Their pottery is as different as possible in design and ornamentation; the architecture of their cities and temples is absolutely distinct. Relative abundance of flat lands never led them to develop terracing to the same extent that the mountain people had done. Perhaps on this alluvial terrace there lived a remnant of the coastal peoples. Excavation would show. Scarcely had we climbed out of the valley of Huancahuanca and surmounted the ridge when we came in sight of more artificial terraces. Beyond a broad, deep valley rose the extinct volcanic cone of Mt. Sarasara, now relatively close at hand, its lower slopes separated from us by another canyon. Snow lay in the gulches and ravines near the top of the mountain. Our road ran near the towns of Pararca and Colcabamba, the latter much like Colta, a straggling village of thatched huts surrounded by hundreds of terraces. The vegetation on the valley slopes indicated occasional rains. Near Pararca we passed fields of barley and wheat growing on old stone-faced terraces. On every hand were signs of a fairly large population engaged in agriculture, utilizing fields which had been carefully prepared for them by their ancestors. They were not using all, however. We noticed hundreds of terraces that did not appear to have been under cultivation recently. They may have been lying fallow temporarily. Our arrieros avoided the little towns, and selected a camp site on the roadside near the Finca Rodadero. After all, when one has a comfortable tent, good food, and skillful arrieros it is far pleasanter to spend the night in the clean, open country, even at an elevation of 12,000 or 13,000 feet, than to be surrounded by the smells and noises of an Indian town. The next morning we went through some wheat fields, past the town of Puyusca, another large Indian village of thatched adobe houses placed high on the shoulder of a rocky hill so as to leave the best arable land available for agriculture. It is in a shallow, well-watered valley, full of springs. The appearance of the country had changed entirely since we left Cotahuasi. The desert and its steep-walled canyons seemed to be far behind us. Here was a region of gently sloping hills, covered with terraces, where the cereals of the temperate zone appeared to be easily grown. Finally, leaving the grain fields, we climbed up to a shallow depression in the low range at the head of the valley and found ourselves on the rim of a great upland basin more than twenty miles across. In the center of the basin was a large, oval lake. Its borders were pink. The water in most of the lake was dark blue, but near the shore the water was pink, a light salmon-pink. What could give it such a curious color? Nothing but flamingoes, countless thousands of flamingoes--Parinacochas at last! CHAPTER IV Flamingo Lake The Parinacochas Basin is at an elevation of between 11,500 and 12,000 feet above sea level. It is about 150 miles northwest of Arequipa and 170 miles southwest of Cuzco, and enjoys a fair amount of rainfall. The lake is fed by springs and small streams. In past geological times the lake, then very much larger, had an outlet not far from the town of Puyusca. At present Parinacochas has no visible outlet. It is possible that the large springs which we noticed as we came up the valley by Puyusca may be fed from the lake. On the other hand, we found numerous small springs on the very borders of the lake, generally occurring in swampy hillocks--built up perhaps by mineral deposits--three or four feet higher than the surrounding plain. There are very old beach marks well above the shore. The natives told us that in the wet season the lake was considerably higher than at present, although we could find no recent evidence to indicate that it had been much more than a foot above its present level. Nevertheless a rise of a foot would enlarge the area of the lake considerably. When making preparations in New Haven for the "bathymetric survey of Lake Parinacochas," suggested by Sir Clements Markham, we found it impossible to discover any indication in geographical literature as to whether the depth of the lake might be ten feet or ten thousand feet. We decided to take a chance on its not being more than ten hundred feet. With the kind assistance of Mr. George Bassett, I secured a thousand feet of stout fish line, known to anglers as "24 thread," wound on a large wooden reel for convenience in handling. While we were at Chuquibamba Mr. Watkins had spent many weary hours inserting one hundred and sixty-six white and red cloth markers at six-foot intervals in the strands of this heavy line, so that we might be able more rapidly to determine the result in fathoms. Arrived at a low peninsula on the north shore of the lake, Tucker and I pitched our camp, sent our mules back to Puyusca for fodder, and set up the Acme folding boat, which we had brought so many miles on muleback, for the sounding operations. The "Acme" proved easy to assemble, although this was our first experience with it. Its lightness enabled it to be floated at the edge of the lake even in very shallow water, and its rigidity was much appreciated in the late afternoon when the high winds raised a vicious little "sea." Rowing out on waters which we were told by the natives had never before been navigated by craft of any kind, I began to take soundings. Lake Titicaca is over nine hundred feet deep. It would be aggravating if Lake Parinacochas should prove to be over a thousand, for I had brought no extra line. Even nine hundred feet would make sounding slow work, and the lake covered an area of over seventy square miles. It was with mixed feelings of trepidation and expectation that I rowed out five miles from shore and made a sounding. Holding the large reel firmly in both hands, I cast the lead overboard. The reel gave a turn or two and stopped. Something was wrong. The line did not run out. Was the reel stuck? No, the apparatus was in perfect running order. Then what was the matter? The bottom was too near! Alas for all the pains that Mr. Bassett had taken to put a thousand feet of the best strong 24-thread line on one reel! Alas for Mr. Watkins and his patient insertion of one hundred and sixty-six "fathom-markers"! The bottom of the lake was only four feet away from the bottom of my boat! After three or four days of strenuous rowing up and down the eighteen miles of the lake's length, and back and forth across the seventeen miles of its width, I never succeeded in wetting Watkins's first marker! Several hundred soundings failed to show more than five feet of water anywhere. Possibly if we had come in the rainy season we might at least have wet one marker, but at the time of our visit (November, 1911), the lake had a maximum depth of 4 1/2 feet. The satisfaction of making this slight contribution to geographic knowledge was, I fear, lost in the chagrin of not finding a really noteworthy body of water. Who would have thought that so long a lake could be so shallow? However, my feelings were soothed by remembering the story of the captain of a man-of-war who was once told that the salt lake near one of the red hills between Honolulu and Pearl Harbor was reported by the natives to be "bottomless." He ordered one of the ship's heavy boats to be carried from the shore several miles inland to the salt lake, at great expenditure of strength and labor. The story told me in my boyhood does not say how much sounding line was brought. Anyhow, they found this "fathomless" body of water to be not more than fifteen feet deep. Notwithstanding my disappointment at the depth of Parinacochas, I was very glad that we had brought the little folding boat, for it enabled me to float gently about among the myriads of birds which use the shallow waters of the lake as a favorite feeding ground; pink flamingoes, white gulls, small "divers," large black ducks, sandpipers, black ibis, teal ducks, and large geese. On the banks were ground owls and woodpeckers. It is not surprising that the natives should have named this body of water "Parinacochas" (Parina = "flamingo," cochas = "lake"). The flamingoes are here in incredible multitudes; they far outnumber all other birds, and as I have said, actually make the shallow waters of the lake look pink. Fortunately they had not been hunted for their plumage and were not timid. After two days of familiarity with the boat they were willing to let me approach within twenty yards before finally taking wing. The coloring, in this land of drab grays and browns, was a delight to the eye. The head is white, the beak black, the neck white shading into salmon-pink; the body pinkish white on the back, the breast white, and the tail salmon-pink. The wings are salmon-pink in front, but the tips and the under-parts are black. As they stand or wade in the water their general appearance is chiefly pink-and-white. When they rise from the water, however, the black under-parts of the wings become strikingly conspicuous and cause a flock of flying flamingoes to be a wonderful contrast in black-and-white. When flying, the flamingo seems to keep his head moving steadily forward at an even pace, although the ropelike neck undulates with the slow beating of the wings. I could not be sure that it was not an optical delusion. Nevertheless, I thought the heavy body was propelled irregularly, while the head moved forward at uniform speed, the difference being caught up in the undulations of the neck. ------ FIGURE Flamingos on Lake Parinacochas, and Mt. Sarasara ------ The flamingo is an amusing bird to watch. With its haughty Roman nose and long, ropelike neck, which it coils and twists in a most incredible manner, it seems specially intended to distract one's mind from bathymetric disappointments. Its hoarse croaking, "What is it," "What is it," seemed to express deep-throated sympathy with the sounding operations. On one bright moonlight night the flamingoes were very noisy, keeping up a continual clatter of very hoarse "What-is-it's." Apparently they failed to find out the answer in time to go to bed at the proper time, for next morning we found them all sound asleep, standing in quiet bays with their heads tucked under their wings. During the course of the forenoon, when the water was quiet, they waded far out into the lake. In the afternoon, as winds and waves arose, they came in nearer the shores, but seldom left the water. The great extent of shallow water in Parinacochas offers them a splendid, wide feeding ground. We wondered where they all came from. Apparently they do not breed here. Although there were thousands and thousands of birds, we could find no flamingo nests, either old or new, search as we would. It offers a most interesting problem for some enterprising biological explorer. Probably Mr. Frank Chapman will some day solve it. Next in number to the flamingoes were the beautiful white gulls (or terns?), looking strangely out of place in this Andean lake 11,500 feet above the sea. They usually kept together in flocks of several hundred. There were quantities of small black divers in the deeper parts of the lake where the flamingoes did not go. The divers were very quick and keen, true individualists operating alone and showing astonishing ability in swimming long distances under water. The large black ducks were much more fearless than the flamingoes and were willing to swim very near the canoe. When frightened, they raced over the water at a tremendous pace, using both wings and feet in their efforts to escape. These ducks kept in large flocks and were about as common as the small divers. Here and there in the lake were a few tiny little islands, each containing a single deserted nest, possibly belonging to an ibis or a duck. In the banks of a low stream near our first camp were holes made by woodpeckers, who in this country look in vain for trees and telegraph poles. Occasionally, a mile or so from shore, my boat would startle a great amphibious ox standing in the water up to his middle, calmly eating the succulent water grass. To secure it he had to plunge his head and neck well under the surface. While I was raising blisters and frightening oxen and flamingoes, Mr. Tucker triangulated the Parinacochas Basin, making the first accurate map of this vicinity. As he carried his theodolite from point to point he often stirred up little ground owls, who gazed at him with solemn, reproachful looks. And they were not the only individuals to regard his activities with suspicion and dislike. Part of my work was to construct signal stations by piling rocks at conspicuous points on the well-rounded hills so as to enable the triangulation to proceed as rapidly as possible. During the night some of these signal stations would disappear, torn down by the superstitious shepherds who lived in scattered clusters of huts and declined to have strange gods set up in their vicinity. Perhaps they thought their pastures were being preempted. We saw hundreds of their sheep and cattle feeding on flat lands formerly the bed of the lake. The hills of the Parinacochas Basin are bare of trees, and offer some pasturage. In some places they are covered with broken rock. The grass was kept closely cropped by the degenerate descendants of sheep brought into the country during Spanish colonial days. They were small in size and mostly white in color, although there were many black ones. We were told that the sheep were worth about fifty cents apiece here. On our first arrival at Parinacochas we were left severely alone by the shepherds; but two days later curiosity slowly overcame their shyness, and a group of young shepherds and shepherdesses gradually brought their grazing flocks nearer and nearer the camp, in order to gaze stealthily on these strange visitors, who lived in a cloth house, actually moved over the forbidding waters of the lake, and busied themselves from day to day with strange magic, raising and lowering a glittering glass eye on a tripod. The women wore dresses of heavy material, the skirts reaching halfway from knee to ankle. In lieu of hats they had small variegated shawls, made on hand looms, folded so as to make a pointed bonnet over the head and protect the neck and shoulders from sun and wind. Each woman was busily spinning with a hand spindle, but carried her baby and its gear and blankets in a hammock or sling attached to a tump-line that went over her head. These sling carry-alls were neatly woven of soft wool and decorated with attractive patterns. Both women and boys were barefooted. The boys wore old felt hats of native manufacture, and coats and long trousers much too large for them. At one end of the upland basin rises the graceful cone of Mt. Sarasara. The view of its snow-capped peak reflected in the glassy waters of the lake in the early morning was one long to be remembered. Sarasara must once have been much higher than it is at present. Its volcanic cone has been sharply eroded by snow and ice. In the days of its greater altitude, and consequently wider snow fields, the melting snows probably served to make Parinacochas a very much larger body of water. Although we were here at the beginning of summer, the wind that came down from the mountain at night was very cold. Our minimum thermometer registered 22° F. near the banks of the lake at night. Nevertheless, there was only a very thin film of ice on the borders of the lake in the morning, and except in the most shallow bays there was no ice visible far from the bank. The temperature of the water at 10:00 A.M. near the shore, and ten inches below the surface, was 61° F., while farther out it was three or four degrees warmer. By noon the temperature of the water half a mile from shore was 67.5° F. Shortly after noon a strong wind came up from the coast, stirring up the shallow water and cooling it. Soon afterwards the temperature of the water began to fall, and, although the hot sun was shining brightly almost directly overhead, it went down to 65° by 2:30 P.M. The water of the lake is brackish, yet we were able to make our camps on the banks of small streams of sweet water, although in each case near the shore of the lake. A specimen of the water, taken near the shore, was brought back to New Haven and analyzed by Dr. George S. Jamieson of the Sheffield Scientific School. He found that it contained small quantities of silica, iron phosphate, magnesium carbonate, calcium carbonate, calcium sulphate, potassium nitrate, potassium sulphate, sodium borate, sodium sulphate, and a considerable quantity of sodium chloride. Parinacochas water contains more carbonate and potassium than that of the Atlantic Ocean or the Great Salt Lake. As compared with the salinity of typical "salt" waters, that of Lake Parinacochas occupies an intermediate position, containing more than Lake Koko-Nor, less than that of the Atlantic, and only one twentieth the salinity of the Great Salt Lake. When we moved to our second camp the Tejada brothers preferred to let their mules rest in the Puyusca Valley, where there was excellent alfalfa forage. The arrieros engaged at their own expense a pack train which consisted chiefly of Parinacochas burros. It is the custom hereabouts to enclose the packs in large-meshed nets made of rawhide which are then fastened to the pack animal by a surcingle. The Indians who came with the burro train were pleasant-faced, sturdy fellows, dressed in "store clothes" and straw hats. Their burros were as cantankerous as donkeys can be, never fractious or flighty, but stubbornly resisting, step by step, every effort to haul them near the loads. Our second camp was near the village of Incahuasi, "the house of the Inca," at the northwestern corner of the basin. Raimondi visited it in 1863. The representative of the owner of Parinacochas occupies one of the houses. The other buildings are used only during the third week in August, at the time of the annual fair. In the now deserted plaza were many low stone rectangles partly covered with adobe and ready to be converted into booths. The plaza was surrounded by long, thatched buildings of adobe and stone, mostly of rough ashlars. A few ashlars showed signs of having been carefully dressed by ancient stonemasons. Some loose ashlars weighed half a ton and had baffled the attempts of modern builders. In constructing the large church, advantage was taken of a beautifully laid wall of close-fitting ashlars. Incahuasi was well named; there had been at one time an Inca house here, possibly a temple--lakes were once objects of worship--or rest-house, constructed in order to enable the chiefs and tax-gatherers to travel comfortably over the vast domains of the Incas. We found the slopes of the hills of the Parinacochas Basin to be well covered with remains of ancient terraces. Probably potatoes and other root crops were once raised here in fairly large quantities. Perhaps deforestation and subsequent increased aridity might account for the desertion of these once-cultivated lands. The hills west of the lake are intersected by a few dry gulches in which are caves that have been used as burial places. The caves had at one time been walled in with rocks laid in adobe, but these walls had been partly broken down so as to permit the sepulchers to be rifled of whatever objects of value they might have contained. We found nine or ten skulls lying loose in the rubble of the caves. One of the skulls seemed to have been trepanned. On top of the ridge are the remains of an ancient road, fifty feet wide, a broad grassy way through fields of loose stones. No effort had been made at grading or paving this road, and there was no evidence of its having been used in recent times. It runs from the lake across the ridge in a westerly direction toward a broad valley, where there are many terraces and cultivated fields; it is not far from Nasca. Probably the stones were picked up and piled on each side to save time in driving caravans of llamas across the stony ridges. The llama dislikes to step over any obstacle, even a very low wall. The grassy roadway would certainly encourage the supercilious beasts to proceed in the desired direction. In many places on the hills were to be seen outlines of large and small rock circles and shelters erected by herdsmen for temporary protection against the sudden storms of snow and hail which come up with unexpected fierceness at this elevation (12,000 feet). The shelters were in a very ruinous state. They were made of rough, scoriaceous lava rocks. The circular enclosures varied from 8 to 25 feet in diameter. Most of them showed no evidences whatever of recent occupation. The smaller walls may have been the foundation of small circular huts. The larger walls were probably intended as corrals, to keep alpacas and llamas from straying at night and to guard against wolves or coyotes. I confess to being quite mystified as to the age of these remains. It is possible that they represent a settlement of shepherds within historic times, although, from the shape and size of the walls, I am inclined to doubt this. The shelters may have been built by the herdsmen of the Incas. Anyhow, those on the hills west of Parinacochas had not been used for a long time. Nasca, which is not very far away to the northwest, was the center of one of the most artistic pre-Inca cultures in Peru. It is famous for its very delicate pottery. Our third camp was on the south side of the lake. Near us the traces of the ancient road led to the ruins of two large, circular corrals, substantiating my belief that this curious roadway was intended to keep the llamas from straying at will over the pasture lands. On the south shores of the lake there were more signs of occupation than on the north, although there is nothing so clearly belonging to the time of the Incas as the ashlars and finely built wall at Incahuasi. On top of one of the rocky promontories we found the rough stone foundations of the walls of a little village. The slopes of the promontory were nearly precipitous on three sides. Forty or fifty very primitive dwellings had been at one time huddled together here in a position which could easily be defended. We found among the ruins a few crude potsherds and some bits of obsidian. There was nothing about the ruins of the little hill village to give any indication of Inca origin. Probably it goes back to pre-Inca days. No one could tell us anything about it. If there were traditions concerning it they were well concealed by the silent, superstitious shepherds of the vicinity. Possibly it was regarded as an unlucky spot, cursed by the gods. The neighboring slopes showed faint evidences of having been roughly terraced and cultivated. The tutu potato would grow here, a hardy variety not edible in the fresh state, but considered highly desirable for making potato flour after having been repeatedly frozen and its bitter juices all extracted. So would other highland root crops of the Peruvians, such as the oca, a relative of our sheep sorrel, the añu, a kind of nasturtium, and the ullucu (ullucus tuberosus). On the flats near the shore were large corrals still kept in good repair. New walls were being built by the Indians at the time of our visit. Near the southeast corner of the lake were a few modern huts built of stone and adobe, with thatched roofs, inhabited by drovers and shepherds. We saw more cattle at the east end of the lake than elsewhere, but they seemed to prefer the sweet water grasses of the lake to the tough bunch-grass on the slopes of Sarasara. Viscachas were common amongst the gray lichen-covered rocks. They are hunted for their beautiful pearly gray fur, the "chinchilla" of commerce; they are also very good eating, so they have disappeared from the more accessible parts of Peru. One rarely sees them, although they may be found on bleak uplands in the mountains of Uilcapampa, a region rarely visited by any one on account of treacherous bogs and deep tams. Writers sometimes call viscachas "rabbit-squirrels." They have large, rounded ears, long hind legs, a long, bushy tail, and do look like a cross between a rabbit and a gray squirrel. Surmounting one of the higher ridges one day, I came suddenly upon an unusually large herd of wild vicuñas. It included more than one hundred individuals. Their relative fearlessness also testified to the remoteness of Parinacochas and the small amount of hunting that is done here. Vicuñas have never been domesticated, but are often hunted for their skins. Their silky fleece is even finer than alpaca. The more fleecy portions of their skins are sewed together to make quilts, as soft as eider down and of a golden brown color. After Mr. Tucker finished his triangulation of the lake I told the arrieros to find the shortest road home. They smiled, murmured "Arequipa," and started south. We soon came to the rim of the Maraicasa Valley where, peeping up over one of the hills far to the south, we got a little glimpse of Coropuna. The Maraicasa Valley is well inhabited and there were many grain fields in sight, although few seemed to be terraced. The surrounding hills were smooth and well rounded and the valley bottom contained much alluvial land. We passed through it and, after dark, reached Sondor, a tiny hamlet inhabited by extremely suspicious and inhospitable drovers. In the darkness Don Pablo pleaded with the owners of a well-thatched hut, and told them how "important" we were. They were unwilling to give us any shelter, so we were forced to pitch our tent in the very rocky and dirty corral immediately in front of one of the huts, where pigs, dogs, and cattle annoyed us all night. If we had arrived before dark we might have received a different welcome. As a matter of fact, the herdsmen only showed the customary hostility of mountaineers and wilderness folk to those who do not arrive in the daytime, when they can be plainly seen and fully discussed. The next morning we passed some fairly recent lava flows and noted also many curious rock forms caused by wind and sand erosion. We had now left the belt of grazing lands and once more come into the desert. At length we reached the rim of the mile-deep Caraveli Canyon and our eyes were gladdened at sight of the rich green oasis, a striking contrast to the barren walls of the canyon. As we descended the long, winding road we passed many fine specimens of tree cactus. At the foot of the steep descent we found ourselves separated from the nearest settlement by a very wide river, which it was necessary to ford. Neither of the Tejadas had ever been here before and its depths and dangers were unknown. Fortunately Pablo found a forlorn individual living in a tiny hut on the bank, who indicated which way lay safety. After an exciting two hours we finally got across to the desired shore. Animals and men were glad enough to leave the high, arid desert and enter the oasis of Caraveli with its luscious, green fields of alfalfa, its shady fig trees and tall eucalyptus. The air, pungent with the smell of rich vegetation, seemed cooler and more invigorating. We found at Caraveli a modern British enterprise, the gold mine of "La Victoria." Mr. Prain, the Manager, and his associates at the camp gave us a cordial welcome, and a wonderful dinner which I shall long remember. After two months in the coastal desert it seemed like home. During the evening we learned of the difficulties Mr. Prain had had in bringing his machinery across the plateau from the nearest port. Our own troubles seemed as nothing. The cost of transporting on muleback each of the larger pieces of the quartz stamping-mill was equivalent to the price of a first-class pack mule. As a matter of fact, although it is only a two days' journey, pack animals' backs are not built to survive the strain of carrying pieces of machinery weighing five hundred pounds over a desert plateau up to an altitude of 4000 feet. Mules brought the machinery from the coast to the brink of the canyon, but no mule could possibly have carried it down the steep trail into Caraveli. Accordingly, a windlass had been constructed on the edge of the precipice and the machinery had been lowered, piece by piece, by block and tackle. Such was one of the obstacles with which these undaunted engineers had had to contend. Had the man who designed the machinery ever traveled with a pack train, climbing up and down over these rocky stairways called mountain trails, I am sure that he would have made his castings much smaller. ------ FIGURE Mr. Tucker on a Mountain Trail near Caraveli ------ ------ FIGURE The Main Street of Chuquibamba ------ It is astonishing how often people who ship goods to the interior of South America fail to realize that no single piece should be any heavier than a pack animal can carry comfortably on one side. One hundred and fifty pounds ought to be the extreme limit of a unit. Even a large, strong mule will last only a few days on such trails as are shown in the accompanying illustration if the total weight of his cargo is over three hundred pounds. When a single piece weighs more than two hundred pounds it has to be balanced on the back of the animal. Then the load rocks, and chafes the unfortunate mule, besides causing great inconvenience and constant worry to the muleteers. As a matter of expediency it is better to have the individual units weigh about seventy-five pounds. Such a weight is easier for the arrieros to handle in the loading, unloading, and reloading that goes on all day long, particularly if the trail is up-and-down, as usually happens in the Andes. Furthermore, one seventy-five-pound unit makes a fair load for a man or a llama, two are right for a burro, and three for an average mule. Four can be loaded, if necessary, on a stout mule. The hospitable mining engineers urged us to prolong our stay at "La Victoria," but we had to hasten on. Leaving the pleasant shade trees of Caraveli, we climbed the barren, desolate hills of coarse gravel and lava rock and left the canyon. We were surprised to find near the top of the rise the scattered foundations of fifty little circular or oval huts averaging eight feet in diameter. There was no water near here. Hardly a green thing of any sort was to be seen in the vicinity, yet here had once been a village. It seemed to belong to the same period as that found on the southern slopes of the Parinacochas Basin. The road was one of the worst we encountered anywhere, being at times merely a rough, rocky trail over and among huge piles of lava blocks. Several of the larger boulders were covered with pictographs. They represented a serpent and a sun, besides men and animals. Shortly afterwards we descended to the Rio Grande Valley at Callanga, where we pitched our camps among the most extensive ruins that I have seen in the coastal desert. They covered an area of one hundred acres, the houses being crowded closely together. It gave one a strange sensation to find such a very large metropolis in what is now a desolate region. The general appearance of Callanga was strikingly reminiscent of some of the large groups of ruins in our own Southwest. Nothing about it indicated Inca origin. There were no terraces in the vicinity. It is difficult to imagine what such a large population could have done here, or how they lived. The walls were of compact cobblestones, rough-laid and stuccoed with adobe and sand. Most of the stucco had come off. Some of the houses had seats, or small sleeping-platforms, built up at one end. Others contained two or three small cells, possibly storerooms, with neither doors nor windows. We found a number of burial cists--some square, others rounded--lined with small cobblestones. In one house, at the foot of "cellar stairs" we found a subterranean room, or tomb. The entrance to it was covered with a single stone lintel. In examining this tomb Mr. Tucker had a narrow escape from being bitten by a boba, a venomous snake, nearly three feet in length, with vicious mouth, long fangs like a rattlesnake, and a strikingly mottled skin. At one place there was a low pyramid less than ten feet in height. To its top led a flight of rude stone steps. Among the ruins we found a number of broken stone dishes, rudely carved out of soft, highly porous, scoriaceous lava. The dishes must have been hard to keep clean! We also found a small stone mortar, probably used for grinding paint; a broken stone war club; and a broken compact stone mortar and pestle possibly used for grinding corn. Two stones, a foot and a half long, roughly rounded, with a shallow groove across the middle of the flatter sides, resembled sinkers used by fishermen to hold down large nets, although ten times larger than any I had ever seen used. Perhaps they were to tie down roofs in a gale. There were a few potsherds lying on the surface of the ground, so weathered as to have lost whatever decoration they once had. We did no excavating. Callanga offers an interesting field for archeological investigation. Unfortunately, we had heard nothing of it previously, came upon it unexpectedly, and had but little time to give it. After the first night camp in the midst of the dead city we made the discovery that although it seemed to be entirely deserted, it was, as a matter of fact, well populated! I was reminded of Professor T. D. Seymour's story of his studies in the ruins of ancient Greece. We wondered what the fleas live on ordinarily. Our next stopping-place was the small town of Andaray, whose thatched houses are built chiefly of stone plastered with mud. Near it we encountered two men with a mule, which they said they were taking into town to sell and were willing to dispose of cheaply. The Tejadas could not resist the temptation to buy a good animal at a bargain, although the circumstances were suspicious. Drawing on us for six gold sovereigns, they smilingly added the new mule to the pack train; only to discover on reaching Chuquibamba that they had purchased it from thieves. We were able to clear our arrieros of any complicity in the theft. Nevertheless, the owner of the stolen mule was unwilling to pay anything for its return. So they lost their bargain and their gold. We spent one night in Chuquibamba, with our friend Señor Benavides, the sub-prefect, and once more took up the well-traveled route to Arequipa. We left the Majes Valley in the afternoon and, as before, spent the night crossing the desert. About three o'clock in the morning--after we had been jogging steadily along for about twelve hours in the dark and quiet of the night, the only sound the shuffle of the mules' feet in the sand, the only sight an occasional crescent-shaped dune, dimly visible in the starlight--the eastern horizon began to be faintly illumined. The moon had long since set. Could this be the approach of dawn? Sunrise was not due for at least two hours. In the tropics there is little twilight preceding the day; "the dawn comes up like thunder." Surely the moon could not be going to rise again! What could be the meaning of the rapidly brightening eastern sky? While we watched and marveled, the pure white light grew brighter and brighter, until we cried out in ecstasy as a dazzling luminary rose majestically above the horizon. A splendor, neither of the sun nor of the moon, shone upon us. It was the morning star. For sheer beauty, "divine, enchanting ravishment," Venus that day surpassed anything I have ever seen. In the words of the great Eastern poet, who had often seen such a sight in the deserts of Asia, "the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy." CHAPTER V Titicaca Arequipa is one of the pleasantest places in the world: mountain air, bright sunshine, warm days, cool nights, and a sparkling atmosphere dear to the hearts of star-gazers. The city lies on a plateau, surrounded by mighty snow-capped volcanoes, Chachani (20,000 ft.), El Misti (19,000 ft.), and Pichu Pichu (18,000 ft.). Arequipa has only one nightmare--earthquakes. About twice in a century the spirits of the sleeping volcanoes stir, roll over, and go to sleep again. But they shake the bed! And Arequipa rests on their bed. The possibility of a "terremoto" is always present in the subconscious mind of the Arequipeño. One evening I happened to be dining with a friend at the hospitable Arequipa Club. Suddenly the windows rattled violently and we heard a loud explosion; at least that is what it sounded like to me. To the members of the club, however, it meant only one thing--an earthquake. Everybody rushed out; the streets were already crowded with hysterical people, crying, shouting, and running toward the great open plaza in front of the beautiful cathedral. Here some dropped on their knees in gratitude at having escaped from falling walls, others prayed to the god of earthquakes to spare their city. Yet no walls had fallen! In the business district a great column of black smoke was rising. Gradually it became known to the panic-stricken throngs that the noise and the trembling had not been due to an earthquake, but to an explosion in a large warehouse which had contained gasoline, kerosene, dynamite and giant powder! In this city of 35,000 people, the second largest of Peru, fires are so very rare, not even annual, scarcely biennial, that there were no fire engines. A bucket brigade was formed and tried to quench the roaring furnace by dipping water from one of the azequias, or canals, that run through the streets. The fire continued to belch forth dense masses of smoke and flame. In any American city such a blaze would certainly become a great conflagration. While the fire was at its height I went into the adjoining building to see whether any help could be rendered. To my utter amazement the surface of the wall next to the fiery furnace was not even warm. Such is the result of building houses with massive walls of stone. Furthermore, the roofs in Arequipa are of tiles; consequently no harm was done by sparks. So, without a fire department, this really terrible fire was limited to one warehouse! The next day the newspapers talked about the "dire necessity" of securing fire engines. It was difficult for me to see what good a fire engine could have done. Nothing could have saved the warehouse itself once the fire got under way; and surely the houses next door would have suffered more had they been deluged with streams of water. The facts are almost incredible to an American. We take it as a matter of course that cities should have fires and explosions. In Arequipa everybody thought it was an earthquake! A day's run by an excellent railroad takes one to Puno, the chief port of Lake Titicaca, elevation 12,500 feet. Puno boasts a soldier's monument and a new theater, really a "movie palace." There is a good harbor, although dredging is necessary to provide for steamers like the Inca. Repairs to the lake boats are made on a marine--or, rather, a lacustrine--railway. The bay of Puno grows quantities of totoras, giant bulrushes sometimes twelve feet long. Ages ago the lake dwellers learned to dry the totoras, tie them securely in long bundles, fasten the bundles together, turn up the ends, fix smaller bundles along the sides as a free-board, and so construct a fishing-boat, or balsa. Of course the balsas eventually become water-logged and spend a large part of their existence on the shore, drying in the sun. Even so, they are not very buoyant. I can testify that it is difficult to use them without getting one's shoes wet. As a matter of fact one should go barefooted, or wear sandals, as the natives do. The balsas are clumsy, and difficult to paddle. The favorite method of locomotion is to pole or, when the wind favors, sail. The mast is an A-shaped contraption, twelve feet high, made of two light poles tied together and fastened, one to each side of the craft, slightly forward of amidships. Poles are extremely scarce in this region--lumber has to be brought from Puget Sound, 6000 miles away--so nearly all the masts I saw were made of small pieces of wood spliced two or three times. To the apex of the "A" is attached a forked stick, over which run the halyards. The rectangular "sail" is nothing more nor less than a large mat made of rushes. A short forestay fastened to the sides of the "A" about four feet above the hull prevents the mast from falling when the sail is hoisted. The main halyards take the place of a backstay. The balsas cannot beat to windward, but behave very well in shallow water with a favoring breeze. When the wind is contrary the boatmen must pole. They are extremely careful not to fall overboard, for the water in the lake is cold, 55° F., and none of them know how to swim. Lake Titicaca itself never freezes over, although during the winter ice forms at night on the shallow bays and near the shore. ------ FIGURE A Lake Titicaca Balsa at Puno ------ ------ FIGURE A Step-Topped Niche on the Island of Koati ------ When the Indians wish to go in the shallowest waters they use a very small balsa not over eight feet long, barely capable of supporting the weight of one man. On the other hand, large balsas constructed for use in crossing the rough waters of the deeper portions of the lake are capable of carrying a dozen people and their luggage. Once I saw a ploughman and his team of oxen being ferried across the lake on a bulrush raft. To give greater security two balsas are sometimes fastened together in the fashion of a double canoe. One of the more highly speculative of the Bolivian writers, Señor Posnansky, of La Paz, believes that gigantic balsas were used in bringing ten-ton monoliths across the lake to Tiahuanaco. This theory is based on the assumption that Titicaca was once very much higher than it is now, a hypothesis which has not commended itself to modern geologists or geographers. Dr. Isaiah Bowman and Professor Herbert Gregory, who have studied its geology and physiography, have not been able to find any direct evidence of former high levels for Lake Titicaca, or of its having been connected with the ocean. Nevertheless, Señor Posnansky believes that Lake Titicaca was once a salt sea which became separated from the ocean as the Andes rose. The fact that the lake fishes are fresh-water, rather than marine, forms does not bother him. Señor Posnansky pins his faith to a small dried seahorse once given him by a Titicaca fisherman. He seems to forget that dried specimens of marine life, including starfish, are frequently offered for sale in the Andes by the dealers in primitive medicines who may be found in almost every market-place. Probably Señor Posnansky's seahorse was brought from the ocean by some particularly enterprising trader. Although starfish are common enough in the Andes and a seahorse has actually found its resting-place in La Paz, this does not alter the fact that scientific investigators have never found any strictly marine fauna in Lake Titicaca. On the other hand, it has two or three kinds of edible fresh-water fish. One of them belongs to a species found in the Rimac River near Lima. It seems to me entirely possible that the Incas, with their scorn of the difficulties of carrying heavy burdens over seemingly impossible trails, might have deliberately transplanted the desirable fresh-water fishes of the Rimac River to Lake Titicaca. Polo de Ondegardo, who lived in Cuzco in 1560, says that the Incas used to bring fresh fish from the sea by special runners, and that "they have records in their quipus of the fish having been brought from Tumbez, a distance of more than three hundred leagues." The actual transference of water jars containing the fish would have offered no serious obstacle whatever to the Incas, provided the idea happened to appeal to them as desirable. Yet I may be as far wrong as Señor Posnansky! At any rate, the romantic stories of a gigantic inland sea, vastly more extensive than the present lake and actually surrounding the ancient city of Tiahuanaco, must be treated with respectful skepticism. Tiahuanaco, at the southern end of Lake Titicaca, in Bolivia, is famous for the remains of a pre-Inca civilization. Unique among prehistoric remains in the highlands of Peru or Bolivia are its carved monolithic images. Although they have suffered from weathering and from vandalism, enough remains to show that they represent clothed human figures. The richly decorated girdles and long tunics are carved in low relief with an intricate pattern. While some of the designs are undoubtedly symbolic of the rank, achievements, or attributes of the divinities or chiefs here portrayed, there is nothing hieroglyphic. The images are stiff and show no appreciation of the beauty of the human form. Probably the ancient artists never had an opportunity to study the human body. In Andean villages, even little children do not go naked as they do among primitive peoples who live in warm climates. The Highlanders of Peru and Bolivia are always heavily clothed, day and night. Forced by their climate to seek comfort in the amount and thickness of their apparel, they have developed an excessive modesty in regard to bodily exposure which is in striking contrast to people who live on the warm sands of the South Seas. Inca sculptors and potters rarely employed the human body as a motif. Tiahuanaco is pre-Inca, yet even here the images are clothed. They were not represented as clothed in order to make easier the work of the sculptor. His carving shows he had great skill, was observant, and had true artistic feeling. Apparently the taboo against "nakedness" was too much for him. Among the thirty-six islands in Lake Titicaca, some belong to Peru, others to Bolivia. Two of the latter, Titicaca and Koati, were peculiarly venerated in Inca days. They are covered with artificial terraces, most of which are still used by the Indian farmers of to-day. On both islands there are ruins of important Inca structures. On Titicaca Island I was shown two caves, out of which, say the Indians, came the sun and moon at their creation. These caves are not large enough for a man to stand upright, but to a people who do not appreciate the size of the heavenly bodies it requires no stretch of the imagination to believe that those bright disks came forth from caves eight feet wide. The myth probably originated with dwellers on the western shore of the lake who would often see the sun or moon rise over this island. On an ancient road that runs across the island my native guide pointed out the "footprints of the sun and moon"--two curious effects of erosion which bear a distant resemblance to the footprints of giants twenty or thirty feet tall. The present-day Indians, known as Aymaras, seem to be hard-working and fairly cheerful. The impression which Bandelier gives, in his "Islands of Titicaca and Koati," of the degradation and surly character of these Indians was not apparent at the time of my short visit in 1915. It is quite possible, however, that if I had to live among the Indians, as he did for several months, digging up their ancient places of worship, disturbing their superstitious prejudices, and possibly upsetting, in their minds, the proper balance between wet weather and dry, I might have brought upon myself uncivil looks and rough, churlish treatment such as he experienced. In judging the attitude of mind of the natives of Titicaca one should remember that they live under most trying conditions of climate and environment. During several months of the year everything is dried up and parched. The brilliant sun of the tropics, burning mercilessly through the rarefied air, causes the scant vegetation to wither. Then come torrential rains. I shall never forget my first experience on Lake Titicaca, when the steamer encountered a rain squall. The resulting deluge actually came through the decks. Needless to say, such downpours tend to wash away the soil which the farmers have painfully gathered for field or garden. The sun in the daytime is extremely hot, yet the difference in temperature between sun and shade is excessive. Furthermore, the winds at night are very damp; the cold is intensely penetrating. Fuel is exceedingly scarce, there is barely enough for cooking purposes, and none for artificial heat. Food is hard to get. Few crops can be grown at 12,500 feet. Some barley is raised, but the soil is lacking in nitrogen. The principal crop is the bitter white potato, which, after being frozen and dried, becomes the insipid chuño, chief reliance of the poorer families. The Inca system of bringing guano from the islands of the Pacific coast has long since been abandoned. There is no money to pay for modern fertilizers. Consequently, crops are poor. On Titicaca Island I saw native women, who had just harvested their maize, engaged in shucking and drying ears of corn which varied in length from one to three inches. To be sure this miniature corn has the advantage of maturing in sixty days, but good soil and fertilizers would double its size and productiveness. Naturally these Indians always feel themselves at the mercy of the elements. Either a long rainy season or a drought may cause acute hunger and extreme suffering. Consequently, one must not blame the Bolivian or Peruvian Highlander if he frequently appears to be sullen and morose. On the other hand, one ought not to praise Samoans for being happy, hospitable, and light-hearted. Those fortunate Polynesians are surrounded by warm waters in which they can always enjoy a swim, trees from which delicious food can always be obtained, and cocoanuts from which cooling drinks are secured without cost. Who could not develop cheerfulness under such conditions? On the small island, Koati, some of the Inca stonework is remarkably good, and has several unusual features, such as the elaboration of the large, reëntrant, ceremonial niches formed by step-topped arches, one within the other. Small ornamental niches are used to break the space between these recesses and the upper corners of the whole rectangle containing them. Also unusual are the niches between the doorways, made in the form of an elaborate quadrate cross. It might seem at first glance as though this feature showed Spanish influence, since a Papal cross is created by the shadow cast in the intervening recessed courses within their design. As a matter of fact, the cross nowy quadrant is a natural outcome of using for ornamental purposes the step-shaped design, both erect and inverted. All over the land of the Incas one finds flights of steps or terraces used repeatedly for ornamental or ceremonial purposes. Some stairs are large enough to be used by man; others are in miniature. Frequently the steps were cut into the sacred boulders consecrated to ancestor worship. It was easy for an Inca architect, accustomed to the stairway motif, to have conceived these curious doorways on Koati and also the cross-like niches between them, even if he had never seen any representation of a Papal cross, or a cross nowy quadrant. My friend, Mr. Bancel La Farge, has also suggested a striking resemblance which the sedilia-like niches bear to Arabic or Moorish architecture, as shown, for instance, in the Court of the Lions in the Alhambra. The step-topped arch is distinctly Oriental in form, yet flights of steps or terraces are also thoroughly Incaic. The principal structure on Koati was built around three sides of a small plaza, constructed on an artificial terrace in a slight depression on the eastern side of the island. The fourth side is open and affords a magnificent view of the lake and the wonderful snow-covered Cordillera Real, 200 miles long and nowhere less than 17,000 feet high. This range of lofty snow-peaks of surpassing beauty culminates in Mt. Sorata, 21,520 feet high. To the worshipers of the sun and moon, who came to the sacred islands for some of their most elaborate religious ceremonies, the sight of those heavenly luminaries, rising over the majestic snow mountains, their glories reflected in the shining waters of the lake, must have been a sublime spectacle. On such occasions the little plaza would indeed have been worth seeing. We may imagine the gayly caparisoned Incas, their faces lit up by the colors of "rosy-fingered dawn, daughter of the morning," their ceremonial formation sharply outlined against the high, decorated walls of the buildings behind them. Perhaps the rulers and high priests had special stations in front of the large, step-topped niches. One may be sure that a people who were fond of bright colors, who were able to manufacture exquisite textiles, and who loved to decorate their garments with spangles and disks of beaten gold, would have lost no opportunity for making the ancient ceremonies truly resplendent. On the peninsula of Copacabana, opposite the sacred islands, a great annual pageant is still staged every August. Although at present connected with a pious pilgrimage to the shrine of the miraculous image of the "Virgin of Copacabana," this vivid spectacle, the most celebrated fair in all South America, has its origin in the dim past. It comes after the maize is harvested and corresponds to our Thanksgiving festival. The scene is laid in the plaza in front of a large, bizarre church. During the first ten days in August there are gathered here thousands of the mountain folk from far and near. Everything dear to the heart of the Aymara Indian is offered for sale, including quantities of his favorite beverages. Traders, usually women, sit in long rows on blankets laid on the cobblestone pavement. Some of them are protected from the sun by primitive umbrellas, consisting of a square cotton sheet stretched over a bamboo frame. In one row are those traders who sell parched and popped corn; in another those who deal in sandals and shoes, the simple gear of the humblest wayfarer and the elaborately decorated high-laced boots affected by the wealthy Chola women of La Paz. In another row are the dealers in Indian blankets; still another is devoted to such trinkets as one might expect to find in a "needle-and-thread" shop at home. There are stolid Aymara peddlers with scores of bamboo flutes varying in size from a piccolo to a bassoon; the hat merchants, with piles of freshly made native felts, warranted to last for at least a year; and vendors of aniline dyes. The fabrics which have come to us from Inca times are colored with beautifully soft vegetable dyes. Among Inca ruins one may find small stone mortars, in which the primitive pigments were ground and mixed with infinite care. Although the modern Indian still prefers the product of hand looms, he has been quick to adopt the harsh aniline dyes, which are not only easier to secure, but produce more striking results. As a citizen of Connecticut it gave me quite a start to see, carelessly exposed to the weather on the rough cobblestones of the plaza, bright new hardware from New Haven and New Britain--locks, keys, spring scales, bolts, screw eyes, hooks, and other "wooden nutmegs." At the tables of the "money-changers," just outside of the sacred enclosure, are the real moneymakers, who give nothing for something. Thimble-riggers and three-card-monte-men do a brisk business and stand ready to fleece the guileless native or the unsuspecting foreigner. The operators may wear ragged ponchos and appear to be incapable of deep designs, but they know all the tricks of the trade! The most striking feature of the fair is the presence of various Aymara secret societies, whose members, wearing repulsive masks, are clad in the most extraordinary costumes which can be invented by primitive imaginations. Each society has its own uniform, made up of tinsels and figured satins, tin-foil, gold and silver leaf, gaudy textiles, magnificent epaulets bearing large golden stars on a background of silver decorated with glittering gems of colored glass; tinted "ostrich" plumes of many colors sticking straight up eighteen inches above the heads of their wearers, gaudy ribbons, beruffled bodices, puffed sleeves, and slashed trunks. Some of these strange costumes are actually reminiscent of the sixteenth century. The wearers are provided with flutes, whistles, cymbals, flageolets, snare drums, and rattles, or other noise-makers. The result is an indescribable hubbub; a garish human kaleidoscope, accompanied by fiendish clamor and unmusical noises which fairly outstrip a dozen jazz bands. It is bedlam let loose, a scene of wild uproar and confusion. The members of one group were dressed to represent female angels, their heads tightly turbaned so as to bear the maximum number of tall, waving, variegated plumes. On their backs were gaudy wings resembling the butterflies of children's pantomimes. Many wore colored goggles. They marched solemnly around the plaza, playing on bamboo flageolets, their plaintive tunes drowned in the din of big bass drums and blatant trumpets. In an eddy in the seething crowd was a placid-faced Aymara, bedecked in the most tawdry manner with gewgaws from Birmingham or Manchester, sedately playing a melancholy tune on a rustic syrinx or Pan's pipe, charmingly made from little tubes of bamboo from eastern Bolivia. At the close of the festival, on a Sunday afternoon, the costumes disappear and there occurs a bull-baiting. Strong temporary barriers are erected at the comers of the plaza; householders bar their doors. A riotous crowd, composed of hundreds of pleasure-seekers, well fortified with Dutch courage, gathers for the fray. All are ready to run helter-skelter in every direction should the bull take it into his head to charge toward them. It is not a bullfight. There are no picadors, armed with lances to prick the bull to madness; no banderilleros, with barbed darts; no heroic matador, ready with shining blade to give a mad and weary bull the coup de grace. Here all is fun and frolic. To be sure, the bull is duly annoyed by boastful boys or drunken Aymaras, who prod him with sticks and shake bright ponchos in his face until he dashes after his tormentors and causes a mighty scattering of some spectators, amid shrieks of delight from everybody else. When one animal gets tired, another is brought on. There is no chance of a bull being wounded or seriously hurt. At the time of our visit the only animal who seemed at all anxious to do real damage was let alone. He showed no disposition to charge at random into the crowds. The spectators surrounded the plaza so thickly that he could not distinguish any one particular enemy on whom to vent his rage. He galloped madly after any individual who crossed the plaza. Five or six bulls were let loose during the excitement, but no harm was done, and every one had an uproariously good time. Such is the spectacle of Copacabana, a mixture of business and pleasure, pagan and Christian, Spain and Titicaca. Bedlam is not pleasant to one's ears; yet to see the staid mountain herdsmen, attired in plumes, petticoats, epaulets, and goggles, blowing mightily with puffed-out lips on bamboo flageolets, is worth a long journey. CHAPTER VI The Vilcanota Country and the Peruvian Highlanders In the northernmost part of the Titicaca Basin are the grassy foothills of the Cordillera Vilcanota, where large herds of alpacas thrive on the sweet, tender pasturage. Santa Rosa is the principal town. Here wool-buyers come to bid for the clip. The high prices which alpaca fleece commands have brought prosperity. Excellent blankets, renowned in southern Peru for their weight and texture, are made here on hand looms. Notwithstanding the altitude--nearly as great as the top of Pike's Peak--the stocky inhabitants of Santa Rosa are hardy, vigorous, and energetic. Ricardo Charaja, the best Quichua assistant we ever had, came from Santa Rosa. Nearly all the citizens are of pure Indian stock. They own many fine llamas. There is abundant pasturage and the llamas are well cared for by the Indians, who become personally attached to their flocks and are loath to part with any of the individuals. Once I attempted through a Cuzco acquaintance to secure the skin and skeleton of a fine llama for the Yale Museum. My friend was favorably known and spoke the Quichua language fluently. He offered a good price and obtained from various llama owners promises to bring the hide and bones of one of their "camels" for shipment; but they never did. Apparently they regarded it as unlucky to kill a llama, and none happened to die at the right time. The llamas never show affection for their masters, as horses often do. On the other hand I have never seen a llama kick or bite at his owner. The llama was the only beast of burden known in either North or South America before Columbus. It was found by the Spaniards in all parts of Inca Land. Its small two-toed feet, with their rough pads, enable it to walk easily on slopes too rough or steep for even a nimble-footed, mountain-bred mule. It has the reputation of being an unpleasant pet, due to its ability to sneeze or spit for a considerable distance a small quantity of acrid saliva. When I was in college Barnum's Circus came to town. The menagerie included a dozen llamas, whose supercilious expression, inoffensive looks, and small size--they are only three feet high at the shoulder tempted some little urchins to tease them. When the llamas felt that the time had come for reprisals, their aim was straight and the result a precipitate retreat. Their tormentors, howling and rubbing their eyes, had to run home and wash their faces. Curiously enough, in the two years which I have spent in the Peruvian highlands I have never seen a llama so attack a single human being. On the other hand, when I was in Santa Rosa in 1915 some one had a tame vicuña which was perfectly willing to sneeze straight at any stranger who came within twenty feet of it, even if one's motive was nothing more annoying than scientific curiosity. The vicuña is the smallest American "camel," yet its long, slender neck, small head, long legs, and small body, from which hangs long, feathery fleece, make it look more like an ostrich than a camel. In the churchyard of Santa Rosa are two or three gnarled trees which have been carefully preserved for centuries as objects of respect and veneration. Some travelers have thought that 14,000 feet is above the tree line, but the presence of these trees at Santa Rosa would seem to show that the use of the words "tree line" is a misnomer in the Andes. Mr. Cook believes that the Peruvian plateau, with the exception of the coastal deserts, was once well covered with forests. When man first came into the Andes, everything except rocky ledges, snow fields, and glaciers was covered with forest growth. Although many districts are now entirely treeless, Mr. Cook found that the conditions of light, heat, and moisture, even at the highest elevations, are sufficient to support the growth of trees; also that there is ample fertility of soil. His theories are well substantiated by several isolated tracts of forests which I found growing alongside of glaciers at very high elevations. One forest in particular, on the slopes of Mt. Soiroccocha, has been accurately determined by Mr. Bumstead to be over 15,000 feet above sea level. It is cut off from the inhabited valley by rock falls and precipices, so it has not been available for fuel. Virgin forests are not known to exist in the Peruvian highlands on any lands which could have been cultivated. A certain amount of natural reforestation with native trees is taking place on abandoned agricultural terraces in some of the high valleys. Although these trees belong to many different species and families, Mr. Cook found that they all have this striking peculiarity--when cut down they sprout readily from the stumps and are able to survive repeated pollarding; remarkable evidence of the fact that the primeval forests of Peru were long ago cut down for fuel or burned over for agriculture. Near the Santa Rosa trees is a tall bell-tower. The sight of a picturesque belfry with four or five bells of different sizes hanging each in its respective window makes a strong appeal. It is quite otherwise on Sunday mornings when these same bells, "out of tune with themselves," or actually cracked, are all rung at the same time. The resulting clangor and din is unforgettable. I presume the Chinese would say it was intended to drive away the devils--and surely such noise must be "thoroughly uncongenial even to the most irreclaimable devil," as Lord Frederick Hamilton said of the Canton practices. Church bells in the United States and England are usually sweet-toned and intended to invite the hearer to come to service, or else they ring out in joyous peals to announce some festive occasion. There is nothing inviting or joyous about the bells in southern Peru. Once in a while one may hear a bell of deep, sweet tone, like that of the great bell in Cuzco, which is tolled when the last sacrament is being administered to a dying Christian; but the general idea of bell-ringers in this part of the world seems to be to make the greatest possible amount of racket and clamor. On popular saints' days this is accompanied by firecrackers, aerial bombs, and other noise-making devices which again remind one of Chinese folkways. Perhaps it is merely that fundamental fondness for making a noise which is found in all healthy children. On Sunday afternoon the plaza of Santa Rosa was well filled with Quichua holiday-makers, many of whom had been imbibing freely of chicha, a mild native brew usually made from ripe corn. The crowd was remarkably good-natured and given to an unusual amount of laughter and gayety. For them Sunday is truly a day of rest, recreation, and sociability. On week days, most of them, even the smaller boys, are off on the mountain pastures, watching the herds whose wool brings prosperity to Santa Rosa. One sometimes finds the mountain Indians on Sunday afternoon sodden, thoroughly soaked with chicha, and inclined to resent the presence of inquisitive strangers; not so these good folk of Santa Rosa. ------ FIGURE Indian Alcaldes at Santa Rosa ------ ------ FIGURE Native Druggists in the Plaza of Sicuani ------ To be sure, the female vendors of eggs, potatoes, peppers, and sundry native vegetables, squatting in two long rows on the plaza, did not enjoy being photographed, but the men and boys crowded eagerly forward, very much interested in my endeavors. Some of the Indian alcaldes, local magistrates elected yearly to serve as the responsible officials for villages or tribal precincts, were very helpful and, armed with their large, silver-mounted staffs of office, tried to bring the shy, retiring women of the market-place to stand in a frightened, disgruntled, barefooted group before the camera. The women were dressed in the customary tight bodices, heavy woolen skirts, and voluminous petticoats of the plateau. Over their shoulders were pinned heavy woolen shawls, woven on hand looms. On their heads were reversible "pancake" hats made of straw, covered on the wet-weather side with coarse woolen stuff and on the fair-weather side with tinsel and velveteen. In accordance with local custom, tassels and fringes hung down on both sides. It is said that the first Inca ordered the dresses of each village to be different, so that his officials might know to which tribe an Indian belonged. It was only with great difficulty and by the combined efforts of a good-natured priest, the gobernador or mayor, and the alcaldes that a dozen very reluctant females were finally persuaded to face the camera. The expression of their faces was very eloquent. Some were highly indignant, others looked foolish or supercilious, two or three were thoroughly frightened, not knowing what evil might befall them next. Not one gave any evidence of enjoying it or taking the matter as a good joke, although that was the attitude assumed by all their male acquaintances. In fact, some of the men were so anxious to have their pictures taken that they followed us about and posed on the edge of every group. Men and boys all wore knitted woolen caps, with ear flaps, which they seldom remove either day or night. On top of these were large felt hats, turned up in front so as to give a bold aspect to their husky wearers. Over their shoulders were heavy woolen ponchos, decorated with bright stripes. Their trousers end abruptly halfway between knee and ankle, a convenient style for herdsmen who have to walk in the long, dewy grasses of the plateau. These "high-water" pantaloons do not look badly when worn with sandals, as is the usual custom; but since this was Sunday all the well-to-do men had put on European boots, which did not come up to the bottom of their trousers and produced a singular effect, hardly likely to become fashionable. The prosperity of the town was also shown by corrugated iron roofs. Far less picturesque than thatch or tile, they require less attention and give greater satisfaction during the rainy season. They can also be securely bolted to the rafters. On this wind-swept plateau we frequently noticed that a thatched roof was held in place by ropes passed over the house and weights resting on the roof. Sometimes to the peak of a gable are fastened crosses, tiny flags, or the skulls of animals--probably to avert the Evil Eye or bring good luck. Horseshoes do not seem to be in demand. Horses' skulls, however, are deemed very efficacious. On the rim of the Titicaca Basin is La Raya. The watershed is so level that it is almost impossible to say whether any particular raindrop will eventually find itself in Lake Titicaca or in the Atlantic Ocean. The water from a spring near the railroad station of Araranca flows definitely to the north. This spring may be said to be one of the sources of the Urubamba River, an important affluent of the Ucayali and also of the Amazon, but I never have heard it referred to as "the source of the Amazon" except by an adventurous lecturer, Captain Blank, whose moving picture entertainment bore the alluring title, "From the Source to the Mouth of the Amazon." As most of his pictures of wild animals "in the jungle" looked as though they were taken in the zoölogical gardens at Para, and the exciting tragedies of his canoe trip were actually staged near a friendly hacienda at Santa Ana, less than a week's journey from Cuzco, it is perhaps unnecessary to censure him for giving this particular little spring such a pretentious title. The Urubamba River is known by various names to the people who live on its banks. The upper portion is sometimes spoken of as the Vilcanota, a term which applies to a lake as well as to the snow-covered peaks of the cordillera in this vicinity. The lower portion was called by the Incas the Uilca or the Uilcamayu. Near the water-parting of La Raya I noticed the remains of an interesting wall which may have served centuries ago to divide the Incas of Cuzco from the Collas or warlike tribes of the Titicaca Basin. In places the wall has been kept in repair by the owners of grazing lands, but most of it can be but dimly traced across the valley and up the neighboring slopes to the cliffs of the Cordillera Vilcanota. It was built of rough stones. Near the historic wall are the ruins of ancient houses, possibly once occupied by an Inca garrison. I observed no ashlars among the ruins nor any evidence of careful masonry. It seems to me likely that it was a hastily thrown-up fortification serving for a single military campaign, rather than any permanent affair like the Roman wall of North Britain or the Great Wall of China. We know from tradition that war was frequently waged between the peoples of the Titicaca Basin and those of the Urubamba and Cuzco valleys. It is possible that this is a relic of one of those wars. On the other hand, it may be much older than the Incas. Montesinos, [3] one of the best early historians, tells us of Titu Yupanqui, Pachacuti VI, sixty-second of the Peruvian Amautas, rulers who long preceded the Incas. Against Pachacuti VI there came (about 800 A.D.) large hordes of fierce soldiers from the south and east, laying waste fields and capturing cities and towns; evidently barbarian migrations which appear to have continued for some time. During these wars the ancient civilization, which had been built up with so much care and difficulty during the preceding twenty centuries, was seriously threatened. Pachacuti VI, more religious than warlike, ruler of a people whose great achievements had been agricultural rather than military, was frightened by his soothsayers and priests; they told him of many bad omens. Instead of inducing him to follow a policy of military preparedness, he was urged to make sacrifices to the deities. Nevertheless he ordered his captains to fortify the strategic points and make preparations for defense. The invaders may have come from Argentina. It is possible that they were spurred on by hunger and famine caused by the gradual exhaustion of forested areas and the subsequent spread of untillable grasslands on the great pampas. Montesinos indicates that many of the people who came up into the highlands at that time were seeking arable lands for their crops and were "fleeing from a race of giants"--possibly Patagonians or Araucanians--who had expelled them from their own lands. On their journey they had passed over plains, swamps, and jungles. It is obvious that a great readjustment of the aborigines was in progress. The governors of the districts through which these hordes passed were not able to summon enough strength to resist them. Pachacuti VI assembled the larger part of his army near the pass of La Raya and awaited the approach of the enemy. If the accounts given in Montesinos are true, this wall near La Raya may have been built about 1100 years ago, by the chiefs who were told to "fortify the strategic points." Certainly the pass of La Raya, long the gateway from the Titicaca Basin to the important cities and towns of the Urubamba Basin, was the key to the situation. It is probable that Pachacuti VI drew up his army behind this wall. His men were undoubtedly armed with slings, the weapon most familiar to the highland shepherds. The invaders, however, carried bows and arrows, more effective arms, swifter, more difficult to see, less easy to dodge. As Pachacuti VI was carried over the field of battle on a golden stretcher, encouraging his men, he was killed by an arrow. His army was routed. Montesinos states that only five hundred escaped. Leaving behind their wounded, they fled to "Tampu-tocco," a healthy place where there was a cave, in which they hid the precious body of their ruler. Most writers believe this to be at Paccaritampu where there are caves under an interesting carved rock. There is no place in Peru to-day which still bears the name of Tampu-tocco. To try and identify it with some of the ruins which do exist, and whose modern names are not found in the early Spanish writers, has been one of the principal objects of my expeditions to Peru, as will be described in subsequent chapters. ------ FIGURE A Potato-field at La Raya ------ ------ FIGURE Laying Down the Warp for a Blanket: Near the Pass of La Raya ------ Near the watershed of La Raya we saw great flocks of sheep and alpacas, numerous corrals, and the thatched-roofed huts of herdsmen. The Quichua women are never idle. One often sees them engaged in the manufacture of textiles--shawls, girdles, ponchos, and blankets--on hand looms fastened to stakes driven into the ground. When tending flocks or walking along the road they are always winding or spinning yarn. Even the men and older children are sometimes thus engaged. The younger children, used as shepherds as soon as they reach the age of six or seven, are rarely expected to do much except watch their charges. Some of them were accompanied by long-haired suncca shepherd dogs, as large as Airedales, but very cowardly, given to barking and slinking away. It is claimed that the sunccas, as well as two other varieties, were domesticated by the Incas. None of them showed any desire to make the acquaintance of "Checkers," my faithful Airedale. Their masters, however, were always interested to see that "Checkers" could understand English. They had never seen a dog that could understand anything but Quichua! On the hillside near La Raya, Mr. Cook, Mr. Gilbert, and I visited a healthy potato field at an elevation of 14,500 feet, a record altitude for potatoes. When commencing to plough or spade a potato field on the high slopes near here, it is the custom of the Indians to mark it off into squares, by "furrows" about fifteen feet apart. The Quichuas commence their task soon after daybreak. Due to the absence of artificial lighting and the discomfort of rising in the bitter cold before dawn, their wives do not prepare breakfast before ten o'clock, at which time it is either brought from home in covered earthenware vessels or cooked in the open fields near where the men are working. We came across one energetic landowner supervising a score or more of Indians who were engaged in "ploughing" a potato field. Although he was dressed in European garb and was evidently a man of means and intelligence, and near the railroad, there were no modern implements in sight. We found that it is difficult to get Indians to use any except the implements of their ancestors. The process of "ploughing" this field was undoubtedly one that had been used for centuries, probably long before the Spanish Conquest. The men, working in unison and in a long row, each armed with a primitive spade or "foot plough," to the handle of which footholds were lashed, would, at a signal, leap forward with a shout and plunge their spades into the turf. Facing each pair of men was a girl or woman whose duty it was to turn the clods over by hand. The men had taken off their ponchos, so as to secure greater freedom of action, but the women were fully clothed as usual, modesty seeming to require them even to keep heavy shawls over their shoulders. Although the work was hard and painful, the toil was lightened by the joyous contact of community activity. Every one worked with a will. There appeared to be a keen desire among the workers to keep up with the procession. Those who fell behind were subjected to good-natured teasing. Community work is sometimes pleasant, even though it appears to require a strong directing hand. The "boss" was right there. Such practices would never suit those who love independence. In the centuries of Inca domination there was little opportunity for individual effort. Private property was not understood. Everything belonged to the government. The crops were taken by the priests, the Incas and the nobles. The people were not as unhappy as we should be. One seldom had to labor alone. Everything was done in common. When it was time to cultivate the fields or to harvest the crops, the laborers were ordered by the Incas to go forth in huge family parties. They lessened the hardships of farm labor by village gossip and choral singing, interspersed at regular intervals with rest periods, in which quantities of chicha quenched the thirst and cheered the mind. Habits of community work are still shown in the Andes. One often sees a score or more of Indians carrying huge bundles of sheaves of wheat or barley. I have found a dozen yoke of oxen, each a few yards from the other in a parallel line, engaged in ploughing synchronously small portions of a large field. Although the landlords frequently visit Lima and sometimes go to Paris and New York, where they purchase for their own use the products of modern invention, the fields are still cultivated in the fashion introduced three centuries ago by the conquistadores, who brought the first draft animals and the primitive pointed plough of the ancient Mediterranean. Crops at La Raya are not confined to potatoes. Another food plant, almost unknown to Europeans, even those who live in Lima, is cañihua, a kind of pigweed. It was being harvested at the time of our visit in April. The threshing floor for cañihua is a large blanket laid on the ground. On top of this the stalks are placed and the flail applied, the blanket serving to prevent the small grayish seeds from escaping. The entire process uses nothing of European origin and has probably not changed for centuries. We noticed also quinoa and even barley growing at an elevation of 14,000 feet. Quinoa is another species of pigweed. It often attains a height of three to four feet. There are several varieties. The white-seeded variety, after being boiled, may be fairly compared with oatmeal. Mr. Cook actually preferred it to the Scotch article, both for taste and texture. The seeds retain their form after being cooked and "do not appear so slimy as oatmeal." Other varieties of quinoa are bitter and have to be boiled several times, the water being frequently changed. The growing quinoa presents an attractive appearance; its leaves assume many colors. As we went down the valley the evidences of extensive cultivation, both ancient and modern, steadily increased. Great numbers of old terraces were to be seen. There were many fields of wheat, some of them growing high up on the mountain side in what are called temporales, where, owing to the steep slope, there is little effort at tillage or cultivation, the planter trusting to luck to get some kind of a crop in reward for very little effort. On April 14th, just above Sicuani, we saw fields where habas beans had been gathered and the dried stalks piled in little stacks. At Occobamba, or the pampa where oca grows, we found fields of that useful tuber, just now ripening. Near by were little thatched shelters, erected for the temporary use of night watchmen during the harvest season. The Peruvian highlanders whom we met by the roadside were different in feature, attitude, and clothing from those of the Titicaca Basin or even of Santa Rosa, which is not far away. They were typical Quichuas--peaceful agriculturists--usually spinning wool on the little hand spindles which have been used in the Andes from time immemorial. Their huts are built of adobe, the roofs thatched with coarse grass. The Quichuas are brown in color. Their hair is straight and black. Gray hair is seldom seen. It is the custom among the men in certain localities to wear their hair long and braided. Beards are sparse or lacking. Bald heads are very rare. Teeth seem to be more enduring than with us. Throughout the Andes the frequency of well-preserved teeth was everywhere noteworthy except on sugar plantations, where there is opportunity to indulge freely in crude brown sugar nibbled from cakes or mixed with parched corn and eaten as a travel ration. The Quichua face is broad and short. Its breadth is nearly the same as the Eskimo. Freckles are not common and appear to be limited to face and arms, in the few cases in which they were observed. On the other hand, a large proportion of the Indians are pock-marked and show the effects of living in a country which is "free from medical tyranny." There is no compulsory vaccination. One hardly ever sees a fat Quichua. It is difficult to tell whether this is a racial characteristic or due rather to the lack of fat-producing foods in their diet. Although the Peruvian highlander has made the best use he could of the llama, he was never able to develop its slender legs and weak back sufficiently to use it for loads weighing more than eighty or a hundred pounds. Consequently, for the carrying of really heavy burdens he had to depend on himself. As a result, it is not surprising to learn from Dr. Ferris that while his arms are poorly developed, his shoulders are broader, his back muscles stronger, and the calves of his legs larger and more powerful than those of almost any other race. The Quichuas are fond of shaking hands. When a visiting Indian joins a group he nearly always goes through the gentle ceremony with each person in turn. I do not know whether this was introduced by the Spaniards or comes down from prehistoric times. In any event, this handshaking in no way resembles the hearty clasp familiar to undergraduates at the beginning of the college year. As a matter of fact the Quichua handshake is extremely fishy and lacks cordiality. In testing the hand grip of the Quichuas by a dynamometer our surgeons found that the muscles of the forearm were poorly developed in the Quichua and the maximum grip was weak in both sexes, the average for the man being only about half of that found among American white adults of sedentary habits. Dr. Ales Hrdlicka believes that the aboriginal races of North and South America were of the same stock. The wide differences in physiognomy observable among the different tribes in North and South America are perhaps due to their environmental history during the past 10,000 or 20,000 years. Mr. Frank Chapman, of the American Museum of Natural History, has pointed out the interesting biological fact that animals and birds found at sea level in the cold regions of Tierra del Fuego, while not found at sea level in Peru, do exist at very high altitudes, where the climate is similar to that with which they are acquainted. Similarly, it is interesting to learn that the inhabitants of the cold, lofty regions of southern Peru, living in towns and villages at altitudes of from 9000 to 14,000 feet above the sea, have physical peculiarities closely resembling those living at sea level in Tierra del Fuego, Alaska, and Labrador. Dr. Ferris says the Labrador Eskimo and the Quichua constitute the two "best-known short-stature races on the American continent." So far as we could learn by questions and observation, about one quarter of the Quichuas are childless. In families which have children the average number is three or four. Large families are not common, although we generally learned that the living children in a family usually represented less than half of those which had been born. Infant mortality is very great. The proper feeding of children is not understood and it is a marvel how any of them manage to grow up at all. Coughs and bronchial trouble are very common among the Indians. In fact, the most common afflictions of the tableland are those of the throat and lungs. Pneumonia is the most serious and most to be dreaded of all local diseases. It is really terrifying. Due to the rarity of the air and relative scarcity of oxygen, pneumonia is usually fatal at 8000 feet and is uniformly so at 11,000 feet. Patients are frequently ill only twenty-four hours. Tuberculosis is fairly common, its prevalence undoubtedly caused by the living conditions practiced among the highlanders, who are unwilling to sleep in a room which is not tightly closed and protected against any possible intrusion of fresh air. In the warmer valleys, where bodily comfort has led the natives to use huts of thatch and open reeds, instead of the air-tight hovels of the cold, bleak plateau, tuberculosis is seldom seen. Of course, there are no "boards of health," nor are the people bothered by being obliged to conform to any sanitary regulations. Water supplies are so often contaminated that the people have learned to avoid drinking it as far as possible. Instead, they eat quantities of soup. ------ FIGURE The Ruins of the Temple of Viracocha at Racche ------ In the market-place of Sicuani, the largest town in the valley, and the border-line between the potato-growing uplands and lowland maize fields, we attended the famous Sunday market. Many native "druggists" were present. Their stock usually consisted of "medicines," whose efficacy was learned by the Incas. There were forty or fifty kinds of simples and curiosities, cure-alls, and specifics. Fully half were reported to me as being "useful against fresh air" or the evil effects of drafts. The "medicines" included such minerals as iron ore and sulphur; such vegetables as dried seeds, roots, and the leaves of plants domesticated hundreds of years ago by the Incas or gathered in the tropical jungles of the lower Urubamba Valley; and such animals as starfish brought from the Pacific Ocean. Some of them were really useful herbs, while others have only a psychopathic effect on the patient. Each medicine was in an attractive little particolored woolen bag. The bags, differing in design and color, woven on miniature hand looms, were arranged side by side on the ground, the upper parts turned over and rolled down so as to disclose the contents. Not many miles below Sicuani, at a place called Racche, are the remarkable ruins of the so-called Temple of Viracocha, described by Squier. At first sight Racche looks as though there were here a row of nine or ten lofty adobe piers, forty or fifty feet high! Closer inspection, however, shows them all to be parts of the central wall of a great temple. The wall is pierced with large doors and the spaces between the doors are broken by niches, narrower at the top than at the bottom. There are small holes in the doorposts for bar-holds. The base of the great wall is about five feet thick and is of stone. The ashlars are beautifully cut and, while not rectangular, are roughly squared and fitted together with most exquisite care, so as to insure their making a very firm foundation. Their surface is most attractive, but, strange to say, there is unmistakable evidence that the builders did not wish the stonework to show. This surface was at one time plastered with clay, a very significant fact. The builders wanted the wall to seem to be built entirely of adobe, yet, had the great clay wall rested on the ground, floods and erosion might have succeeded in undermining it. Instead, it rests securely on a beautifully built foundation of solid masonry. Even so, the great wall does not stand absolutely true, but leans slightly to the westward. The wall also seems to be less weathered on the west side. Probably the prevailing or strongest wind is from the east. An interesting feature of the ruins is a round column about twenty feet high--a very rare occurrence in Inca architecture. It also is of adobe, on a stone foundation. There is only one column now standing. In Squier's day the remains of others were to be seen, but I could find no evidences of them. There was probably a double row of these columns to support the stringers and tiebeams of the roof. Apparently one end of a tiebeam rested on the circular column and the other end was embedded in the main wall. The holes where the tiebeams entered the wall have stone lintels. Near the ruins of the great temple are those of other buildings, also unique, so far as I know. The base of the party wall, decorated with large niches, is of cut ashlars carefully laid; the middle course is of adobe, while the upper third is of rough, uncut stones. It looks very odd now but was originally covered with fine clay or stucco. In several cases the plastered walls are still standing, in fairly good condition, particularly where they have been sheltered from the weather. The chief marvel of Racche, however, is the great adobe wall of the temple, which is nearly fifty feet high. It is slowly disintegrating, as might be expected. The wonder is that it should have stood so long in a rainy region without any roof or protecting cover. It is incredible that for at least five hundred years a wall of sun-dried clay should have been able to defy severe rainstorms. The lintels, made of hard-wood timbers and partially embedded in the wall, are all gone; yet the adobe remains. It would be very interesting to find out whether the water of the springs near the temple contains lime. If so this might have furnished natural calcareous cement in sufficient quantity to give the clay a particularly tenacious quality, able to resist weathering. The factors which have caused this extraordinary adobe wall to withstand the weather in such an exposed position for so many centuries, notwithstanding the heavy rains of each summer season from December to March, are worthy of further study. It has been claimed that this temple was devoted to the worship of Viracocha, a great deity, the Jove or Zeus of the ancient pantheon. It seems to me more reasonable to suppose that a primitive folk constructed here a temple to the presiding divinity of the place, the god who gave them this precious clay. The principal industry of the neighboring village is still the manufacture of pottery. No better clay for ceramic purposes has been found in the Andes. It would have been perfectly natural for the prehistoric potters to have desired to placate the presiding divinity, not so much perhaps out of gratitude for the clay as to avert his displeasure and fend off bad luck in baking pottery. It is well known that the best pottery of the Incas was extremely fine in texture. Students of ceramics are well aware of the uncertainty of the results of baking clay. Bad luck seems to come most unaccountably, even when the greatest pains are taken. Might it not have been possible that the people who were most concerned with creating pottery decided to erect this temple to insure success and get as much good luck as possible? Near the ancient temple is a small modern church with two towers. The churchyard appears to be a favorite place for baking pottery. Possibly the modern potters use the church to pray for success in their baking, just as the ancient potters used the great temple of Viracocha. The walls of the church are composed partly of adobe and partly of cut stones taken from the ruins. Not far away is a fairly recent though prehistoric lava flow. It occurs to me that possibly this flow destroyed some of the clay beds from which the ancient potters got their precious material. The temple may have been erected as a propitiatory offering to the god of volcanoes in the hope that the anger which had caused him to send the lava flow might be appeased. It may be that the Inca Viracocha, an unusually gifted ruler, was particularly interested in ceramics and was responsible for building the temple. If so, it would be natural for people who are devoted to ancestor worship to have here worshiped his memory. ------ FIGURE Route Map of the Peruvian Expedition of 1912 ------ CHAPTER VII The Valley of the Huatanay The valley of the Huatanay is one of many valleys tributary to the Urubamba. It differs from them in having more arable land located under climatic conditions favorable for the raising of the food crops of the ancient Peruvians. Containing an area estimated at less than 160 square miles, it was the heart of the greatest empire that South America has ever seen. It is still intensively cultivated, the home of a large percentage of the people of this part of Peru. The Huatanay itself sometimes meanders through the valley in a natural manner, but at other times is seen to be confined within carefully built stone walls constructed by prehistoric agriculturists anxious to save their fields from floods and erosion. The climate is temperate. Extreme cold is unknown. Water freezes in the lowlands during the dry winter season, in June and July, and frost may occur any night in the year above 13,000 feet, but in general the climate may be said to be neither warm nor cold. This rich valley was apportioned by the Spanish conquerors to soldiers who were granted large estates as well as the labor of the Indians living on them. This method still prevails and one may occasionally meet on the road wealthy landholders on their way to and from town. Although mules are essentially the most reliable saddle animals for work in the Andes, these landholders usually prefer horses, which are larger and faster, as well as being more gentle and better gaited. The gentry of the Huatanay Valley prefer a deep-seated saddle, over which is laid a heavy sheepskin or thick fur mat. The fashionable stirrups are pyramidal in shape, made of wood decorated with silver bands. Owing to the steepness of the roads, a crupper is considered necessary and is usually decorated with a broad, embossed panel, from which hang little trappings reminiscent of medieval harness. The bridle is usually made of carefully braided leather, decorated with silver and frequently furnished with an embossed leather eye shade or blinder, to indicate that the horse is high-spirited. This eye shade, which may be pulled down so as to blind both eyes completely, is more useful than a hitching post in persuading the horse to stand still. The valley of the Huatanay River is divided into three parts, the basins of Lucre, Oropesa, and Cuzco. The basaltic cliffs near Oropesa divide the Lucre Basin from the Oropesa Basin. The pass at Angostura, or "the narrows," is the natural gateway between the Oropesa Basin and the Cuzco Basin. Each basin contains interesting ruins. In the Lucre Basin the most interesting are those of Rumiccolca and Piquillacta. At the extreme eastern end of the valley, on top of the pass which leads to the Vilcanota is an ancient gateway called Rumiccolca (Rumi = "stone"; ccolca = "granary"). It is commonly supposed that this was an Inca fortress, intended to separate the chiefs of Cuzco from those of Vilcanota. It is now locally referred to as a "fortaleza." The major part of the wall is well built of rough stones, laid in clay, while the sides of the gateway are faced with carefully cut andesite ashlars of an entirely different style. It is conceivable that some great chieftain built the rough wall in the days when the highlands were split up among many little independent rulers, and that later one of the Incas, no longer needing any fortifications between the Huatanay Valley and the Vilcanota Valley, tore down part of the wall and built a fine gateway. The faces of the ashlars are nicely finished except for several rough bosses or nubbins. They were probably used by the ancient masons in order to secure a better hold when finally adjusting the ashlars with small crowbars. It may have been the intention of the stone masons to remove these nubbins after the wall was completed. In one of the unfinished structures at Machu Picchu I noticed similar bosses. The name "Stone-granary" was probably originally applied to a neighboring edifice now in ruins. On the rocky hillside above Rumiccolca are the ruins of many ancient terraces and some buildings. Not far from Rumiccolca, on the slopes of Mt. Piquillacta, are the ruins of an extensive city, also called Piquillacta. A large number of its houses have extraordinarily high walls. A high wall outside the city, and running north and south, was obviously built to protect it from enemies approaching from the Vilcanota Valley. In the other directions the slopes are so steep as to render a wall unnecessary. The walls are built of fragments of lava rock, with which the slopes of Mt. Piquillacta are covered. Cacti and thorny scrub are growing in the ruins, but the volcanic soil is rich enough to attract the attention of agriculturists, who come here from neighboring villages to cultivate their crops. The slopes above the city are still extensively cultivated, but without terraces. Wheat and barley are the principal crops. As an illustration of the difficulty of identifying places in ancient Peru, it is worth noting that the gateway now called Rumiccolca is figured in Squier's "Peru" as "Piquillacta." On the other hand, the ruins of the large city, "covering thickly an area nearly a square mile," are called by Squier "the great Inca town of Muyna," a name also applied to the little lake which lies in the bottom of the Lucre Basin. As Squier came along the road from Racche he saw Mt. Piquillacta first, then the gateway, then Lake Muyna, then the ruins of the city. In each case the name of the most conspicuous, harmless, natural phenomenon seems to have been applied to ruins by those of whom he inquired. My own experience was different. ------ FIGURE Lucre Basin, Lake Muyna, and the City Wall of Piquillacta ------ Dr. Aguilar, a distinguished professor in the University of Cuzco, who has a country place in the neighborhood and is very familiar with this region, brought me to this ancient city from the other direction. From him I learned that the city ruins are called Piquillacta, the name which is also applied to the mountain which lies to the eastward of the ruins and rises 1200 feet above them. Dr. Aguilar lives near Oropesa. As one comes from Oropesa, Mt. Piquillacta is a conspicuous point and is directly in line with the city ruins. Consequently, it would be natural for people viewing it from this direction to give to the ruins the name of the mountain rather than that of the lake. Yet the mountain may be named for the ruins. Piqui means "flea"; llacta means "town, city, country, district, or territory." Was this "The Territory of the Fleas" or was it "Flea Town"? And what was its name in the days of the Incas? Was the old name abandoned because it was considered unlucky? Whatever the reason, it is a most extraordinary fact that we have here the evidences of a very large town, possibly pre-Inca, long since abandoned. There are scores of houses and numerous compounds laid out in regular fashion, the streets crossing each other at right angles, the whole covering an area considerably larger than the important town of Ollantaytambo. Not a soul lives here. It is true that across the Vilcanota to the east is a difficult, mountainous country culminating in Mt. Ausangate, the highest peak in the department. Yet Piquillacta is in the midst of a populous region. To the north lies the thickly settled valley of Pisac and Yucay; to the south, the important Vilcanota Valley with dozens of villages; to the west the densely populated valley of the Huatanay and Cuzco itself, the largest city in the highlands of Peru. Thousands of people live within a radius of twenty miles of Piquillacta, and the population is on the increase. It is perfectly easy of access and is less than a mile east of the railroad. Yet it is "abandonado--desierto--despoblado"! Undoubtedly here was once a large city of great importance. The reason for its being abandoned appears to be the absence of running water. Although Mt. Piquillacta is a large mass, nearly five miles long and two miles wide, rising to a point of 2000 feet above the Huatanay and Vilcanota rivers, it has no streams, brooks, or springs. It is an isolated, extinct volcano surrounded by igneous rocks, lavas, andesites, and basalts. How came it that so large a city as Piquillacta could have been built on the slopes of a mountain which has no running streams? Has the climate changed so much since those days? If so, how is it that the surrounding region is still the populous part of southern Peru? It is inconceivable that so large a city could have been built and occupied on a plateau four hundred feet above the nearest water unless there was some way of providing it other than the arduous one of bringing every drop up the hill on the backs of men and llamas. If there were no places near here better provided with water than this site, one could understand that perhaps its inhabitants were obliged to depend entirely upon water carriers. On the contrary, within a radius of six miles there are half a dozen unoccupied sites near running streams. Until further studies can be made of this puzzling problem I believe that the answer lies in the ruins of Rumiccolca, which are usually thought of as a fortress. Squier says that this "fortress" was "the southern limit of the dominions of the first Inca." "The fortress reaches from the mountain, on one side, to a high, rocky eminence on the other. It is popularly called 'El Aqueducto,' perhaps from some fancied resemblance to an aqueduct--but the name is evidently misapplied." Yet he admits that the cross-section of the wall, diminishing as it does "by graduations or steps on both sides," "might appear to conflict with the hypothesis of its being a work of defense or fortification" if it occupied "a different position." He noticed that "the top of the wall is throughout of the same level; becomes less in height as it approaches the hills on either hand and diminishes proportionately in thickness" as an aqueduct should do. Yet, so possessed was he by the "fortress" idea that he rejected not only local tradition as expressed in the native name, but even turned his back on the evidence of his own eyes. It seems to me that there is little doubt that instead of the ruins of Rumiccolca representing a fortification, we have here the remains of an ancient azequia, or aqueduct, built by some powerful chieftain to supply the people of Piquillacta with water. A study of the topography of the region shows that the river which rises southwest of the village of Lucre and furnishes water power for its modern textile mills could have been used to supply such an azequia. The water, collected at an elevation of 10,700 feet, could easily have been brought six miles along the southern slopes of the Lucre Basin, around Mt. Rumiccolca and across the old road, on this aqueduct, at an elevation of about 10,600 feet. This would have permitted it to flow through some of the streets of Piquillacta and give the ancient city an adequate supply of water. The slopes of Rumiccolca are marked by many ancient terraces. Their upper limit corresponds roughly with the contour along which such an azequia would have had to pass. There is, in fact, a distinct line on the hillside which looks as though an azequia had once passed that way. In the valley back of Lucre are also faint indications of old azequias. There has been, however, a considerable amount of erosion on the hills, and if, as seems likely, the water-works have been out of order for several centuries, it is not surprising that all traces of them have disappeared in places. I regret very much that circumstances over which I had no control prevented my making a thorough study of the possibilities of such a theory. It remains for some fortunate future investigator to determine who were the inhabitants of Piquillacta, how they secured their water supply, and why the city was abandoned. ------ FIGURE Sacsahuaman: Detail of Lower Terrace Wall ------ ------ FIGURE Ruins of the Aqueduct of Rumiccolca ------ Until then I suggest as a possible working hypothesis that we have at Piquillacta the remains of a pre-Inca city; that its chiefs and people cultivated the Lucre Basin and its tributaries; that as a community they were a separate political entity from the people of Cuzco; that the ruler of the Cuzco people, perhaps an Inca, finally became sufficiently powerful to conquer the people of the Lucre Basin, and removed the tribes which had occupied Piquillacta to a distant part of his domain, a system of colonization well known in the history of the Incas; that, after the people who had built and lived in Piquillacta departed, no subsequent dwellers in this region cared to reoccupy the site, and its aqueduct fell into decay. It is easy to believe that at first such a site would have been considered unlucky. Its houses, unfamiliar and unfashionable in design, would have been considered not desirable. Their high walls might have been used for a reconstructed city had there been plenty of water available. In any case, the ruins of the Lucre Basin offer a most fascinating problem. In the Oropesa Basin the most important ruins are those of Tipon, a pleasant, well-watered valley several hundred feet above the village of Quispicanchi. They include carefully constructed houses of characteristic Inca construction, containing many symmetrically arranged niches with stone lintels. The walls of most of the houses are of rough stones laid in clay. Tipon was probably the residence of the principal chief of the Oropesa Basin. It commands a pleasant view of the village and of the hills to the south, which to-day are covered with fields of wheat and barley. At Tipon there is a nicely constructed fountain of cut stone. Some of the terraces are extremely well built, with roughly squared blocks fitting tightly together. Access from one terrace to another was obtained by steps made each of a single bonder projecting from the face of the terrace. Few better constructed terrace walls are to be seen anywhere. The terraces are still cultivated by the people of Quispicanchi. No one lives at Tipon now, although little shepherd boys and goatherds frequent the neighborhood. It is more convenient for the agriculturists to live at the edge of their largest fields, which are in the valley bottom, than to climb five hundred feet into the narrow valley and occupy the old buildings. Motives of security no longer require a residence here rather than in the open plain. While I was examining the ruins and digging up a few attractive potsherds bearing Inca designs, Dr. Giesecke, the President of the University of Cuzco, who had accompanied me, climbed the mountain above Tipon with Dr. Aguilar and reported the presence of a fortification near its summit. My stay at Oropesa was rendered most comfortable and happy by the generous hospitality of Dr. Aguilar, whose finca is between Quispicanchi and Oropesa and commands a charming view of the valley. From the Oropesa Basin, one enters the Cuzco Basin through an opening in the sandstone cliffs of Angostura near the modern town of San Geronimo. On the slopes above the south bank of the Huatanay, just beyond Angostura, are the ruins of a score or more of gable-roofed houses of characteristic Inca construction. The ancient buildings have doors, windows, and niches in walls of small stones laid in clay, the lintels having been of wood, now decayed. When we asked the name of these ruins we were told that it was Saylla, although that is the name of a modern village three miles away, down the Huatanay, in the Oropesa Basin. Like Piquillacta, old Saylla has no water supply at present. It is not far from a stream called the Kkaira and could easily have been supplied with water by an azequia less than two miles in length brought along the 11,000 feet contour. It looks very much like the case of a village originally placed on the hills for the sake of comparative security and isolation and later abandoned through a desire to enjoy the advantages of living near the great highway in the bottom of the valley, after the Incas had established peace over the highlands. There may be another explanation. It appears from Mr. Cook's studies that the deforestation of the Cuzco Basin by the hand of man, and modern methods of tillage on unterraced slopes, have caused an unusual amount of erosion to occur. Landslides are frequent in the rainy season. Opposite Saylla is Mt. Picol, whose twin peaks are the most conspicuous feature on the north side of the basin. Waste material from its slopes is causing the rapid growth of a great gravel fan north of the village of San Geronimo. Professor Gregory noticed that the streams traversing the fan are even now engaged in burying ancient fields by "transporting gravel from the head of the fan to its lower margin," and that the lower end of the Cuzco Basin, where the Huatanay, hemmed in between the Angostura Narrows, cannot carry away the sediment as fast as it is brought down by its tributaries, is being choked up. If old Saylla represents a fortress set here to defend Cuzco against old Oropesa, it might very naturally have been abandoned when the rule of the Incas finally spread far over the Andes. On the other hand, it seems more likely that the people who built Saylla were farmers and that when the lower Cuzco Basin was filled up by aggradation, due to increased erosion, they abandoned this site for one nearer the arable lands. One may imagine the dismay with which the agricultural residents of these ancient houses saw their beautiful fields at the bottom of the hill, covered in a few days, or even hours, by enormous quantities of coarse gravel brought down from the steep slopes of Picol after some driving rainstorm. It may have been some such catastrophe that led them to take up their residence elsewhere. As a matter of fact we do not know when it was abandoned. Further investigation might point to its having been deserted when the Spanish village of San Geronimo was founded. However, I believe students of agriculture will agree with me that deforestation, increased erosion, and aggrading gravel banks probably drove the folk out of Saylla. The southern rim of the Cuzco Basin is broken by no very striking peaks, although Huanacaurai (13,427 ft.), the highest point, is connected in Inca tradition with some of the principal festivals and religious celebrations. The north side of the Huatanay Valley is much more irregular, ranging from Ttica Ttica pass (12,000 ft.) to Mt. Pachatucsa (15,915 ft.), whose five little peaks are frequently snow-clad. There is no permanent snow either here or elsewhere in the Huatanay Valley. The people of the Cuzco Basin are very short of fuel. There is no native coal. What the railroad uses comes from Australia. Firewood is scarce. The ancient forests disappeared long ago. The only trees in sight are a few willows or poplars from Europe and one or two groves of eucalyptus, also from Australia. Cuzco has been thought of and written of as being above the tree line, but such is not the case. The absence of trees on the neighboring hills is due entirely to the hand of man, the long occupation, the necessities of early agriculturists, who cleared the forests before the days of intensive terrace agriculture, and the firewood requirements of a large population. The people of Cuzco do not dream of having enough fuel to make their houses warm and comfortable. Only with difficulty can they get enough for cooking purposes. They depend largely on fagots and straw which are brought into town on the backs of men and animals. In the fields of stubble left from the wheat and barley harvest we saw many sheep feeding. They were thin and long-legged and many of the rams had four horns, apparently due to centuries of inbreeding and the failure to improve the original stock by the introduction of new and superior strains. When one looks at the great amount of arable slopes on most of the hills of the Cuzco Basin and the unusually extensive flat land near the Huatanay, one readily understands why the heart of Inca Land witnessed a concentration of population very unusual in the Andes. Most of the important ruins are in the northwest quadrant of the basin either in the immediate vicinity of Cuzco itself or on the "pampas" north of the city. The reason is that the arable lands where most extensive potato cultivation could be carried out are nearly all in this quadrant. In the midst of this potato country, at the foot of the pass that leads directly to Pisac and Paucartambo, is a picturesque ruin which bears the native name of Pucará. Pucará is the Quichua word for fortress and it needs but one glance at the little hilltop crowned with a rectangular fortification to realize that the term is justified. The walls are beautifully made of irregular blocks closely fitted together. Advantage was taken of small cliffs on two sides of the hill to strengthen the fortifications. We noticed openings or drains which had been cut in the wall by the original builders in order to prevent the accumulation of moisture on the terraced floor of the enclosed area, which is several feet above that of the sloping field outside. Similar conduits may be seen in many of the old walls in the city of Cuzco. Apparently, the ancient folk fully appreciated the importance of good drainage and took pains to secure it. At present Pucará is occupied by llama herdsmen and drovers, who find the enclosure a very convenient corral. Probably Pucará was built by the chief of a tribe of prehistoric herdsmen who raised root crops and kept their flocks of llamas and alpacas on the neighboring grassy slopes. A short distance up the stream of the Lkalla Chaca, above Pucará, is a warm mineral spring. Around it is a fountain of cut stone. Near by are the ruins of a beautiful terrace, on top of which is a fine wall containing four large, ceremonial niches, level with the ground and about six feet high. The place is now called Tampu Machai. Polo de Ondegardo, who lived in Cuzco in 1560, while many of the royal family of the Incas were still alive, gives a list of the sacred or holy places which were venerated by all the Indians in those days. Among these he mentions that of Timpucpuquio, the "hot springs" near Tambo Machai, "called so from the manner in which the water boils up." The next huaca, or holy place, he mentions is Tambo Machai itself, "a house of the Inca Yupanqui, where he was entertained when he went to be married. It was placed on a hill near the road over the Andes. They sacrifice everything here except children." The stonework of the ruins here is so excellent in character, the ashlars being very carefully fitted together, one may fairly assume a religious origin for the place. The Quichua word macchini means "to wash" or "to rinse a large narrow-mouthed pitcher." It may be that at Tampu Machai ceremonial purification of utensils devoted to royal or priestly uses was carried on. It is possible that this is the place where, according to Molina, all the youths of Cuzco who had been armed as knights in the great November festival came on the 21st day of the month to bathe and change their clothes. Afterwards they returned to the city to be lectured by their relatives. "Each relation that offered a sacrifice flogged a youth and delivered a discourse to him, exhorting him to be valiant and never to be a traitor to the Sun and the Inca, but to imitate the bravery and prowess of his ancestors." Tampu Machai is located on a little bluff above the Lkalla Chaca, a small stream which finally joins the Huatanay near the town of San Sebastian. Before it reaches the Huatanay, the Lkalla Chaca joins the Cachimayo, famous as being so highly impregnated with salt as to have caused the rise of extensive salt works. In fact, the Pizarros named the place Las Salinas, or "the Salt Pits," on account of the salt pans with which, by a careful system of terracing, the natives had filled the Cachimayo Valley. Prescott describes the great battle which took place here on April 26, 1539, between the forces of Pizarro and Almagro, the two leaders who had united for the original conquest of Peru, but quarreled over the division of the territory. Near the salt pans are many Inca walls and the ruins of structures, with niches, called Rumihuasi, or "Stone House." The presence of salt in many of the springs of the Huatanay Valley was a great source of annoyance to our topographic engineers, who were frequently obliged to camp in districts where the only water available was so saline as to spoil it for drinking purposes and ruin the tea. The Cuzco Basin was undoubtedly once the site of a lake, "an ancient water-body whose surface," says Professor Gregory, "lay well above the present site of San Sebastian and San Geronimo." This lake is believed to have reached its maximum expansion in early Pleistocene times. Its rich silts, so well adapted for raising maize, habas beans, and quinoa, have always attracted farmers and are still intensively cultivated. It has been named "Lake Morkill" in honor of that loyal friend of scientific research in Peru, William L. Morkill, Esq., without whose untiring aid we could never have brought our Peruvian explorations as far along as we did. In pre-glacial times Lake Morkill fluctuated in volume. From time to time parts of the shore were exposed long enough to enable plants to send their roots into the fine materials and the sun to bake and crack the muds. Mastodons grazed on its banks. "Lake Morkill probably existed during all or nearly all of the glacial epoch." Its drainage was finally accomplished by the Huatanay cutting down the sandstone hills, near Saylla, and developing the Angostura gorge. In the banks of the Huatanay, a short distance below the city of Cuzco, the stratified beds of the vanished Lake Morkill to-day contain many fossil shells. Above these are gravels brought down by the floods and landslides of more modern times, in which may be found potsherds and bones. One of the chief affluents of the Huatanay is the Chunchullumayo, which cuts off the southernmost third of Cuzco from the center of the city. Its banks are terraced and are still used for gardens and food crops. Here the hospitable Canadian missionaries have their pleasant station, a veritable oasis of Anglo-Saxon cleanliness. On a July morning in 1911, while strolling up the Ayahuaycco quebrada, an affluent of the Chunchullumayo, in company with Professor Foote and Surgeon Erving, my interest was aroused by the sight of several bones and potsherds exposed by recent erosion in the stratified gravel banks of the little gulch. Further examination showed that recent erosion had also cut through an ancient ash heap. On the side toward Cuzco I discovered a section of stone wall, built of roughly finished stones more or less carefully fitted together, which at first sight appeared to have been built to prevent further washing away of that side of the gulch. Yet above the wall and flush with its surface the bank appeared to consist of stratified gravel, indicating that the wall antedated the gravel deposits. Fifty feet farther up the quebrada another portion of wall appeared under the gravel bank. On top of the bank was a cultivated field! Half an hour's digging in the compact gravel showed that there was more wall underneath the field. Later investigation by Dr. Bowman showed that the wall was about three feet thick and nine feet in height, carefully faced on both sides with roughly cut stone and filled in with rubble, a type of stonework not uncommon in the foundations of some of the older buildings in the western part of the city of Cuzco. ------ FIGURE Huatanay Vallye, Cuzco, and the Ayahuaycco Quebrada ------ Even at first sight it was obvious that this wall, built by man, was completely covered to a depth of six or eight feet by a compact water-laid gravel bank. This was sufficiently difficult to understand, yet a few days later, while endeavoring to solve the puzzle, I found something even more exciting. Half a mile farther up the gulch, the road, newly cut, ran close to the compact, perpendicular gravel bank. About five feet above the road I saw what looked like one of the small rocks which are freely interspersed throughout the gravels here. Closer examination showed it to be the end of a human femur. Apparently it formed an integral part of the gravel bank, which rose almost perpendicularly for seventy or eighty feet above it. Impressed by the possibilities in case it should turn out to be true that here, in the heart of Inca Land, a human bone had been buried under seventy-five feet of gravel, I refrained from disturbing it until I could get Dr. Bowman and Professor Foote, the geologist and the naturalist of the 1911 Expedition, to come with me to the Ayahuaycco quebrada. We excavated the femur and found behind it fragments of a number of other bones. They were excessively fragile. The femur was unable to support more than four inches of its own weight and broke off after the gravel had been partly removed. Although the gravel itself was somewhat damp the bones were dry and powdery, ashy gray in color. The bones were carried to the Hotel Central, where they were carefully photographed, soaked in melted vaseline, packed in cotton batting, and eventually brought to New Haven. Here they were examined by Dr. George F. Eaton, Curator of Osteology in the Peabody Museum. In the meantime Dr. Bowman had become convinced that the compact gravels of Ayahuaycco were of glacial origin. When Dr. Eaton first examined the bone fragments he was surprised to find among them the bone of a horse. Unfortunately a careful examination of the photographs taken in Cuzco of all the fragments which were excavated by us on July 11th failed to reveal this particular bone. Dr. Bowman, upon being questioned, said that he had dug out one or two more bones in the cliff adjoining our excavation of July 11th and had added these to the original lot. Presumably this horse bone was one which he had added when the bones were packed. It did not worry him, however, and so sure was he of his interpretation of the gravel beds that he declared he did not care if we had found the bone of a Percheron stallion, he was sure that the age of the vertebrate remains might be "provisionally estimated at 20,000 to 40,000 years," until further studies could be made of the geology of the surrounding territory. In an article on the buried wall, Dr. Bowman came to the conclusion that "the wall is pre-Inca, that its relations to alluvial deposits which cover it indicate its erection before the alluvial slope in which it lies buried was formed, and that it represents the earliest type of architecture at present known in the Cuzco basin." Dr. Eaton's study of the bones brought out the fact that eight of them were fragments of human bones representing at least three individuals, four were fragments of llama bones, one of the bone of a dog, and three were "bovine remains." The human remains agreed "in all essential respects" with the bones of modern Quichuas. Llama and dog might all have belonged to Inca, or even more recent times, but the bovine remains presented considerable difficulty. The three fragments were from bones which "are among the least characteristic parts of the skeleton." That which was of greatest interest was the fragment of a first rib, resembling the first rib of the extinct bison. Since this fragmentary bovine rib was of a form apparently characteristic of bisons and not seen in the domestic cattle of the United States, Dr. Eaton felt that it could not be denied "that the material examined suggests the possibility that some species of bison is here represented, yet it would hardly be in accordance with conservative methods to differentiate bison from domestic cattle solely by characters obtained from a study of the first ribs of a small number of individuals." Although staunchly supporting his theory of the age of the vertebrate remains, Dr. Bowman in his report on their geological relations admitted that the weakness of his case lay in the fact that the bovine remains were not sharply differentiated from the bones of modern cattle, and also in the possibility that "the bluff in which the bones were found may be faced by younger gravel and that the bones were found in a gravel veneer deposited during later periods of partial valley filling, ... although it still seems very unlikely." Reports of glacial man in America have come from places as widely separated as California and Argentina. Careful investigation, however, has always thrown doubt on any great age being certainly attributable to any human remains. In view of the fragmentary character of the skeletal evidence, the fact that no proof of great antiquity could be drawn from the characters of the human skeletal parts, and the suggestion made by Dr. Bowman of the possibility that the gravels which contained the bones might be of a later origin than he thought, we determined to make further and more complete investigations in 1912. It was most desirable to clear up all doubts and dissolve all skepticism. I felt, perhaps mistakenly, that while a further study of the geology of the Cuzco Basin undoubtedly might lead Dr. Bowman to reverse his opinion, as was expected by some geologists, if it should lead him to confirm his original conclusions the same skeptics would be likely to continue their skepticism and say he was trying to bolster up his own previous opinions. Accordingly, I believed it preferable to take another geologist, whose independent testimony would give great weight to those conclusions should he find them confirmed by an exhaustive geological study of the Huatanay Valley. I asked Dr. Bowman's colleague, Professor Gregory, to make the necessary studies. At his request a very careful map of the Huatanay Valley was prepared under the direction of Chief Topographer Albert H. Bumstead. Dr. Eaton, who had had no opportunity of seeing Peru, was invited to accompany us and make a study of the bones of modern Peruvian cattle as well as of any other skeletal remains which might be found. Furthermore, it seemed important to me to dig a tunnel into the Ayahuaycco hillside at the exact point from which we took the bones in 1911. So I asked Mr. K. C. Heald, whose engineering training had been in Colorado, to superintend it. Mr. Heald dug a tunnel eleven feet long, with a cross-section four and a half by three feet, into the solid mass of gravel. He expected to have to use timbering, but so firmly packed was the gravel that this was not necessary. No bones or artifacts were found--nothing but coarse gravel, uniform in texture and containing no unmistakable evidences of stratification. Apparently the bones had been in a land slip on the edge of an older, compact gravel mass. In his studies of the Cuzco Basin Professor Gregory came to the conclusion that the Ayahuaycco gravel banks might have been repeatedly buried and reëxcavated many times during the past few centuries. He found evidence indicating periodic destruction and rebuilding of some gravel terraces, "even within the past one hundred years." Accordingly there was no longer any necessity to ascribe great antiquity to the bones or the wall which we found in the Ayahuaycco quebrada. Although the "Cuzco gravels are believed to have reached their greatest extent and thickness in late Pleistocene times," more recent deposits have, however, been superimposed on top and alongside of them. "Surface wash from the bordering slopes, controlled in amount and character by climatic changes, has probably been accumulating continuously since glacial times, and has greatly increased since human occupation began." "Geologic data do not require more than a few hundreds of years as the age of the human remains found in the Cuzco gravels." But how about the "bison"? Soon after his arrival in Cuzco, Dr. Eaton examined the first ribs of carcasses of beef animals offered for sale in the public markets. He immediately became convinced that the "bison" was a Peruvian domestic ox. "Under the life-conditions prevailing in this part of the Andes, and possibly in correlation with the increased action of the respiratory muscles in a rarefied air, domestic cattle occasionally develop first ribs, closely approaching the form observed in bison." Such was the sad end of the "bison" and the "Cuzco man," who at one time I thought might be forty thousand years old, and now believe to have been two hundred years old, perhaps. The word Ayahuaycco in Quichua means "the valley of dead bodies" or "dead man's gulch." There is a story that it was used as a burial place for plague victims in Cuzco, not more than three generations ago! CHAPTER VIII The Oldest City in South America Cuzco, the oldest city in South America, has changed completely since Squier's visit. In fact it has altered considerably since my own first impressions of it were published in "Across South America." To be sure, there are still the evidences of antiquity to be seen on every side; on the other hand there are corresponding evidences of advancement. Telephones, electric lights, street cars, and the "movies" have come to stay. The streets are cleaner. If the modern traveler finds fault with some of the conditions he encounters he must remember that many of the achievements of the people of ancient Cuzco are not yet duplicated in his own country nor have they ever been equaled in any other part of the world. And modern Cuzco is steadily progressing. The great square in front of the cathedral was completely metamorphosed by Prefect Nuñez in 1911; concrete walks and beds of bright flowers have replaced the market and the old cobblestone paving and made the plaza a favorite promenade of the citizens on pleasant evenings. The principal market-place now is the Plaza of San Francisco. It is crowded with booths of every description. Nearly all of the food-stuffs and utensils used by the Indians may be bought here. Frequently thronged with Indians, buying and selling, arguing and jabbering, it affords, particularly in the early morning, a never-ending source of entertainment to one who is fond of the picturesque and interested in strange manners and customs. The retail merchants of Cuzco follow the very old custom of congregating by classes. In one street are the dealers in hats; in another those who sell coca. The dressmakers and tailors are nearly all in one long arcade in a score or more of dark little shops. Their light seems to come entirely from the front door. The occupants are operators of American sewing-machines who not only make clothing to order, but always have on hand a large assortment of standard sizes and patterns. In another arcade are the shops of those who specialize in everything which appeals to the eye and the pocketbook of the arriero: richly decorated halters, which are intended to avert the Evil Eye from his best mules; leather knapsacks in which to carry his coca or other valuable articles; cloth cinches and leather bridles; rawhide lassos, with which he is more likely to make a diamond hitch than to rope a mule; flutes to while away the weary hours of his journey, and candles to be burned before his patron saint as he starts for some distant village; in a word, all the paraphernalia of his profession. ------ FIGURE Map of Peru and view of Cuzco From the "Speculum Orbis Terrarum," Antwerp, 1578. ------ In order to learn more about the picturesque Quichuas who throng the streets of Cuzco it was felt to be important to secure anthropometric measurements of a hundred Indians. Accordingly, Surgeon Nelson set up a laboratory in the Hotel Central. His subjects were the unwilling victims of friendly gendarmes who went out into the streets with orders to bring for examination only pure-blooded Quichuas. Most of the Indians showed no resentment and were in the end pleased and surprised to find themselves the recipients of a small silver coin as compensation for loss of time. One might have supposed that a large proportion of Dr. Nelson's subjects would have claimed Cuzco as their native place, but this was not the case. Actually fewer Indians came from the city itself than from relatively small towns like Anta, Huaracondo, and Maras. This may have been due to a number of causes. In the first place, the gendarmes may have preferred to arrest strangers from distant villages, who would submit more willingly. Secondly, the city folk were presumably more likely to be in their shops attending to their business or watching their wares in the plaza, an occupation which the gendarmes could not interrupt. On the other hand it is also probably true that the residents of Cuzco are of more mixed descent than those of remote villages, where even to-day one cannot find more than two or three individuals who speak Spanish. Furthermore, the attention of the gendarmes might have been drawn more easily to the quaintly caparisoned Indians temporarily in from the country, where city fashions do not prevail, than to those who through long residence in the city had learned to adopt a costume more in accordance with European notions. In 1870, according to Squier, seven eighths of the population of Cuzco were still pure Indian. Even to-day a large proportion of the individuals whom one sees in the streets appears to be of pure aboriginal ancestry. Of these we found that many are visitors from outlying villages. Cuzco is the Mecca of the most densely populated part of the Andes. Probably a large part of its citizens are of mixed Spanish and Quichua ancestry. The Spanish conquistadores did not bring European women with them. Nearly all took native wives. The Spanish race is composed of such an extraordinary mixture of peoples from Europe and northern Africa, Celts, Iberians, Romans, and Goths, as well as Carthaginians, Berbers, and Moors, that the Hispanic peoples have far less antipathy toward intermarriage with the American race than have the Anglo-Saxons and Teutons of northern Europe. Consequently, there has gone on for centuries intermarriage of Spaniards and Indians with results which are difficult to determine. Some writers have said there were once 200,000 people in Cuzco. With primitive methods of transportation it would be very difficult to feed so many. Furthermore, in 1559, there were, according to Montesinos, only 20,000 Indians in Cuzco. One of the charms of Cuzco is the juxtaposition of old and new. Street cars clanging over steel rails carry crowds of well-dressed Cuzceños past Inca walls to greet their friends at the railroad station. The driver is scarcely able by the most vigorous application of his brakes to prevent his mules from crashing into a compact herd of quiet, supercilious llamas sedately engaged in bringing small sacks of potatoes to the Cuzco market. The modern convent of La Merced is built of stones taken from ancient Inca structures. Fastened to ashlars which left the Inca stonemason's hands six or seven centuries ago, one sees a bill-board advertising Cuzco's largest moving-picture theater. On the 2d of July, 1915, the performance was for the benefit of the Belgian Red Cross! Gazing in awe at this sign were Indian boys from some remote Andean village where the custom is to wear ponchos with broad fringes, brightly colored, and knitted caps richly decorated with tasseled tops and elaborate ear-tabs, a costume whose design shows no trace of European influence. Side by side with these picturesque visitors was a barefooted Cuzco urchin clad in a striped jersey, cloth cap, coat, and pants of English pattern. One sees electric light wires fastened to the walls of houses built four hundred years ago by the Spanish conquerors, walls which themselves rest on massive stone foundations laid by Inca masons centuries before the conquest. In one place telephone wires intercept one's view of the beautiful stone facade of an old Jesuit Church, now part of the University of Cuzco. It is built of reddish basalt from the quarries of Huaccoto, near the twin peaks of Mt. Picol. Professor Gregory says that this Huaccoto basalt has a softness and uniformity of texture which renders it peculiarly suitable for that elaborately carved stonework which was so greatly desired by ecclesiastical architects of the sixteenth century. As compared with the dense diorite which was extensively used by the Incas, the basalt weathers far more rapidly. The rich red color of the weathered portions gives to the Jesuit Church an atmosphere of extreme age. The courtyard of the University, whose arcades echoed to the feet of learned Jesuit teachers long before Yale was founded, has recently been paved with concrete, transformed into a tennis court, and now echoes to the shouts of students to whom Dr. Giesecke, the successful president, is teaching the truth of the ancient axiom, "Mens sana in corpore sano." Modern Cuzco is a city of about 20,000 people. Although it is the political capital of the most important department in southern Peru, it had in 1911 only one hospital--a semi-public, non-sectarian organization on the west of the city, next door to the largest cemetery. In fact, so far away is it from everything else and so close to the cemetery that the funeral wreaths and the more prominent monuments are almost the only interesting things which the patients have to look at. The building has large courtyards and open colonnades, which would afford ideal conditions for patients able to take advantage of open-air treatment. At the time of Surgeon Erving's visit he found the patients were all kept in wards whose windows were small and practically always closed and shuttered, so that the atmosphere was close and the light insufficient. One could hardly imagine a stronger contrast than exists between such wards and those to which we are accustomed in the United States, where the maximum of sunlight and fresh air is sought and patients are encouraged to sit out-of-doors, and even have their cots on porches. There was no resident physician. The utmost care was taken throughout the hospital to have everything as dark as possible, thus conforming to the ancient mountain traditions regarding the evil effects of sunlight and fresh air. Needless to say, the hospital has a high mortality and a very poor local reputation; yet it is the only hospital in the Department. Outside of Cuzco, in all the towns we visited, there was no provision for caring for the sick except in their own homes. In the larger places there are shops where some of the more common drugs may be obtained, but in the great majority of towns and villages no modern medicines can be purchased. No wonder President Giesecke, of the University, is urging his students to play football and tennis. ------ FIGURE Towers of Jesuit Church With Cloisters and Tennis Court of University, Cuzco ------ On the slopes of the hill which overshadows the University are the interesting terraces of Colcampata. Here, in 1571, lived Carlos Inca, a cousin of Inca Titu Cusi, one of the native rulers who succeeded in maintaining a precarious existence in the wilds of the Cordillera Uilcapampa after the Spanish Conquest. In the gardens of Colcampata is still preserved one of the most exquisite bits of Inca stonework to be seen in Peru. One wonders whether it is all that is left of a fine palace, or whether it represents the last efforts of a dying dynasty to erect a suitable residence for Titu Cusi's cousin. It is carefully preserved by Don Cesare Lomellini, the leading business man of Cuzco, a merchant prince of Italian origin, who is at once a banker, an exporter of hides and other country produce, and an importer of merchandise of every description, including pencils and sugar mills, lumber and hats, candy and hardware. He is also an amateur of Spanish colonial furniture as well as of the beautiful pottery of the Incas. Furthermore, he has always found time to turn aside from the pressing cares of his large business to assist our expeditions. He has frequently brought us in touch with the owners of country estates, or given us letters of introduction, so that our paths were made easy. He has provided us with storerooms for our equipment, assisted us in procuring trustworthy muleteers, seen to it that we were not swindled in local purchases of mules and pack saddles, given us invaluable advice in overcoming difficulties, and, in a word, placed himself wholly at our disposal, just as though we were his most desirable and best-paying clients. As a matter of fact, he never was willing to receive any compensation for the many favors he showed us. So important a factor was he in the success of our expeditions that he deserves to be gratefully remembered by all friends of exploration. Above his country house at Colcampata is the hill of Sacsahuaman. It is possible to scramble up its face, but only by making more exertion than is desirable at this altitude, 11,900 feet. The easiest way to reach the famous "fortress" is by following the course of the little Tullumayu, "Feeble Stream," the easternmost of the three canalized streams which divide Cuzco into four parts. On its banks one first passes a tannery and then, a short distance up a steep gorge, the remains of an old mill. The stone flume and the adjoining ruins are commonly ascribed by the people of Cuzco to-day to the Incas, but do not look to me like Inca stonework. Since the Incas did not understand the mechanical principle of the wheel, it is hardly likely that they would have known how to make any use of water power. Finally, careful examination of the flume discloses the presence of lead cement, a substance unknown in Inca masonry. A little farther up the stream one passes through a massive megalithic gateway and finds one's self in the presence of the astounding gray-blue Cyclopean walls of Sacsahuaman, described in "Across South America." Here the ancient builders constructed three great terraces, which extend one above another for a third of a mile across the hill between two deep gulches. The lowest terrace of the "fortress" is faced with colossal boulders, many of which weigh ten tons and some weigh more than twenty tons, yet all are fitted together with the utmost precision. I have visited Sacsahuaman repeatedly. Each time it invariably overwhelms and astounds. To a superstitious Indian who sees these walls for the first time, they must seem to have been built by gods. About a mile northeast of Sacsahuaman are several small artificial hills, partly covered with vegetation, which seem to be composed entirely of gray-blue rock chips--chips from the great limestone blocks quarried here for the "fortress" and later conveyed with the utmost pains down to Sacsahuaman. They represent the labor of countless thousands of quarrymen. Even in modern times, with steam drills, explosives, steel tools, and light railways, these hills would be noteworthy, but when one pauses to consider that none of these mechanical devices were known to the ancient stonemasons and that these mountains of stone chips were made with stone tools and were all carried from the quarries by hand, it fairly staggers the imagination. The ruins of Sacsahuaman represent not only an incredible amount of human labor, but also a very remarkable governmental organization. That thousands of people could have been spared from agricultural pursuits for so long a time as was necessary to extract the blocks from the quarries, hew them to the required shapes, transport them several miles over rough country, and bond them together in such an intricate manner, means that the leaders had the brains and ability to organize and arrange the affairs of a very large population. Such a folk could hardly have spent much time in drilling or preparing for warfare. Their building operations required infinite pains, endless time, and devoted skill. Such qualities could hardly have been called forth, even by powerful monarchs, had not the results been pleasing to the great majority of their people, people who were primarily agriculturists. They had learned to avert hunger and famine by relying on carefully built, stone-faced terraces, which would prevent their fields being carried off and spread over the plains of the Amazon. It seems to me possible that Sacsahuaman was built in accordance with their desires to please their gods. Is it not reasonable to suppose that a people to whom stone-faced terraces meant so much in the way of life-giving food should have sometimes built massive terraces of Cyclopean character, like Sacsahuaman, as an offering to the deity who first taught them terrace construction? This seems to me a more likely object for the gigantic labor involved in the construction of Sacsahuaman than its possible usefulness as a fortress. Equally strong defenses against an enemy attempting to attack the hilltop back of Cuzco might have been constructed of smaller stones in an infinitely shorter time, with far less labor and pains. Such a display of the power to control the labor of thousands of individuals and force them to superhuman efforts on an unproductive undertaking, which in its agricultural or strategic results was out of all proportion to the obvious cost, might have been caused by the supreme vanity of a great soldier. On the other hand, the ancient Peruvians were religious rather than warlike, more inclined to worship the sun than to fight great battles. Was Sacsahuaman due to the desire to please, at whatever cost, the god that fructified the crops which grew on terraces? It is not surprising that the Spanish conquerors, warriors themselves and descendants of twenty generations of a fighting race, accustomed as they were to the salients of European fortresses, should have looked upon Sacsahuaman as a fortress. To them the military use of its bastions was perfectly obvious. The value of its salients and reëntrant angles was not likely to be overlooked, for it had been only recently acquired by their crusading ancestors. The height and strength of its powerful walls enabled it to be of the greatest service to the soldiers of that day. They saw that it was virtually impregnable for any artillery with which they were familiar. In fact, in the wars of the Incas and those which followed Pizarro's entry into Cuzco, Sacsahuaman was repeatedly used as a fortress. So it probably never occurred to the Spaniards that the Peruvians, who knew nothing of explosive powder or the use of artillery, did not construct Sacsahuaman in order to withstand such a siege as the fortresses of Europe were only too familiar with. So natural did it seem to the first Europeans who saw it to regard it as a fortress that it has seldom been thought of in any other way. The fact that the sacred city of Cuzco was more likely to be attacked by invaders coming up the valley, or even over the gentle slopes from the west, or through the pass from the north which for centuries has been used as part of the main highway of the central Andes, never seems to have troubled writers who regarded Sacsahuaman essentially as a fortress. It may be that Sacsahuaman was once used as a place where the votaries of the sun gathered at the end of the rainy season to celebrate the vernal equinox, and at the summer solstice to pray for the sun's return from his "farthest north." In any case I believe that the enormous cost of its construction shows that it was probably intended for religious rather than military purposes. It is more likely to have been an ancient shrine than a mighty fortress. It now becomes necessary, in order to explain my explorations north of Cuzco, to ask the reader's attention to a brief account of the last four Incas who ruled over any part of Peru. CHAPTER IX The Last Four Incas Readers of Prescott's charming classic, "The Conquest of Peru," will remember that Pizarro, after killing Atahualpa, the Inca who had tried in vain to avoid his fate by filling a room with vessels of gold, decided to establish a native prince on the throne of the Incas to rule in accordance with the dictates of Spain. The young prince, Manco, a son of the great Inca Huayna Capac, named for the first Inca, Manco Ccapac, the founder of the dynasty, was selected as the most acceptable figurehead. He was a young man of ability and spirit. His induction into office in 1534 with appropriate ceremonies, the barbaric splendor of which only made the farce the more pitiful, did little to gratify his natural ambition. As might have been foreseen, he chafed under restraint, escaped as soon as possible from his attentive guardians, and raised an army of faithful Quichuas. There followed the siege of Cuzco, briefly characterized by Don Alonzo Enriques de Guzman, who took part in it, as "the most fearful and cruel war in the world." When in 1536 Cuzco was relieved by Pizarro's comrade, Almagro, and Manco's last chance of regaining the ancient capital of his ancestors failed, the Inca retreated to Ollantaytambo. Here, on the banks of the river Urubamba, Manco made a determined stand, but Ollantaytambo was too easily reached by Pizarro's mounted cavaliers. The Inca's followers, although aroused to their utmost endeavors by the presence of the magnificent stone edifices, fortresses, granaries, palaces, and hanging gardens of their ancestors, found it necessary to retreat. They fled in a northerly direction and made good their escape over snowy passes to Uiticos in the fastnesses of Uilcapampa, a veritable American Switzerland. ------ FIGURE Glaciers Between Cuzco and Uiticos ------ The Spaniards who attempted to follow Manco found his position practically impregnable. The citadel of Uilcapampa, a gigantic natural fortress defended by Nature in one of her profoundest moods, was only to be reached by fording dangerous torrents, or crossing the mountains by narrow defiles which themselves are higher than the most lofty peaks of Europe. It was hazardous for Hannibal and Napoleon to bring their armies through the comparatively low passes of the Alps. Pizarro found it impossible to follow the Inca Manco over the Pass of Panticalla, itself a snowy wilderness higher than the summit of Mont Blanc. In no part of the Peruvian Andes are there so many beautiful snowy peaks. Near by is the sharp, icy pinnacle of Mt. Veronica (elevation 19,342 ft.). Not far away is another magnificent snow-capped peak, Mt. Salcantay, 20,565 feet above the sea. Near Salcantay is the sharp needle of Mt. Soray (19,435 ft.), while to the west of it are Panta (18,590 ft.) and Soiroccocha (18,197 ft.). On the shoulders of these mountains are unnamed glaciers and little valleys that have scarcely ever been seen except by some hardy prospector or inquisitive explorer. These valleys are to be reached only through passes where the traveler is likely to be waylaid by violent storms of hail and snow. During the rainy season a large part of Uilcapampa is absolutely impenetrable. Even in the dry season the difficulties of transportation are very great. The most sure-footed mule is sometimes unable to use the trails without assistance from man. It was an ideal place for the Inca Manco. The conquistador, Cieza de Leon, who wrote in 1550 a graphic account of the wars of Peru, says that Manco took with him a "great quantity of treasure, collected from various parts ... and many loads of rich clothing of wool, delicate in texture and very beautiful and showy." The Spaniards were absolutely unable to conceive of the ruler of a country traveling without rich "treasure." It is extremely doubtful whether Manco burdened himself with much gold or silver. Except for ornament there was little use to which he could have put the precious metals and they would have served only to arouse the cupidity of his enemies. His people had never been paid in gold or silver. Their labor was his due, and only such part of it as was needed to raise their own crops and make their own clothing was allotted to them; in fact, their lives were in his hands and the custom and usage of centuries made them faithful followers of their great chief. That Manco, however, actually did carry off with him beautiful textiles, and anything else which was useful, may be taken for granted. In Uiticos, safe from the armed forces of his enemies, the Inca was also able to enjoy the benefits of a delightful climate, and was in a well-watered region where corn, potatoes, both white and sweet, and the fruits of the temperate and sub-tropical regions easily grow. Using this as a base, he was accustomed to sally forth against the Spaniards frequently and in unexpected directions. His raids were usually successful. It was relatively easy for him, with a handful of followers, to dash out of the mountain fastnesses, cross the Apurimac River either by swimming or on primitive rafts, and reach the great road between Cuzco and Lima, the principal highway of Peru. Officials and merchants whose business led them over this route found it extremely precarious. Manco cheered his followers by making them realize that in these raids they were taking sweet revenge on the Spaniards for what they had done to Peru. It is interesting to note that Cieza de Leon justifies Manco in his attitude, for the Spaniards had indeed "seized his inheritance, forcing him to leave his native land, and to live in banishment." Manco's success in securing such a place of refuge, and in using it as a base from which he could frequently annoy his enemies, led many of the Orejones of Cuzco to follow him. The Inca chiefs were called Orejones, "big ears," by the Spaniards because the lobes of their ears had been enlarged artificially to receive the great gold earrings which they were fond of wearing. Three years after Manco's retirement to the wilds of Uilcapampa there was born in Cuzco in the year 1539, Garcilasso Inca de la Vega, the son of an Inca princess and one of the conquistadores. As a small child Garcilasso heard of the activities of his royal relative. He left Peru as a boy and spent the rest of his life in Spain. After forty years in Europe he wrote, partly from memory, his "Royal Commentaries," an account of the country of his Indian ancestors. Of the Inca Manco, of whom he must frequently have heard uncomplimentary reports as a child, he speaks apologetically. He says: "In the time of Manco Inca, several robberies were committed on the road by his subjects; but still they had that respect for the Spanish Merchants that they let them go free and never pillaged them of their wares and merchandise, which were in no manner useful to them; howsoever they robbed the Indians of their cattle [llamas and alpacas], bred in the countrey .... The Inca lived in the Mountains, which afforded no tame Cattel; and only produced Tigers and Lions and Serpents of twenty-five and thirty feet long, with other venomous insects." (I am quoting from Sir Paul Rycaut's translation, published in London in 1688.) Garcilasso says Manco's soldiers took only "such food as they found in the hands of the Indians; which the Inca did usually call his own," saying, "That he who was Master of that whole Empire might lawfully challenge such a proportion thereof as was convenient to supply his necessary and natural support"--a reasonable apology; and yet personally I doubt whether Manco spared the Spanish merchants and failed to pillage them of their "wares and merchandise." As will be seen later, we found in Manco's palace some metal articles of European origin which might very well have been taken by Manco's raiders. Furthermore, it should be remembered that Garcilasso, although often quoted by Prescott, left Peru when he was sixteen years old and that his ideas were largely colored by his long life in Spain and his natural desire to extol the virtues of his mother's people, a brown race despised by the white Europeans for whom he wrote. The methods of warfare and the weapons used by Manco and his followers at this time are thus described by Guzman. He says the Indians had no defensive arms such as helmets, shields, and armor, but used "lances, arrows, dubs, axes, halberds, darts, and slings, and another weapon which they call ayllas (the bolas), consisting of three round stones sewn up in leather, and each fastened to a cord a cubit long. They throw these at the horses, and thus bind their legs together; and sometimes they will fasten a man's arms to his sides in the same way. These Indians are so expert in the use of this weapon that they will bring down a deer with it in the chase. Their principal weapon, however, is the sling .... With it, they will hurl a huge stone with such force that it will kill a horse; in truth, the effect is little less great than that of an arquebus; and I have seen a stone, thus hurled from a sling, break a sword in two pieces which was held in a man's hand at a distance of thirty paces." Manco's raids finally became so annoying that Pizarro sent a small force from Cuzco under Captain Villadiego to attack the Inca. Captain Villadiego found it impossible to use horses, although he realized that cavalry was the "important arm against these Indians." Confident in his strength and in the efficacy of his firearms, and anxious to enjoy the spoils of a successful raid against a chief reported to be traveling surrounded by his family "and with rich treasure," he pressed eagerly on, up through a lofty valley toward a defile in the mountains, probably the Pass of Panticalla. Here, fatigued and exhausted by their difficult march and suffering from the effects of the altitude (16,000 ft.), his men found themselves ambushed by the Inca, who with a small party, "little more than eighty Indians," "attacked the Christians, who numbered twenty-eight or thirty, and killed Captain Villadiego and all his men except two or three." To any one who has clambered over the passes of the Cordillera Uilcapampa it is not surprising that this military expedition was a failure or that the Inca, warned by keen-sighted Indians posted on appropriate vantage points, could have succeeded in defeating a small force of weary soldiers armed with the heavy blunderbuss of the seventeenth century. In a rocky pass, protected by huge boulders, and surrounded by quantities of natural ammunition for their slings, it must have been relatively simple for eighty Quichuas, who could "hurl a huge stone with such force that it would kill a horse," to have literally stoned to death Captain Villadiego's little company before they could have prepared their clumsy weapons for firing. ------ FIGURE The Urubamba Canyon A reason for the safety of the Incas in Uilcapampa. ------ The fugitives returned to Cuzco and reported their misfortune. The importance of the reverse will be better appreciated if one remembers that the size of the force with which Pizarro conquered Peru was less than two hundred, only a few times larger than Captain Villadiego's company which had been wiped out by Manco. Its significance is further increased by the fact that the contemporary Spanish writers, with all their tendency to exaggerate, placed Manco's force at only "a little more than eighty Indians." Probably there were not even that many. The wonder is that the Inca's army was not reported as being several thousand. Francisco Pizarro himself now hastily set out with a body of soldiers determined to punish this young Inca who had inflicted such a blow on the prestige of Spanish arms, "but this attempt also failed," for the Inca had withdrawn across the rivers and mountains of Uilcapampa to Uiticos, where, according to Cieza de Leon, he cheered his followers with the sight of the heads of his enemies. Unfortunately for accuracy, the custom of displaying on the ends of pikes the heads of one's enemies was European and not Peruvian. To be sure, the savage Indians of some of the Amazonian jungles do sometimes decapitate their enemies, remove the bones of the skull, dry the shrunken scalp and face, and wear the trophy as a mark of prowess just as the North American Indians did the scalps of their enemies. Such customs had no place among the peace-loving Inca agriculturists of central Peru. There were no Spaniards living with Manco at that time to report any such outrage on the bodies of Captain Villadiego's unfortunate men. Probably the conquistadores supposed that Manco did what the Spaniards would have done under similar circumstances. Following the failure of Francisco Pizarro to penetrate to Uiticos, his brother, Gonzalo, "undertook the pursuit of the Inca and occupied some of his passes and bridges," but was unsuccessful in penetrating the mountain labyrinth. Being less foolhardy than Captain Villadiego, he did not come into actual conflict with Manco. Unable to subdue the young Inca or prevent his raids on travelers from Cuzco to Lima, Francisco Pizarro, "with the assent of the royal officers who were with him," established the city of Ayacucho at a convenient point on the road, so as to make it secure for travelers. Nevertheless, according to Montesinos, Manco caused the good people of Ayacucho quite a little trouble. Finally, Francisco Pizarro, "having taken one of Manco's wives prisoner with other Indians, stripped and flogged her, and then shot her to death with arrows." Accounts of what happened in Uiticos under the rule of Manco are not very satisfactory. Father Calancha, who published in 1639 his "Coronica Moralizada," or "pious account of the missionary activities of the Augustinians" in Peru, says that the Inca Manco was obeyed by all the Indians who lived in a region extending "for two hundred leagues and more toward the east and toward the south, where there were innumerable Indians in various provinces." With customary monastic zeal and proper religious fervor, Father Calancha accuses the Inca of compelling the baptized Indians who fled to him from the Spaniards to abandon their new faith, torturing those who would no longer worship the old Inca "idols." This story need not be taken too literally, although undoubtedly the escaped Indians acted as though they had never been baptized. Besides Indians fleeing from harsh masters, there came to Uilcapampa, in 1542, Gomez Perez, Diego Mendez, and half a dozen other Spanish fugitives, adherents of Almagro, "rascals," says Calancha, "worthy of Manco's favor." Obliged by the civil wars of the conquistadores to flee from the Pizarros, they were glad enough to find a welcome in Uiticos. To while away the time they played games and taught the Inca checkers and chess, as well as bowling-on-the-green and quoits. Montesinos says they also taught him to ride horseback and shoot an arquebus. They took their games very seriously and occasionally violent disputes arose, one of which, as we shall see, was to have fatal consequences. They were kept informed by Manco of what was going on in the viceroyalty. Although "encompassed within craggy and lofty mountains," the Inca was thoroughly cognizant of all those "revolutions" which might be of benefit to him. Perhaps the most exciting news that reached Uiticos in 1544 was in regard to the arrival of the first Spanish viceroy. He brought the New Laws, a result of the efforts of the good Bishop Las Casas to alleviate the sufferings of the Indians. The New Laws provided, among other things, that all the officers of the crown were to renounce their repartimientos or holdings of Indian serfs, and that compulsory personal service was to be entirely abolished. Repartimientos given to the conquerors were not to pass to their heirs, but were to revert to the king. In other words, the New Laws gave evidence that the Spanish crown wished to be kind to the Indians and did not approve of the Pizarros. This was good news for Manco and highly pleasing to the refugees. They persuaded the Inca to write a letter to the new viceroy, asking permission to appear before him and offer his services to the king. The Spanish refugees told the Inca that by this means he might some day recover his empire, "or at least the best part of it." Their object in persuading the Inca to send such a message to the viceroy becomes apparent when we learn that they "also wrote as from themselves desiring a pardon for what was past" and permission to return to Spanish dominions. Gomez Perez, who seems to have been the active leader of the little group, was selected to be the bearer of the letters from the Inca and the refugees. Attended by a dozen Indians whom the Inca instructed to act as his servants and bodyguard, he left Uilcapampa, presented his letters to the viceroy, and gave him "a large relation of the State and Condition of the Inca, and of his true and real designs to doe him service." "The Vice-king joyfully received the news, and granted a full and ample pardon of all crimes, as desired. And as to the Inca, he made many kind expressions of love and respect, truly considering that the Interest of the Inca might be advantageous to him, both in War and Peace. And with this satisfactory answer Gomez Perez returned both to the Inca and to his companions." The refugees were delighted with the news and got ready to return to king and country. Their departure from Uiticos was prevented by a tragic accident, thus described by Garcilasso. "The Inca, to humour the Spaniards and entertain himself with them, had given directions for making a bowling-green; where playing one day with Gomez Perez, he came to have some quarrel and difference with this Perez about the measure of a Cast, which often happened between them; for this Perez, being a person of a hot and fiery brain, without any judgment or understanding, would take the least occasion in the world to contend with and provoke the Inca .... Being no longer able to endure his rudeness, the Inca punched him on the breast, and bid him to consider with whom he talked. Perez, not considering in his heat and passion either his own safety or the safety of his Companions, lifted up his hand, and with the bowl struck the Inca so violently on the head, that he knocked him down. [He died three days later.] The Indians hereupon, being enraged by the death of their Prince, joined together against Gomez and the Spaniards, who fled into a house, and with their Swords in their hands defended the door; the Indians set fire to the house, which being too hot for them, they sallied out into the Marketplace, where the Indians assaulted them and shot them with their Arrows until they had killed every man of them; and then afterwards, out of mere rage and fury they designed either to eat them raw as their custome was, or to burn them and cast their ashes into the river, that no sign or appearance might remain of them; but at length, after some consultation, they agreed to cast their bodies into the open fields, to be devoured by vulters and birds of the air, which they supposed to be the highest indignity and dishonour that they could show to their Corps." Garcilasso concludes: "I informed myself very perfectly from those chiefs and nobles who were present and eye-witnesses of the unparalleled piece of madness of that rash and hair-brained fool; and heard them tell this story to my mother and parents with tears in their eyes." There are many versions of the tragedy. [4] They all agree that a Spaniard murdered the Inca. Thus, in 1545, the reign of an attractive and vigorous personality was brought to an abrupt close. Manco left three young sons, Sayri Tupac, Titu Cusi, and Tupac Amaru. Sayri Tupac, although he had not yet reached his majority, became Inca in his father's stead, and with the aid of regents reigned for ten years without disturbing his Spanish neighbors or being annoyed by them, unless the reference in Montesinos to a proposed burning of bridges near Abancay, under date of 1555, is correct. By a curious lapse Montesinos ascribes this attempt to the Inca Manco, who had been dead for ten years. In 1555 there came to Lima a new viceroy, who decided that it would be safer if young Sayri Tupac were within reach instead of living in the inaccessible wilds of Uilcapampa. The viceroy wisely undertook to accomplish this difficult matter through the Princess Beatrix Coya, an aunt of the Inca, who was living in Cuzco. She took kindly to the suggestion and dispatched to Uiticos a messenger, of the blood royal, attended by Indian servants. The journey was a dangerous one; bridges were down and the treacherous trails were well-nigh impassable. Sayri Tupac's regents permitted the messenger to enter Uilcapampa and deliver the viceroy's invitation, but were not inclined to believe that it was quite so attractive as appeared on the surface, even though brought to them by a kinsman. Accordingly, they kept the visitor as a hostage and sent a messenger of their own to Cuzco to see if any foul play could be discovered, and also to request that one John Sierra, a more trusted cousin, be sent to treat in this matter. All this took time. In 1558 the viceroy, becoming impatient, dispatched from Lima Friar Melchior and one John Betanzos, who had married the daughter of the unfortunate Inca Atahualpa and pretended to be very learned in his wife's language. Montesinos says he was a "great linguist." They started off quite confidently for Uiticos, taking with them several pieces of velvet and damask, and two cups of gilded silver as presents. Anxious to secure the honor of being the first to reach the Inca, they traveled as fast as they could to the Chuquichaca bridge, "the key to the valley of Uiticos." Here they were detained by the soldiers of the regents. A day or so later John Sierra, the Inca's cousin from Cuzco, arrived at the bridge and was allowed to proceed, while the friar and Betanzos were still detained. John Sierra was welcomed by the Inca and his nobles, and did his best to encourage Sayri Tupac to accept the viceroy's offer. Finally John Betanzos and the friar were also sent for and admitted to the presence of the Inca, with the presents which the viceroy had sent. Sayri Tupac's first idea was to remain free and independent as he had hitherto done, so he requested the ambassadors to depart immediately with their silver gilt cups. They were sent back by one of the western routes across the Apurimac. A few days later, however, after John Sierra had told him some interesting stories of life in Cuzco, the Inca decided to reconsider the matter. His regents had a long debate, observed the flying of birds and the nature of the weather, but according to Garcilasso "made no inquiries of the devil." The omens were favorable and the regents finally decided to allow the Inca to accept the invitation of the viceroy. Sayri Tupac, anxious to see something of the world, went directly to Lima, traveling in a litter made of rich materials, carried by relays chosen from the three hundred Indians who attended him. He was kindly received by the viceroy, and then went to Cuzco, where he lodged in his aunt's house. Here his relatives went to welcome him. "I, myself," says Garcilasso, "went in the name of my Father. I found him then playing a certain game used amongst the Indians .... I kissed his hands, and delivered my Message; he commanded me to sit down, and presently they brought two gilded cups of that Liquor, made of Mayz [chicha] which scarce contained four ounces of Drink; he took them both, and with his own Hand he gave one of them to me; he drank, and I pledged him, which as we have said, is the custom of Civility amongst them. This Ceremony being past, he asked me, Why I did not meet him at Uillcapampa. I answered him, 'Inca, as I am but a Youngman, the Governours make no account of me, to place me in such Ceremonies as these!' 'How,' replied the Inca, 'I would rather have seen you than all the Friers and Fathers in Town.' As I was going away I made him a submissive bow and reverence, after the manner of the Indians, who are of his Alliance and Kindred, at which he was so much pleased, that he embraced me heartily, and with much affection, as appeared by his Countenance." Sayri Tupac now received the sacred Red Fringe of Inca sovereignty, was married to a princess of the blood royal, joined her in baptism, and took up his abode in the beautiful valley of Yucay, a day's journey northeast of Cuzco, and never returned to Uiticos. His only daughter finally married a certain Captain Garcia, of whom more anon. Sayri Tupac died in 1560, leaving two brothers; the older, Titu Cusi Yupanqui, illegitimate, and the younger, Tupac Amaru, his rightful successor, an inexperienced youth. ------ FIGURE Yucay, Last Home of Sayri Tupac ------ The throne of Uiticos was seized by Titu Cusi. The new Inca seems to have been suspicious of the untimely death of Sayri Tupac, and to have felt that the Spaniards were capable of more foul play. So with his half-brother he stayed quietly in Uilcapampa. Their first visitor, so far as we know, was Diego Rodriguez de Figueroa, who wrote an interesting account of Uiticos and says he gave the Inca a pair of scissors. He was unsuccessful in his efforts to get Titu Cusi to go to Cuzco. In time there came an Augustinian missionary, Friar Marcos Garcia, who, six years after the death of Sayri Tupac, entered the rough country of Uilcapampa, "a land of moderate wealth, large rivers, and the usual rains," whose "forested mountains," says Father Calancha, "are magnificent." Friar Marcos had a hard journey. The bridges were down, the roads had been destroyed, and the passes blocked up. The few Indians who did occasionally appear in Cuzco from Uilcapampa said the friar could not get there "unless he should be able to change himself into a bird." However, with that courage and pertinacity which have marked so many missionary enterprises, Friar Marcos finally overcame all difficulties and reached Uiticos. The missionary chronicler says that Titu Cusi was far from glad to see him and received him angrily. It worried him to find that a Spaniard had succeeded in penetrating his retreat. Besides, the Inca was annoyed to have any one preach against his "idolatries." Titu Cusi's own story, as written down by Friar Marcos, does not agree with Calancha's. Anyhow, Friar Marcos built a little church in a place called Puquiura, where many of the Inca's people were then living. "He planted crosses in the fields and on the mountains, these being the best things to frighten off devils." He "suffered many insults at the hands of the chiefs and principal followers of the Inca. Some of them did it to please the Devil, others to flatter the Inca, and many because they disliked his sermons, in which he scolded them for their vices and abominated among his converts the possession of four or six wives. So they punished him in the matter of food, and forced him to send to Cuzco for victuals. The Convent sent him hard-tack, which was for him a most delicious banquet." Within a year or so another Augustinian missionary, Friar Diego Ortiz, left Cuzco alone for Uilcapampa. He suffered much on the road, but finally reached the retreat of the Inca and entered his presence in company with Friar Marcos. "Although the Inca was not too happy to see a new preacher, he was willing to grant him an entrance because the Inca ... thought Friar Diego would not vex him nor take the trouble to reprove him. So the Inca gave him a license. They selected the town of Huarancalla, which was populous and well located in the midst of a number of other little towns and villages. There was a distance of two or three days journey from one Convent to the other. Leaving Friar Marcos in Puquiura, Friar Diego went to his new establishment and in a short time built a church, a house for himself, and a hospital,--all poor buildings made in a short time." He also started a school for children, and became very popular as he went about healing and teaching. He had an easier time than Friar Marcos, who, with less tact and no skill as a physician, was located nearer the center of the Inca cult. The principal shrine of the Inca is described by Father Calancha as follows: "Close to Vitcos [or Uiticos] in a village called Chuquipalpa, is a House of the Sun, and in it a white rock over a spring of water where the Devil appears as a visible manifestation and was worshipped by those idolators. This was the principal mochadero of those forested mountains. The word 'mochadero' [5] is the common name which the Indians apply to their places of worship. In other words it is the only place where they practice the sacred ceremony of kissing. The origin of this, the principal part of their ceremonial, is that very practice which Job abominates when he solemnly clears himself of all offences before God and says to Him: 'Lord, all these punishments and even greater burdens would I have deserved had I done that which the blind Gentiles do when the sun rises resplendent or the moon shines clear and they exult in their hearts and extend their hands toward the sun and throw kisses to it,' an act of very grave iniquity which is equivalent to denying the true God." Thus does the ecclesiastical chronicler refer to the practice in Peru of that particular form of worship of the heavenly bodies which was also widely spread in the East, in Arabia, and Palestine and was inveighed against by Mohammed as well as the ancient Hebrew prophets. Apparently this ceremony "of the most profound resignation and reverence" was practiced in Chuquipalpa, close to Uiticos, in the reign of the Inca Titu Cusi. Calancha goes on to say: "In this white stone of the aforesaid House of the Sun, which is called Yurac Rumi [meaning, in Quichua, a white rock], there attends a Devil who is Captain of a legion. He and his legionaries show great kindness to the Indian idolators, but great terrors to the Catholics. They abuse with hideous cruelties the baptized ones who now no longer worship them with kisses, and many of the Indians have died from the horrible frights these devils have given them." One day, when the Inca and his mother and their principal chiefs and counselors were away from Uiticos on a visit to some of their outlying estates, Friar Marcos and Friar Diego decided to make a spectacular attack on this particular Devil, who was at the great "white rock over a spring of water." The two monks summoned all their converts to gather at Puquiura, in the church or the neighboring plaza, and asked each to bring a stick of firewood in order that they might burn up this Devil who had tormented them. "An innumerable multitude" came together on the day appointed. The converted Indians were most anxious to get even with this Devil who had slain their friends and inflicted wounds on themselves; the doubters were curious to see the result; the Inca priests were there to see their god defeat the Christians'; while, as may readily be imagined, the rest of the population came to see the excitement. Starting out from Pucyura they marched to "the Temple of the Sun, in the village of Chuquipalpa, close to Uiticos." Arrived at the sacred palisade, the monks raised the standard of the cross, recited their orisons, surrounded the spring, the white rock and the Temple of the Sun, and piled high the firewood. Then, having exorcised the locality, they called the Devil by all the vile names they could think of, to show their lack of respect, and finally commanded him never to return to this vicinity. Calling on Christ and the Virgin, they applied fire to the wood. "The poor Devil then fled roaring in a fury, and making the mountains to tremble." It took remarkable courage on the part of the two lone monks thus to desecrate the chief shrine of the people among whom they were dwelling. It is almost incredible that in this remote valley, separated from their friends and far from the protecting hand of the Spanish viceroy, they should have dared to commit such an insult to the religion of their hosts. Of course, as soon as the Inca Titu Cusi heard of it, he was greatly annoyed. His mother was furious. They returned immediately to Pucyura. The chiefs wished to "slay the monks and tear them into small pieces," and undoubtedly would have done so had it not been for the regard in which Friar Diego was held. His skill in curing disease had so endeared him to the Indians that even the Inca himself dared not punish him for the attack on the Temple of the Sun. Friar Marcos, however, who probably originated the plan, and had done little to gain the good will of the Indians, did not fare so well. Calancha says he was stoned out of the province and the Inca threatened to kill him if he ever should return. Friar Diego, particularly beloved by those Indians who came from the fever-stricken jungles in the lower valleys, was allowed to remain, and finally became a trusted friend and adviser of Titu Cusi. One day a Spaniard named Romero, an adventurous prospector for gold, was found penetrating the mountain valleys, and succeeded in getting permission from the Inca to see what minerals were there. He was too successful. Both gold and silver were found among the hills and he showed enthusiastic delight at his good fortune. The Inca, fearing that his reports might encourage others to enter Uilcapampa, put the unfortunate prospector to death, notwithstanding the protestations of Friar Diego. Foreigners were not wanted in Uilcapampa. In the year 1570, ten years after the accession of Titu Cusi to the Inca throne in Uiticos, a new Spanish viceroy came to Cuzco. Unfortunately for the Incas, Don Francisco de Toledo, an indefatigable soldier and administrator, was excessively bigoted, narrow-minded, cruel, and pitiless. Furthermore, Philip II and his Council of the Indies had decided that it would be worth while to make every effort to get the Inca out of Uiticos. For thirty-five years the Spanish conquerors had occupied Cuzco and the major portion of Peru without having been able to secure the submission of the Indians who lived in the province of Uilcapampa. It would be a great feather in the cap of Toledo if he could induce Titu Cusi to come and live where he would always be accessible to Spanish authority. During the ensuing rainy season, after an unusually lively party, the Inca got soaked, had a chill, and was laid low. In the meantime the viceroy had picked out a Cuzco soldier, one Tilano de Anaya, who was well liked by the Inca, to try to persuade Titu Cusi to come to Cuzco. Tilano was instructed to go by way of Ollantaytambo and the Chuquichaca bridge. Luck was against him. Titu Cusi's illness was very serious. Friar Diego, his physician, had prescribed the usual remedies. Unfortunately, all the monk's skill was unavailing and his royal patient died. The "remedies" were held by Titu Cusi's mother and her counselors to be responsible. The poor friar had to suffer the penalty of death "for having caused the death of the Inca." The third son of Manco, Tupac Amaru, brought up as a playfellow of the Virgins of the Sun in the Temple near Uiticos, and now happily married, was selected to rule the little kingdom. His brows were decked with the Scarlet Fringe of Sovereignty, but, thanks to the jealous fear of his powerful illegitimate brother, his training had not been that of a soldier. He was destined to have a brief, unhappy existence. When the young Inca's counselors heard that a messenger was coming from the viceroy, seven warriors were sent to meet him on the road. Tilano was preparing to spend the night at the Chuquichaca bridge when he was attacked and killed. The viceroy heard of the murder of his ambassador at the same time that he learned of the martyrdom of Friar Diego. A blow had been struck at the very heart of Spanish domination; if the representatives of the Vice-Regent of Heaven and the messengers of the viceroy of Philip II were not inviolable, then who was safe? On Palm Sunday the energetic Toledo, surrounded by his council, determined to make war on the unfortunate young Tupac Amaru and give a reward to the soldier who would effect his capture. The council was of the opinion that "many Insurrections might be raised in that Empire by this young Heir." "Moreover it was alledged," says Garcilasso .... "That by the Imprisonment of the Inca, all that Treasure might be discovered, which appertained to former kings, together with that Chain of Gold, which Huayna Capac commanded to be made for himself to wear on the great and solemn days of their Festival"! Furthermore, the "Chain of Gold with the remaining Treasure belong'd to his Catholic Majesty by right of Conquest"! Excuses were not wanting. The Incas must be exterminated. The expedition was divided into two parts. One company was sent by way of Limatambo to Curahuasi, to head off the Inca in case he should cross the Apurimac and try to escape by one of the routes which had formerly been used by his father, Manco, in his marauding expeditions. The other company, under General Martin Hurtado and Captain Garcia, marched from Cuzco by way of Yucay and Ollantaytambo. They were more fortunate than Captain Villadiego whose force, thirty-five years before, had been met and destroyed at the pass of Panticalla. That was in the days of the active Inca Manco. Now there was no force defending this important pass. They descended the Lucumayo to its junction with the Urubamba and came to the bridge of Chuquichaca. The narrow suspension bridge, built of native fibers, sagged deeply in the middle and swayed so threateningly over the gorge of the Urubamba that only one man could pass it at a time. The rapid river was too deep to be forded. There were no canoes. It would have been a difficult matter to have constructed rafts, for most of the trees that grow here are of hard wood and do not float. On the other side of the Urubamba was young Tupac Amaru, surrounded by his councilors, chiefs, and soldiers. The first hostile forces which in Pizarro's time had endeavored to fight their way into Uilcapampa had never been allowed by Manco to get as far as this. His youngest son, Tupac Amaru, had had no experience in these matters. The chiefs and nobles had failed to defend the pass; and they now failed to destroy the Chuquichaca bridge, apparently relying on their ability to take care of one Spanish soldier at a time and prevent the Spaniards from crossing the narrow, swaying structure. General Hurtado was not taking any such chances. He had brought with him one or two light mountain field pieces, with which the raw troops of the Inca were little acquainted. The sides of the valley at this point rise steeply from the river and the reverberations caused by gun fire would be fairly terrifying to those who had never heard anything like it before. A few volleys from the guns and the arquebuses, and the Indians fled pellmell in every direction, leaving the bridge undefended. Captain Garcia, who had married the daughter of Sayri Tupac, was sent in pursuit of the Inca. His men found the road "narrow in the ascent, with forest on the right, and on the left a ravine of great depth." It was only a footpath, barely wide enough for two men to pass. Garcia, with customary Spanish bravery, marched at the head of his company. Suddenly out of the thick forest an Inca chieftain named Hualpa, endeavoring to protect the flight of Tupac Amaru, sprang on Garcia, held him so that he could not get at his sword and endeavored to hurl him over the cliff. The captain's life was saved by a faithful Indian servant who was following immediately behind him, carrying his sword. Drawing it from the scabbard "with much dexterity and animation," the Indian killed Hualpa and saved his master's life. Garcia fought several battles, took some forts and succeeded in capturing many prisoners. From them it was learned that the Inca had "gone inland toward the valley of Simaponte; and that he was flying to the country of the Mañaries Indians, a warlike tribe and his friends, where balsas and canoes were posted to save him and enable him to escape." Nothing daunted by the dangers of the jungle nor the rapids of the river, Garcia finally managed to construct five rafts, on which he put some of his soldiers. Accompanying them himself, he descended the rapids, escaping death many times by swimming, and finally arrived at a place called Momori, only to find that the Inca, learning of their approach, had gone farther into the woods. Garcia followed hard after, although he and his men were by this time barefooted and suffering from want of food. They finally captured the Inca. Garcilasso says that Tupac Amaru, "considering that he had not People to make resistance, and that he was not conscious to himself of any Crime, or disturbance he had done or raised, suffered himself to be taken; choosing rather to entrust himself in the hands of the Spaniards, than to perish in those Mountains with Famine, or be drowned in those great Rivers .... The Spaniards in this manner seizing on the Inca, and on all the Indian Men and Women, who were in Company with him, amongst which was his Wife, two Sons, and a Daughter, returned with them in Triumph to Cuzco; to which place the Vice-King went, so soon as he was informed of the imprisonment of the poor Prince." A mock trial was held. The captured chiefs were tortured to death with fiendish brutality. Tupac Amaru's wife was mangled before his eyes. His own head was cut off and placed on a pole in the Cuzco Plaza. His little boys did not long survive. So perished the last of the Incas, descendants of the wisest Indian rulers America has ever seen. Brief Summary of the Last Four Incas 1534. The Inca Manco ascends the throne of his fathers. 1536. Manco flees from Cuzco to Uiticos and Uilcapampa. 1542. Promulgation of the "New Laws." 1545. Murder of Manco and accession of his son Sayri Tupac. 1555. Sayri Tupac goes to Cuzco and Yucay. 1560. Death of Sayri Tupac. His half brother Titu Cusi becomes Inca. 1566. Friar Marcos reaches Uiticos. Settles in Puquiura. 1566. Friar Diego joins him. 1568-9 (?). They burn the House of the Sun at Yurac Rumi in Chuquipalpa. 1571. Titu Cusi dies. Friar Diego suffers martyrdom. Tupac Amaru becomes Inca. 1572. Expedition of General Martin Hurtado and Captain Garcia de Loyola. Execution of Tupac Amaru. CHAPTER X Searching for the Last Inca Capital The events described in the preceding chapter happened, for the most part, in Uiticos [6] and Uilcapampa, northwest of Ollantaytambo, about one hundred miles away from the Cuzco palace of the Spanish viceroy, in what Prescott calls "the remote fastnesses of the Andes." One looks in vain for Uiticos on modern maps of Peru, although several of the older maps give it. In 1625 "Viticos" is marked on de Laet's map of Peru as a mountainous province northeast of Lima and three hundred and fifty miles northwest of Vilcabamba! This error was copied by some later cartographers, including Mercator, until about 1740, when "Viticos" disappeared from all maps of Peru. The map makers had learned that there was no such place in that vicinity. Its real location was lost about three hundred years ago. A map published at Nuremberg in 1599 gives "Pincos" in the "Andes" mountains, a small range west of "Cusco." This does not seem to have been adopted by other cartographers; although a Palls map of 1739 gives "Picos" in about the same place. Nearly all the cartographers of the eighteenth century who give "Viticos" supposed it to be the name of a tribe, e.g., "Los Viticos" or "Les Viticos." ------ FIGURE Part of the Nuremberg Map of 1599, Showing Pincos and the Andes Mountains ------ The largest official map of Peru, the work of that remarkable explorer, Raimondi, who spent his life crossing and recrossing Peru, does not contain the word Uiticos nor any of its numerous spellings, Viticos, Vitcos, Pitcos, or Biticos. Incidentally, it may seem strange that Uiticos could ever be written "Biticos." The Quichua language has no sound of V. The early Spanish writers, however, wrote the capital letter U exactly like a capital V. In official documents and letters Uiticos became Viticos. The official readers, who had never heard the word pronounced, naturally used the V sound instead of the U sound. Both V and P easily become B. So Uiticos became Biticos and Uilcapampa became Vilcabamba. Raimondi's marvelous energy led him to penetrate to more out-of-the-way Peruvian villages than any one had ever done before or is likely to do again. He stopped at nothing in the way of natural obstacles. In 1865 he went deep into the heart of Uilcapampa; yet found no Uiticos. He believed that the ruins of Choqquequirau represented the residence of the last Incas. This view had been held by the French explorer, Count de Sartiges, in 1834, who believed that Choqquequirau was abandoned when Sayri Tupac, Manco's oldest son, went to live in Yucay. Raimondi's view was also held by the leading Peruvian geographers, including Paz Soldan in 1877, and by Prefect Nuñez and his friends in 1909, at the time of my visit to Choqquequirau. [7] The only dissenter was the learned Peruvian historian, Don Carlos Romero, who insisted that the last Inca capital must be found elsewhere. He urged the importance of searching for Uiticos in the valleys of the rivers now called Vilcabamba and Urubamba. It was to be the work of the Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911 to collect the geographical evidence which would meet the requirements of the chronicles and establish the whereabouts of the long-lost Inca capital. That there were undescribed and unidentified ruins to be found in the Urubamba Valley was known to a few people in Cuzco, mostly wealthy planters who had large estates in the province of Convencion. One told us that he went to Santa Ana every year and was acquainted with a muleteer who had told him of some interesting ruins near the San Miguel bridge. Knowing the propensity of his countrymen to exaggerate, however, he placed little confidence in the story and, shrugging his shoulders, had crossed the bridge a score of times without taking the trouble to look into the matter. Another, Señor Pancorbo, whose plantation was in the Vilcabamba Valley, said that he had heard vague rumors of ruins in the valley above his plantation, particularly near Pucyura. If his story should prove to be correct, then it was likely that this might be the very Puquiura where Friar Marcos had established the first church in the "province of Uilcapampa." But that was "near" Uiticos and near a village called Chuquipalpa, where should be found the ruins of a Temple of the Sun, and in these ruins a "white rock over a spring of water." Yet neither these friendly planters nor the friends among whom they inquired had ever heard of Uiticos or a place called Chuquipalpa, or of such an interesting rock; nor had they themselves seen the ruins of which they had heard. One of Señor Lomellini's friends, a talkative old fellow who had spent a large part of his life in prospecting for mines in the department of Cuzco, said that he had seen ruins "finer than Choqquequirau" at a place called Huayna Picchu; but he had never been to Choqquequirau. Those who knew him best shrugged their shoulders and did not seem to place much confidence in his word. Too often he had been over-enthusiastic about mines which did not "pan out." Yet his report resembled that of Charles Wiener, a French explorer, who, about 1875, in the course of his wanderings in the Andes, visited Ollantaytambo. While there he was told that there were fine ruins down the Urubamba Valley at a place called "Huaina-Picchu or Matcho-Picchu." He decided to go down the valley and look for these ruins. According to his text he crossed the Pass of Panticalla, descended the Lucumayo River to the bridge of Choqquechacca, and visited the lower Urubamba, returning by the same route. He published a detailed map of the valley. To one of its peaks he gives the name "Huaynapicchu, ele. 1815 m." and to another "Matchopicchu, ele. 1720 m." His interest in Inca ruins was very keen. He devotes pages to Ollantaytambo. He failed to reach Machu Picchu or to find any ruins of importance in the Urubamba or Vilcabamba valleys. Could we hope to be any more successful? Would the rumors that had reached us "pan out" as badly as those to which Wiener had listened so eagerly? Since his day, to be sure, the Peruvian Government had actually finished a road which led past Machu Picchu. On the other hand, a Harvard Anthropological Expedition, under the leadership of Dr. William C. Farrabee, had recently been over this road without reporting any ruins of importance. They were looking for savages and not ruins. Nevertheless, if Machu Picchu was "finer than Choqquequirau" why had no one pointed it out to them? ------ FIGURE Peruvian Expedition of 1915 ------ To most of our friends in Cuzco the idea that there could be anything finer than Choqquequirau seemed, absurd. They regarded that "cradle of gold" as "the most remarkable archeological discovery of recent times." They assured us there was nothing half so good. They even assumed that we were secretly planning to return thither to dig for buried treasure! Denials were of no avail. To a people whose ancestors made fortunes out of lucky "strikes," and who themselves have been brought up on stories of enormous wealth still remaining to be discovered by some fortunate excavator, the question of tesoro--treasure, wealth, riches--is an ever-present source of conversation. Even the prefect of Cuzco was quite unable to conceive of my doing anything for the love of discovery. He was convinced that I should find great riches at Choqquequirau--and that I was in receipt of a very large salary! He refused to believe that the members of the Expedition received no more than their expenses. He told me confidentially that Professor Foote would sell his collection of insects for at least $10,000! Peruvians have not been accustomed to see any one do scientific work except as he was paid by the government or employed by a railroad or mining company. We have frequently found our work misunderstood and regarded with suspicion, even by the Cuzco Historical Society. The valley of the Urubamba, or Uilcamayu, as it used to be called, may be reached from Cuzco in several ways. The usual route for those going to Yucay is northwest from the city, over the great Andean highway, past the slopes of Mt. Sencca. At Ttica-Ttica (12,000 ft.) the road crosses the lowest pass at the western end of the Cuzco Basin. At the last point from which one can see the city of Cuzco, all true Indians, whether on their way out of the valley or into it, pause, turn toward the east, facing the city, remove their hats and mutter a prayer. I believe that the words they use now are those of the "Ave Maria," or some other familiar orison of the Catholic Church. Nevertheless, the custom undoubtedly goes far back of the advent of the first Spanish missionaries. It is probably a relic of the ancient habit of worshiping the rising sun. During the centuries immediately preceding the conquest, the city of Cuzco was the residence of the Inca himself, that divine individual who was at once the head of Church and State. Nothing would have been more natural than for persons coming in sight of his residence to perform an act of veneration. This in turn might have led those leaving the city to fall into the same habit at the same point in the road. I have watched hundreds of travelers pass this point. None of those whose European costume proclaimed a white or mixed ancestry stopped to pray or make obeisance. On the other hand, all those, without exception, who were clothed in a native costume, which betokened that they considered themselves to be Indians rather than whites, paused for a moment, gazing at the ancient city, removed their hats, and said a short prayer. Leaving Ttica-Ttica, we went northward for several leagues, passed the town of Chincheros, with its old Inca walls, and came at length to the edge of the wonderful valley of Yucay. In its bottom are great level terraces rescued from the Urubamba River by the untiring energy of the ancient folk. On both sides of the valley the steep slopes bear many remains of narrow terraces, some of which are still in use. Above them are "temporales," fields of grain, resting like a patch-work quilt on slopes so steep it seems incredible they could be cultivated. Still higher up, their heads above the clouds, are the jagged snow-capped peaks. The whole offers a marvelous picture, rich in contrast, majestic in proportion. In Yucay once dwelt the Inca Manco's oldest son, Sayri Tupac, after he had accepted the viceroy's invitation to come under Spanish protection. Here he lived three years and here, in 1560, he died an untimely death under circumstances which led his brothers, Titu Cusi and Tupac Amaru, to think that they would be safer in Uiticos. We spent the night in Urubamba, the modern capital of the province, much favored by Peruvians of to-day because of its abundant water supply, delightful climate, and rich fruits. Cuzco, 11,000 feet, is too high to have charming surroundings, but two thousand feet lower, in the Urubamba Valley, there is everything to please the eye and delight the horticulturist. Speaking of horticulturists reminds me of their enemies. Uru is the Quichua word for caterpillars or grubs, pampa means flat land. Urubamba is "flat-land-where-there-are-grubs-or-caterpillars." Had it been named by people who came up from a warm region where insects abound, it would hardly have been so denominated. Only people not accustomed to land where caterpillars and grubs flourished would have been struck by such a circumstance. Consequently, the valley was probably named by plateau dwellers who were working their way down into a warm region where butterflies and moths are more common. Notwithstanding its celebrated caterpillars, Urubamba's gardens of to-day are full of roses, lilies, and other brilliant flowers. There are orchards of peaches, pears, and apples; there are fields where luscious strawberries are raised for the Cuzco market. Apparently, the grubs do not get everything. The next day down the valley brought us to romantic Ollantaytambo, described in glowing terms by Castelnau, Marcou, Wiener, and Squier many years ago. It has lost none of its charm, even though Marcou's drawings are imaginary and Squier's are exaggerated. Here, as at Urubamba, there are flower gardens and highly cultivated green fields. The brooks are shaded by willows and poplars. Above them are magnificent precipices crowned by snow-capped peaks. The village itself was once the capital of an ancient principality whose history is shrouded in mystery. There are ruins of curious gabled buildings, storehouses, "prisons," or "monasteries," perched here and there on well-nigh inaccessible crags above the village. Below are broad terraces of unbelievable extent where abundant crops are still harvested; terraces which will stand for ages to come as monuments to the energy and skill of a bygone race. The "fortress" is on a little hill, surrounded by steep cliffs, high walls, and hanging gardens so as to be difficult of access. Centuries ago, when the tribe which cultivated the rich fields in this valley lived in fear and terror of their savage neighbors, this hill offered a place of refuge to which they could retire. It may have been fortified at that time. As centuries passed in which the land came under the control of the Incas, whose chief interest was the peaceful promotion of agriculture, it is likely that this fortress became a royal garden. The six great ashlars of reddish granite weighing fifteen or twenty tons each, and placed in line on the summit of the hill, were brought from a quarry several miles away with an immense amount of labor and pains. They were probably intended to be a record of the magnificence of an able ruler. Not only could he command the services of a sufficient number of men to extract these rocks from the quarry and carry them up an inclined plane from the bottom of the valley to the summit of the hill; he had to supply the men with food. The building of such a monument meant taking five hundred Indians away from their ordinary occupations as agriculturists. He must have been a very good administrator. To his people the magnificent megaliths were doubtless a source of pride. To his enemies they were a symbol of his power and might. ------ FIGURE Mt. Veronica and Salapunco, the Gateway to Uilcapampa ------ A league below Ollantaytambo the road forks. The right branch ascends a steep valley and crosses the pass of Panticalla near snow-covered Mt. Veronica. Near the pass are two groups of ruins. One of them, extravagantly referred to by Wiener as a "granite palace, whose appearance [appareil] resembles the more beautiful parts of Ollantaytambo," was only a storehouse. The other was probably a tampu, or inn, for the benefit of official travelers. All travelers in Inca times, even the bearers of burdens, were acting under official orders. Commercial business was unknown. The rights of personal property were not understood. No one had anything to sell; no one had any money to buy it with. On the other hand, the Incas had an elaborate system of tax collecting. Two thirds of the produce raised by their subjects was claimed by the civil and religious rulers. It was a reasonable provision of the benevolent despotism of the Incas that inhospitable regions like the Panticalla Pass near Mt. Veronica should be provided with suitable rest houses and storehouses. Polo de Ondegardo, an able and accomplished statesman, who was in office in Cuzco in 1560, says that the food of the chasquis, Inca post runners, was provided from official storehouses; "those who worked for the Inca's service, or for religion, never ate at their own expense." In Manco's day these buildings at Havaspampa probably sheltered the outpost which defeated Captain Villadiego. Before the completion of the river road, about 1895, travelers from Cuzco to the lower Urubamba had a choice of two routes, one by way of the pass of Panticalla, followed by Captain Garcia in 1571, by General Miller in 1835, Castelnau in 1842, and Wiener in 1875; and one by way of the pass between Mts. Salcantay and Soray, along the Salcantay River to Huadquiña, followed by the Count de Sartiges in 1834 and Raimondi in 1865. Both of these routes avoid the highlands between Mt. Salcantay and Mt. Veronica and the lowlands between the villages of Piri and Huadquiña. This region was in 1911 undescribed in the geographical literature of southern Peru. We decided not to use either pass, but to go straight down the Urubamba river road. It led us into a fascinating country. Two leagues beyond Piri, at Salapunco, the road skirts the base of precipitous cliffs, the beginnings of a wonderful mass of granite mountains which have made Uilcapampa more difficult of access than the surrounding highlands which are composed of schists, conglomerates, and limestone. Salapunco is the natural gateway to the ancient province, but it was closed for centuries by the combined efforts of nature and man. The Urubamba River, in cutting its way through the granite range, forms rapids too dangerous to be passable and precipices which can be scaled only with great effort and considerable peril. At one time a footpath probably ran near the river, where the Indians, by crawling along the face of the cliff and sometimes swinging from one ledge to another on hanging vines, were able to make their way to any of the alluvial terraces down the valley. Another path may have gone over the cliffs above the fortress, where we noticed, in various inaccessible places, the remains of walls built on narrow ledges. They were too narrow and too irregular to have been intended to support agricultural terraces. They may have been built to make the cliff more precipitous. They probably represent the foundations of an old trail. To defend these ancient paths we found that prehistoric man had built, at the foot of the precipices, close to the river, a small but powerful fortress whose ruins now pass by the name of Salapunco; sala = ruins; punco = gateway. Fashioned after famous Sacsahuaman and resembling it in the irregular character of the large ashlars and also by reason of the salients and reëntrant angles which enabled its defenders to prevent the walls being successfully scaled, it presents an interesting problem. Commanding as it does the entrance to the valley of Torontoy, Salapunco may have been built by some ancient chief to enable him to levy tribute on all who passed. My first impression was that the fortress was placed here, at the end of the temperate zone, to defend the valleys of Urubamba and Ollantaytambo against savage enemies coming up from the forests of the Amazon. On the other hand, it is possible that Salapunco was built by the tribes occupying the fastnesses of Uilcapampa as an outpost to defend them against enemies coming down the valley from the direction of Ollantaytambo. They could easily have held it against a considerable force, for it is powerfully built and constructed with skill. Supplies from the plantations of Torontoy, lower down the river, might have reached it along the path which antedated the present government road. Salapunco may have been occupied by the troops of the Inca Manco when he established himself in Uiticos and ruled over Uilcapampa. He could hardly, however, have built a megalithic work of this kind. It is more likely that he would have destroyed the narrow trails than have attempted to hold the fort against the soldiers of Pizarro. Furthermore, its style and character seem to date it with the well-known megalithic structures of Cuzco and Ollantaytambo. This makes it seem all the more extraordinary that Salapunco could ever have been built as a defense against Ollantaytambo, unless it was built by folk who once occupied Cuzco and who later found a retreat in the canyons below here. ------ FIGURE Grosvenor Glacier and Mt. Salcantay ------ When we first visited Salapunco no megalithic remains had been reported as far down the valley as this. It never occurred to us that, in hunting for the remains of such comparatively recent structures as the Inca Manco had the force and time to build, we were to discover remains of a far more remote past. Yet we were soon to find ruins enough to explain why such a fortress as Salapunco might possibly have been built so as to defend Uilcapampa against Ollantaytambo and Cuzco and not those well-known Inca cities against the savages of the Amazon jungles. Passing Salapunco, we skirted granite cliffs and precipices and entered a most interesting region, where we were surprised and charmed by the extent of the ancient terraces, their length and height, the presence of many Inca ruins, the beauty of the deep, narrow valleys, and the grandeur of the snow-clad mountains which towered above them. Across the river, near Qquente, on top of a series of terraces, we saw the extensive ruins of Patallacta (pata = height or terrace; llacta = town or city), an Inca town of great importance. It was not known to Raimondi or Paz Soldan, but is indicated on Wiener's map, although he does not appear to have visited it. We have been unable to find any reference to it in the chronicles. We spent several months here in 1915 excavating and determining the character of the ruins. In another volume I hope to tell more of the antiquities of this region. At present it must suffice to remark that our explorations near Patallacta disclosed no "white rock over a spring of water." None of the place names in this vicinity fit in with the accounts of Uiticos. Their identity remains a puzzle, although the symmetry of the buildings, their architectural idiosyncrasies such as niches, stone roof-pegs, bar-holds, and eye-bonders, indicate an Inca origin. At what date these towns and villages flourished, who built them, why they were deserted, we do not yet know; and the Indians who live hereabouts are ignorant, or silent, as to their history. At Torontoy, the end of the cultivated temperate valley, we found another group of interesting ruins, possibly once the residence of an Inca chief. In a cave near by we secured some mummies. The ancient wrappings had been consumed by the natives in an effort to smoke out the vampire bats that lived in the cave. On the opposite side of the river are extensive terraces and above them, on a hilltop, other ruins first visited by Messrs. Tucker and Hendriksen in 1911. One of their Indian bearers, attempting to ford the rapids here with a large surveying instrument, was carried off his feet, swept away by the strong current, and drowned before help could reach him. Near Torontoy is a densely wooded valley called the Pampa Ccahua. In 1915 rumors of Andean or "spectacled" bears having been seen here and of damage having been done by them to some of the higher crops, led us to go and investigate. We found no bears, but at an elevation of 12,000 feet were some very old trees, heavily covered with flowering moss not hitherto known to science. Above them I was so fortunate as to find a wild potato plant, the source from which the early Peruvians first developed many varieties of what we incorrectly call the Irish potato. The tubers were as large as peas. Mr. Heller found here a strange little cousin of the kangaroo, a near relative of the coenolestes. It turned out to be new to science. To find a new genus of mammalian quadrupeds was an event which delighted Mr. Heller far more than shooting a dozen bears. [8] Torontoy is at the beginning of the Grand Canyon of the Urubamba, and such a canyon! The river "road" runs recklessly up and down rock stairways, blasts its way beneath overhanging precipices, spans chasms on frail bridges propped on rustic brackets against granite cliffs. Under dense forests, wherever the encroaching precipices permitted it, the land between them and the river was once terraced and cultivated. We found ourselves unexpectedly in a veritable wonderland. Emotions came thick and fast. We marveled at the exquisite pains with which the ancient folk had rescued incredibly narrow strips of arable land from the tumbling rapids. How could they ever have managed to build a retaining wall of heavy stones along the very edge of the dangerous river, which it is death to attempt to cross! On one sightly bend near a foaming waterfall some Inca chief built a temple, whose walls tantalize the traveler. He must pass by within pistol shot of the interesting ruins, unable to ford the intervening rapids. High up on the side of the canyon, five thousand feet above this temple, are the ruins of Corihuayrachina (kori = "gold"; huayara = "wind"; huayrachina = "a threshing-floor where winnowing takes place." Possibly this was an ancient gold mine of the Incas. Half a mile above us on another steep slope, some modern pioneer had recently cleared the jungle from a fine series of ancient artificial terraces. On the afternoon of July 23d we reached a hut called "La Maquina," where travelers frequently stop for the night. The name comes from the presence here of some large iron wheels, parts of a "machine" destined never to overcome the difficulties of being transported all the way to a sugar estate in the lower valley, and years ago left here to rust in the jungle. There was little fodder, and there was no good place for us to pitch our camp, so we pushed on over the very difficult road, which had been carved out of the face of a great granite cliff. Part of the cliff had slid off into the river and the breach thus made in the road had been repaired by means of a frail-looking rustic bridge built on a bracket composed of rough logs, branches, and reeds, tied together and surmounted by a few inches of earth and pebbles to make it seem sufficiently safe to the cautious cargo mules who picked their way gingerly across it. No wonder "the machine" rested where it did and gave its name to that part of the valley. Dusk falls early in this deep canyon, the sides of which are considerably over a mile in height. It was almost dark when we passed a little sandy plain two or three acres in extent, which in this land of steep mountains is called a pampa. Were the dwellers on the pampas of Argentina--where a railroad can go for 250 miles in a straight line, except for the curvature of the earth--to see this little bit of flood-plain called Mandor Pampa, they would think some one had been joking or else grossly misusing a word which means to them illimitable space with not a hill in sight. However, to the ancient dwellers in this valley, where level land was so scarce that it was worth while to build high stone-faced terraces so as to enable two rows of corn to grow where none grew before, any little natural breathing space in the bottom of the canyon is called a pampa. ------ FIGURE The Road Between Maquina and Mandor Pampa Near Machu Picchu ------ We passed an ill-kept, grass-thatched hut, turned off the road through a tiny clearing, and made our camp at the edge of the river Urubamba on a sandy beach. Opposite us, beyond the huge granite boulders which interfered with the progress of the surging stream, was a steep mountain clothed with thick jungle. It was an ideal spot for a camp, near the road and yet secluded. Our actions, however, aroused the suspicions of the owner of the hut, Melchor Arteaga, who leases the lands of Mandor Pampa. He was anxious to know why we did not stay at his hut like respectable travelers. Our gendarme, Sergeant Carrasco, reassured him. They had quite a long conversation. When Arteaga learned that we were interested in the architectural remains of the Incas, he said there were some very good ruins in this vicinity--in fact, some excellent ones on top of the opposite mountain, called Huayna Picchu, and also on a ridge called Machu Picchu. These were the very places Charles Wiener heard of at Ollantaytambo in 1875 and had been unable to reach. The story of my experiences on the following day will be found in a later chapter. Suffice it to say at this point that the ruins of Huayna Picchu turned out to be of very little importance, while those of Machu Picchu, familiar to readers of the "National Geographic Magazine," are as interesting as any ever found in the Andes. When I first saw the remarkable citadel of Machu Picchu perched on a narrow ridge two thousand feet above the river, I wondered if it could be the place to which that old soldier, Baltasar de Ocampo, a member of Captain Garcia's expedition, was referring when he said: "The Inca Tupac Amaru was there in the fortress of Pitcos [Uiticos], which is on a very high mountain, whence the view commanded a great part of the province of Uilcapampa. Here there was an extensive level space, with very sumptuous and majestic buildings, erected with great skill and art, all the lintels of the doors, the principal as well as the ordinary ones, being of marble, elaborately carved." Could it be that "Picchu" was the modern variant of "Pitcos"? To be sure, the white granite of which the temples and palaces of Machu Picchu are constructed might easily pass for marble. The difficulty about fitting Ocampo's description to Machu Picchu, however, was that there was no difference between the lintels of the doors and the walls themselves. Furthermore, there is no "white rock over a spring of water" which Calancha says was "near Uiticos." There is no Pucyura in this neighborhood. In fact, the canyon of the Urubamba does not satisfy the geographical requirements of Uiticos. Although containing ruins of surpassing interest, Machu Picchu did not represent that last Inca capital for which we were searching. We had not yet found Manco's palace. CHAPTER XI The Search Continued Machu Picchu is on the border-line between the temperate zone and the tropics. Camping near the bridge of San Miguel, below the ruins, both Mr. Heller and Mr. Cook found interesting evidences of this fact in the flora and fauna. From the point of view of historical geography, Mr. Cook's most important discovery was the presence here of huilca, a tree which does not grow in cold climates. The Quichua dictionaries tell us huilca is a "medicine, a purgative." An infusion made from the seeds of the tree is used as an enema. I am indebted to Mr. Cook for calling my attention to two articles by Mr. W. E. Safford in which it is also shown that from seeds of the huilca a powder is prepared, sometimes called cohoba. This powder, says Mr. Safford, is a narcotic snuff "inhaled through the nostrils by means of a bifurcated tube." "All writers unite in declaring that it induced a kind of intoxication or hypnotic state, accompanied by visions which were regarded by the natives as supernatural. While under its influence the necromancers, or priests, were supposed to hold communication with unseen powers, and their incoherent mutterings were regarded as prophecies or revelations of hidden things. In treating the sick the physicians made use of it to discover the cause of the malady or the person or spirit by whom the patient was bewitched." Mr. Safford quotes Las Casas as saying: "It was an interesting spectacle to witness how they took it and what they spake. The chief began the ceremony and while he was engaged all remained silent .... When he had snuffed up the powder through his nostrils, he remained silent for a while with his head inclined to one side and his arms placed on his knees. Then he raised his face heavenward, uttering certain words which must have been his prayer to the true God, or to him whom he held as God; after which all responded, almost as we do when we say amen; and this they did with a loud voice or sound. Then they gave thanks and said to him certain complimentary things, entreating his benevolence and begging him to reveal to them what he had seen. He described to them his vision, saying that the Cemi [spirits] had spoken to him and had predicted good times or the contrary, or that children were to be born, or to die, or that there was to be some dispute with their neighbors, and other things which might come to his imagination, all disturbed with that intoxication." [9] Clearly, from the point of view of priests and soothsayers, the place where huilca was first found and used in their incantations would be important. It is not strange to find therefore that the Inca name of this river was Uilca-mayu: the "huilca river." The pampa on this river where the trees grew would likely receive the name Uilca pampa. If it became an important city, then the surrounding region might be named Uilcapampa after it. This seems to me to be the most probable origin of the name of the province. Anyhow it is worth noting the fact that denizens of Cuzco and Ollantaytambo, coming down the river in search of this highly prized narcotic, must have found the first trees not far from Machu Picchu. Leaving the ruins of Machu Picchu for later investigation, we now pushed on down the Urubamba Valley, crossed the bridge of San Miguel, passed the house of Señor Lizarraga, first of modern Peruvians to write his name on the granite walls of Machu Picchu, and came to the sugar-cane fields of Huadquiña. We had now left the temperate zone and entered the tropics. At Huadquiña we were so fortunate as to find that the proprietress of the plantation, Señora Carmen Vargas, and her children, were spending the season here. During the rainy winter months they live in Cuzco, but when summer brings fine weather they come to Huadquiña to enjoy the free-and-easy life of the country. They made us welcome, not only with that hospitality to passing travelers which is common to sugar estates all over the world, but gave us real assistance in our explorations. Señora Carmen's estate covers more than two hundred square miles. Huadquiña is a splendid example of the ancient patriarchal system. The Indians who come from other parts of Peru to work on the plantation enjoy perquisites and wages unknown elsewhere. Those whose home is on the estate regard Señora Carmen with an affectionate reverence which she well deserves. All are welcome to bring her their troubles. The system goes back to the days when the spiritual, moral, and material welfare of the Indians was entrusted in encomienda to the lords of the repartimiento or allotted territory. Huadquiña once belonged to the Jesuits. They planted the first sugar cane and established the mill. After their expulsion from the Spanish colonies at the end of the eighteenth century, Huadquiña was bought by a Peruvian. It was first described in geographical literature by the Count de Sartiges, who stayed here for several weeks in 1834 when on his way to Choqquequirau. He says that the owner of Huadquiña "is perhaps the only landed proprietor in the entire world who possesses on his estates all the products of the four parts of the globe. In the different regions of his domain he has wool, hides, horsehair, potatoes, wheat, corn, sugar, coffee, chocolate, coca, many mines of silver-bearing lead, and placers of gold." Truly a royal principality. ------ FIGURE Huadquiña ------ Incidentally it is interesting to note that although Sartiges was an enthusiastic explorer, eager to visit undescribed Inca ruins, he makes no mention whatever of Machu Picchu. Yet from Huadquiña one can reach Machu Picchu on foot in half a day without crossing the Urubamba River. Apparently the ruins were unknown to his hosts in 1834. They were equally unknown to our kind hosts in 1911. They scarcely believed the story I told them of the beauty and extent of the Inca edifices. [10] When my photographs were developed, however, and they saw with their own eyes the marvelous stonework of the principal temples, Señora Carmen and her family were struck dumb with wonder and astonishment. They could not understand how it was possible that they should have passed so close to Machu Picchu every year of their lives since the river road was opened without knowing what was there. They had seen a single little building on the crest of the ridge, but supposed that it was an isolated tower of no great interest or importance. Their neighbor, Lizarraga, near the bridge of San Miguel, had reported the presence of the ruins which he first visited in 1904, but, like our friends in Cuzco, they had paid little attention to his stories. We were soon to have a demonstration of the causes of such skepticism. Our new friends read with interest my copy of those paragraphs of Calaucha's "Chronicle" which referred to the location of the last Inca capital. Learning that we were anxious to discover Uiticos, a place of which they had never heard, they ordered the most intelligent tenants on the estate to come in and be questioned. The best informed of all was a sturdy mestizo, a trusted foreman, who said that in a little valley called Ccllumayu, a few hours' journey down the Urubamba, there were "important ruins" which had been seen by some of Señora Carmen's Indians. Even more interesting and thrilling was his statement that on a ridge up the Salcantay Valley was a place called Yurak Rumi (yurak = "white"; rumi = "stone") where some very interesting ruins had been found by his workmen when cutting trees for firewood. We all became excited over this, for among the paragraphs which I had copied from Calancha's "Chronicle" was the statement that "close to Uiticos" is the "white stone of the aforesaid house of the Sun which is called Yurak Rumi." Our hosts assured us that this must be the place, since no one hereabouts had ever heard of any other Yurak Rumi. The foreman, on being closely questioned, said that he had seen the ruins once or twice, that he had also been up the Urubamba Valley and seen the great ruins at Ollantaytambo, and that those which he had seen at Yurak Rumi were "as good as those at Ollantaytambo." Here was a definite statement made by an eyewitness. Apparently we were about to see that interesting rock where the last Incas worshiped. However, the foreman said that the trail thither was at present impassable, although a small gang of Indians could open it in less than a week. Our hosts, excited by the pictures we had shown them of Machu Picchu, and now believing that even finer ruins might be found on their own property, immediately gave orders to have the path to Yurak Rumi cleared for our benefit. While this was being done, Señora Carmen's son, the manager of the plantation, offered to accompany us himself to Ccllumayu, where other "important ruins" had been found, which could be reached in a few hours without cutting any new trails. Acting on his assurance that we should not need tent or cots, we left our camping outfit behind and followed him to a small valley on the south side of the Urubamba. We found Ccllumayu to consist of two huts in a small clearing. Densely wooded slopes rose on all sides. The manager requested two of the Indian tenants to act as guides. With them, we plunged into the thick jungle and spent a long and fatiguing day searching in vain for ruins. That night the manager returned to Huadquiña, but Professor Foote and I preferred to remain in Ccllumayu and prosecute a more vigorous search on the next day. We shared a little thatched hut with our Indian hosts and a score of fat cuys (guinea pigs), the chief source of the Ccllumayu meat supply. The hut was built of rough wattles which admitted plenty of fresh air and gave us comfortable ventilation. Primitive little sleeping-platforms, also of wattles, constructed for the needs of short, stocky Indians, kept us from being overrun by inquisitive cuys, but could hardly be called as comfortable as our own folding cots which we had left at Huadquiña. The next day our guides were able to point out in the woods a few piles of stones, the foundations of oval or circular huts which probably were built by some primitive savage tribe in prehistoric times. Nothing further could be found here of ruins, "important" or otherwise, although we spent three days at Ccllumayu. Such was our first disillusionment. On our return to Huadquiña, we learned that the trail to Yurak Rumi would be ready "in a day or two." In the meantime our hosts became much interested in Professor Foote's collection of insects. They brought an unnamed scorpion and informed us that an orange orchard surrounded by high walls in a secluded place back of the house was "a great place for spiders." We found that their statement was not exaggerated and immediately engaged in an enthusiastic spider hunt. When these Huadquiña spiders were studied at the Harvard Museum of Comparative Zoölogy, Dr. Chamberlain found among them the representatives of four new genera and nineteen species hitherto unknown to science. As a reward of merit, he gave Professor Foote's name to the scorpion! ------ FIGURE Ruins of Yurak Rumi near Huadquiña. Probably an Inca Storehouse, well ventilated and well drained. Drawn by A. H. Bumstead from measurements and photographs by Hiram Bingham and H. W. Foote. ------ Finally the trail to Yurak Rumi was reported finished. It was with feelings of keen anticipation that I started out with the foreman to see those ruins which he had just revisited and now declared were "better than those of Ollantaytambo." It was to be presumed that in the pride of discovery he might have exaggerated their importance. Still it never entered my head what I was actually to find. After several hours spent in clearing away the dense forest growth which surrounded the walls I learned that this Yurak Rumi consisted of the ruins of a single little rectangular Inca storehouse. No effort had been made at beauty of construction. The walls were of rough, unfashioned stones laid in clay. The building was without a doorway, although it had several small windows and a series of ventilating shafts under the house. The lintels of the windows and of the small apertures leading into the subterranean shafts were of stone. There were no windows on the sunny north side or on the ends, but there were four on the south side through which it would have been possible to secure access to the stores of maize, potatoes, or other provisions placed here for safe-keeping. It will be recalled that the Incas maintained an extensive system of public storehouses, not only in the centers of population, but also at strategic points on the principal trails. Yurak Rumi is on top of the ridge between the Salcantay and Huadquiña valleys, probably on an ancient road which crossed the province of Uilcapampa. As such it was interesting; but to compare it with Ollantaytambo, as the foreman had done, was to liken a cottage to a palace or a mouse to an elephant. It seems incredible that anybody having actually seen both places could have thought for a moment that one was "as good as the other." To be sure, the foreman was not a trained observer and his interest in Inca buildings was probably of the slightest. Yet the ruins of Ollantaytambo are so well known and so impressive that even the most casual traveler is struck by them and the natives themselves are enormously proud of them. The real cause of the foreman's inaccuracy was probably his desire to please. To give an answer which will satisfy the questioner is a common trait in Peru as well as in many other parts of the world. Anyhow, the lessons of the past few days were not lost on us. We now understood the skepticism which had prevailed regarding Lizarraga's discoveries. It is small wonder that the occasional stories about Machu Picchu which had drifted into Cuzco had never elicited any enthusiasm nor even provoked investigation on the part of those professors and students in the University of Cuzco who were interested in visiting the remains of Inca civilization. They knew only too well the fondness of their countrymen for exaggeration and their inability to report facts accurately. Obviously, we had not yet found Uiticos. So, bidding farewell to Señora Carmen, we crossed the Urubamba on the bridge of Colpani and proceeded down the valley past the mouth of the Lucumayo and the road from Panticalla, to the hamlet of Chauillay, where the Urubamba is joined by the Vilcabamba River. [11] Both rivers are restricted here to narrow gorges, through which their waters rush and roar on their way to the lower valley. A few rods from Chauillay was a fine bridge. The natives call it Chuquichaca! Steel and iron have superseded the old suspension bridge of huge cables made of vegetable fiber, with its narrow roadway of wattles supported by a network of vines. Yet here it was that in 1572 the military force sent by the viceroy, Francisco de Toledo, under the command of General Martin Hurtado and Captain Garcia, found the forces of the young Inca drawn up to defend Uiticos. It will be remembered that after a brief preliminary fire the forces of Tupac Amaru were routed without having destroyed the bridge and thus Captain Garcia was enabled to accomplish that which had proved too much for the famous Gonzalo Pizarro. Our inspection of the surroundings showed that Captain Garcia's companion, Baltasar de Ocampo, was correct when he said that the occupation of the bridge of Chuquichaca "was a measure of no small importance for the royal force." It certainly would have caused the Spaniards "great trouble" if they had had to rebuild it. We might now have proceeded to follow Garcia's tracks up the Vilcabamba had we not been anxious to see the proprietor of the plantation of Santa Ana, Don Pedro Duque, reputed to be the wisest and ablest man in this whole province. We felt he would be able to offer us advice of prime importance in our search. So leaving the bridge of Chuquichaca, we continued down the Urubamba River which here meanders through a broad, fertile valley, green with tropical plantations. We passed groves of bananas and oranges, waving fields of green sugar cane, the hospitable dwellings of prosperous planters, and the huts of Indians fortunate enough to dwell in this tropical "Garden of Eden." The day was hot and thirst-provoking, so I stopped near some large orange trees loaded with ripe fruit and asked the Indian proprietress to sell me ten cents' worth. In exchange for the tiny silver real she dragged out a sack containing more than fifty oranges! I was fain to request her to permit us to take only as many as our pockets could hold; but she seemed so surprised and pained, we had to fill our saddle-bags as well. At the end of the day we crossed the Urubamba River on a fine steel bridge and found ourselves in the prosperous little town of Quillabamba, the provincial capital. Its main street was lined with well-filled shops, evidence of the fact that this is one of the principal gateways to the Peruvian rubber country which, with the high price of rubber then prevailing, 1911, was the scene of unusual activity. Passing through Quillabamba and up a slight hill beyond it, we came to the long colonnades of the celebrated sugar estate of Santa Ana founded by the Jesuits, where all explorers who have passed this way since the days of Charles Wiener have been entertained. He says that he was received here "with a thousand signs of friendship" ("mille témoignages d'amitié"). We were received the same way. Even in a region where we had repeatedly received valuable assistance from government officials and generous hospitality from private individuals, our reception at Santa Ana stands out as particularly delightful. Don Pedro Duque took great interest in enabling us to get all possible information about the little-known region into which we proposed to penetrate. Born in Colombia, but long resident in Peru, he was a gentleman of the old school, keenly interested, not only in the administration and economic progress of his plantation, but also in the intellectual movements of the outside world. He entered with zest into our historical-geographical studies. The name Uiticos was new to him, but after reading over with us our extracts from the Spanish chronicles he was sure that he could help us find it. And help us he did. Santa Ana is less than thirteen degrees south of the equator; the elevation is barely 2000 feet; the "winter" nights are cool; but the heat in the middle of the day is intense. Nevertheless, our host was so energetic that as a result of his efforts a number of the best-informed residents were brought to the conferences at the great plantation house. They told all they knew of the towns and valleys where the last four Incas had found a refuge, but that was not much. They all agreed that "if only Señor Lopez Torres were alive he could have been of great service" to us, as "he had prospected for mines and rubber in those parts more than any one else, and had once seen some Inca ruins in the forest!" Of Uiticos and Chuquipalpa and most of the places mentioned in the chronicles, none of Don Pedro's friends had ever heard. It was all rather discouraging, until one day, by the greatest good fortune, there arrived at Santa Ana another friend of Don Pedro's, the teniente gobernador of the village of Lucma in the valley of Vilcabamba--a crusty old fellow named Evaristo Mogrovejo. His brother, Pio Mogrovejo, had been a member of the party of energetic Peruvians who, in 1884, had searched for buried treasure at Choqquequirau and had left their names on its walls. Evaristo Mogrovejo could understand searching for buried treasure, but he was totally unable otherwise to comprehend our desire to find the ruins of the places mentioned by Father Calancha and the contemporaries of Captain Garcia. Had we first met Mogrovejo in Lucma he would undoubtedly have received us with suspicion and done nothing to further our quest. Fortunately for us, his official superior was the sub-prefect of the province of Convención, lived at Quillabamba near Santa Ana, and was a friend of Don Pedro's. The sub-prefect had received orders from his own official superior, the prefect of Cuzco, to take a personal interest in our undertaking, and accordingly gave particular orders to Mogrovejo to see to it that we were given every facility for finding the ancient ruins and identifying the places of historic interest. Although Mogrovejo declined to risk his skin in the savage wilderness of Conservidayoc, he carried out his orders faithfully and was ultimately of great assistance to us. Extremely gratified with the result of our conferences in Santa Ana, yet reluctant to leave the delightful hospitality and charming conversation of our gracious host, we decided to go at once to Lucma, taking the road on the southwest side of the Urubamba and using the route followed by the pack animals which carry the precious cargoes of coca and aguardiente from Santa Ana to Ollantaytambo and Cuzco. Thanks to Don Pedro's energy, we made an excellent start; not one of those meant-to-be-early but really late-in-the-morning departures so customary in the Andes. We passed through a region which originally had been heavily forested, had long since been cleared, and was now covered with bushes and second growth. Near the roadside I noticed a considerable number of land shells grouped on the under-side of overhanging rocks. As a boy in the Hawaiian Islands I had spent too many Saturdays collecting those beautiful and fascinating mollusks, which usually prefer the trees of upland valleys, to enable me to resist the temptation of gathering a large number of such as could easily be secured. None of the snails were moving. The dry season appears to be their resting period. Some weeks later Professor Foote and I passed through Maras and were interested to notice thousands of land shells, mostly white in color, on small bushes, where they seemed to be quietly sleeping. They were fairly "glued to their resting places"; clustered so closely in some cases as to give the stems of the bushes a ghostly appearance. Our present objective was the valley of the river Vilcabamba. So far as we have been able to learn, only one other explorer had preceded us--the distinguished scientist Raimondi. His map of the Vilcabamba is fairly accurate. He reports the presence here of mines and minerals, but with the exception of an "abandoned tampu" at Maracnyoc ("the place which possesses a millstone"), he makes no mention of any ruins. Accordingly, although it seemed from the story of Baltasar de Ocampo and Captain Garcia's other contemporaries that we were now entering the valley of Uiticos, it was with feel-hags of considerable uncertainty that we proceeded on our quest. It may seem strange that we should have been in any doubt. Yet before our visit nearly all the Peruvian historians and geographers except Don Carlos Romero still believed that when the Inca Manco fled from Pizarro he took up his residence at Choqquequirau in the Apurimac Valley. The word choqquequirau means "cradle of gold" and this lent color to the legend that Manco had carried off with him from Cuzco great quantities of gold utensils and much treasure, which he deposited in his new capital. Raimondi, knowing that Manco had "retired to Uilcapampa," visited both the present villages of Vilcabamba and Pucyura and saw nothing of any ruins. He was satisfied that Choqquequirau was Manco's refuge because it was far enough from Pucyura to answer the requirements of Calancha that it was "two or three days' journey" from Uilcapampa to Puquiura. A new road had recently been built along the river bank by the owner of the sugar estate at Paltaybamba, to enable his pack animals to travel more rapidly. Much of it had to be carved out of the face of a solid rock precipice and in places it pierces the cliffs in a series of little tunnels. My gendarme missed this road and took the steep old trail over the cliffs. As Ocampo said in his story of Captain Garcia's expedition, "the road was narrow in the ascent with forest on the fight, and on the left a ravine of great depth." We reached Paltaybamba about dusk. The owner, Señor José S. Pancorbo, was absent, attending to the affairs of a rubber estate in the jungles of the river San Miguel. The plantation of Paltaybamba occupies the best lands in the lower Vilcabamba Valley, but lying, as it does, well off the main highway, visitors are rare and our arrival was the occasion for considerable excitement. We were not unexpected, however. It was Señor Pancorbo who had assured us in Cuzco that we should find ruins near Pucyura and he had told his major-domo to be on the look-out for us. We had a long talk with the manager of the plantation and his friends that evening. They had heard little of any ruins in this vicinity, but repeated one of the stories we had heard in Santa Ana, that way off somewhere in the montaña there was "an Inca city." All agreed that it was a very difficult place to reach; and none of them had ever been there. In the morning the manager gave us a guide to the next house up the valley, with orders that the man at that house should relay us to the next, and so on. These people, all tenants of the plantation, obligingly carried out their orders, although at considerable inconvenience to themselves. The Vilcabamba Valley above Paltaybamba is very picturesque. There are high mountains on either side, covered with dense jungle and dark green foliage, in pleasing contrast to the light green of the fields of waving sugar cane. The valley is steep, the road is very winding, and the torrent of the Vilcabamba roars loudly, even in July. What it must be like in February, the rainy season, we could only surmise. About two leagues above Paltaybamba, at or near the spot called by Raimondi "Maracnyoc," an "abandoned tampu," we came to some old stone walls, the ruins of a place now called Huayara or "Hoyara." I believe them to be the ruins of the first Spanish settlement in this region, a place referred to by Ocampo, who says that the fugitives of Tupac Amaru's army were "brought back to the valley of Hoyara," where they were "settled in a large village, and a city of Spaniards was founded .... This city was founded on an extensive plain near a river, with an admirable climate. From the river channels of water were taken for the service of the city, the water being very good." The water here is excellent, far better than any in the Cuzco Basin. On the plain near the river are some of the last cane fields of the plantation of Paltaybamba. "Hoyara" was abandoned after the discovery of gold mines several leagues farther up the valley, and the Spanish "city" was moved to the village now called Vilcabamba. Our next stop was at Lucma, the home of Teniente Gobernador Mogrovejo. The village of Lucma is an irregular cluster of about thirty thatched-roofed huts. It enjoys a moderate amount of prosperity due to the fact of its being located near one of the gateways to the interior, the pass to the rubber estates in the San Miguel Valley. Here are "houses of refreshment" and two shops, the only ones in the region. One can buy cotton cloth, sugar, canned goods and candles. A picturesque belfry and a small church, old and somewhat out of repair, crown the small hill back of the village. There is little level land, but the slopes are gentle, and permit a considerable amount of agriculture. There was no evidence of extensive terracing. Maize and alfalfa seemed to be the principal crops. Evaristo Mogrovejo lived on the little plaza around which the houses of the more important people were grouped. He had just returned from Santa Ana by the way of Idma, using a much worse trail than that over which we had come, but one which enabled him to avoid passing through Paltaybamba, with whose proprietor he was not on good terms. He told us stories of misadventures which had happened to travelers at the gates of Paltaybamba, stories highly reminiscent of feudal days in Europe, when provincial barons were accustomed to lay tribute on all who passed. We offered to pay Mogrovejo a gratificación of a sol, or Peruvian silver dollar, for every ruin to which he would take us, and double that amount if the locality should prove to contain particularly interesting ruins. This aroused all his business instincts. He summoned his alcaldes and other well-informed Indians to appear and be interviewed. They told us there were "many ruins" hereabouts! Being a practical man himself, Mogrovejo had never taken any interest in ruins. Now he saw the chance not only to make money out of the ancient sites, but also to gain official favor by carrying out with unexampled vigor the orders of his superior, the sub-prefect of Quillabamba. So he exerted himself to the utmost in our behalf. The next day we were guided up a ravine to the top of the ridge back of Lucma. This ridge divides the upper from the lower Vilcabamba. On all sides the hills rose several thousand feet above us. In places they were covered with forest growth, chiefly above the cloud line, where daily moisture encourages vegetation. In some of the forests on the more gentle slopes recent clearings gave evidence of enterprise on the part of the present inhabitants of the valley. After an hour's climb we reached what were unquestionably the ruins of Inca structures, on an artificial terrace which commands a magnificent view far down toward Paltaybamba and the bridge of Chuquichaca, as well as in the opposite direction. The contemporaries of Captain Garcia speak of a number of forts or pucarás which had to be stormed and captured before Tupac Amaru could be taken prisoner. This was probably one of those "fortresses." Its strategic position and the ease with which it could be defended point to such an interpretation. Nevertheless this ruin did not fit the "fortress of Pitcos," nor the "House of the Sun" near the "white rock over the spring." It is called Incahuaracana, "the place where the Inca shoots with a sling." Incahuaracana consists of two typical Inca edifices--one of two rooms, about 70 by 20 feet, and the other, very long and narrow, 150 by 11 feet. The walls, of unhewn stone laid in clay, were not particularly well built and resemble in many respects the ruins at Choqquequirau. The rooms of the principal house are without windows, although each has three front doors and is lined with niches, four or five on a side. The long, narrow building was divided into three rooms, and had several front doors. A force of two hundred Indian soldiers could have slept in these houses without unusual crowding. We left Lucma the next day, forded the Vilcabamba River and soon had an uninterrupted view up the valley to a high, truncated hill, its top partly covered with a scrubby growth of trees and bushes, its sides steep and rocky. We were told that the name of the hill was "Rosaspata," a word of modern hybrid origin--pata being Quichua for "hill," while rosas is the Spanish word for "roses." Mogrovejo said his Indians told him that on the "Hill of Roses" there were more ruins. At the foot of the hill, and across the river, is the village of Pucyura. When Raimondi was here in 1865 it was but a "wretched hamlet with a paltry chapel." To-day it is more prosperous. There is a large public school here, to which children come from villages many miles away. So crowded is the school that in fine weather the children sit on benches out of doors. The boys all go barefooted. The girls wear high boots. I once saw them reciting a geography lesson, but I doubt if even the teacher knew whether or not this was the site of the first school in this whole region. For it was to "Puquiura" that Friar Marcos came in 1566. Perhaps he built the "mezquina capilla" which Raimondi scorned. If this were the "Puquiura" of Friar Marcos, then Uiticos must be near by, for he and Friar Diego walked with their famous procession of converts from "Puquiura" to the House of the Sun and the "white rock" which was "close to Uiticos." Crossing the Vilcabamba on a footbridge that afternoon, we came immediately upon some old ruins that were not Incaic. Examination showed that they were apparently the remains of a very crude Spanish crushing mill, obviously intended to pulverize gold-bearing quartz on a considerable scale. Perhaps this was the place referred to by Ocampo, who says that the Inca Titu Cusi attended masses said by his friend Friar Diego in a chapel which is "near my houses and on my own lands, in the mining district of Puquiura, close to the ore-crushing mill of Don Christoval de Albornoz, Precentor that was of the Cuzco Cathedral." ------ FIGURE Pucyura and the Hill of Rosaspata in the Vilcabamba Valley ------ One of the millstones is five feet in diameter and more than a foot thick. It lay near a huge, flat rock of white granite, hollowed out so as to enable the millstone to be rolled slowly around in a hollow trough. There was also a very large Indian mortar and pestle, heavy enough to need the services of four men to work it. The mortar was merely the hollowed-out top of a large boulder which projected a few inches above the surface of the ground. The pestle, four feet in diameter, was of the characteristic rocking-stone shape used from time immemorial by the Indians of the highlands for crushing maize or potatoes. Since no other ruins of a Spanish quartz-crushing plant have been found in this vicinity, it is probable that this once belonged to Don Christoval de Albornoz. Near the mill the Tincochaca River joins the Vilcabamba from the southeast. Crossing this on a footbridge, I followed Mogrovejo to an old and very dilapidated structure in the saddle of the hill on the south side of Rosaspata. They called the place Uncapampa, or Inca pampa. It is probably one of the forts stormed by Captain Garcia and his men in 1571. The ruins represent a single house, 166 feet long by 33 feet wide. If the house had partitions they long since disappeared. There were six doorways in front, none on the ends or in the rear walls. The ruins resembled those of Incahuaracana, near Lucma. The walls had originally been built of rough stones laid in clay. The general finish was extremely rough. The few niches, all at one end of the structure, were irregular, about two feet in width and a little more than this in height. The one corner of the building which was still standing had a height of about ten feet. Two hundred Inca soldiers could have slept here also. Leaving Uncapampa and following my guides, I climbed up the ridge and followed a path along its west side to the top of Rosaspata. Passing some ruins much overgrown and of a primitive character, I soon found myself on a pleasant pampa near the top of the mountain. The view from here commands "a great part of the province of Uilcapampa." It is remarkably extensive on all sides; to the north and south are snow-capped mountains, to the east and west, deep verdure-clad valleys. Furthermore, on the north side of the pampa is an extensive level space with a very sumptuous and majestic building "erected with great skill and art, all the lintels of the doors, the principal as well as the ordinary ones," being of white granite elaborately cut. At last we had found a place which seemed to meet most of the requirements of Ocampo's description of the "fortress of Pitcos." To be sure it was not of "marble," and the lintels of the doors were not "carved," in our sense of the word. They were, however, beautifully finished, as may be seen from the illustrations, and the white granite might easily pass for marble. If only we could find in this vicinity that Temple of the Sun which Calancha said was "near" Uiticos, all doubts would be at an end. That night we stayed at Tincochaca, in the hut of an Indian friend of Mogrovejo. As usual we made inquiries. Imagine our feelings when in response to the oft-repeated question he said that in a neighboring valley there was a great white rock over a spring of water! If his story should prove to be true our quest for Uiticos was over. It behooved us to make a very careful study of what we had found. CHAPTER XII The Fortress of Uiticos and the House of the Sun When the viceroy, Toledo, determined to conquer that last stronghold of the Incas where for thirty-five years they had defied the supreme power of Spain, he offered a thousand dollars a year as a pension to the soldier who would capture Tupac Amaru. Captain Garcia earned the pension, but failed to receive it; the "mañana habit" was already strong in the days of Philip II. So the doughty captain filed a collection of testimonials with Philip's Royal Council of the Indies. Among these is his own statement of what happened on the campaign against Tupac Amaru. In this he says: "and having arrived at the principal fortress, Guay-napucará ["the young fortress"], which the Incas had fortified, we found it defended by the Prince Philipe Quispetutio, a son of the Inca Titu Cusi, with his captains and soldiers. It is on a high eminence surrounded with rugged crags and jungles, very dangerous to ascend and almost impregnable. Nevertheless, with my aforesaid company of soldiers I went up and gained the fortress, but only with the greatest possible labor and danger. Thus we gained the province of Uilcapampa." The viceroy himself says this important victory was due to Captain Garcia's skill and courage in storming the heights of Guaynapucará, "on Saint John the Baptist's day, in 1572." The "Hill of Roses" is indeed "a high eminence surrounded with rugged crags." The side of easiest approach is protected by a splendid, long wall, built so carefully as not to leave a single toe-hold for active besiegers. The barracks at Uncapampa could have furnished a contingent to make an attack on that side very dangerous. The hill is steep on all sides, and it would have been extremely easy for a small force to have defended it. It was undoubtedly "almost impregnable." This was the feature Captain Garcia was most likely to remember. On the very summit of the hill are the ruins of a partly enclosed compound consisting of thirteen or fourteen houses arranged so as to form a rough square, with one large and several small courtyards. The outside dimensions of the compound are about 160 feet by 145 feet. The builders showed the familiar Inca sense of symmetry in arranging the houses, Due to the wanton destruction of many buildings by the natives in their efforts at treasure-hunting, the walls have been so pulled down that it is impossible to get the exact dimensions of the buildings. In only one of them could we be sure that there had been any niches. ------ FIGURE Principal Doorway of the Long Palace at Rosaspata ------ ------ FIGURE Another Doorway in the Ruins of Rosaspata ------ Most interesting of all is the structure which caught the attention of Ocampo and remained fixed in his memory. Enough remains of this building to give a good idea of its former grandeur. It was indeed a fit residence for a royal Inca, an exile from Cuzco. It is 245 feet by 43 feet. There were no windows, but it was lighted by thirty doorways, fifteen in front and the same in back. It contained ten large rooms, besides three hallways running from front to rear. The walls were built rather hastily and are not noteworthy, but the principal entrances, namely, those leading to each hall, are particularly well made; not, to be sure, of "marble" as Ocampo said--there is no marble in the province--but of finely cut ashlars of white granite. The lintels of the principal doorways, as well as of the ordinary ones, are also of solid blocks of white granite, the largest being as much as eight feet in length. The doorways are better than any other ruins in Uilcapampa except those of Machu Picchu, thus justifying the mention of them made by Ocampo, who lived near here and had time to become thoroughly familiar with their appearance. Unfortunately, a very small portion of the edifice was still standing. Most of the rear doors had been filled up with ashlars, in order to make a continuous fence. Other walls had been built from the ruins, to keep cattle out of the cultivated pampa. Rosaspata is at an elevation which places it on the borderland between the cold grazing country, with its root crops and sublimated pigweeds, and the temperate zone where maize flourishes. On the south side of the hilltop, opposite the long palace, is the ruin of a single structure, 78 feet long and 35 feet wide, containing doors on both sides, no niches and no evidence of careful workmanship. It was probably a barracks for a company of soldiers. The intervening "pampa" might have been the scene of those games of bowls and quoits, which were played by the Spanish refugees who fled from the wrath of Gonzalo Pizarro and found refuge with the Inca Manco. Here may have occurred that fatal game when one of the players lost his temper and killed his royal host. Our excavations in 1915 yielded a mass of rough potsherds, a few Inca whirl-bobs and bronze shawl pins, and also a number of iron articles of European origin, heavily rusted--horseshoe nails, a buckle, a pair of scissors, several bridle or saddle ornaments, and three Jew's-harps. My first thought was that modern Peruvians must have lived here at one time, although the necessity of carrying all water supplies up the hill would make this unlikely. Furthermore, the presence here of artifacts of European origin does not of itself point to such a conclusion. In the first place, we know that Manco was accustomed to make raids on Spanish travelers between Cuzco and Lima. He might very easily have brought back with him a Spanish bridle. In the second place the musical instruments may have belonged to the refugees, who might have enjoyed whiling away their exile with melancholy twanging. In the third place the retainers of the Inca probably visited the Spanish market in Cuzco, where there would have been displayed at times a considerable assortment of goods of European manufacture. Finally Rodriguez de Figueroa speaks expressly of two pairs of scissors he brought as a present to Titu Cusi. That no such array of European artifacts has been turned up in the excavations of other important sites in the province of Uilcapampa would seem to indicate that they were abandoned before the Spanish Conquest or else were occupied by natives who had no means of accumulating such treasures. Thanks to Ocampo's description of the fortress which Tupac Amaru was occupying in 1572 there is no doubt that this was the palace of the last Inca. Was it also the capital of his brothers, Titu Cusi and Sayri Tupac, and his father, Manco? It is astonishing how few details we have by which the Uiticos of Manco may be identified. His contemporaries are strangely silent. When he left Cuzco and sought refuge "in the remote fastnesses of the Andes," there was a Spanish soldier, Cieza de Leon, in the armies of Pizarro who had a genius for seeing and hearing interesting things and writing them down, and who tried to interview as many members of the royal family as he could;--Manco had thirteen brothers. Ciezo de Leon says he was much disappointed not to be able to talk with Manco himself and his sons, but they had "retired into the provinces of Uiticos, which are in the most retired part of those regions, beyond the great Cordillera of the Andes." [12] The Spanish refugees who died as the result of the murder of Manco may not have known how to write. Anyhow, so far as we can learn they left no accounts from which any one could identify his residence. Titu Cusi gives no definite clue, but the activities of Friar Marcos and Friar Diego, who came to be his spiritual advisers, are fully described by Calancha. It will be remembered that Calancha remarks that "close to Uiticos in a village called Chuquipalpa, is a House of the Sun and in it a white stone over a spring of water." Our guide had told us there was such a place close to the hill of Rosaspata. On the day after making the first studies of the "Hill of Roses," I followed the impatient Mogrovejo--whose object was not to study ruins but to earn dollars for finding them--and went over the hill on its northeast side to the Valley of Los Andenes ("the Terraces"). Here, sure enough, was a large, white granite boulder, flattened on top, which had a carved seat or platform on its northern side. Its west side covered a cave in which were several niches. This cave had been walled in on one side. When Mogrovejo and the Indian guide said there was a manantial de agua ("spring of water") near by, I became greatly interested. On investigation, however, the" spring" turned out to be nothing but part of a small irrigating ditch. (Manantial means "spring"; it also means "running water"). But the rock was not "over the water." Although this was undoubtedly one of those huacas, or sacred boulders, selected by the Incas as the visible representations of the founders of a tribe and thus was an important accessory to ancestor worship, it was not the Yurak Rumi for which we were looking. ------ FIGURE Northeast Face of Yurak Rumi ------ Leaving the boulder and the ruins of what possibly had been the house of its attendant priest, we followed the little water course past a large number of very handsomely built agricultural terraces, the first we had seen since leaving Machu Picchu and the most important ones in the valley. So scarce are andenes in this region and so noteworthy were these in particular that this vale has been named after them. They were probably built under the direction of Manco. Near them are a number of carved boulders, huacas. One had an intihuatana, or sundial nubbin, on it; another was carved in the shape of a saddle. Continuing, we followed a trickling stream through thick woods until we suddenly arrived at an open place called ñusta Isppana. Here before us was a great white rock over a spring. Our guides had not misled us. Beneath the trees were the ruins of an Inca temple, flanking and partly enclosing the gigantic granite boulder, one end of which overhung a small pool of running water. When we learned that the present name of this immediate vicinity is Chuquipalta our happiness was complete. It was late on the afternoon of August 9, 1911, when I first saw this remarkable shrine. Densely wooded hills rose on every side. There was not a hut to be seen; scarcely a sound to be heard. It was an ideal place for practicing the mystic ceremonies of an ancient cult. The remarkable aspect of this great boulder and the dark pool beneath its shadow had caused this to become a place of worship. Here, without doubt, was "the principal mochadero of those forested mountains." It is still venerated by the Indians of the vicinity. At last we had found the place where, in the days of Titu Cusi, the Inca priests faced the east, greeted the rising sun, "extended their hands toward it," and "threw kisses to it," "a ceremony of the most profound resignation and reverence." We may imagine the sun priests, clad in their resplendent robes of office, standing on the top of the rock at the edge of its steepest side, their faces lit up with the rosy light of the early morning, awaiting the moment when the Great Divinity should appear above the eastern hills and receive their adoration. As it rose they saluted it and cried: "O Sun! Thou who art in peace and safety, shine upon us, keep us from sickness, and keep us in health and safety. O Sun! Thou who hast said let there be Cuzco and Tampu, grant that these children may conquer all other people. We beseech thee that thy children the Incas may be always conquerors, since it is for this that thou hast created them." ------ FIGURE Plan of the Ruins of the Temple of the Sun at Ñusta Isppana Formerly Yurak Rumi in Chuquipalpa Near Uiticos ------ It was during Titu Cusi's reign that Friars Marcos and Diego marched over here with their converts from Puquiura, each carrying a stick of firewood. Calancha says the Indians worshiped the water as a divine thing, that the Devil had at times shown himself in the water. Since the surface of the little pool, as one gazes at it, does not reflect the sky, but only the overhanging, dark, mossy rock, the water looks black and forbidding, even to unsuperstitious Yankees. It is easy to believe that simple-minded Indian worshipers in this secluded spot could readily believe that they actually saw the Devil appearing "as a visible manifestation" in the water. Indians came from the most sequestered villages of the dense forests to worship here and to offer gifts and sacrifices. Nevertheless, the Augustinian monks here raised the standard of the cross, recited their orisons, and piled firewood all about the rock and temple. Exorcising the Devil and calling him by all the vile names they could think of, the friars commanded him never to return. Setting fire to the pile, they burned up the temple, scorched the rock, making a powerful impression on the Indians and causing the poor Devil to flee, "roaring in a fury." "The cruel Devil never more returned to the rock nor to this district." Whether the roaring which they heard was that of the Devil or of the flames we can only conjecture. Whether the conflagration temporarily dried up the swamp or interfered with the arrangements of the water supply so that the pool disappeared for the time being and gave the Devil no chance to appear in the water, where he had formerly been accustomed to show himself, is also a matter for speculation. The buildings of the House of the Sun are in a very ruinous state, but the rock itself, with its curious carvings, is well preserved notwithstanding the great conflagration of 1570. Its length is fifty-two feet, its width thirty feet, and its height above the present level of the water, twenty-five feet. On the west side of the rock are seats and large steps or platforms. It was customary to kill llamas at these holy huacas. On top of the rock is a flattened place which may have been used for such sacrifices. From it runs a little crack in the boulder, which has been artificially enlarged and may have been intended to carry off the blood of the victim killed on top of the rock. It is still used for occult ceremonies of obscure origin which are quietly practiced here by the more superstitious Indian women of the valley, possibly in memory of the ñusta or Inca princess for whom the shrine is named. On the south side of the monolith are several large platforms and four or five small seats which have been cut in the rock. Great care was exercised in cutting out the platforms. The edges are very nearly square, level, and straight. The east side of the rock projects over the spring. Two seats have been carved immediately above the water. On the north side there are no seats. Near the water, steps have been carved. There is one flight of three and another of seven steps. Above them the rock has been flattened artificially and carved into a very bold relief. There are ten projecting square stones, like those usually called intihuatana or "places to which the sun is tied." In one line are seven; one is slightly apart from the six others. The other three are arranged in a triangular position above the seven. It is significant that these stones are on the northeast face of the rock, where they are exposed to the rising sun and cause striking shadows at sunrise. ------ FIGURE Carved Seats and Platforms of Ñusta Isppana ------ ------ FIGURE Two of the Seven Seats Near the Spring Under the Great White Rock ------ Our excavations yielded no artifacts whatever and only a handful of very rough old potsherds of uncertain origin. The running water under the rock was clear and appeared to be a spring, but when we drained the swamp which adjoins the great rock on its northeastern side, we found that the spring was a little higher up the hill and that the water ran through the dark pool. We also found that what looked like a stone culvert on the borders of the little pool proved to be the top of the back of a row of seven or eight very fine stone seats. The platform on which the seats rested and the seats themselves are parts of three or four large rocks nicely fitted together. Some of the seats are under the black shadows of the overhanging rock. Since the pool was an object of fear and mystery the seats were probably used only by priests or sorcerers. It would have been a splendid place to practice divination. No doubt the devils "roared." All our expeditions in the ancient province of Uilcapampa have failed to disclose the presence of any other "white rock over a spring of water" surrounded by the ruins of a possible "House of the Sun." Consequently it seems reasonable to adopt the following conclusions: First, ñusta Isppana is the Yurak Rumi of Father Calancha. The Chuquipalta of to-day is the place to which he refers as Chuquipalpa. Second, Uiticos, "close to" this shrine, was once the name of the present valley of Vilcabamba between Tincochaca and Lucma. This is the "Viticos" of Cieza de Leon, a contemporary of Manco, who says that it was to the province of Viticos that Manco determined to retire when he rebelled against Pizarro, and that "having reached Viticos with a great quantity of treasure collected from various parts, together with his women and retinue, the king, Manco Inca, established himself in the strongest place he could find, whence he sallied forth many times and in many directions and disturbed those parts which were quiet, to do what harm he could to the Spaniards, whom he considered as cruel enemies." Third, the "strongest place" of Cieza, the Guaynapucará of Garcia, was Rosaspata, referred to by Ocampo as "the fortress of Pitcos," where, he says, "there was a level space with majestic buildings," the most noteworthy feature of which was that they had two kinds of doors and both kinds had white stone lintels. Fourth, the modern village of Pucyura in the valley of the river Vilcabamba is the Puquiura of Father Calancha, the site of the first mission church in this region, as assumed by Raimondi, although he was disappointed in the insignificance of the "wretched little village." The remains of the old quartz-crushing plant in Tincochaca, which has already been noted, the distance from the "House of the Sun," not too great for the religious procession, and the location of Pucyura near the fortress, all point to the correctness of this conclusion. Finally, Calancha says that Friar Ortiz, after he had secured permission from Titu Cusi to establish the second missionary station in Uilcapampa, selected "the town of Huarancalla, which was populous and well located in the midst of a number of other little towns and villages. There was a distance of two or three days' journey from one convent to the other. Leaving Friar Marcos in Puquiura, Friar Diego went to his new establishment, and in a short time built a church." There is no "Huarancalla" to-day, nor any tradition of any, but in Mapillo, a pleasant valley at an elevation of about 10,000 feet, in the temperate zone where the crops with which the Incas were familiar might have been raised, near pastures where llamas and alpacas could have flourished, is a place called Huarancalque. The valley is populous and contains a number of little towns and villages. Furthermore, Huarancalque is two or three days' journey from Pucyura and is on the road which the Indians of this region now use in going to Ayacucho. This was undoubtedly the route used by Manco in his raids on Spanish caravans. The Mapillo flows into the Apurimac near the mouth of the river Pampas. Not far up the Pampas is the important bridge between Bom-bon and Ocros, which Mr. Hay and I crossed in 1909 on our way from Cuzco to Lima. The city of Ayacucho was founded by Pizarro, a day's journey from this bridge. The necessity for the Spanish caravans to cross the river Pampas at this point made it easy for Manco's foraging expeditions to reach them by sudden marches from Uiticos down the Mapillo River by way of Huarancalque, which is probably the "Huarancalla" of Calancha's "Chronicles." He must have had rafts or canoes on which to cross the Apurimac, which is here very wide and deep. In the valleys between Huarancalque and Lucma, Manco was cut off from central Peru by the Apurimac and its magnificent canyon, which in many places has a depth of over two miles. He was cut off from Cuzco by the inhospitable snow fields and glaciers of Salcantay, Soray, and the adjacent ridges, even though they are only fifty miles from Cuzco. Frequently all the passes are completely snow-blocked. Fatalities have been known even in recent years. In this mountainous province Manco could be sure of finding not only security from his Spanish enemies, but any climate that he desired and an abundance of food for his followers. There seems to be no reason to doubt that the retired region around the modern town of Pucyura in the upper Vilcabamba Valley was once called Uiticos. CHAPTER XIII Vilcabamba Although the refuge of Manco is frequently spoken of as Uiticos by the contemporary writers, the word Vilcabamba, or Uilcapampa, is used even more often. In fact Garcilasso, the chief historian of the Incas, himself the son of an Inca princess, does not mention Uiticos. Vilcabamba was the common name of the province. Father Calancha says it was a very large area, "covering fourteen degrees of longitude," about seven hundred miles wide. It included many savage tribes "of the far interior" who acknowledged the supremacy of the Incas and brought tribute to Manco and his sons. "The Mañaries and the Pilcosones came a hundred and two hundred leagues" to visit the Inca in Uiticos. The name, Vilcabamba, is also applied repeatedly to a town. Titu Cusi says he lived there many years during his youth. Calancha says it was "two days' journey from Puquiura." Raimondi thought it must be Choqquequirau. Captain Garcia's soldiers, however, speak of it as being down in the warm valleys of the montaña, the present rubber country. On the other hand the only place which bears this name on the maps of Peru is near the source of the Vilcabamba River, not more than three or four leagues from Pucyura. We determined to visit it. We found the town to lie on the edge of bleak upland pastures, 11,750 feet above the sea. Instead of Inca walls or ruins Vilcabamba has threescore solidly built Spanish houses. At the time of our visit they were mostly empty, although their roofs, of unusually heavy thatch, seemed to be in good repair. We stayed at the house of the gobernador, Manuel Condoré. The nights were bitterly cold and we should have been most uncomfortable in a tent. The gobernador said that the reason the town was deserted was that most of the people were now attending to their chacras, or little farms, and looking after their herds of sheep and cattle in the neighboring valleys. He said that only at special festival times, such as the annual visit of the priest, who celebrates mass in the church here, once a year, are the buildings fully occupied. In the latter part of the sixteenth century, gold mines were discovered in the adjacent mountains and the capital of the Spanish province of Vilcabamba was transferred from Hoyara to this place. Its official name, Condoré said, is still San Francisco de la Victoria de Vilcabamba, and as such it occurs on most of the early maps of Peru. The solidity of the stone houses was due to the prosperity of the gold diggers. The present air of desolation and absence of population is probably due to the decay of that industry. ------ FIGURE Ñusta Isppana ------ The church is large. Near it, and slightly apart from the building, is a picturesque stone belfry with three old Spanish bells. Condoré said that the church was built at least three hundred years ago. It is probably the very structure whose construction was carefully supervised by Ocampo. In the negotiations for permission to move the municipality of San Francisco de la Victoria from Hoyara to the neighborhood of the mines, Ocampo, then one of the chief settlers, went to Cuzco as agent of the interested parties, to take the matter up with the viceroy. Ocampo's story is in part as follows: "The change of site appeared convenient for the service of God our Lord and of his Majesty, and for the increase of his royal fifths, as well as beneficial to the inhabitants of the said city. Having examined the capitulations and reasons, the said Don Luis de Velasco [the viceroy] granted the licence to move the city to where it is now founded, ordering that it should have the title and name of the city of San Francisco of the Victory of Uilcapampa, which was its first name. By this change of site I, the said Baltasar de Ocampo, performed a great service to God our Lord and his Majesty. Through my care, industry and solicitude, a very good church was built, with its principal chapel and great doors." We found the walls to be heavy, massive, and well buttressed, the doors to be unusually large and the whole to show considerable "industry and solicitude." The site was called "Onccoy, where the Spaniards who first discovered this land found the flocks and herds." Modern Vilcabamba is on grassy slopes, well suited for flocks and herds. On the steeper slopes potatoes are still raised, although the valley itself is given up to-day almost entirely to pasture lands. We saw horses, cattle, and sheep in abundance where the Incas must have pastured their llamas and alpacas. In the rocky cliffs near by are remains of the mines begun in Ocampo's day. There is little doubt that this was Onccoy, although that name is now no longer used here. We met at the gobernador's an old Indian who admitted that an Inca had once lived on Rosaspata Hill. Of all the scores of persons whom we interviewed through the courtesy of the intelligent planters of the region or through the customary assistance of government officials, this Indian was the only one to make such an admission. Even he denied having heard of "Uiticos" or any of its variations. If we were indeed in the country of Manco and his sons, why should no one be familiar with that name? Perhaps, after all, it is not surprising. The Indians of the highlands have now for so many generations been neglected by their rulers and brutalized by being allowed to drink all the alcohol they can purchase and to assimilate all the cocaine they can secure, through the constant chewing of coca leaves, that they have lost much if not all of their racial self-respect. It is the educated mestizos of the principal modern cities of Peru who, tracing their descent not only from the Spanish soldiers of the Conquest, but also from the blood of the race which was conquered, take pride in the achievements of the Incas and are endeavoring to preserve the remains of the wonderful civilization of their native ancestors. Until quite recently Vilcabamba was an unknown land to most of the Peruvians, even those who live in the city of Cuzco. Had the capital of the last four Incas been in a region whose climate appealed to Europeans, whose natural resources were sufficient to support a large population, and whose roads made transportation no more difficult than in most parts of the Andes, it would have been occupied from the days of Captain Garcia to the present by Spanish-speaking mestizos, who might have been interested in preserving the name of the ancient Inca capital and the traditions connected with it. After the mines which attracted Ocampo and his friends "petered out," or else, with the primitive tools of the sixteenth century, ceased to yield adequate returns, the Spaniards lost interest in that remote region. The rude trails which connected Pucyura with Cuzco and civilization were at best dangerous and difficult. They were veritably impassable during a large part of the year even to people accustomed to Andean "roads." The possibility of raising sugar cane and coca between Huadquiña and Santa Ana attracted a few Spanish-speaking people to live in the lower Urubamba Valley, notwithstanding the difficult transportation over the passes near Mts. Salcantay and Veronica; but there was nothing to lead any one to visit the upper Vilcabamba Valley or to desire to make it a place of residence. And until Señor Pancorbo opened the road to Lucma, Pucyura was extremely difficult of access. Nine generations of Indians lived and died in the province of Uilcapampa between the time of Tupac Amaru and the arrival of the first modern explorers. The great stone buildings constructed on the "Hill of Roses" in the days of Manco and his sons were allowed to fall into ruin. Their roofs decayed and disappeared. The names of those who once lived here were known to fewer and fewer of the natives. The Indians themselves had no desire to relate the story of the various forts and palaces to their Spanish landlords, nor had the latter any interest in hearing such tales. It was not until the renaissance of historical and geographical curiosity, in the nineteenth century, that it occurred to any one to look for Manco's capital. When Raimondi, the first scientist to penetrate Vilcabamba, reached Pucyura, no one thought to tell him that on the hilltop opposite the village once lived the last of the Incas and that the ruins of their palaces were still there, hidden underneath a thick growth of trees and vines. A Spanish document of 1598 says the first town of "San Francisco de la Victoria de Vilcabamba" was in the "valley of Viticos." The town's long name became shortened to Vilcabamba. Then the river which flowed past was called the Vilcabamba, and is so marked on Raimondi's map. Uiticos had long since passed from the memory of man. Furthermore, the fact that we saw no llamas or alpacas in the upland pastures, but only domestic animals of European origin, would also seem to indicate that for some reason or other this region had been abandoned by the Indians themselves. It is difficult to believe that if the Indians had inhabited these valleys continuously from Inca times to the present we should not have found at least a few of the indigenous American camels here. By itself, such an occurrence would hardly seem worth a remark, but taken in connection with the loss of traditions regarding Uiticos, it would seem to indicate that there must have been quite a long period of time in which no persons of consequence lived in this vicinity. We are told by the historians of the colonial period that the mining operations of the first Spanish settlers were fatal to at least a million Indians. It is quite probable that the introduction of ordinary European contagious diseases, such as measles, chicken pox, and smallpox, may have had a great deal to do with the destruction of a large proportion of those unfortunates whose untimely deaths were attributed by historians to the very cruel practices of the early Spanish miners and treasure seekers. Both causes undoubtedly contributed to the result. There seems to be no question that the population diminished enormously in early colonial days. If this is true, the remaining population would naturally have sought regions where the conditions of existence and human intercourse were less severe and rigorous than in the valleys of Uiticos and Uilcapampa. The students and travelers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, including such a careful observer as Bandelier, are of the opinion that the present-day population in the Andes of Peru and Bolivia is about as great as that at the time of the Conquest. In other words, with the decay of early colonial mining and the consequent disappearance of bad living conditions and forced labor at the mines, also with the rise of partial immunity to European diseases, and the more comfortable conditions of existence which have followed the coming of Peruvian independence, it is reasonable to suppose that the number of highland Indians has increased. With this increase has come a consequent crowding in certain localities. There would be a natural tendency to seek less crowded regions, even at the expense of using difficult mountain trails. This would lead to their occupying as remote and inaccessible a region as the ancient province of Uilcapampa. It is probable that after the gold mines ceased to pay, and before the demand for rubber caused the San Miguel Valley to be appropriated by the white man, there was a period of nearly three hundred years when no one of education or of intelligence superior to the ordinary Indian shepherd lived anywhere near Pucyura or Lucma. The adobe houses of these modern villages look fairly modern. They may have been built in the nineteenth century. Such a theory would account for the very small amount of information prevailing in Peru regarding the region where we had been privileged to find so many ruins. This ignorance led the Peruvian geographers Raimondi and Paz Soldan to conclude that Choqquequirau, the only ruins reported between the Apurimac and the Urubamba, must have been the capital of the Incas who took refuge there. It also makes it seem more reasonable that the existence of Rosaspata and ñusta Isppana should not have been known to Peruvian geographers and historians, or even to the government officials who lived in the adjacent villages. We felt sure we had found Uiticos; nevertheless it was quite apparent that we had not yet found all the places which were called Vilcabamba. Examination of the writers of the sixteenth century shows that there may have been three places bearing that name; one spoken of by Calancha as Vilcabamba Viejo ("the old"), another also so called by Ocampo, and a third founded by the Spaniards, namely, the town we were now in. The story of the first is given in Calancha's account of the trials and tribulations of Friar Marcos and the martyrdom of Friar Diego Ortiz. The chronicler tells with considerable detail of their visit to "Vilcabamba Viejo." It was after the monks had already founded their religious establishment at Puquiura that they learned of the existence of this important religious center. They urged Titu Cusi to permit them to visit it. For a long time he refused. Its whereabouts remained unknown to them, but its strategic position as a religious stronghold led them to continue their demands. Finally, either to rid himself of their importunities or because he imagined the undertaking might be made amusing, he yielded to their requests and bade them prepare for the journey. Calancha says that the Inca himself accompanied the two friars, with a number of his captains and chieftains, taking them from Puquiura over a very rough and rugged road. The Inca, however, did not suffer from the character of the trail because, like the Roman generals of old, he was borne comfortably along in a litter by servants accustomed to this duty. The unfortunate missionaries were obliged to go on foot. The wet, rocky trail soon demoralized their footgear. When they came to a particularly bad place in the road, "Ungacacha," the trail went for some distance through water. The monks were forced to wade. The water was very cold. The Inca and his chieftains were amused to see how the friars were hampered by their monastic garments while passing through the water. However, the monks persevered, greatly desiring to reach their goal, "on account of its being the largest city in which was the University of Idolatry, where lived the teachers who were wizards and masters of abomination." If one may judge by the name of the place, Uilcapampa, the wizards and sorcerers were probably aided by the powerful effects of the ancient snuff made from huilca seeds. After a three days' journey over very rough country, the monks arrived at their destination. Yet even then Titu Cusi was unwilling that they should live in the city, but ordered that the monks be given a dwelling outside, so that they might not witness the ceremonies and ancient rites which were practiced by the Inca and his captains and priests. Nothing is said about the appearance of "Vilcabamba Viejo" and it is doubtful whether the monks were ever allowed to see the city, although they reached its vicinity. Here they stayed for three weeks and kept up their preaching and teaching. During their stay Titu Cusi, who had not wished to bring them here, got his revenge by annoying them in various ways. He was particularly anxious to make them break their vows of celibacy. Calancha says that after consultation with his priests and soothsayers Titu Cusi selected as tempters the most beautiful Indian women, including some individuals of the Yungas who were unusually attractive. It is possible that these women, who lived at the "University of Idolatry" in "Vilcabamba Viejo," were "Virgins of the Sun," who were under the orders of the Inca and his high priests and were selected from the fairest daughters of the empire. It is also evident that "Vilcabamba Viejo" was so constructed that the monks could be kept for three weeks in its vicinity without being able to see what was going on in the city or to describe the kinds of "abominations" which were practiced there, as they did those at the white rock of Chuquipalta. As will be shown later, it is possible that this Vilcabamba, referred to in Calancha's story as "Vilcabamba Viejo," was on the slopes of the mountain now called Machu Picchu. In the meantime it was necessary to pursue the hunt for the ruins of Vilcabamba called "the old" by Ocampo, to distinguish it from the Spanish town of that name which he had helped to found after the capture of Tupac Amaru, and referred to merely as Vilcabamba by Captain Garcia and his companions in their accounts of the campaign. CHAPTER XIV Conservidayoc When Don Pedro Duque of Santa Aria was helping us to identify places mentioned in Calancha and Ocampo, the references to "Vilcabamba Viejo," or Old Uilcapampa, were supposed by two of his informants to point to a place called Conservidayoc. Don Pedro told us that in 1902 Lopez Torres, who had traveled much in the montaña looking for rubber trees, reported the discovery there of the ruins of an Inca city. All of Don Pedro's friends assured us that Conservidayoc was a terrible place to reach. "No one now living had been there." "It was inhabited by savage Indians who would not let strangers enter their villages." When we reached Paltaybamba, Señor Pancorbo's manager confirmed what we had heard. He said further that an individual named Saavedra lived at Conservidayoc and undoubtedly knew all about the ruins, but was very averse to receiving visitors. Saavedra's house was extremely difficult to find. "No one had been there recently and returned alive." Opinions differed as to how far away it was. Several days later, while Professor Foote and I were studying the ruins near Rosaspata, Señor Pancorbo, returning from his rubber estate in the San Miguel Valley and learning at Lucma of our presence near by, took great pains to find us and see how we were progressing. When he learned of our intention to search for the ruins of Conservidayoc, he asked us to desist from the attempt. He said Saavedra was "a very powerful man having many Indians under his control and living in grand state, with fifty servants, and not at all desirous of being visited by anybody." The Indians were "of the Campa tribe, very wild and extremely savage. They use poisoned arrows and are very hostile to strangers." Admitting that he had heard there were Inca ruins near Saavedra's station, Señor Pancorbo still begged us not to risk our lives by going to look for them. By this time our curiosity was thoroughly aroused. We were familiar with the current stories regarding the habits of savage tribes who lived in the montaña and whose services were in great demand as rubber gatherers. We had even heard that Indians did not particularly like to work for Señor Pancorbo, who was an energetic, ambitious man, anxious to achieve many things, results which required more laborers than could easily be obtained. We could readily believe there might possibly be Indians at Conservidayoc who had escaped from the rubber estate of San Miguel. Undoubtedly, Señor Pancorbo's own life would have been at the mercy of their poisoned arrows. All over the Amazon Basin the exigencies of rubber gatherers had caused tribes visited with impunity by the explorers of the nineteenth century to become so savage and revengeful as to lead them to kill all white men at sight. Professor Foote and I considered the matter in all its aspects. We finally came to the conclusion that in view of the specific reports regarding the presence of Inca ruins at Conservidayoc we could not afford to follow the advice of the friendly planter. We must at least make an effort to reach them, meanwhile taking every precaution to avoid arousing the enmity of the powerful Saavedra and his savage retainers. ------ FIGURE Quispi Cusi Testifying about Inca Ruins ------ ------ FIGURE One of our Bearers Crossing the Pampaconas River ------ On the day following our arrival at the town of Vilcabamba, the gobernador, Condoré, taking counsel with his chief assistant, had summoned the wisest Indians living in the vicinity, including a very picturesque old fellow whose name, Quispi Cusi, was strongly reminiscent of the days of Titu Cusi. It was explained to him that this was a very solemn occasion and that an official inquiry was in progress. He took off his hat--but not his knitted cap--and endeavored to the best of his ability to answer our questions about the surrounding country. It was he who said that the Inca Tupac Amaru once lived at Rosaspata. He had never heard of Uilcapampa Viejo, but he admitted that there were ruins in the montaña near Conservidayoc. Other Indians were questioned by Condoré. Several had heard of the ruins of Conservidayoc, but, apparently, none of them, nor any one in the village, had actually seen the ruins or visited their immediate vicinity. They all agreed that Saavedra's place was "at least four days' hard journey on foot in the montaña beyond Pampaconas." No village of that name appeared on any map of Peru, although it is frequently mentioned in the documents of the sixteenth century. Rodriguez de Figueroa, who came to seek an audience with Titu Cusi about 1565, says that he met Titu Cusi at a place called Banbaconas. He says further that the Inca came there from somewhere down in the dense forests of the montaña and presented him with a macaw and two hampers of peanuts--products of a warm region. We had brought with us the large sheets of Raimondi's invaluable map which covered this locality. We also had the new map of South Peru and North Bolivia which had just been published by the Royal Geographical Society and gave a summary of all available information. The Indians said that Conservidayoc lay in a westerly direction from Vilcabamba, yet on Raimondi's map all of the rivers which rise in the mountains west of the town are short affluents of the Apurimac and flow southwest. We wondered whether the stories about ruins at Conservidayoc would turn out to be as barren of foundation as those we had heard from the trustworthy foreman at Huadquiña. One of our informants said the Inca city was called Espiritu Pampa, or the "Pampa of Ghosts." Would the ruins turn out to be "ghosts"? Would they vanish on the arrival of white men with cameras and steel measuring tapes? No one at Vilcabamba had seen the ruins, but they said that at the village of Pampaconas, "about five leagues from here," there were Indians who had actually been to Conservidayoc. Our supplies were getting low. There were no shops nearer than Lucma; no food was obtainable from the natives. Accordingly, notwithstanding the protestations of the hospitable gobernador, we decided to start immediately for Conservidayoc. At the end of a long day's march up the Vilcabamba Valley, Professor Foote, with his accustomed skill, was preparing the evening meal and we were both looking forward with satisfaction to enjoying large cups of our favorite beverage. Several years ago, when traveling on muleback across the great plateau of southern Bolivia, I had learned the value of sweet, hot tea as a stimulant and bracer in the high Andes. At first astonished to see how much tea the Indian arrieros drank, I learned from sad experience that it was far better than cold water, which often brings on mountain-sickness. This particular evening, one swallow of the hot tea caused consternation. It was the most horrible stuff imaginable. Examination showed small, oily particles floating on the surface. Further investigation led to the discovery that one of our arrieros had that day placed our can of kerosene on top of one of the loads. The tin became leaky and the kerosene had dripped down into a food box. A cloth bag of granulated sugar had eagerly absorbed all the oil it could. There was no remedy but to throw away half of our supply. As I have said, the longer one works in the Andes the more desirable does sugar become and the more one seems to crave it. Yet we were unable to procure any here. After the usual delays, caused in part by the difficulty of catching our mules, which had taken advantage of our historical investigations to stray far up the mountain pastures, we finally set out from the boundaries of known topography, headed for "Conservidayoc," a vague place surrounded with mystery; a land of hostile savages, albeit said to possess the ruins of an Inca town. Our first day's journey was to Pampaconas. Here and in its vicinity the gobernador told us he could procure guides and the half-dozen carriers whose services we should require for the jungle trail where mules could not be used. As the Indians hereabouts were averse to penetrating the wilds of Conservidayoc and were also likely to be extremely alarmed at the sight of men in uniform, the two gendarmes who were now accompanying us were instructed to delay their departure for a few hours and not to reach Pampaconas with our pack train until dusk. The gobernador said that if the Indians of Pampaconas caught sight of any brass buttons coming over the hills they would hide so effectively that it would be impossible to secure any carriers. Apparently this was due in part to that love of freedom which had led them to abandon the more comfortable towns for a frontier village where landlords could not call on them for forced labor. Consequently, before the arrival of any such striking manifestations of official authority as our gendarmes, the gobernador and his friend Mogrovejo proposed to put in the day craftily commandeering the services of a half-dozen sturdy Indians. Their methods will be described presently. Leaving modern Vilcabamba, we crossed the flat, marshy bottom of an old glaciated valley, in which one of our mules got thoroughly mired while searching for the succulent grasses which cover the treacherous bog. Fording the Vilcabamba River, which here is only a tiny brook, we climbed out of the valley and turned westward. On the mountains above us were vestiges of several abandoned mines. It was their discovery in 1572 or thereabouts which brought Ocampo and the first Spanish settlers to this valley. Raimondi says that he found here cobalt, nickel, silver-bearing copper ore, and lead sulphide. He does not mention any gold-bearing quartz. It may have been exhausted long before his day. As to the other minerals, the difficulties of transportation are so great that it is not likely that mining will be renewed here for many years to come. At the top of the pass we turned to look back and saw a long chain of snow-capped mountains towering above and behind the town of Vilcabamba. We searched in vain for them on our maps. Raimondi, followed by the Royal Geographical Society, did not leave room enough for such a range to exist between the rivers Apurimac and Urubamba. Mr. Hendriksen determined our longitude to be 73° west, and our latitude to be 13° 8' south. Yet according to the latest map of this region, published in the preceding year, this was the very position of the river Apurimac itself, near its junction with the river Pampas. We ought to have been swimming "the Great Speaker." Actually we were on top of a lofty mountain pass surrounded by high peaks and glaciers. The mystery was finally solved by Mr. Bumstead in 1912, when he determined the Apurimac and the Urubamba to be thirty miles farther apart than any one had supposed. His surveys opened an unexplored region, 1500 square miles in extent, whose very existence had not been guessed before 1911. It proved to be one of the largest undescribed glaciated areas in South America. Yet it is less than a hundred miles from Cuzco, the chief city in the Peruvian Andes, and the site of a university for more than three centuries. That Uilcapampa could so long defy investigation and exploration shows better than anything else how wisely Manco had selected his refuge. It is indeed a veritable labyrinth of snow-clad peaks, unknown glaciers, and trackless canyons. Looking west, we saw in front of us a great wilderness of deep green valleys and forest-clad slopes. We supposed from our maps that we were now looking down into the basin of the Apurimac. As a matter of fact, we were on the rim of the valley of the hitherto uncharted Pampaconas, a branch of the Cosireni, one of the affluents of the Urubamba. Instead of being the Apurimac Basin, what we saw was another unexplored region which drained into the Urubamba! At the time, however, we did not know where we were, but understood from Condoré that somewhere far down in the montaña below us was Conservidayoc, the sequestered domain of Saavedra and his savage Indians. It seemed less likely than ever that the Incas could have built a town so far away from the climate and food to which they were accustomed. The "road" was now so bad that only with the greatest difficulty could we coax our sure-footed mules to follow it. Once we had to dismount, as the path led down a long, steep, rocky stairway of ancient origin. At last, rounding a hill, we came in sight of a lonesome little hut perched on a shoulder of the mountain. In front of it, seated in the sun on mats, were two women shelling corn. As soon as they saw the gobernador approaching, they stopped their work and began to prepare lunch. It was about eleven o'clock and they did not need to be told that Señor Condoré and his friends had not had anything but a cup of coffee since the night before. In order to meet the emergency of unexpected guests they killed four or five squealing cuys (guinea pigs), usually to be found scurrying about the mud floor of the huts of mountain Indians. Before long the savory odor of roast cuy, well basted, and cooked-to-a-turn on primitive spits, whetted our appetites. In the eastern United States one sees guinea pigs only as pets or laboratory victims; never as an article of food. In spite of the celebrated dogma that "Pigs is Pigs," this form of "pork" has never found its way to our kitchens, even though these "pigs" live on a very clean, vegetable diet. Incidentally guinea pigs do not come from Guinea and are in no way related to pigs--Mr. Ellis Parker Butler to the contrary notwithstanding! They belong rather to the same family as rabbits and Belgian hares and have long been a highly prized article of food in the Andes of Peru. The wild species are of a grayish brown color, which enables them to escape observation in their natural habitat. The domestic varieties, which one sees in the huts of the Indians, are piebald, black, white, and tawny, varying from one another in color as much as do the llamas, which were also domesticated by the same race of people thousands of years ago. Although Anglo-Saxon "folkways," as Professor Sumner would say, permit us to eat and enjoy long-eared rabbits, we draw the line at short-eared rabbits, yet they were bred to be eaten. I am willing to admit that this was the first time that I had ever knowingly tasted their delicate flesh, although once in the capital of Bolivia I thought the hotel kitchen had a diminishing supply! Had I not been very hungry, I might never have known how delicious a roast guinea pig can be. The meat is not unlike squab. To the Indians whose supply of animal food is small, whose fowls are treasured for their eggs, and whose thin sheep are more valuable as wool bearers than as mutton, the succulent guinea pig, "most prolific of mammals," as was discovered by Mr. Butler's hero, is a highly valued article of food, reserved for special occasions. The North American housewife keeps a few tins of sardines and cans of preserves on hand for emergencies. Her sister in the Andes similarly relies on fat little cuys. After lunch, Condoré and Mogrovejo divided the extensive rolling countryside between them and each rode quietly from one lonesome farm to another, looking for men to engage as bearers. When they were so fortunate as to find the man of the house at home or working in his little chacra they greeted him pleasantly. When he came forward to shake hands, in the usual Indian manner, a silver dollar was un-suspectingly slipped into the palm of his right hand and he was informed that he had accepted pay for services which must now be performed. It seemed hard, but this was the only way in which it was possible to secure carriers. During Inca times the Indians never received pay for their labor. A paternal government saw to it that they were properly fed and clothed and either given abundant opportunity to provide for their own necessities or else permitted to draw on official stores. In colonial days a more greedy and less paternal government took advantage of the ancient system and enforced it without taking pains to see that it should not cause suffering. Then, for generations, thoughtless landlords, backed by local authority, forced the Indians to work without suitably recompensing them at the end of their labors or even pretending to carry out promises and wage agreements. The peons learned that it was unwise to perform any labor without first having received a considerable portion of their pay. When once they accepted money, however, their own custom and the law of the land provided that they must carry out their obligations. Failure to do so meant legal punishment. Consequently, when an unfortunate Pampaconas Indian found he had a dollar in his hand, he bemoaned his fate, but realized that service was inevitable. In vain did he plead that he was "busy," that his "crops needed attention," that his "family could not spare him," that "he lacked food for a journey." Condoré and Mogrovejo were accustomed to all varieties of excuses. They succeeded in "engaging" half a dozen carriers. Before dark we reached the village of Pampaconas, a few small huts scattered over grassy hillsides, at an elevation of 10,000 feet. In the notes of one of the military advisers of Viceroy Francisco de Toledo is a reference to Pampaconas as a "high, cold place." This is correct. Nevertheless, I doubt if the present village is the Pampaconas mentioned in the documents of Garcia's day as being "an important town of the Incas." There are no ruins hereabouts. The huts of Pampaconas were newly built of stone and mud, and thatched with grass. They were occupied by a group of sturdy mountain Indians, who enjoyed unusual freedom from official or other interference and a good place in which to raise sheep and cultivate potatoes, on the very edge of the dense forest. We found that there was some excitement in the village because on the previous night a jaguar, or possibly a cougar, had come out of the forest, attacked, killed, and dragged off one of the village ponies. We were conducted to the dwelling of a stocky, well-built Indian named Guzman, the most reliable man in the village, who had been selected to be the head of the party of carriers that was to accompany us to Conservidayoc. Guzman had some Spanish blood in his veins, although he did not boast of it. With his wife and six children he occupied one of the best huts. A fire in one corner frequently filled it with acrid smoke. It was very small and had no windows. At one end was a loft where family treasures could be kept dry and reasonably safe from molestation. Piles of sheep skins were arranged for visitors to sit upon. Three or four rude niches in the walls served in lieu of shelves and tables. The floor of well-trodden clay was damp. Three mongrel dogs and a flea-bitten cat were welcome to share the narrow space with the family and their visitors. A dozen hogs entered stealthily and tried to avoid attention by putting a muffler on involuntary grunts. They did not succeed and were violently ejected by a boy with a whip; only to return again and again, each time to be driven out as before, squealing loudly. Notwithstanding these interruptions, we carried on a most interesting conversation with Guzman. He had been to Conservidayoc and had himself actually seen ruins at Espiritu Pampa. At last the mythical "Pampa of Ghosts" began to take on in our minds an aspect of reality, even though we were careful to remind ourselves that another very trustworthy man had said he had seen ruins "finer than Ollantaytambo" near Huadquiña. Guzman did not seem to dread Conservidayoc as much as the other Indians, only one of whom had ever been there. To cheer them up we purchased a fat sheep, for which we paid fifty cents. Guzman immediately butchered it in preparation for the journey. Although it was August and the middle of the dry season, rain began to fall early in the afternoon. Sergeant Carrasco arrived after dark with our pack animals, but, missing the trail as he neared Guzman's place, one of the mules stepped into a bog and was extracted only with considerable difficulty. We decided to pitch our small pyramidal tent on a fairly well-drained bit of turf not far from Guzman's little hut. In the evening, after we had had a long talk with the Indians, we came back through the rain to our comfortable little tent, only to hear various and sundry grunts emerging therefrom. We found that during our absence a large sow and six fat young pigs, unable to settle down comfortably at the Guzman hearth, had decided that our tent was much the driest available place on the mountain side and that our blankets made a particularly attractive bed. They had considerable difficulty in getting out of the small door as fast as they wished. Nevertheless, the pouring rain and the memory of comfortable blankets caused the pigs to return at intervals. As we were starting to enjoy our first nap, Guzman, with hospitable intent, sent us two bowls of steaming soup, which at first glance seemed to contain various sizes of white macaroni--a dish of which one of us was particularly fond. The white hollow cylinders proved to be extraordinarily tough, not the usual kind of macaroni. As a matter of fact, we learned that the evening meal which Guzman's wife had prepared for her guests was made chiefly of sheep's entrails! Rain continued without intermission during the whole of a very cold and dreary night. Our tent, which had never been wet before, leaked badly; the only part which seemed to be thoroughly waterproof was the floor. As day dawned we found ourselves to be lying in puddles of water. Everything was soaked. Furthermore, rain was still failing. While we were discussing the situation and wondering what we should cook for breakfast, the faithful Guzman heard our voices and immediately sent us two more bowls of hot soup, which were this time more welcome, even though among the bountiful corn, beans, and potatoes we came unexpectedly upon fragments of the teeth and jaws of the sheep. Evidently in Pampaconas nothing is wasted. We were anxious to make an early start for Conservidayoc, but it was first necessary for our Indians to prepare food for the ten days' journey ahead of them. Guzman's wife, and I suppose the wives of our other carriers, spent the morning grinding chuño (frozen potatoes) with a rocking stone pestle on a flat stone mortar, and parching or toasting large quantities of sweet corn in a terra-cotta olla. With chuño and tostado, the body of the sheep, and a small quantity of coca leaves, the Indians professed themselves to be perfectly contented. Of our own provisions we had so small a quantity that we were unable to spare any. However, it is doubtful whether the Indians would have liked them as much as the food to which they had long been accustomed. Toward noon, all the Indian carriers but one having arrived, and the rain having partly subsided, we started for Conservidayoc. We were told that it would be possible to use the mules for this day's journey. San Fernando, our first stop, was "seven leagues" away, far down in the densely wooded Pampaconas Valley. Leaving the village we climbed up the mountain back of Guzman's hut and followed a faint trail by a dangerous and precarious route along the crest of the ridge. The rains had not improved the path. Our saddle mules were of little use. We had to go nearly all the way on foot. Owing to cold rain and mist we could see but little of the deep canyon which opened below us, and into which we now began to descend through the clouds by a very steep, zigzag path, four thousand feet to a hot tropical valley. Below the clouds we found ourselves near a small abandoned clearing. Passing this and fording little streams, we went along a very narrow path, across steep slopes, on which maize had been planted. Finally we came to another little clearing and two extremely primitive little shanties, mere shelters not deserving to be called huts; and this was San Fernando, the end of the mule trail. There was scarcely room enough in them for our six carriers. It was with great difficulty we found and cleared a place for our tent, although its floor was only seven feet square. There was no really flat land at all. At 8:30 P.M. August 13, 1911, while lying on the ground in our tent, I noticed an earthquake. It was felt also by the Indians in the near-by shelter, who from force of habit rushed out of their frail structure and made a great disturbance, crying out that there was a temblor. Even had their little thatched roof fallen upon them, as it might have done during the stormy night which followed, they were in no danger; but, being accustomed to the stone walls and red tiled roofs of mountain villages where earthquakes sometimes do very serious harm, they were greatly excited. The motion seemed to me to be like a slight shuffle from west to east, lasting three or four seconds, a gentle rocking back and forth, with eight or ten vibrations. Several weeks later, near Huadquiña, we happened to stop at the Colpani telegraph office. The operator said he had felt two shocks on August 13th--one at five o'clock, which had shaken the books off his table and knocked over a box of insulators standing along a wall which ran north and south. He said the shock which I had felt was the lighter of the two. During the night it rained hard, but our tent was now adjusting itself to the "dry season" and we were more comfortable. Furthermore, camping out at 10,000 feet above sea level is very different from camping at 6000 feet. This elevation, similar to that of the bridge of San Miguel, below Machu Picchu, is on the lower edge of the temperate zone and the beginning of the torrid tropics. Sugar cane, peppers, bananas, and grenadillas grow here as well as maize, squashes, and sweet potatoes. None of these things will grow at Pampaconas. The Indians who raise sheep and white potatoes in that cold region come to San Fernando to make chacras or small clearings. The three or four natives whom we found here were so alarmed by the sight of brass buttons that they disappeared during the night rather than take the chance of having a silver dollar pressed into their hands in the morning! From San Fernando, we sent one of our gendarmes back to Pampaconas with the mules. Our carriers were good for about fifty pounds apiece. Half an hour's walk brought us to Vista Alegre, another little clearing on an alluvial fan in the bend of the river. The soil here seemed to be very rich. In the chacra we saw corn stalks eighteen feet in height, near a gigantic tree almost completely enveloped in the embrace of a mato-palo, or parasitic fig tree. This clearing certainly deserves its name, for it commands a "charming view" of the green Pampaconas Valley. Opposite us rose abruptly a heavily forested mountain, whose summit was lost in the clouds a mile above. To circumvent this mountain the river had been flowing in a westerly direction; now it gradually turned to the northward. Again we were mystified; for, by Raimondi's map, it should have gone southward. We entered a dense jungle, where the narrow path became more and more difficult for our carriers. Crawling over rocks, under branches, along slippery little cliffs, on steps which had been cut in earth or rock, over a trail which not even dogs could follow unassisted, slowly we made our way down the valley. Owing to the heat, humidity, and the frequent showers, it was mid-afternoon before we reached another little clearing called Pacaypata. Here, on a hillside nearly a thousand feet above the river, our men decided to spend the night in a tiny little shelter six feet long and five feet wide. Professor Foote and I had to dig a shelf out of the steep hillside in order to pitch our tent. The next morning, not being detained by the vagaries of a mule train, we made an early start. As we followed the faint little trail across the gulches tributary to the river Pampaconas, we had to negotiate several unusually steep descents and ascents. The bearers suffered from the heat. They found it more and more difficult to carry their loads. Twice we had to cross the rapids of the river on primitive bridges which consisted only of a few little logs lashed together and resting on slippery boulders. By one o'clock we found ourselves on a small plain (ele. 4500 ft.) in dense woods surrounded by tree ferns, vines, and tangled thickets, through which it was impossible to see for more than a few feet. Here Guzman told us we must stop and rest a while, as we were now in the territory of los salvajes, the savage Indians who acknowledged only the rule of Saavedra and resented all intrusion. Guzman did not seem to be particularly afraid, but said that we ought to send ahead one of our carriers, to warn the savages that we were coming on a friendly mission and were not in search of rubber gatherers; otherwise they might attack us, or run away and disappear into the jungle. He said we should never be able to find the ruins without their help. The carrier who was selected to go ahead did not relish his task. Leaving his pack behind, he proceeded very quietly and cautiously along the trail and was lost to view almost immediately. There followed an exciting half-hour while we waited, wondering what attitude the savages would take toward us, and trying to picture to ourselves the mighty potentate, Saavedra, who had been described as sitting in the midst of savage luxury, "surrounded by fifty servants," and directing his myrmidons to checkmate our desires to visit the Inca city on the "pampa of ghosts." Suddenly, we were startled by the crackling of twigs and the sound of a man running. We instinctively held our rifles a little tighter in readiness for whatever might befall--when there burst out of the woods a pleasant-faced young Peruvian, quite conventionally clad, who had come in haste from Saavedra, his father, to extend to us a most cordial welcome! It seemed scarcely credible, but a glance at his face showed that there was no ambush in store for us. It was with a sigh of relief that we realized there was to be no shower of poisoned arrows from the impenetrable thickets. Gathering up our packs, we continued along the jungle trail, through woods which gradually became higher, deeper, and darker, until presently we saw sunlight ahead and, to our intense astonishment, the bright green of waving sugar cane. A few moments of walking through the cane fields found us at a large comfortable hut, welcomed very simply and modestly by Saavedra himself. A more pleasant and peaceable little man it was never my good fortune to meet. We looked furtively around for his fifty savage servants, but all we saw was his good-natured Indian wife, three or four small children, and a wild-eyed maid-of-all-work, evidently the only savage present. Saavedra said some called this place "Jesús Maria" because they were so surprised when they saw it. It is difficult to describe our feelings as we accepted Saavedra's invitation to make ourselves at home, and sat down to an abundant meal of boiled chicken, rice, and sweet cassava (manioc). Saavedra gave us to understand that we were not only most welcome to anything he had, but that he would do everything to enable us to see the ruins, which were, it seemed, at Espiritu Pampa, some distance farther down the valley, to be reached only by a hard trail passable for barefooted savages, but scarcely available for us unless we chose to go a good part of the distance on hands and knees. The next day, while our carriers were engaged in clearing this trail, Professor Foote collected a large number of insects, including eight new species of moths and butterflies. I inspected Saavedra's plantation. The soil having lain fallow for centuries, and being rich in humus, had produced more sugar cane than he could grind. In addition to this, he had bananas, coffee trees, sweet potatoes, tobacco, and peanuts. Instead of being "a very powerful chief having many Indians under his control"--a kind of "Pooh-Bah"--he was merely a pioneer. In the utter wilderness, far from any neighbors, surrounded by dense forests and a few savages, he had established his home. He was not an Indian potentate, but only a frontiersman, soft-spoken and energetic, an ingenious carpenter and mechanic, a modest Peruvian of the best type. Owing to the scarcity of arable land he was obliged to cultivate such pampas as he could find--one an alluvial fan near his house, another a natural terrace near the river. Back of the house was a thatched shelter under which he had constructed a little sugar mill. It had a pair of hardwood rollers, each capable of being turned, with much creaking and cracking, by a large, rustic wheel made of roughly hewn timbers fastened together with wooden pins and lashed with thongs, worked by hand and foot power. Since Saavedra had been unable to coax any pack animals over the trail to Conservidayoc he was obliged to depend entirely on his own limited strength and that of his active son, aided by the uncertain and irregular services of such savages as wished to work for sugar, trinkets, or other trade articles. Sometimes the savages seemed to enjoy the fun of climbing on the great creaking treadwheel, as though it were a game. At other times they would disappear in the woods. Near the mill were some interesting large pots which Saavedra was using in the process of boiling the juice and making crude sugar. He said he had found the pots in the jungle not far away. They had been made by the Incas. Four of them were of the familiar aryballus type. Another was of a closely related form, having a wide mouth, pointed base, single incised, conventionalized, animal-head nubbin attached to the shoulder, and band-shaped handles attached vertically below the median line. Although capable of holding more than ten gallons, this huge pot was intended to be carried on the back and shoulders by means of a rope passing through the handles and around the nubbin. Saavedra said that he had found near his house several bottle-shaped cists lined with stones, with a flat stone on top--evidently ancient graves. The bones had entirely disappeared. The cover of one of the graves had been pierced; the hole covered with a thin sheet of beaten silver. He had also found a few stone implements and two or three small bronze Inca axes. On the pampa, below his house, Saavedra had constructed with infinite labor another sugar mill. It seemed strange that he should have taken the trouble to make two mills; but when one remembered that he had no pack animals and was usually obliged to bring the cane to the mill on his own back and the back of his son, one realized that it was easier, while the cane was growing, to construct a new mill near the cane field than to have to carry the heavy bundles of ripe cane up the hill. He said his hardest task was to get money with which to send his children to school in Cuzco and to pay his taxes. The only way in which he could get any cash was by making chancaca, crude brown sugar, and carrying it on his back, fifty pounds at a time, three hard days' journey on foot up the mountain to Pampaconas or Vilcabamba, six or seven thousand feet above his little plantation. He said he could usually sell such a load for five soles, equivalent to two dollars and a half! His was certainly a hard lot, but he did not complain, although he smilingly admitted that it was very difficult to keep the trail open, since the jungle grew so fast and the floods in the river continually washed away his little rustic bridges. His chief regret was that as the result of a recent revolution, with which he had had nothing to do, the government had decreed that all firearms should be turned in, and so he had lost the one thing he needed to enable him to get fresh meat in the forest. ------ FIGURE Saavedra and his Inca Pottery ------ ------ FIGURE Inca Gable at Espiritu Pampa ------ In the clearing near the house we were interested to see a large turkey-like bird, the pava de la montaña, glossy black, its most striking feature a high, coral red comb. Although completely at liberty, it seemed to be thoroughly domesticated. It would make an attractive bird for introduction into our Southern States. Saavedra gave us some very black leaves of native tobacco, which he had cured. An inveterate smoker who tried it in his pipe said it was without exception the strongest stuff he ever had encountered! So interested did I become in talking with Saavedra, seeing his plantation, and marveling that he should be worried about taxes and have to obey regulations in regard to firearms, I had almost forgotten about the wild Indians. Suddenly our carriers ran toward the house in a great flurry of excitement, shouting that there was a "savage" in the bushes near by. The "wild man" was very timid, but curiosity finally got the better of fear and he summoned up sufficient courage to accept Saavedra's urgent invitation that he come out and meet us. He proved to be a miserable specimen, suffering from a very bad cold in his head. It has been my good fortune at one time or another to meet primitive folk in various parts of America and the Pacific, but this man was by far the dirtiest and most wretched savage that I have ever seen. He was dressed in a long, filthy tunic which came nearly to his ankles. It was made of a large square of coarsely woven cotton cloth, with a hole in the middle for his head. The sides were stitched up, leaving holes for the arms. His hair was long, unkempt, and matted. He had small, deep-set eyes, cadaverous cheeks, thick lips, and a large mouth. His big toes were unusually long and prehensile. Slung over one shoulder he carried a small knapsack made of coarse fiber net. Around his neck hung what at first sight seemed to be a necklace composed of a dozen stout cords securely knotted together. Although I did not see it in use, I was given to understand that when climbing trees, he used this stout loop to fasten his ankles together and thus secure a tighter grip for his feet. By evening two other savages had come in; a young married man and his little sister. Both had bad colds. Saavedra told us that these Indians were Pichanguerras, a subdivision of the Campa tribe. Saavedra and his son spoke a little of their language, which sounded to our unaccustomed ears like a succession of low grunts, breathings, and gutturals. It was pieced out by signs. The long tunics worn by the men indicated that they had one or more wives. Before marrying they wear very scanty attire--nothing more than a few rags hanging over one shoulder and tied about the waist. The long tunic, a comfortable enough garment to wear during the cold nights, and their only covering, must impede their progress in the jungle; yet they live partly by hunting, using bows and arrows. We learned that these Pichanguerras had run away from the rubber country in the lower valleys; that they found it uncomfortably cold at this altitude, 4500 feet, but preferred freedom in the higher valleys to serfdom on a rubber estate. Saavedra said that he had named his plantation Conservidayoc, because it was in truth "a spot where one may be preserved from harm." Such was the home of the potentate from whose abode "no one had been known to return alive." CHAPTER XV The Pampa of Ghosts Two days later we left Conservidayoc for Espiritu Pampa by the trail which Saavedra's son and our Pampaconas Indians had been clearing. We emerged from the thickets near a promontory where there was a fine view down the valley and particularly of a heavily wooded alluvial fan just below us. In it were two or three small clearings and the little oval huts of the savages of Espiritu Pampa, the "Pampa of Ghosts." On top of the promontory was the ruin of a small, rectangular building of rough stone, once probably an Inca watch-tower. From here to Espiritu Pampa our trail followed an ancient stone stairway, about four feet in width and nearly a third of a mile long. It was built of uncut stones. Possibly it was the work of those soldiers whose chief duty it was to watch from the top of the promontory and who used their spare time making roads. We arrived at the principal clearing just as a heavy thunder-shower began. The huts were empty. Obviously their occupants had seen us coming and had disappeared in the jungle. We hesitated to enter the home of a savage without an invitation, but the terrific downpour overcame our scruples, if not our nervousness. The hut had a steeply pitched roof. Its sides were made of small logs driven endwise into the ground and fastened together with vines. A small fire had been burning on the ground. Near the embers were two old black ollas of Inca origin. In the little chacra, cassava, coca, and sweet potatoes were growing in haphazard fashion among charred and fallen tree trunks; a typical milpa farm. In the clearing were the ruins of eighteen or twenty circular houses arranged in an irregular group. We wondered if this could be the "Inca city" which Lopez Torres had reported. Among the ruins we picked up several fragments of Inca pottery. There was nothing Incaic about the buildings. One was rectangular and one was spade-shaped, but all the rest were round. The buildings varied in diameter from fifteen to twenty feet. Each had but a single opening. The walls had tumbled down, but gave no evidence of careful construction. Not far away, in woods which had not yet been cleared by the savages, we found other circular walls. They were still standing to a height of about four feet. If the savages have extended their milpa clearings since our visit, the falling trees have probably spoiled these walls by now. The ancient village probably belonged to a tribe which acknowledged allegiance to the Incas, but the architecture of the buildings gave no indication of their having been constructed by the Incas themselves. We began to wonder whether the "Pampa of Ghosts" really had anything important in store for us. Undoubtedly this alluvial fan had been highly prized in this country of terribly steep hills. It must have been inhabited, off and on, for many centuries. Yet this was not an "Inca city." While we were wondering whether the Incas themselves ever lived here, there suddenly appeared the naked figure of a sturdy young savage, armed with a stout bow and long arrows, and wearing a fillet of bamboo. He had been hunting and showed us a bird he had shot. Soon afterwards there came the two adult savages we had met at Saavedra's, accompanied by a cross-eyed friend, all wearing long tunics. They offered to guide us to other ruins. It was very difficult for us to follow their rapid pace. Half an hour's scramble through the jungle brought us to a pampa or natural terrace on the banks of a little tributary of the Pampaconas. They called it Eromboni. Here we found several old artificial terraces and the rough foundations of a long, rectangular building 192 feet by 24 feet. It might have had twenty-four doors, twelve in front and twelve in back, each three and a half feet wide. No lintels were in evidence. The walls were only a foot high. There was very little building material in sight. Apparently the structure had never been completed. Near by was a typical Inca fountain with three stone spouts, or conduits. Two hundred yards beyond the water-carrier's rendezvous, hidden behind a curtain of hanging vines and thickets so dense we could not see more than a few feet in any direction, the savages showed us the ruins of a group of stone houses whose walls were still standing in fine condition. ------ FIGURE Ruins in the Jungles of Espiritu Pampa ------ One of the buildings was rounded at one end. Another, standing by itself at the south end of a little pampa, had neither doors nor windows. It was rectangular. Its four or five niches were arranged with unique irregularity. Furthermore, they were two feet deep, an unusual dimension. Probably this was a storehouse. On the east side of the pampa was a structure, 120 feet long by 21 feet wide, divided into five rooms of unequal size. The walls were of rough stones laid in adobe. Like some of the Inca buildings at Ollantaytambo, the lintels of the doors were made of three or four narrow uncut ashlars. Some rooms had niches. On the north side of the pampa was another rectangular building. On the west side was the edge of a stone-faced terrace. Below it was a partly enclosed fountain or bathhouse, with a stone spout and a stone-lined basin. The shapes of the houses, their general arrangement, the niches, stone roof-pegs and lintels, all point to Inca builders. In the buildings we picked up several fragments of Inca pottery. Equally interesting and very puzzling were half a dozen crude Spanish roofing tiles, baked red. All the pieces and fragments we could find would not have covered four square feet. They were of widely different sizes, as though some one had been experimenting. Perhaps an Inca who had seen the new red tiled roofs of Cuzco had tried to reproduce them here in the jungle, but without success. At dusk we all returned to Espiritu Pampa. Our faces, hands, and clothes had been torn by the jungle; our feet were weary and sore. Nevertheless the day's work had been very satisfactory and we prepared to enjoy a good night's rest. Alas, we were doomed to disappointment. During the day some one had brought to the hut eight tame but noisy macaws. Furthermore, our savage helpers determined to make the night hideous with cries, tom-toms, and drums, either to discourage the visits of hostile Indians or jaguars, or for the purpose of exorcising the demons brought by the white men, or else to cheer up their families, who were undoubtedly hiding in the jungle near by. The next day the savages and our carriers continued to clear away as much as possible of the tangled growth near the best ruins. In this process, to the intense surprise not only of ourselves, but also of the savages, they discovered, just below the "bathhouse" where we had stood the day before, the well-preserved ruins of two buildings of superior construction, well fitted with stone-pegs and numerous niches, very symmetrically arranged. These houses stood by themselves on a little artificial terrace. Fragments of characteristic Inca pottery were found on the floor, including pieces of a large aryballus. Nothing gives a better idea of the density of the jungle than the fact that the savages themselves had often been within five feet of these fine walls without being aware of their existence. Encouraged by this important discovery of the most characteristic Inca ruins found in the valley, we continued the search, but all that any one was able to find was a carefully built stone bridge over a brook. Saavedra's son questioned the savages carefully. They said they knew of no other antiquities. Who built the stone buildings of Espiritu Pampa and Eromboni Pampa? Was this the "Vilcabamba Viejo" of Father Calancha, that "University of Idolatry where lived the teachers who were wizards and masters of abomination," the place to which Friar Marcos and Friar Diego went with so much suffering? Was there formerly on this trail a place called Ungacacha where the monks had to wade, and amused Titu Cusi by the way they handled their monastic robes in the water? They called it a "three days' journey over rough country." Another reference in Father Calancha speaks of Puquiura as being "two long days' journey from Vilcabamba." It took us five days to go from Espiritu Pampa to Pucyura, although Indians, unencumbered by burdens, and spurred on by necessity, might do it in three. It is possible to fit some other details of the story into this locality, although there is no place on the road called Ungacacha. Nevertheless it does not seem to me reasonable to suppose that the priests and Virgins of the Sun (the personnel of the "University of Idolatry") who fled from cold Cuzco with Manco and were established by him somewhere in the fastnesses of Uilcapampa would have cared to live in the hot valley of Espiritu Pampa. The difference in climate is as great as that between Scotland and Egypt, or New York and Havana. They would not have found in Espiritu Pampa the food which they liked. Furthermore, they could have found the seclusion and safety which they craved just as well in several other parts of the province, particularly at Machu Picchu, together with a cool, bracing climate and food-stuffs more nearly resembling those to which they were accustomed. Finally Calancha says "Vilcabamba the Old" was "the largest city" in the province, a term far more applicable to Machu Picchu or even to Choqquequirau than to Espiritu Pampa. On the other hand there seems to be no doubt that Espiritu Pampa in the montaña does meet the requirements of the place called Vilcabamba by the companions of Captain Garcia. They speak of it as the town and valley to which Tupac Amaru, the last Inca, escaped after his forces lost the "young fortress" of Uiticos. Ocampo, doubtless wishing to emphasize the difference between it and his own metropolis, the Spanish town of Vilcabamba, calls the refuge of Tupac "Vilcabamba the old." Ocampo's new "Vilcabamba" was not in existence when Friar Marcos and Friar Diego lived in this province. If Calancha wrote his chronicles from their notes, the term "old" would not apply to Espiritu Pampa, but to an older Vilcabamba than either of the places known to Ocampo. The ruins are of late Inca pattern, not of a kind which would have required a long period to build. The unfinished building may have been under construction during the latter part of the reign of Titu Cusi. It was Titu Cusi's desire that Rodriguez de Figueroa should meet him at Pampaconas. The Inca evidently came from a Vilcabamba down in the montaña, and, as has been said, brought Rodriguez a present of a macaw and two hampers of peanuts, articles of trade still common at Conservidayoc. There appears to me every reason to believe that the ruins of Espiritu Pampa are those of one of the favorite residences of this Inca--the very Vilcabamba, in fact, where he spent his boyhood and from which he journeyed to meet Rodriguez in 1565. [13] In 1572, when Captain Garcia took up the pursuit of Tupac Amaru after the victory of Vilcabamba, the Inca fled "inland toward the valley of Sima-ponte ... to the country of the Mañaries Indians, a warlike tribe and his friends, where balsas and canoes were posted to save him and enable him to escape." There is now no valley in this vicinity called Simaponte, so far as we have been able to discover. The Mañaries Indians are said to have lived on the banks of the lower Urubamba. In order to reach their country Tupac Amaru probably went down the Pampaconas from Espiritu Pampa. From the "Pampa of Ghosts" to canoe navigation would have been but a short journey. Evidently his friends who helped him to escape were canoe-men. Captain Garcia gives an account of the pursuit of Tupac Amaru in which he says that, not deterred by the dangers of the jungle or the river, he constructed five rafts on which he put some of his soldiers and, accompanying them himself, went down the rapids, escaping death many times by swimming, until he arrived at a place called Momori, only to find that the Inca, learning of his approach, had gone farther into the woods. Nothing daunted, Garcia followed him, although he and his men now had to go on foot and barefooted, with hardly anything to eat, most of their provisions having been lost in the river, until they finally caught Tupac and his friends; a tragic ending to a terrible chase, hard on the white man and fatal for the Incas. It was with great regret that I was now unable to follow the Pampaconas River to its junction with the Urubamba. It seemed possible that the Pampaconas might be known as the Sirialo, or the Cori-beni, both of which were believed by Dr. Bowman's canoe-men to rise in the mountains of Vilcabamba. It was not, however, until the summer of 1915 that we were able definitely to learn that the Pampaconas was really a branch of the Cosireni. It seems likely that the Cosireni was once called the "Sima-ponte." Whether the Comberciato is the "Momori" is hard to say. To be the next to follow in the footsteps of Tupac Amaru and Captain Garcia was the privilege of Messrs. Heller, Ford, and Maynard. They found that the unpleasant features had not been exaggerated. They were tormented by insects and great quantities of ants--a small red ant found on tree trunks, and a large black one, about an inch in length, frequently seen among the leaves on the ground. The bite of the red ant caused a stinging and burning for about fifteen minutes. One of their carriers who was bitten in the foot by a black ant suffered intense pain for a number of hours. Not only his foot, but also his leg and hip were affected. The savages were both fishermen and hunters; the fish being taken with nets, the game killed with bows and arrows. Peccaries were shot from a blind made of palm leaves a few feet from a runway. Fishing brought rather meager results. Three Indians fished all night and caught only one fish, a perch weighing about four pounds. The temperature was so high that candles could easily be tied in knots. Excessive humidity caused all leather articles to become blue with mould. Clouds of flies and mosquitoes increased the likelihood of spreading communicable jungle fevers. The river Comberciato was reached by Mr. Heller at a point not more than a league from its junction with the Urubamba. The lower course of the Comberciato is not considered dangerous to canoe navigation, but the valley is much narrower than the Cosireni. The width of the river is about 150 feet and its volume is twice that of the Cosireni. The climate is very trying. The nights are hot. Insect pests are numerous. Mr. Heller found that "the forest was filled with annoying, though sting-less, bees which persisted in attempting to roost on the countenance of any human being available." On the banks of the Comberciato he found several families of savages. All the men were keen hunters and fishermen. Their weapons consisted of powerful bows made from the wood of a small palm and long arrows made of reeds and finished with feathers arranged in a spiral. Monkeys were abundant. Specimens of six distinct genera were found, including the large red howler, inert and easily located by its deep, roaring bellow which can be heard for a distance of several miles; the giant black spider monkey, very alert, and, when frightened, fairly flying through the branches at astonishing speed; and a woolly monkey, black in color, and very intelligent in expression, frequently tamed by the savages, who "enjoy having them as pets but are not averse to eating them when food is scarce." "The flesh of monkeys is greatly appreciated by these Indians, who preserved what they did not require for immediate needs by drying it over the smoke of a wood fire." On the Cosireni Mr. Maynard noticed that one of his Indian guides carried a package, wrapped in leaves, which on being opened proved to contain forty or fifty large hairless grubs or caterpillars. The man finally bit their heads off and threw the bodies into a small bag, saying that the grubs were considered a great delicacy by the savages. The Indians we met at Espiritu Pampa closely resembled those seen in the lower valley. All our savages were bareheaded and barefooted. They live so much in the shelter of the jungle that hats are not necessary. Sandals or shoes would only make it harder to use the slippery little trails. They had seen no strangers penetrate this valley for about ten years, and at first kept their wives and children well secluded. Later, when Messrs. Hendriksen and Tucker were sent here to determine the astronomical position of Espiritu Pampa, the savages permitted Mr. Tucker to take photographs of their families. Perhaps it is doubtful whether they knew just what he was doing. At all events they did not run away and hide. ------ FIGURE Campa Men at Espiritu Pampa ------ ------ FIGURE Campa Women and Children at Espiritu Pampa ------ All the men and older boys wore white fillets of bamboo. The married men had smeared paint on their faces, and one of them was wearing the characteristic lip ornament of the Campas. Some of the children wore no clothing at all. Two of the wives wore long tunics like the men. One of them had a truly savage face, daubed with paint. She wore no fillet, had the best tunic, and wore a handsome necklace made of seeds and the skins of small birds of brilliant plumage, a work of art which must have cost infinite pains and the loss of not a few arrows. All the women carried babies in little hammocks slung over the shoulder. One little girl, not more than six years old, was carrying on her back a child of two, in a hammock supported from her head by a tump-line. It will be remembered that forest Indians nearly always use tump-lines so as to allow their hands free play. One of the wives was fairer than the others and looked as though she might have had a Spanish ancestor. The most savage-looking of the women was very scantily clad, wore a necklace of seeds, a white lip ornament, and a few rags tied around her waist. All her children were naked. The children of the woman with the handsome necklace were clothed in pieces of old tunics, and one of them, evidently her mother's favorite, was decorated with bird skins and a necklace made from the teeth of monkeys. Such were the people among whom Tupac Amaru took refuge when he fled from Vilcabamba. Whether he partook of such a delicacy as monkey meat, which all Amazonian Indians relish, but which is not eaten by the highlanders, may be doubted. Garcilasso speaks of Tupac Amaru's preferring to entrust himself to the hands of the Spaniards "rather than to perish of famine." His Indian allies lived perfectly well in a region where monkeys abound. It is doubtful whether they would ever have permitted Captain Garcia to capture the Inca had they been able to furnish Tupac with such food as he was accustomed to. At all events our investigations seem to point to the probability of this valley having been an important part of the domain of the last Incas. It would have been pleasant to prolong our studies, but the carriers were anxious to return to Pampaconas. Although they did not have to eat monkey meat, they were afraid of the savages and nervous as to what use the latter might some day make of the powerful bows and long arrows. At Conservidayoc Saavedra kindly took the trouble to make some sugar for us. He poured the syrup in oblong moulds cut in a row along the side of a big log of hard wood. In some of the moulds his son placed handfuls of nicely roasted peanuts. The result was a confection or "emergency ration" which we greatly enjoyed on our return journey. At San Fernando we met the pack mules. The next day, in the midst of continuing torrential tropical downpours, we climbed out of the hot valley to the cold heights of Pampaconas. We were soaked with perspiration and drenched with rain. Snow had been falling above the village; our teeth chattered like castanets. Professor Foote immediately commandeered Mrs. Guzman's fire and filled our tea kettle. It may be doubted whether a more wretched, cold, wet, and bedraggled party ever arrived at Guzman's hut; certainly nothing ever tasted better than that steaming hot sweet tea. CHAPTER XVI The Story of Tampu-tocco, a Lost City of the First Incas It will be remembered that while on the search for the capital of the last Incas we had found several groups of ruins which we could not fit entirely into the story of Manco and his sons. The most important of these was Machu Picchu. Many of its buildings are far older than the ruins of Rosaspata and Espiritu Pampa. To understand just what we may have found at Machu Picchu it is now necessary to tell the story of a celebrated city, whose name, Tampu-tocco, was not used even at the time of the Spanish Conquest as the cognomen of any of the Inca towns then in existence. I must draw the reader's attention far away from the period when Pizarro and Manco, Toledo and Tupac Amaru were the protagonists, back to events which occurred nearly seven hundred years before their day. The last Incas ruled in Uiticos between 1536 and 1572. The last Amautas flourished about 800 A.D. ------ FIGURE Puma Urco, near Paccaritampu ------ The Amautas had been ruling the Peruvian highlands for about sixty generations, when, as has been told in Chapter VI, invaders came from the south and east. The Amautas had built up a wonderful civilization. Many of the agricultural and engineering feats which we ordinarily assign to the Incas were really achievements of the Amautas. The last of the Amautas was Pachacuti VI, who was killed by an arrow on the battle-field of La Raya. The historian Montesinos, whose work on the antiquities of Peru has recently been translated for the Hakluyt Society by Mr. P. A. Means, of Harvard University, tells us that the followers of Pachacuti VI fled with his body to "Tampu-tocco." This, says the historian, was "a healthy place" where there was a cave in which they hid the Amauta's body. Cuzco, the finest and most important of all their cities, was sacked. General anarchy prevailed throughout the ancient empire. The good old days of peace and plenty disappeared before the invader. The glory of the old empire was destroyed, not to return for several centuries. In these dark ages, resembling those of European medieval times which followed the Germanic migrations and the fall of the Roman Empire, Peru was split up into a large number of small independent units. Each district chose its own ruler and carried on depredations against its neighbors. The effects of this may still be seen in the ruins of small fortresses found guarding the way into isolated Andean valleys. Montesinos says that those who were most loyal to the Amautas were few in number and not strong enough to oppose their enemies successfully. Some of them, probably the principal priests, wise men, and chiefs of the ancient régime, built a new city at "Tampu-tocco." Here they kept alive the memory of the Amautas and lived in such a relatively civilized manner as to draw to them, little by little, those who wished to be safe from the prevailing chaos and disorder and the tyranny of the independent chiefs or "robber barons." In their new capital, they elected a king, Titi Truaman Quicho. The survivors of the old régime enjoyed living at Tampu-tocco, because there never have been any earthquakes, plagues, or tremblings there. Furthermore, if fortune should turn against their new young king, Titi Truaman, and he should be killed, they could bury him in a very sacred place, namely, the cave where they hid the body of Pachacuti VI. Fortune was kind to the founders of the new kingdom. They had chosen an excellent place of refuge where they were not disturbed. To their ruler, the king of Tampu-tocco, and to his successors nothing worth recording happened for centuries. During this period several of the kings wished to establish themselves in ancient Cuzco, where the great Amautas had reigned, but for one reason or another were obliged to forego their ambitions. One of the most enlightened rulers of Tampu-tocco was a king called Tupac Cauri, or Pachacuti VII. In his day people began to write on the leaves of trees. He sent messengers to the various parts of the highlands, asking the tribes to stop worshiping idols and animals, to cease practicing evil customs which had grown up since the fall of the Amautas, and to return to the ways of their ancestors. He met with little encouragement. On the contrary, his ambassadors were killed and little or no change took place. Discouraged by the failure of his attempts at reformation and desirous of learning its cause, Tupac Cauri was told by his soothsayers that the matter which most displeased the gods was the invention of writing. Thereupon he forbade anybody to practice writing, under penalty of death. This mandate was observed with such strictness that the ancient folk never again used letters. Instead, they used quipus, strings and knots. It was supposed that the gods were appeased, and every one breathed easier. No one realized how near the Peruvians as a race had come to taking a most momentous step. This curious and interesting tradition relates to an event supposed to have occurred many centuries before the Spanish Conquest. We have no ocular evidence to support it. The skeptic may brush it aside as a story intended to appeal to the vanity of persons with Inca blood in their veins; yet it is not told by the half-caste Garcilasso, who wanted Europeans to admire his maternal ancestors and wrote his book accordingly, but is in the pages of that careful investigator Montesinos, a pure-blooded Spaniard. As a matter of fact, to students of Sumner's "Folkways," the story rings true. Some young fellow, brighter than the rest, developed a system of ideographs which he scratched on broad, smooth leaves. It worked. People were beginning to adopt it. The conservative priests of Tampu-tocco did not like it. There was danger lest some of the precious secrets, heretofore handed down orally to the neophytes, might become public property. Nevertheless, the invention was so useful that it began to spread. There followed some extremely unlucky event--the ambassadors were killed, the king's plans miscarried. What more natural than that the newly discovered ideographs should be blamed for it? As a result, the king of Tampu-tocco, instigated thereto by the priests, determined to abolish this new thing. Its usefulness had not yet been firmly established. In fact it was inconvenient; the leaves withered, dried, and cracked, or blew away, and the writings were lost. Had the new invention been permitted to exist a little longer, some one would have commenced to scratch ideographs on rocks. Then it would have persisted. The rulers and priests, however, found that the important records of tribute and taxes could be kept perfectly well by means of the quipus. And the "job" of those whose duty it was to remember what each string stood for was assured. After all there is nothing unusual about Montesinos' story. One has only to look at the history of Spain itself to realize that royal bigotry and priestly intolerance have often crushed new ideas and kept great nations from making important advances. Montesinos says further that Tupac Cauri established in Tampu-tocco a kind of university where boys were taught the use of quipus, the method of counting and the significance of the different colored strings, while their fathers and older brothers were trained in military exercises--in other words, practiced with the sling, the bolas and the war-club; perhaps also with bows and arrows. Around the name of Tupac Cauri, or Pachacuti VII, as he wished to be called, is gathered the story of various intellectual movements which took place in Tampu-tocco. Finally, there came a time when the skill and military efficiency of the little kingdom rose to a high plane. The ruler and his councilors, bearing in mind the tradition of their ancestors who centuries before had dwelt in Cuzco, again determined to make the attempt to reestablish themselves there. An earthquake, which ruined many buildings in Cuzco, caused rivers to change their courses, destroyed towns, and was followed by the outbreak of a disastrous epidemic. The chiefs were obliged to give up their plans, although in healthy Tampu-tocco there was no pestilence. Their kingdom became more and more crowded. Every available square yard of arable land was terraced and cultivated. The men were intelligent, well organized, and accustomed to discipline, but they could not raise enough food for their families; so, about 1300 A.D., they were forced to secure arable land by conquest, under the leadership of the energetic ruler of the day. His name was Manco Ccapac, generally called the first Inca, the ruler for whom the Manco of 1536 was named. There are many stories of the rise of the first Inca. When he had grown to man's estate, he assembled his people to see how he could secure new lands for them. After consultation with his brothers, he determined to set out with them "toward the hill over which the sun rose," as we are informed by Pachacuti Yamqui Salcamayhua, an Indian who was a descendant of a long line of Incas, whose great-grandparents lived in the time of the Spanish Conquest, and who wrote an account of the antiquities of Peru in 1620. He gives the history of the Incas as it was handed down to the descendants of the former rulers of Peru. In it we read that Manco Ccapac and his brothers finally succeeded in reaching Cuzco and settled there. With the return of the descendants of the Amautas to Cuzco there ended the glory of Tampu-tocco. Manco married his own sister in order that he might not lose caste and that no other family be elevated by this marriage to be on an equality with his. He made good laws, conquered many provinces, and is regarded as the founder of the Inca dynasty. The highlanders came under his sway and brought him rich presents. The Inca, as Manco Ccapac now came to be known, was recognized as the most powerful chief, the most valiant fighter, and the most lucky warrior in the Andes. His captains and soldiers were brave, well disciplined, and well armed. All his affairs prospered greatly. "Afterward he ordered works to be executed at the place of his birth, consisting of a masonry wall with three windows, which were emblems of the house of his fathers whence he descended. The first window was called Tampu-tocco." I quote from Sir Clements Markham's translation. ------ FIGURE The Best Inca Wall at Maucallacta, near Paccaritampu ------ ------ FIGURE The Caves of Puma Urco, near Paccaritampu ------ The Spaniards who asked about Tampu-tocco were told that it was at or near Paccaritampu, a small town eight or ten miles south of Cuzco. I learned that ruins are very scarce in its vicinity. There are none in the town. The most important are the ruins of Maucallacta, an Inca village, a few miles away. Near it I found a rocky hill consisting of several crags and large rocks, the surface of one of which is carved into platforms and two sleeping pumas. It is called Puma Urco. Beneath the rocks are some caves. I was told they had recently been used by political refugees. There is enough about the caves and the characteristics of the ruins near Paccaritampu to lend color to the story told to the early Spaniards. Nevertheless, it would seem as if Tampu-tocco must have been a place more remote from Cuzco and better defended by Nature from any attacks on that side. How else would it have been possible for the disorganized remnant of Pachacuti VI's army to have taken refuge there and set up an independent kingdom in the face of the warlike invaders from the south? A few men might have hid in the caves of Puma Urco, but Paccaritampu is not a natural citadel. The surrounding region is not difficult of access. There are no precipices between here and the Cuzco Basin. There are no natural defenses against such an invading force as captured the capital of the Amautas. Furthermore, tampu means "a place of temporary abode," or "a tavern," or "an improved piece of ground" or "farm far from a town"; tocco means "window." There is an old tavern at Maucallacta near Paccaritampu, but there are no windows in the building to justify the name of "window tavern" or "place of temporary abode" (or "farm far from a town") "noted for its windows." There is nothing of a "masonry wall with three windows" corresponding to Salcamayhua's description of Manco Ccapac's memorial at his birthplace. The word "Tampu-tocco" does not occur on any map I have been able to consult, nor is it in the exhaustive gazetteer of Peru compiled by Paz Soldan. CHAPTER XVII Machu Picchu It was in July, 1911, that we first entered that marvelous canyon of the Urubamba, where the river escapes from the cold regions near Cuzco by tearing its way through gigantic mountains of granite. From Torontoy to Colpani the road runs through a land of matchless charm. It has the majestic grandeur of the Canadian Rockies, as well as the startling beauty of the Nuuanu Pali near Honolulu, and the enchanting vistas of the Koolau Ditch Trail on Maul. In the variety of its charms and the power of its spell, I know of no place in the world which can compare with it. Not only has it great snow peaks looming above the clouds more than two miles overhead; gigantic precipices of many-colored granite rising sheer for thousands of feet above the foaming, glistening, roaring rapids; it has also, in striking contrast, orchids and tree ferns, the delectable beauty of luxurious vegetation, and the mysterious witchery of the jungle. One is drawn irresistibly onward by ever-recurring surprises through a deep, winding gorge, turning and twisting past overhanging cliffs of incredible height. Above all, there is the fascination of finding here and there under the swaying vines, or perched on top of a beetling crag, the rugged masonry of a bygone race; and of trying to understand the bewildering romance of the ancient builders who ages ago sought refuge in a region which appears to have been expressly designed by Nature as a sanctuary for the oppressed, a place where they might fearlessly and patiently give expression to their passion for walls of enduring beauty. Space forbids any attempt to describe in detail the constantly changing panorama, the rank tropical foliage, the countless terraces, the towering cliffs, the glaciers peeping out between the clouds. We had camped at a place near the river, called Mandor Pampa. Melchor Arteaga, proprietor of the neighboring farm, had told us of ruins at Machu Picchu, as was related in Chapter X. The morning of July 24th dawned in a cold drizzle. Arteaga shivered and seemed inclined to stay in his hut. I offered to pay him well if he would show me the ruins. He demurred and said it was too hard a climb for such a wet day. When he found that we were willing to pay him a sol, three or four times the ordinary daily wage in this vicinity, he finally agreed to guide us to the ruins. No one supposed that they would be particularly interesting. Accompanied by Sergeant Carrasco I left camp at ten o'clock and went some distance upstream. On the road we passed a venomous snake which recently had been killed. This region has an unpleasant notoriety for being the favorite haunt of "vipers." The lance-headed or yellow viper, commonly known as the fer-de-lance, a very venomous serpent capable of making considerable springs when in pursuit of its prey, is common hereabouts. Later two of our mules died from snake-bite. After a walk of three quarters of an hour the guide left the main road and plunged down through the jungle to the bank of the river. Here there was a primitive "bridge" which crossed the roaring rapids at its narrowest part, where the stream was forced to flow between two great boulders. The bridge was made of half a dozen very slender logs, some of which were not long enough to span the distance between the boulders. They had been spliced and lashed together with vines. Arteaga and Carrasco took off their shoes and crept gingerly across, using their somewhat prehensile toes to keep from slipping. It was obvious that no one could have lived for an instant in the rapids, but would immediately have been dashed to pieces against granite boulders. I am frank to confess that I got down on hands and knees and crawled across, six inches at a time. Even after we reached the other side I could not help wondering what would happen to the "bridge" if a particularly heavy shower should fall in the valley above. A light rain had fallen during the night. The river had risen so that the bridge was already threatened by the foaming rapids. It would not take much more rain to wash away the bridge entirely. If this should happen during the day it might be very awkward. As a matter of fact, it did happen a few days later and the next explorers to attempt to cross the river at this point found only one slender log remaining. Leaving the stream, we struggled up the bank through a dense jungle, and in a few minutes reached the bottom of a precipitous slope. For an hour and twenty minutes we had a hard climb. A good part of the distance we went on all fours, sometimes hanging on by the tips of our fingers. Here and there, a primitive ladder made from the roughly hewn trunk of a small tree was placed in such a way as to help one over what might otherwise have proved to be an impassable cliff. In another place the slope was covered with slippery grass where it was hard to find either handholds or footholds. The guide said that there were lots of snakes here. The humidity was great, the heat was excessive, and we were not in training. Shortly after noon we reached a little grass-covered hut where several good-natured Indians, pleasantly surprised at our unexpected arrival, welcomed us with dripping gourds full of cool, delicious water. Then they set before us a few cooked sweet potatoes, called here cumara, a Quichua word identical with the Polynesian kumala, as has been pointed out by Mr. Cook. Apart from the wonderful view of the canyon, all we could see from our cool shelter was a couple of small grass huts and a few ancient stone-faced terraces. Two pleasant Indian farmers, Richarte and Alvarez, had chosen this eagle's nest for their home. They said they had found plenty of terraces here on which to grow their crops and they were usually free from undesirable visitors. They did not speak Spanish, but through Sergeant Carrasco I learned that there were more ruins "a little farther along." In this country one never can tell whether such a report is worthy of credence. "He may have been lying" is a good footnote to affix to all hearsay evidence. Accordingly, I was not unduly excited, nor in a great hurry to move. The heat was still great, the water from the Indian's spring was cool and delicious, and the rustic wooden bench, hospitably covered immediately after my arrival with a soft, woolen poncho, seemed most comfortable. Furthermore, the view was simply enchanting. Tremendous green precipices fell away to the white rapids of the Urubamba below. Immediately in front, on the north side of the valley, was a great granite cliff rising 2000 feet sheer. To the left was the solitary peak of Huayna Picchu, surrounded by seemingly inaccessible precipices. On all sides were rocky cliffs. Beyond them cloud-capped mountains rose thousands of feet above us. The Indians said there were two paths to the outside world. Of one we had already had a taste; the other, they said, was more difficult--a perilous path down the face of a rocky precipice on the other side of the ridge. It was their only means of egress in the wet season, when the bridge over which we had come could not be maintained. I was not surprised to learn that they went away from home only "about once a month." Richarte told us that they had been living here four years. It seems probable that, owing to its inaccessibility, the canyon had been unoccupied for several centuries, but with the completion of the new government road settlers began once more to occupy this region. In time somebody clambered up the precipices and found on the slopes of Machu Picchu, at an elevation of 9000 feet above the sea, an abundance of rich soil conveniently situated on artificial terraces, in a fine climate. Here the Indians had finally cleared off some ruins, burned over a few terraces, and planted crops of maize, sweet and white potatoes, sugar cane, beans, peppers, tree tomatoes, and gooseberries. At first they appropriated some of the ancient houses and replaced the roofs of wood and thatch. They found, however, that there were neither springs nor wells near the ancient buildings. An ancient aqueduct which had once brought a tiny stream to the citadel had long since disappeared beneath the forest, filled with earth washed from the upper terraces. So, abandoning the shelter of the ruins, the Indians were now enjoying the convenience of living near some springs in roughly built thatched huts of their own design. Without the slightest expectation of finding anything more interesting than the stone-faced terraces of which I already had a glimpse, and the ruins of two or three stone houses such as we had encountered at various places on the road between Ollantaytambo and Torontoy, I finally left the cool shade of the pleasant little hut and climbed farther up the ridge and around a slight promontory. Arteaga had "been here once before," and decided to rest and gossip with Richarte and Alvarez in the hut. They sent a small boy with me as a guide. Hardly had we rounded the promontory when the character of the stonework began to improve. A flight of beautifully constructed terraces, each two hundred yards long and ten feet high, had then recently rescued from the jungle by the Indians. A forest of large trees had been chopped down and burned over to make a clearing for agricultural purposes. Crossing these terraces, I entered the untouched forest beyond, and suddenly found myself in a maze of beautiful granite houses! They were covered with trees and moss and the growth of centuries, but in the dense shadow, hiding in bamboo thickets and tangled vines, could be seen, here and there, walls of white granite ashlars most carefully cut and exquisitely fitted together. Buildings with windows were frequent. Here at least was a "place far from town and conspicuous for its windows." ------ FIGURE Flashlight view of Interior of Cave, Machu Picchu ------ ------ FIGURE Temple over Cave at Machu Picchu Suggested by the Author as the Probable Site of Tampu-Tocco ------ Under a carved rock the little boy showed me a cave beautifully lined with the finest cut stone. It was evidently intended to be a Royal Mausoleum. On top of this particular boulder a semicircular building had been constructed. The wall followed the natural curvature of the rock and was keyed to it by one of the finest examples of masonry I have ever seen. This beautiful wall, made of carefully matched ashlars of pure white granite, especially selected for its fine grain, was the work of a master artist. The interior surface of the wall was broken by niches and square stone-pegs. The exterior surface was perfectly simple and unadorned. The lower courses, of particularly large ashlars, gave it a look of solidity. The upper courses, diminishing in size toward the top, lent grace and delicacy to the structure. The flowing lines, the symmetrical arrangement of the ashlars, and the gradual gradation of the courses, combined to produce a wonderful effect, softer and more pleasing than that of the marble temples of the Old World. Owing to the absence of mortar, there are no ugly spaces between the rocks. They might have grown together. The elusive beauty of this chaste, undecorated surface seems to me to be due to the fact that the wall was built under the eye of a master mason who knew not the straight edge, the plumb rule, or the square. He had no instruments of precision, so he had to depend on his eye. He had a good eye, an artistic eye, an eye for symmetry and beauty of form. His product received none of the harshness of mechanical and mathematical accuracy. The apparently rectangular blocks are not really rectangular. The apparently straight lines of the courses are not actually straight in the exact sense of that term. To my astonishment I saw that this wall and its adjoining semicircular temple over the cave were as fine as the finest stonework in the far-famed Temple of the Sun in Cuzco. Surprise followed surprise in bewildering succession. I climbed a marvelous great stairway of large granite blocks, walked along a pampa where the Indians had a small vegetable garden, and came into a little clearing. Here were the ruins of two of the finest structures I have ever seen in Peru. Not only were they made of selected blocks of beautifully grained white granite; their walls contained ashlars of Cyclopean size, ten feet in length, and higher than a man. The sight held me spellbound. Each building had only three walls and was entirely open on the side toward the clearing. The principal temple was lined with exquisitely made niches, five high up at each end, and seven on the back wall. There were seven courses of ashlars in the end walls. Under the seven rear niches was a rectangular block fourteen feet long, probably a sacrificial altar. The building did not look as though it had ever had a roof. The top course of beautifully smooth ashlars was not intended to be covered. The other temple is on the east side of the pampa. I called it the Temple of the Three Windows. Like its neighbor, it is unique among Inca ruins. Its eastern wall, overlooking the citadel, is a massive stone framework for three conspicuously large windows, obviously too large to serve any useful purpose, yet most beautifully made with the greatest care and solidity. This was clearly a ceremonial edifice of peculiar significance. Nowhere else in Peru, so far as I know, is there a similar structure conspicuous as "a masonry wall with three windows." These ruins have no other name than that of the mountain on the slopes of which they are located. Had this place been occupied uninterruptedly, like Cuzco and Ollantaytambo, Machu Picchu would have retained its ancient name, but during the centuries when it was abandoned, its name was lost. Examination showed that it was essentially a fortified place, a remote fastness protected by natural bulwarks, of which man took advantage to create the most impregnable stronghold in the Andes. Our subsequent excavations and the clearing made in 1912, to be described in a subsequent volume, has shown that this was the chief place in Uilcapampa. It did not take an expert to realize, from the glimpse of Machu Picchu on that rainy day in July, 1911, when Sergeant Carrasco and I first saw it, that here were most extraordinary and interesting ruins. Although the ridge had been partly cleared by the Indians for their fields of maize, so much of it was still underneath a thick jungle growth--some walls were actually supporting trees ten and twelve inches in diameter--that it was impossible to determine just what would be found here. As soon as I could get hold of Mr. Tucker, who was assisting Mr. Hendriksen, and Mr. Lanius, who had gone down the Urubamba with Dr. Bowman, I asked them to make a map of the ruins. I knew it would be a difficult undertaking and that it was essential for Mr. Tucker to join me in Arequipa not later than the first of October for the ascent of Coropuna. With the hearty aid of Richarte and Alvarez, the surveyors did better than I expected. In the ten days while they were at the ruins they were able to secure data from which Mr. Tucker afterwards prepared a map which told better than could any words of mine the importance of this site and the necessity for further investigation. With the possible exception of one mining prospector, no one in Cuzco had seen the ruins of Machu Picchu or appreciated their importance. No one had any realization of what an extraordinary place lay on top of the ridge. It had never been visited by any of the planters of the lower Urubamba Valley who annually passed over the road which winds through the canyon two thousand feet below. It seems incredible that this citadel, less than three days' journey from Cuzco, should have remained so long undescribed by travelers and comparatively unknown even to the Peruvians themselves. If the conquistadores ever saw this wonderful place, some reference to it surely would have been made; yet nothing can be found which clearly refers to the ruins of Machu Picchu. Just when it was first seen by a Spanish-speaking person is uncertain. When the Count de Sartiges was at Huadquiña in 1834 he was looking for ruins; yet, although so near, he heard of none here. From a crude scrawl on the walls of one of the finest buildings, we learned that the ruins were visited in 1902 by Lizarraga, lessee of the lands immediately below the bridge of San Miguel. This is the earliest local record. Yet some one must have visited Machu Picchu long before that; because in 1875, as has been said, the French explorer Charles Wiener heard in Ollantaytambo of there being ruins at "Huaina-Picchu or Matcho-Picchu." He tried to find them. That he failed was due to there being no road through the canyon of Torontoy and the necessity of making a wide detour through the pass of Panticalla and the Lucumayo Valley, a route which brought him to the Urubamba River at the bridge of Chuquichaca, twenty-five miles below Machu Picchu. ------ FIGURE Detail of Exterior of Temple of the Three Windows, Machu Picchu ------ ------ FIGURE Detail of Principal Temple Machu Picchu ------ It was not until 1890 that the Peruvian Government, recognizing the needs of the enterprising planters who were opening up the lower valley of the Urubamba, decided to construct a mule trail along the banks of the river through the grand canyon to enable the much-desired coca and aguardiente to be shipped from Huadquiña, Maranura, and Santa Ann to Cuzco more quickly and cheaply than formerly. This road avoids the necessity of carrying the precious cargoes over the dangerous snowy passes of Mt. Veronica and Mt. Salcantay, so vividly described by Raimondi, de Sartiges, and others. The road, however, was very expensive, took years to build, and still requires frequent repair. In fact, even to-day travel over it is often suspended for several days or weeks at a time, following some tremendous avalanche. Yet it was this new road which had led Melchor Arteaga to build his hut near the arable land at Mandor Pampa, where he could raise food for his family and offer rough shelter to passing travelers. It was this new road which brought Richarte, Alvarez, and their enterprising friends into this little-known region, gave them the opportunity of occupying the ancient terraces of Machu Picchu, which had lain fallow for centuries, encouraged them to keep open a passable trail over the precipices, and made it feasible for us to reach the ruins. It was this new road which offered us in 1911 a virgin field between Ollantaytambo and Huadquiña and enabled us to learn that the Incas, or their predecessors, had once lived here in the remote fastnesses of the Andes, and had left stone witnesses of the magnificence and beauty of their ancient civilization, more interesting and extensive than any which have been found since the days of the Spanish Conquest of Peru. CHAPTER XVIII The Origin of Machu Picchu Some other day I hope to tell of the work of clearing and excavating Machu Picchu, of the life lived by its citizens, and of the ancient towns of which it was the most important. At present I must rest content with a discussion of its probable identity. Here was a powerful citadel tenable against all odds, a stronghold where a mere handful of defenders could prevent a great army from taking the place by assault. Why should any one have desired to be so secure from capture as to have built a fortress in such an inaccessible place? The builders were not in search of fields. There is so little arable land here that every square yard of earth had to be terraced in order to provide food for the inhabitants. They were not looking for comfort or convenience. Safety was their primary consideration. They were sufficiently civilized to practice intensive agriculture, sufficiently skillful to equal the best masonry the world has ever seen, sufficiently ingenious to make delicate bronzes, and sufficiently advanced in art to realize the beauty of simplicity. What could have induced such a people to select this remote fastness of the Andes, with all its disadvantages, as the site for their capital, unless they were fleeing from powerful enemies. The thought will already have occurred to the reader that the Temple of the Three Windows at Machu Picchu fits the words of that native writer who had "heard from a child the most ancient traditions and histories," including the story already quoted from Sir Clements Markham's translation that Manco Ccapac, the first Inca, "ordered works to be executed at the place of his birth; consisting of a masonry wall with three windows, which were emblems of the house of his fathers whence he descended. The first window was called 'Tampu-tocco.' " Although none of the other chroniclers gives the story of the first Inca ordering a memorial wall to be built at the place of his birth, they nearly all tell of his having come from a place called Tampu-tocco, "an inn or country place remarkable for its windows." Sir Clements Markham, in his "Incas of Peru," refers to Tampu-tocco as "the hill with the three openings or windows." The place assigned by all the chroniclers as the location of the traditional Tampu-tocco, as has been said, is Paccaritampu, about nine miles southwest of Cuzco. Paccaritampu has some interesting ruins and caves, but careful examination shows that while there are more than three openings to its caves, there are no windows in its buildings. The buildings of Machu Picchu, on the other hand, have far more windows than any other important ruin in Peru. The climate of Paccaritampu, like that of most places in the highlands, is too severe to invite or encourage the use of windows. The climate of Machu Picchu is mild, consequently the use of windows was natural and agreeable. So far as I know, there is no place in Peru where the ruins consist of anything like a "masonry wall with three windows" of such a ceremonial character as is here referred to, except at Machu Picchu. It would certainly seem as though the Temple of the Three Windows, the most significant structure within the citadel, is the building referred to by Pachacuti Yamqui Saleamayhua. ------ FIGURE The Masonry Wall with Three Windows, Machu Picchu ------ The principal difficulty with this theory is that while the first meaning of tocco in Holguin's standard Quichua dictionary is "ventana" or "window," and while "window" is the only meaning given this important word in Markham's revised Quichua dictionary (1908), a dictionary compiled from many sources, the second meaning of tocco given by Holguin is "alacena," "a cupboard set in a wall." Undoubtedly this means what we call, in the ruins of the houses of the Incas, a niche. Now the drawings, crude as they are, in Sir Clements Markham's translation of the Salcamayhua manuscript, do give the impression of niches rather than of windows. Does Tampu-tocco mean a tampu remarkable for its niches? At Paccaritampu there do not appear to be any particularly fine niches; while at Machu Picchu, on the other hand, there are many very beautiful niches, especially in the cave which has been referred to as a "Royal Mausoleum." As a matter of fact, nearly all the finest ruins of the Incas have excellent niches. Since niches were so common a feature of Inca architecture, the chances are that Sir Clements is right in translating Salcamayhua as he did and in calling Tampu-tocco "the hill with the three openings or windows." In any case Machu Picchu fits the story far better than does Paccaritampu. However, in view of the fact that the early writers all repeat the story that Tampu-tocco was at Paccaritampu, it would be absurd to say that they did not know what they were talking about, even though the actual remains at or near Paccaritampu do not fit the requirements. It would be easier to adopt Paccaritampu as the site of Tampu-tocco were it not for the legal records of an inquiry made by Toledo at the time when he put the last Inca to death. Fifteen Indians, descended from those who used to live near Las Salinas, the important salt works near Cuzco, on being questioned, agreed that they had heard their fathers and grandfathers repeat the tradition that when the first Inca, Manco Ccapac, captured their lands, he came from Tampu-tocco. They did not say that the first Inca came from Paccaritampu, which, it seems to me, would have been a most natural thing for them to have said if this were the general belief of the natives. In addition there is the still older testimony of some Indians born before the arrival of the first Spaniards, who were examined at a legal investigation in 1570. A chief, aged ninety-two, testified that Manco Ccapac came out of a cave called Tocco, and that he was lord of the town near that cave. Not one of the witnesses stated that Manco Ccapac came from Paccaritampu, although it is difficult to imagine why they should not have done so if, as the contemporary historians believed, this was really the original Tampu-tocco. The chroniclers were willing enough to accept the interesting cave near Paccaritampu as the place where Manco Ccapac was born, and from which he came to conquer Cuzco. Why were the sworn witnesses so reticent? It seems hardly possible that they should have forgotten where Tampu-tocco was supposed to have been. Was their reticence due to the fact that its actual whereabouts had been successfully kept secret? Manco Ccapac's home was that Tampu-tocco to which the followers of Pachacuti VI fled with his body after the overthrow of the old régime, a very secluded and holy place. Did they know it was in the same fastnesses of the Andes to which in the days of Pizarro the young Inca Manco had fled from Cuzco? Was this the cause of their reticence? Certainly the requirements of Tampu-tocco are met at Machu Picchu. The splendid natural defenses of the Grand Canyon of the Urubamba made it an ideal refuge for the descendants of the Amautas during the centuries of lawlessness and confusion which succeeded the barbarian invasions from the plains to the east and south. The scarcity of violent earthquakes and also its healthfulness, both marked characteristics of Tampu-tocco, are met at Machu Picchu. It is worth noting that the existence of Machu Picchu might easily have been concealed from the common people. At the time of the Spanish Conquest its location might have been known only to the Inca and his priests. So, notwithstanding the belief of the historians, I feel it is reasonable to conclude that the first name of the ruins at Machu Picchu was Tampu-tocco. Here Pachacuti VI was buried; here was the capital of the little kingdom where during the centuries between the Amautas and the Incas there was kept alive the wisdom, skill, and best traditions of the ancient folk who had developed the civilization of Peru. It is well to remember that the defenses of Cuzco were of little avail before the onslaught of the warlike invaders. The great organization of farmers and masons, so successful in its ability to perform mighty feats of engineering with primitive tools of wood, stone, and bronze, had crumbled away before the attacks of savage hordes who knew little of the arts of peace. The defeated leaders had to choose a region where they might live in safety from their fierce enemies. Furthermore, in the environs of Machu Picchu they found every variety of climate--valleys so low as to produce the precious coca, yucca, and plantain, the fruits and vegetables of the tropics; slopes high enough to be suitable for many varieties of maize, quinoa, and other cereals, as well as their favorite root crops, including both sweet and white potatoes, oca, añu, and ullucu. Here, within a few hours' journey, they could find days warm enough to dry and cure the coca leaves; nights cold enough to freeze potatoes in the approved aboriginal fashion. Although the amount of arable land which could be made available with the most careful terracing was not large enough to support a very great population, Machu Picchu offered an impregnable citadel to the chiefs and priests and their handful of followers who were obliged to flee from the rich plains near Cuzco and the broad, pleasant valley of Yucay. Only dire necessity and terror could have forced a people which had reached such a stage in engineering, architecture, and agriculture, to leave hospitable valleys and tablelands for rugged canyons. Certainly there is no part of the Andes less fitted by nature to meet the requirements of an agricultural folk, unless their chief need was a safe refuge and retreat. Here the wise remnant of the Amautas ultimately developed great ability. In the face of tremendous natural obstacles they utilized their ancient craft to wrest a living from the soil. Hemmed in between the savages of the Amazon jungles below and their enemies on the plateau above, they must have carried on border warfare for generations. Aided by the temperate climate in which they lived, and the ability to secure a wide variety of food within a few hours' climb up or down from their towns and cities, they became a hardy, vigorous tribe which in the course of time burst its boundaries, fought its way back to the rich Cuzco Valley, overthrew the descendants of the ancient invaders and established, with Cuzco as a capital, the Empire of the Incas. After the first Inca, Manco Ccapac, had established himself in Cuzco, what more natural than that he should have built a fine temple in honor of his ancestors. Ancestor worship was common to the Incas, and nothing would have been more reasonable than the construction of the Temple of the Three Windows. As the Incas grew in power and extended their rule over the ancient empire of the Cuzco Amautas from whom they traced their descent, superstitious regard would have led them to establish their chief temples and palaces in the city of Cuzco itself. There was no longer any necessity to maintain the citadel of Tampu-tocco. It was probably deserted, while Cuzco grew and the Inca Empire flourished. As the Incas increased in power they invented various myths to account for their origin. One of these traced their ancestry to the islands of Lake Titicaca. Finally the very location of Manco Ccapac's birthplace was forgotten by the common people--although undoubtedly known to the priests and those who preserved the most sacred secrets of the Incas. Then came Pizarro and the bigoted conquistadores. The native chiefs faced the necessity of saving whatever was possible of the ancient religion. The Spaniards coveted gold and silver. The most precious possessions of the Incas, however, were not images and utensils, but the sacred Virgins of the Sun, who, like the Vestal Virgins of Rome, were from their earliest childhood trained to the service of the great Sun God. Looked at from the standpoint of an agricultural people who needed the sun to bring their food crops to fruition and keep them from hunger, it was of the utmost importance to placate him with sacrifices and secure the good effects of his smiling face. If he delayed his coming or kept himself hidden behind the clouds, the maize would mildew and the ears would not properly ripen. If he did not shine with his accustomed brightness after the harvest, the ears of corn could not be properly dried and kept over to the next year. In short, any unusual behavior on the part of the sun meant hunger and famine. Consequently their most beautiful daughters were consecrated to his service, as "Virgins" who lived in the temple and ministered to the wants of priests and rulers. Human sacrifice had long since been given up in Peru and its place taken by the consecration of these damsels. Some of the Virgins of the Sun in Cuzco were captured. Others escaped and accompanied Manco into the inaccessible canyons of Uilcapampa. It will be remembered that Father Calancha relates the trials of the first two missionaries in this region, who at the peril of their lives urged the Inca to let them visit the "University of Idolatry," at "Vilcabamba Viejo," "the largest city" in the province. Machu Picchu admirably answers its requirements. Here it would have been very easy for the Inca Titu Cusi to have kept the monks in the vicinity of the Sacred City for three weeks without their catching a single glimpse of its unique temples and remarkable palaces. It would have been possible for Titu Cusi to bring Friar Marcos and Friar Diego to the village of Intihuatana near San Miguel, at the foot of the Machu Picchu cliffs. The sugar planters of the lower Urubamba Valley crossed the bridge of San Miguel annually for twenty years in blissful ignorance of what lay on top of the ridge above them. So the friars might easily have been lodged in huts at the foot of the mountain without their being aware of the extent and importance of the Inca "university." Apparently they returned to Puquiura with so little knowledge of the architectural character of "Vilcabamba Viejo" that no description of it could be given their friends, eventually to be reported by Calancha. Furthermore, the difficult journey across country from Puquiura might easily have taken "three days." Finally, it appears from Dr. Eaton's studies that the last residents of Machu Picchu itself were mostly women. In the burial caves which we have found in the region roundabout Machu Picchu the proportion of skulls belonging to men is very large. There are many so-called "trepanned" skulls. Some of them seem to belong to soldiers injured in war by having their skulls crushed in, either with clubs or the favorite sling-stones of the Incas. In no case have we found more than twenty-five skulls without encountering some "trepanned" specimens among them. In striking contrast is the result of the excavations at Machu Picchu, where one hundred sixty-four skulls were found in the burial caves, yet not one had been "trepanned." Of the one hundred thirty-five skeletons whose sex could be accurately determined by Dr. Eaton, one hundred nine were females. Furthermore, it was in the graves of the females that the finest artifacts were found, showing that they were persons of no little importance. Not a single representative of the robust male of the warrior type was found in the burial caves of Machu Picchu. Another striking fact brought out by Dr. Eaton is that some of the female skeletons represent individuals from the seacoast. This fits in with Calancha's statement that Titu Cusi tempted the monks not only with beautiful women of the highlands, but also with those who came from the tribes of the Yungas, or "warm valleys." The "warm valleys" may be those of the rubber country, but Sir Clements Markham thought the oases of the coast were meant. Furthermore, as Mr. Safford has pointed out, among the artifacts discovered at Machu Picchu was a "snuffing tube" intended for use with the narcotic snuff which was employed by the priests and necromancers to induce a hypnotic state. This powder was made from the seeds of the tree which the Incas called huilca or uilca, which, as has been pointed out in Chapter XI, grows near these ruins. This seems to me to furnish additional evidence of the identity of Machu Picchu with Calancha's "Vilcabamba." It cannot be denied that the ruins of Machu Picchu satisfy the requirements of "the largest city, in which was the University of Idolatry." Until some one can find the ruins of another important place within three days' journey of Pucyura which was an important religious center and whose skeletal remains are chiefly those of women, I am inclined to believe that this was the "Vilcabamba Viejo" of Calancha, just as Espiritu Pampa was the "Vilcabamba Viejo" of Ocampo. In the interesting account of the last Incas purporting to be by Titu Cusi, but actually written in excellent Spanish by Friar Marcos, he says that his father, Manco, fleeing from Cuzco went first "to Vilcabamba, the head of all that province." In the "Anales del Peru" Montesinos says that Francisco Pizarro, thinking that the Inca Manco wished to make peace with him, tried to please the Inca by sending him a present of a very fine pony and a mulatto to take care of it. In place of rewarding the messenger, the Inca killed both man and beast. When Pizarro was informed of this, he took revenge on Manco by cruelly abusing the Inca's favorite wife, and putting her to death. She begged of her attendants that "when she should be dead they would put her remains in a basket and let it float down the Yucay [or Urubamba] River, that the current might take it to her husband, the Inca." She must have believed that at that time Manco was near this river. Machu Picchu is on its banks. Espiritu Pampa is not. We have already seen how Manco finally established himself at Uiticos, where he restored in some degree the fortunes of his house. Surrounded by fertile valleys, not too far removed from the great highway which the Spaniards were obliged to use in passing from Lima to Cuzco, he could readily attack them. At Machu Picchu he would not have been so conveniently located for robbing the Spanish caravans nor for supplying his followers with arable lands. There is abundant archeological evidence that the citadel of Machu Picchu was at one time occupied by the Incas and partly built by them on the ruins of a far older city. Much of the pottery is unquestionably of the so-called Cuzco style, used by the last Incas. The more recent buildings resemble those structures on the island of Titicaca said to have been built by the later Incas. They also resemble the fortress of Uiticos, at Rosaspata, built by Manco about 1537. Furthermore, they are by far the largest and finest ruins in the mountains of the old province of Uilcapampa and represent the place which would naturally be spoken of by Titu Cusi as the "head of the province." Espiritu Pampa does not satisfy the demands of a place which was so important as to give its name to the entire province, to be referred to as "the largest city." It seems quite possible that the inaccessible, forgotten citadel of Machu Picchu was the place chosen by Manco as the safest refuge for those Virgins of the Sun who had successfully escaped from Cuzco in the days of Pizarro. For them and their attendants Manco probably built many of the newer buildings and repaired some of the older ones. Here they lived out their days, secure in the knowledge that no Indians would ever breathe to the conquistadores the secret of their sacred refuge. ------ FIGURE The Gorges, Opening Wide Apart, Reveal Uilcapampa's Granite Citadel, the Crown of Inca Land: Machu Picchu ------ When the worship of the sun actually ceased on the heights of Machu Picchu no one can tell. That the secret of its existence was so well kept is one of the marvels of Andean history. Unless one accepts the theories of its identity with "Tampu-tocco" and "Vilcabamba Viejo," there is no clear reference to Machu Picchu until 1875, when Charles Wiener heard about it. Some day we may be able to find a reference in one of the documents of the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries which will indicate that the energetic Viceroy Toledo, or a contemporary of his, knew of this marvelous citadel and visited it. Writers like Cieza de Leon and Polo de Ondegardo, who were assiduous in collecting information about all the holy places of the Incas, give the names of many places which as yet we have not been able to identify. Among them we may finally recognize the temples of Machu Picchu. On the other hand, it seems likely that if any of the Spanish soldiers, priests, or other chroniclers had seen this citadel, they would have described its chief edifices in unmistakable terms. Until further light can be thrown on this fascinating problem it seems reasonable to conclude that at Machu Picchu we have the ruins of Tampu-tocco, the birthplace of the first Inca, Manco Ccapac, and also the ruins of a sacred city of the last Incas. Surely this granite citadel, which has made such a strong appeal to us on account of its striking beauty and the indescribable charm of its surroundings, appears to have had a most interesting history. Selected about 800 A.D. as the safest place of refuge for the last remnants of the old régime fleeing from southern invaders, it became the site of the capital of a new kingdom, and gave birth to the most remarkable family which South America has ever seen. Abandoned, about 1300, when Cuzco once more flashed into glory as the capital of the Peruvian Empire, it seems to have been again sought out in time of trouble, when in 1534 another foreign invader arrived--this time from Europe--with a burning desire to extinguish all vestiges of the ancient religion. In its last state it became the home and refuge of the Virgins of the Sun, priestesses of the most humane cult of aboriginal America. Here, concealed in a canyon of remarkable grandeur, protected by art and nature, these consecrated women gradually passed away, leaving no known descendants, nor any records other than the masonry walls and artifacts to be described in another volume. Whoever they were, whatever name be finally assigned to this site by future historians, of this I feel sure--that few romances can ever surpass that of the granite citadel on top of the beetling precipices of Machu Picchu, the crown of Inca Land. Glossary Añu: A species of nasturtium with edible roots. Aryballus: A bottle-shaped vase with pointed bottom. Azequia: An irrigation ditch or conduit. Bar-hold: A stone cylinder or pin, let into a gatepost in such a way as to permit the gate bar to be tied to it. Sometimes the bar-hold is part of one of the ashlars of the gatepost. Bar-holds are usually found in the gateway of a compound or group of Inca houses. Coca: Shrub from which cocaine is extracted. The dried leaves are chewed to secure the desired deadening effect of the drug. Conquistadores: Spanish soldiers engaged in the conquest of America. Eye-bonder: A narrow, rough ashlar in one end of which a chamfered hole has been cut. Usually about 2 feet long, 6 inches wide, and 2 inches thick, it was bonded into the wall of a gable at right angles to its slope and flush with its surface. To it the purlins of the roof could be fastened. Eye-bonders are also found projecting above the lintel of a gateway to a compound. If the "bar-holds" were intended to secure the horizontal bar of an important gate, these eye-bonders may have been for a vertical bar. Gobernador: The Spanish-speaking town magistrate. The alcaldes are his Indian aids. Habas beans: Broad beans. Huaca: A sacred or holy place or thing, sometimes a boulder. Often applied to a piece of prehistoric pottery. Mañana: To-morrow, or by and by. The "mañana habit" is Spanish-American procrastination. Mestizo: A half-breed of Spanish and Indian ancestry. Milpa: A word used in Central America for a small farm or clearing. The milpa system of agriculture involves clearing the forest by fire, destroys valuable humus and forces the farmer to seek new fields frequently. Montaña: Jungle, forest. The term usually applied by Peruvians to the heavily forested slopes of the Eastern Andean valleys and the Amazon Basin. Oca: Hardy, edible root, related to sheep sorrel. Quebrada: A gorge or ravine. Quipu: Knotted, parti-colored strings used by the ancient Peruvians to keep records. A mnemonic device. Roof-peg: A roughly cylindrical block of stone bonded into a gable wall and allowed to project 12 or 15 inches on the outside. Used in connection with "eye-bonders," the roof-pegs served as points to which the roof could be tied down. Sol: Peruvian silver dollar, worth about two shillings or a little less than half a gold dollar. Sorocho: Mountain-sickness. Stone-peg: A roughly cylindrical block of stone bonded into the walls of a house and projecting 10 or 12 inches on the inside so as to permit of its being used as a clothes-peg. Stone-pegs are often found alternating with niches and placed on a level with the lintels of the niches. Temblor: A slight earthquake. Temporales: Small fields of grain which cannot be irrigated and so depend on the weather for their moisture. Teniente gobernador: Administrative officer of a small village or hamlet. Terremoto: A severe earthquake. Tesoro: Treasure. Tutu: A hardy variety of white potato not edible in a fresh state, used for making chuño, after drying, freezing, and pressing out the bitter juices. Ulluca: An edible root. Viejo: Old. Bibliography of the Peruvian Expeditions of Yale University and the National Geographic Society Thomas Barbour: Reptiles Collected by Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1912. Proceedings of Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, LXV, 505-507, September, 1913. 1 pl. (With G. K. Noble:) Amphibians and Reptiles from Southern Peru Collected by Peruvian Expedition of 1914-1915. Proceedings of U.S. National Museum, LVIII, 609-620, 1921. Hiram Bingham: The Ruins of Choqquequirau. American Anthropologist, XII, 505-525, October, 1910. Illus., 4 pl., map. Across South America. Boston, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1911, xvi, 405 pp., plates, maps, plans, 8°. Preliminary Report of the Yale Peruvian Expedition. Bulletin of American Geographical Society, XLIV, 20-26, January, 1912. The Ascent of Coropuna. Harper's Magazine, CXXIV, 489-502, March, 1912. Illus. Vitcos, The Last Inca Capital. Proceedings of American Antiquarian Society, XXII, N.S., 135-196. April, 1912. Illus., plans. The Discovery of Pre-Historic Human Remains near Cuzco, Peru. American Journal of Science, XXXIII, No. 196, 297-305, April, 1912. Illus., maps. A Search for the Last Inca Capital. Harper's Magazine, CXXV, 696-705, October, 1912. Illus. The Discovery of Machu Picchu. Ibid., CXXVI, 709-719, April, 1913. Illus. In the Wonderland of Peru. National Geographic Magazine, XXIV, 387-573, April, 1913. Illus., maps, plans. The Investigation of Pre-Historic Human Remains Found near Cuzco in 1911. American Journal of Science, XXXVI, No. 211, 1-2, July, 1913. The Ruins of Espiritu Pampa, Peru. American Anthropologist, XVI, No. 2, 185-199. April-June, 1914. Illus., 1 pl., map. Along the Uncharted Pampaconas. Harper's Magazine, CXXIX, 452-463, August, 1914. Illus., map. The Pampaconas River. The Geographical Journal, XLIV, 211-214, August, 1914. 2 pl., map. The Story of Machu Picchu. National Geographic Magazine, XXVII, 172-217, February, 1915. Illus. Types of Machu Picchu Pottery. American Anthropologist, XVII, 257-271, April-June, 1915. Illus., 1 pl. The Inca Peoples and Their Culture. Proceedings of Nineteenth International Congress of Americanists, Washington, D.C., pp. 253-260, December, 1915. Further Explorations in the Land of the Incas. National Geographic Magazine, XXIX, 431-473, May, 1916. Illus., 2 maps. Evidences of Symbolism in the Land of the Incas. The Builder, II, No. 12, 361-366, December, 1916. Illus. (With Dr. George S. Jamieson:) Lake Parinacochas and the Composition of its Water. American Journal of Science, XXXIV, 12-16, July, 1912. Illus. Isaiah Bowman: The Geologic Relations of the Cuzco Remains. American Journal of Science, XXXIII, No. 196, 306-325, April, 1912. Illus. A Buried Wall at Cuzco and its Relation to the Question of a Pre-Inca Race. Ibid., XXXIV, No. 204, 497-509, December, 1912. Illus. The Cañon of the Urubamba. Bulletin of American Geographical Society, XLIV, 881-897, December, 1912. Illus., map. The Andes of Southern Peru. Geographical Reconnaissance Along the Seventy-third Meridian, N.Y., Henry Holt, 1916. xi, 336 pp., plates, maps, plans. Lawrence Bruner: Results of Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911, Orthoptera (Acridiidae--Short Horned Locusts). Proceedings of U.S. National Museum, XLIV, 177-187, 1913. Results of Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911, Orthoptera (Addenda to the Acridiidae). Ibid., XLV, 585-586, 1913. A. N. Caudell: Results of Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911, Orthoptera (Exclusive of Acridiidae). Proceedings of U.S. National Museum, XLIV, 347-357, 1913. Ralph V. Chamberlain: Results of Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911. The Arachnida. Bulletin of Museum of Comparative Zoölogy at Harvard College, LX, No. 6, 177-299, 1916. 25 pl. Frank M. Chapman: The Distribution of Bird Life in the Urubamba Valley of Peru. U.S. National Museum Bulletin 117, 138 pp., 1921. 9 pl., map. O. F. Cook: Quichua Names of Sweet Potatoes. Journal of Washington Academy of Sciences, VI, No. 4, 86-90, 1916. Agriculture and Native Vegetation in Peru. Ibid., VI, No. 10, 284-293, 1916. Illus. Staircase Farms of the Ancients. National Geographic Magazine, XXIX, 474-534, May, 1916. Illus. Foot-Plow Agriculture in Peru. Smithsonian Report for 1918, 487-491. 4 pl. Domestication of Animals in Peru. Journal of Heredity, x, 176-181, April, 1919. Illus. (With Alice C. Cook:) Polar Bear Cacti. Journal of Heredity, Washington, D.C., VIII, 113-120, March, 1917. Illus. William H. Dall: Some Landshells Collected by Dr. Hiram Bingham in Peru. Proceedings of U.S. National Museum, XXXVIII, 177-182, 1911. Illus. Reports on Landshells Collected in Peru in 1911 by The Yale Expedition. Smithsonian Misc. Collections, LIX, No. 14, 12 pp., 1912. Harrison G. Dyar: Results of Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911. Lepidoptera. Proceedings of U.S. National Museum, XLV, 627-649, 1913. George F. Eaton: Report on the Remains of Man and Lower Animals from the Vicinity of Cuzco. American Journal of Science, XXXIII, No. 196, 325-333, April, 1912. Illus. Vertebrate Remains in the Cuzco Gravels. Ibid., XXXVI, No. 211, 3-14, July, 1913. Illus. Vertebrate Fossils from Ayusbamba, Peru. Ibid., XXXVII, No. 218, 141-154, February, 1914. 3 pl. The Collection of Osteological Material from Machu Picchu. Trans. Conn. Academy Arts and Sciences, v, 3-96, May, 1916. Illus., 39 pl., map. William G. Erving, M.D.: Medical Report of the Yale Peruvian Expedition. Yale Medical Journal, XVIII, 325-335, April, 1912. 6 pl. Alexander W. Evans: Hepaticæ: Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911. Trans. Conn. Academy Arts and Sciences, XVIII, 291-345, April, 1914. Harry B. Ferris, M.D.: The Indians of Cuzco and the Apurimac. Memoirs, American Anthropological Assoc., III, No. 2, 59-148, 1916. 60 pl. Anthropological Studies on the Quichua and Machiganga Indians. Trans. Conn. Academy Arts and Sciences, XXV, 1-92, April, 1921. 21 pl., map. Harry W. Foote: (With W. H. Buell:) The Composition, Structure and Hardness of some Peruvian Bronze Axes. American Journal of Science, XXXIV, 128-132, August, 1912. Illus. Herbert E. Gregory: The Gravels at Cuzco. American Journal of Science, XXXVI, No. 211, 15-29, July, 1913. Illus., map. The La Paz Gorge. Ibid., XXXVI, 141-150, August, 1913. Illus. A Geographical Sketch of Titicaca, the Island of the Sun. Bulletin of American Geographical Society, XLV, 561-575, August, 1913. 4 pl., map. Geologic Sketch of Titicaca Island and Adjoining Areas. American Journal of Science, XXXVI, No. 213, 187-213, September, 1913. Illus., maps. Geologic Reconnaissance of the Ayusbamba Fossil Beds. Ibid., XXXVII, No. 218, 125-140, February, 1914. Illus., map. The Rodadero; A Fault Plane of Unusual Aspect. Ibid., XXXVII, No. 220, 289-298, April, 1914. Illus. A Geologic Reconnaissance of the Cuzco Valley. Ibid., XLI, No. 241, 1-100, January, 1916. Illus., maps. Osgood Hardy: Cuzco and Apurimac. Bulletin of American Geographical Society, XLVI, No. 7, 500-512, 1914. Illus., map. The Indians of the Department of Cuzco. American Anthropologist, XXI, 1-27, January-March, 1919. 9 pl. Sir Clements Markham: Mr. Bingham in Vilcapampa, Geographical Journal, XXXVIII, No. 6, 590-591, Dec. 1911, 1 pl. C. H. Mathewson: A Metallographic Description of Some Ancient Peruvian Bronzes from Machu Picchu. American Journal of Science, XL, No. 240, 525-602, December, 1915. Illus., plates. P. R. Myers: Results of Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911--Addendum to the Hymenoptera-Ichneumonoidea. Proceedings of U.S. National Museum, XLVII, 361-362, 1914. S. A. Rohwer: Results of Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911--Hymenoptera, Superfamilies Vespoidea and Sphecoidea. Proceedings of U.S. National Museum, XLIV, 439-454, 1913. Leonhard Stejneger: Results of Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911. Batrachians and Reptiles. Proceedings of U.S. National Museum, XLV, 541-547, 1913. Oldfield Thomas: Report on the Mammalia Collected by Mr. Edmund Heller during Peruvian Expedition of 1915. Proceedings of U.S. National Museum, LVIII, 217-249, 1920. 2 pl. H. L. Viereck: Results of Yale Peruvian Expedition of 1911. Hymenoptera-Ichneumonoidea. Proceedings of U.S. National Museum, XLIV, 469-470, 1913. R. S. Williams: Peruvian Mosses. Bulletin of Torrey Botanical Club, XLIII, 323-334, June, 1916. 4 pl. NOTES [1] Many people have asked me how to pronounce Machu Picchu. Quichua words should always be pronounced as nearly as possible as they are written. They represent an attempt at phonetic spelling. If the attempt is made by a Spanish writer, he is always likely to put a silent "h" at the beginning of such words as huilca which is pronounced "weel-ka." In the middle of a word "h" is always sounded. Machu Picchu is pronounced "Mah'-chew Pick'-chew." Uiticos is pronounced "Weet'-ee-kos." Uilcapampa is pronounced "Weel'-ka-pahm-pah." Cuzco is "Koos'-koh." [2] A league, usually about 3 1/3 miles, is really the distance an average mule can walk in an hour. [3] Fernando Montesinos, an ecclesiastical lawyer of the seventeenth century, appears to have gone to Peru in 1629 as the follower of that well-known viceroy, the Count of Chinchon, whose wife having contracted malaria was cured by the use of Peruvian bark or quinine and was instrumental in the introduction of this medicine into Europe, a fact which has been commemorated in the botanical name of the genus cinchona. Montesinos was well educated and appears to have given himself over entirely to historical research. He traveled extensively in Peru and wrote several books. His history of the Incas was spoiled by the introduction, in which, as might have been expected of an orthodox lawyer, he contended that Peru was peopled under the leadership of Ophir, the great-grandson of Noah! Nevertheless, one finds his work to be of great value and the late Sir Clements Markham, foremost of English students of Peruvian archeology, was inclined to place considerable credence in his statements. His account of pre-Hispanic Peru has recently been edited for the Hakluyt Society by Mr. Philip A. Means of Harvard University. [4] Another version of this event is that the quarrel was over a game of chess between the Inca and Diego Mendez, another of the refugees, who lost his temper and called the Inca a dog. Angered at the tone and language of his guest, the Inca gave him a blow with his fist. Diego Mendez thereupon drew a dagger and killed him. A totally different account from the one obtained by Garcilasso from his informants is that in a volume purporting to have been dictated to Friar Marcos by Manco's son, Titu Cusi, twenty years after the event. I quote from Sir Clements Markham's translation: "After these Spaniards had been with my Father for several years in the said town of Viticos they were one day, with much good fellowship, playing at quoits with him; only them, my Father and me, who was then a boy [ten years old]. Without having any suspicion, although an Indian woman, named Banba, had said that the Spaniards wanted to murder the Inca, my Father was playing with them as usual. In this game, just as my Father was raising the quoit to throw, they all rushed upon him with knives, daggers and some swords. My Father, feeling himself wounded, strove to make some defence, but he was one and unarmed, and they were seven fully armed; he fell to the ground covered with wounds, and they left him for dead. I, being a little boy, and seeing my Father treated in this manner, wanted to go where he was to help him. But they turned furiously upon me, and hurled a lance which only just failed to kill me also. I was terrified and fled amongst some bushes. They looked for me, but could not find me. The Spaniards, seeing that my Father had ceased to breathe, went out of the gate, in high spirits, saying, 'Now that we have killed the Inca we have nothing to fear.' But at this moment the captain Rimachi Yupanqui arrived with some Antis, and presently chased them in such sort that, before they could get very far along a difficult road, they were caught and pulled from their horses. They all had to suffer very cruel deaths and some were burnt. Notwithstanding his wounds my Father lived for three days." Another version is given by Montesinos in his Anales. It is more like Titu Cusi's. [5] A Spanish derivative from the Quichua mucha, "a kiss." Muchani means "to adore, to reverence, to kiss the hands." [6] Uiticos is probably derived from Uiticuni, meaning "to withdraw to a distance." [7] Described in "Across South America." [8] On the 1915 Expedition Mr. Heller captured twelve new species of mammals, but, as Mr. Oldfield Thomas says: "Of all the novelties, by far the most interesting is the new Marsupial .... Members of the family were previously known from Colombia and Ecuador." Mr. Heller's discovery greatly extends the recent range of the kangaroo family. [9] Mr. Safford says in his article on the "Identity of Cohoba" (Journal of the Washington Academy of Sciences, Sept. 19, 1916): "The most remarkable fact connected with Piptadenia peregrina, or 'tree-tobacco' is that ... the source of its intoxicating properties still remains unknown." One of the bifurcated tubes."in the first stages of manufacture," was found at Machu Picchu. [10] See the illustrations in Chapters XVII and XVIII. [11] Since the historical Uilcapampa is not geographically identical with the modern Vilcabamba, the name applied to this river and the old Spanish town at its source, I shall distinguish between the two by using the correct, official spelling for the river and town, viz., Vilcabamba; and the phonetic spelling, Uilcapampa, for the place referred to in the contemporary histories of the Inca Manco. [12] In those days the term "Andes" appears to have been very limited in scope, and was applied only to the high range north of Cuzco where lived the tribe called Antis. Their name was given to the range. Its culminating point was Mt. Salcantay. [13] Titu Cusi was an illegitimate son of Manco. His mother was not of royal blood and may have been a native of the warm valleys. 
20218	----	Works Issued by the Hakluyt Society [Illustration: _Facsimile (reduced) of the_ COAT OF ARMS OF KING PHILIP II., _From the Sarmiento MS., 1572, Göttingen University Library. Reproduced and printed for the Hakluyt Society by Donald Macbeth._] HISTORY OF THE INCAS by PEDRO SARMIENTO DE GAMBOA Translated and Edited with Notes and an Introduction by Sir Clements Markham, K.C.B. President of the Hakluyt Society. Cambridge: Printed for the Hakluyt Society. MDCCCCVII. Cambridge: Printed by John Clay, M.A. at the University Press. COUNCIL OF THE HAKLUYT SOCIETY. SIR CLEMENTS MARKHAM, K.C.B., F.R.S., _President_. THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF LIVERPOOL, _Vice-President_. THE RIGHT HON. THE LORD AMHERST OF HACKNEY, _Vice-President_. THE RIGHT HON. THE LORD BELHAVEN AND STENTON. THOMAS B. BOWRING. COLONEL GEORGE EARL CHURCH. SIR WILLIAM MARTIN CONWAY, M.A., F.S.A. THE REV. CANON JOHN NEALE DALTON, C.M.G., C.V.O. GEORGE WILLIAM FORREST, C.I.E. WILLIAM FOSTER, B.A. THE RIGHT HON. SIR GEORGE TAUBMIN GOLDIE, K.C.M.G., D.C.L., LL.D., F.R.S., _Pres. R.G.S._ ALBERT GRAY, K.C. EDWARD HEAWOOD, M.A. COLONEL SIR THOMAS HUNGERFORD HOLDICH, K.C.M.G., K.C.S.I., C.B., R.E. JOHN SCOTT KELTIE, LL.D. ADMIRAL SIR ALBERT HASTINGS MARKHAM, K.C.B. ADMIRAL OF THE FLEET SIR FREDERICK WILLIAM RICHARDS, G.C.B. ADMIRAL OF THE FLEET SIR EDWARD HONART SEYMOUR, G.C.B., O.M. LIEUT.-COL. SIR RICHARD CARNAC TEMPLE, BART., C.L.E. ROLAND VENABLES VERNON, B.A. BASIL HARRINGTON SOULSBY, B.A., F.S.A., _Honorary Secretary_. TABLE OF CONTENTS. Introduction Dedicatory letter to King Philip II I. Division of the history II. The ancient division of the land III. Description of the ancient Atlantic Island IV. First inhabitants of the world and principally of the Atlantic Island V. Inhabitants of the Atlantic Island VI. The fable of the origin of these barbarous Indians of Peru, according to their blind opinions VII. Fable of the second age, and creation of the barbarous Indians according to their account VIII. The ancient _Behetrias_ of these kingdoms of Peru and their provinces IX. The first settlers in the valley of Cuzco X. How the Incas began to tyrannize over the lands and inheritances XI. The fable of the origin of the Incas of Cuzco XII. The road which these companies of the Incas took to the valley of Cuzco, and of the fables which are mixed with their history XIV. Entry of the Incas into the valley of Cuzco, and the fables they relate concerning it XIV. The difference between Manco Ccapac and the Alcabisas, respecting the arable land XV. Commences the life of Sinchi Rocca, the second Inca XVI. The life of Lloqui Yupanqui, the third Inca XVII. The life of Mayta Ccapac, the fourth Inca XVIII. The life of Ccapac Yupanqui, the fifth Inca XIX. The life of Inca Rocca, the sixth Inca XX. The life of Titu Cusi Hualpa, vulgarly called Yahuar-huaccac XXI. What happened after the Ayarmarcas had stolen Titu Cusi Hualpa XXII. How it became known that Yahuar-huaccac was alive XXIII. Yahuar-huaccac Inca Yupanqui commences his reign alone, after the death of his father XXIV. Life of Viracocha, the eighth Inca XXV. The provinces and towns conquered by the eighth Inca Viracocha XXVI. Life of Inca Yupanqui or Pachacuti, the ninth Inca XXVII. Coming of the Chancas against Cuzco XXVIII. The second victory of Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui over the Chancas XXIX. The Inca Yupanqui assumes the sovereignty and takes the fringe, without the consent of his father XXX. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui rebuilds the city of Cuzco XXXI. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui rebuilds the House of the Sun and establishes new idols in it XXXII. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui depopulates two leagues of country near Cuzco XXXIII. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui kills his elder brother named Inca Urco XXXIV. The nations which Pachacuti Inca subjugated and the towns he took; and first of Tocay Ccapac, Sinchi of the Ayamarcas, and the destruction of the Cuyos XXXV. The other nations conquered by Inca Yupanqui, either in person or through his brother Inca Rocca XXXVI. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui endows the House of the Sun with great wealth XXXVII. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui conquers the province of Colla-suyu XXXVIII. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui sends an army to conquer the province of Chinchay-suyu XXXIX. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui plants _mitimaes_ in all the lands he had conquered XL. The Collas, sons of Chuchi Ccapac, rebel against Inca Yupanqui to obtain their freedom XLI. Amaru Tupac Inca and Apu Paucar Usnu continue the conquest of the Collao and again subdue the Collas XLII. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui nominates his son Tupac Inca Yupanqui as his successor XLIII. How Pachacuti armed his son Tupac Inca XLIV. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui sends his son Tupac Inca Yupanqui to conquer Chinchay-suyu XLV. How Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui visited the provinces conquered for him by his captains XLVI. Tupac Inca Yupanqui sets out, a second time, by order of his father, to conquer what remained unsubdued in Chinchay-suyu XLVII. Death of Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui XLVIII. The life of Tupac Inca Yupanqui, the tenth Inca XLIX. Tupac Inca Yupanqui conquers the province of the Antis L. Tupac Inca Yupanqui goes to subdue and pacify the Collas LI. Tupac Inca makes the _Yanaconas_ LII. Tupac Inca Yupanqui orders a second visitation of the land, and does other things LIII. Tupac Inca makes the fortress of Cuzco LIV. Death of Tupac Inca Yupanqui LV. The life of Huayna Ccapac, eleventh Inca LVI. They give the fringe of Inca to Huayna Ccapac, the eleventh Inca LVII. The first acts of Huayna Ccapac after he became Inca LVIII. Huayna Ccapac conquers Chachapoyas LIX. Huayna Ccapac makes a visitation of the whole empire from Quito to Chile LX. Huayna Ccapac makes war on the Quitos, Pastos, Carangues, Cayambis, Huancavilcas LXI. The Chirihuanas come to make war in Peru against those conquered by the Incas LXII. What Huayna Ccapac did after the-said wars LXIII. The life of Huascar, the last Inca, and of Atahualpa LXIV. Huascar Inca marches in person to fight Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz, the captains of Atahualpa LXV. The battle between the armies of Huascar and Atahualpa. Huascar made prisoner LXVI. What Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz did concerning Huascar and those of his side in words LXVII. The cruelties that Atahualpa ordered to be perpetrated on the prisoners and conquered of Huascar's party LXVIII. News of the Spaniards comes to Atahualpa LXIX. The Spaniards come to Caxamarca and seize Atahualpa, who orders Huascar to be killed. Atahualpa also dies LXX. It is noteworthy how these Incas were tyrants against themselves, besides being so against the natives of the land LXXI. Summary computation of the period that the Incas of Peru lasted Certificate of the proofs and verification of this history * * * * * Account of the Province of Vilcapampa and a narrative of the execution of the Inca Tupac Amaru, by Captain Baltasar de Ocampo LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 1. Map of Central Peru. 1907. By Graham Mackay, R.G.S Six Facsimiles (reduced) from the Sarmiento MS., 1572 (Göttingen University Library): 2. _a_. Arms of Philip II of Spain. Coloured 3. _b_. Last page of Sarmiento's introductory Letter to Philip II, with his autograph 4. _c_. Arms of Philip II. fol. 1 5. _d_. Title of the Sarmiento MS. fol. 2 6. _e_. Arms of Don Francisco de Toledo, Viceroy of Peru, 1569--1581. fol. 132 7. _f_. Signatures of the attesting witnesses, 1572. fol. 138 8. Portrait of the Viceroy, Don Francisco de Toledo, at Lima. From a sketch by Sir Clements Markham in 1853 9. Group of Incas, in ceremonial dresses, from figures in the pictures in the Church of Santa Ana, Cuzco, A.D. 1570. From a sketch by Sir Clements Markham in 1853 10. Portraits of the Incas. Facsimile of the Title-page of the Fifth Decade of Antonio de Herrera's _Historia General de los Hechos de los Castellanos en las Islas y Tierra Firme del Mar Oceano_, Madrid, 1615. fol. From the Rev. C.M. Cracherode's copy in the British Museum 11. Capture of Atahualpa, and Siege of Cuzco. From the Title-page of the Sixth Decade of Antonio de Herrera 12. Map of Vilca-Pampa. 1907. By Graham Mackay, R.G.S Plates 2--7 have been reproduced from the negatives, kindly lent for the purpose by Professor Dr Richard Pietschmann, Director of the Göttingen University Library. [Illustration: 1907. Series II. Vol. XXII. Reproduced and printed for the Hakluyt Society by Donald Macbeth. PORTRAITS OF THE INCAS. From the Rev. C.M. Cracherode's copy in the British Museum.] INTRODUCTION. The publication of the text of the Sarmiento manuscript in the Library of Göttingen University, has enabled the Council to present the members of the Hakluyt Society with the most authentic narrative of events connected with the history of the Incas of Peru. The history of this manuscript, and of the documents which accompanied it, is very interesting. The Viceroy, Don Francisco de Toledo, who governed Peru from 1569 to 1581, caused them to be prepared for the information of Philip II. Four cloths were sent to the King from Cuzco, and a history of the Incas written by Captain Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa. On three cloths were figures of the Incas with their wives, on medallions, with their _Ayllus_ and a genealogical tree. Historical events in each reign were depicted on the borders. The fable of Tampu-tocco was shown on the first cloth, and also the fables touching the creations of Viracocha, which formed the foundation for the whole history. On the fourth cloth there was a map of Peru, the compass lines for the positions of towns being drawn by Sarmiento. The Viceroy also caused reports to be made to him, to prove that the Incas were usurpers. There were thirteen reports from Cuzco, Guamanga, Xauxa, Yucay, and other places, forming a folio of 213 leaves, preserved in the _Archivo de Indias_[1]. At Cuzco all the Inca descendants were called upon to give evidence respecting the history of Peru under their ancestors. They all swore that they would give truthful testimony. The compilation of the history was then entrusted to Captain Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa, the cosmographer of Peru. When it was completed the book was read to the Inca witnesses, chapter by chapter, in their own language. They discussed each chapter, and suggested some corrections and alterations which were adopted. It was then submitted to the Viceroy, who caused the documents to be attested by the principal Spaniards settled at Cuzco, who had been present at the conquest, or had taken a leading part in the subsequent administration. These were Dr Loarte, the licentiate Polo de Ondegardo[2], Alonso de Mena[3], Mancio Serra de Leguisano[4], Pero Alonso Carrasco, and Juan de Pancorvo[5], in whose house the Viceroy resided while he was at Cuzco. Mancio Serra de Leguisano married Beatriz Ñusta, an Inca princess, daughter of Huayna Ccapac. The Viceroy then made some final interpolations to vilify the Incas, which would not have been approved by some of those who had attested, certainly not by Polo de Ondegardo or Leguisano. [Note 1: Printed in the same volume with Montesinos, and edited by Jimenes de la Espada, _Informaciones acerca del señorio y gobierno de los Ingas hechas por mandado de Don Francisco de Toledo,_ 1570--72.] [Note 2: The accomplished lawyer, author, and statesman.] [Note 3: One of the first conquerors. His house at Cuzco was in the square of our Lady, near that of Garcilasso de la Vega.] [Note 4: A generous defender of the cause of the Indians.] [Note 5: One of the first conquerors. He occupied a house near the square, with his friend and comrade Alonso de Marchena.] Sarmiento mentions in his history of the Incas that it was intended to be the Second Part of his work. There were to be three Parts. The First, on the geography of Peru, was not sent because it was not finished. The Third Part was to have been a narrative of the conquest. The four cloths, and the other documents, were taken to Spain, for presentation to the King, by a servant of the Viceroy named Geronimo Pacheco, with a covering letter dated at Yucay on March 1st, 1572. Of all these precious documents the most important was the history of the Incas by Sarmiento, and it has fortunately been preserved. The King's copy found its way into the famous library of Abraham Gronovius, which was sold in 1785, and thence into the library of the University of Göttingen, where it remained, unprinted and unedited, for 120 years. But in August, 1906, the learned librarian, Dr Richard Pietschmann published the text at Berlin, very carefully edited and annotated with a valuable introduction. The Council of the Hakluyt Society is thus enabled to present an English translation to its members very soon after the first publication of the text. It is a complement of the other writings of the great navigator, which were translated and edited for the Hakluyt Society in 1895. The manuscript consists of eight leaves of introduction and 138 of text. The dedicatory letter to the King is signed by Sarmiento on March 4th, 1572. The binding was of red silk, under which there is another binding of green leather. The first page is occupied by a coloured shield of the royal arms, with a signature _el Capitã Sarmi de Gãboa_. On the second page is the title, surrounded by an ornamental border. The manuscript is in a very clear hand, and at the end are the arms of Toledo (_chequy azure and argent_) with the date Cuzco, 29 Feb., 1572. There is also the signature of the Secretary, Alvaro Ruiz de Navamuel[6]. [Note 6: Alvaro Ruiz and his brother Captain Francisco Ruiz were the sons of Francisco Santiago Rodriguez de los Rios by Inez de Navamuel. Both used their mother's name of Navamuel as their surname; and both were born at Aquilar del Campo. Alonso Ruiz de Navamuel was Secretary to the governments of five successive Viceroys. He wrote a _Relacion de las cosas mas notables que hiza en el Peru, siendo Virev Don Francisco de Toledo, 20 Dec. 1578_. He died in the year 1613. The descendants of his son Juan de los Rios formed the _mayorazgos_ of Rios and Cavallero. By his wife Angela Ortiz de Arbildo y Berriz, a Biscayan, he had a daughter Inez married to her cousin Geronimo Aliaga, a son of the Secretary's brother Captain Francisco Ruiz de Navamuel, the _encomendero_ of Caracoto in the Collao, by Juana, daughter of Captain Geronimo de Aliaga. His marriage, at which the Viceroy Toledo was present, took place on November 23rd, 1578. From the marriage of the younger Geronimo de Aliaga with Inez Navamuel, descend the Aliagas, Counts of Luringancho in Peru.] The history of the Incas by Sarmiento is, without any doubt, the most authentic and reliable that has yet appeared. For it was compiled from the carefully attested evidence of the Incas themselves, taken under official sanction. Each sovereign Inca formed an _ayllu_ or "gens" of his descendants, who preserved the memory of his deeds in _quipus_, songs, and traditions handed down and learnt by heart. There were many descendants of each of these _ayllus_ living near Cuzco in 1572, and the leading members were examined on oath; so that Sarmiento had opportunities of obtaining accurate information which no other writer possessed. For the correct versions of the early traditions, and for historical facts and the chronological order of events, Sarmiento is the best authority. But no one can supersede the honest and impartial old soldier, Pedro de Cieza de Leon, as regards the charm of his style and the confidence to be placed in his opinions; nor the Inca Garcilasso de la Vega as regards his reminiscences and his fascinating love for his people. Molina and Yamqui Pachacuti give much fuller details respecting the ceremonial festivals and religious beliefs. Polo de Ondegardo and Santillana supply much fuller and more reliable information respecting the laws and administration of the Incas. It is in the historical narrative and the correct order of events that Sarmiento, owing to his exceptional means of collecting accurate information, excels all other writers. There is one serious blemish. Sarmiento's book was written, not only or mainly to supply interesting information, but with an object. Bishop Las Casas had made Europe ring with the cruelties of the Spaniards in the Indies, and with the injustice and iniquity of their conquests. Don Francisco de Toledo used this narrative for the purpose of making a feeble reply to the good bishop. Under his instructions Sarmiento stated the Viceroy's argument, which was that the King of Spain was the rightful sovereign of Peru because the Incas had usurped their power by conquest and had been guilty of acts of cruelty. Hence the constant repetition of such phrases as "cruel tyranny" and "usurping tyrant"; and the numerous interpolations of the Viceroy himself are so obvious that I have put them in italics within brackets. He goes back as far as the first Inca to make out the usurpation, and he is always harping on illegitimacy. If we go back as far as Sancho IV the title of Philip II to Spain was voided by the grossest usurpation, while we need only go back to Henry II to see how Philip's title was vitiated by illegitimacy. As for cruelty, it would be a strange plea from the sovereign by whose orders the Netherlands were devastated, the Moors of Granada almost annihilated, and under whose rule the Inquisition was in full swing. It is the old story of preaching without practice, as Dr Newman once observed in quoting what James I said to George Heriot: "O Geordie, jingling Geordie, it was grand to hear Baby Charles laying down the guilt of dissimulation, and Steenie lecturing on the turpitude of incontinence." It is right to say that Philip never seems to have endorsed the argument of his Viceroy, while his father prohibited the circulation of a book by Dr Sepulveda which contained a similar argument; nor was the work of Sarmiento published. Barring this blemish, the history of the Incas, written by order of the Viceroy Toledo, is a most valuable addition to the authorities who have given us authentic accounts of Andean civilization; for we may have every confidence in the care and accuracy of Sarmiento as regards his collection and statement of historical facts, provided that we always keep in mind the bias, and the orders he was under, to seek support for the Viceroy's untenable argument. I have given all I have been able to find respecting the life of Sarmiento in the introduction to my edition of the voyages of that celebrated navigator. But the administration of the Viceroy Don Francisco de Toledo, from 1569 to 1581, forms a landmark in the history of Peru, and seems to call for some notice in this place. He found the country in an unsettled state, with the administrative system entirely out of gear. Though no longer young he entered upon the gigantic task of establishing an orderly government, and resolved to visit personally every part of the vast territory under his rule. This stupendous undertaking occupied him for five years. He was accompanied by ecclesiastics, by men well versed in the language of the Incas and in their administrative policy, and by his secretary and aide-de-camp. These were the Bishop of Popayan, Augustin de la Coruña, the Augustine friars Juan Vivero and Francisco del Corral, the Jesuit and well-known author, Joseph de Acosta, the Inquisitor Pedro Ordoñez Flores, his brother, the Viceroy's chaplain and confessor, the learned lawyer Juan Matienzo, whose work is frequently quoted by Solorzano[7], the licentiate Polo de Ondegardo, who had been some years in the country and had acquired an intimate knowledge of the laws of the Incas, the secretary Alvaro Ruiz de Navamuel, and as aide-de-camp his young nephew, Geronimo de Figueroa, son of his brother Juan, the Ambassador at Rome[8]. [Note 7: In his _Politica Indiana_. There are two manuscripts of Juan Matienzo de Peralta at the British Museum, _Govierno del Peru_ and _Relacion del libro intitulado Govierno del Peru_, apparently one work in two parts. _Add. MSS_. 5469, in Gayangos Catalogue, vol. II. p. 470.] [Note 8: Some sons took the father's surname, others that of the mother. The Viceroy had the name of his father, Francisco Alvarez de Toledo, the third Count of Oropesa, while his brother Juan had the surname of Figueroa, being that of his mother.] Toledo was endowed with indefatigable zeal for the public service, great energy, and extraordinary powers of application. He took the opinions of others, weighed them carefully, and considered long before he adopted any course. But he was narrow-minded and obstinate, and when he had once determined on a measure nothing could alter him. His ability is undoubted, and his appointment, at this particular juncture, is a proof of Philip's sagacity. The Viceroy's intercourse with Polo de Ondegardo informed him respecting the administrative system of the Incas, so admirably adapted to the genius of the people, and he had the wisdom to see that there was much to learn from it. His policy was to collect the people, who, to a great extent, were scattered over the country and hiding from the Spaniards, in villages placed near the centres of their cultivated or pasture lands. He fixed the numbers in each village at 400 to 500, with a priest and Alcalde. He also ordered the boundaries of all the parishes to be settled. Spanish Corregidors were to take the places of the _Tucuyricoc_ or governors of Inca times, and each village had an elected Alcalde approved by the Corregidor. Under him there were to be two overseers, a _Pichca pachaca_ over 500, and a _Pachaca_ as assistant. Another important measure was the settlement of the tribute. The name "tribute" was unfortunate. The system was that of the Incas, and the same which prevailed throughout the east. The government was the landlord, and the so-called "tribute" was rent. The Incas took two-thirds for the state and for religion, and set apart one-third for the cultivators. Toledo did much the same, assessing, according to the nature of the soil, the crops, and other local circumstances. For the formation of villages and the assessment of the tribute he promulgated a whole code of ordinances, many of them intended to prevent local oppression in various forms. The Viceroy next took up the questions of the position of _yana-cunas_ or domestic servants, and of forced service. Both these institutions existed in Incarial times. All that was needed were moderate laws for the protection of servants and conscripts, and the enforcement of such laws. Toledo allowed a seventh of the adult male population in each village to be made liable for service in mines or factories, fixed the distance they could be taken from their homes, and made rules for their proper treatment. It is true that the _mita_, as it was called, was afterwards an instrument of cruel oppression, that rules were disregarded, and that it depopulated the country. But this was not the fault of Toledo. The Viceroy gave much attention to the mining industry, promoted the introduction of the use of mercury in the extraction of silver, and founded the town of Huancavelica near the quick-silver mine. His personality pervaded every department of the state, and his _tasas_ or ordinances fill a large volume. He was a prolific legislator and a great statesman. His worst mistake was the policy he adopted with regard to the family of the Incas. He desired to establish the position of the King of Spain without a rival. He, therefore, sought to malign the preceding dynasty, persecuted the descendants of the Incas, and committed one act of cruel injustice. When Atahualpa put his half-brother Huascar, the last reigning Inca, to death, there remained three surviving sons of their father the great Inca Huayna Ccapac, named Manco, Paullu, and Titu Atauchi, and several daughters. After his occupation of Cuzco, Pizarro acknowledged Manco Inca as the legitimate successor of his brother Huascar, and he was publicly crowned, receiving all the insignia on March 24th, 1534. He escaped from the Spaniards and besieged them in Cuzco at the head of a large army. Forced to raise the siege he established his head-quarters at Ollantay-tampu, where he repulsed an attack led by Hernando Pizarro. He was, however, defeated by Orgoñiez, the lieutenant of Almagro, and took refuge in the mountainous province of Vilcapampa on the left bank of the Vilcamayu. From thence he made constant attacks on the Spaniards, maintaining his independence in this small remnant of his dominions. Some of the partisans of Almagro took refuge with him, and he was accidentally killed by one of them in 1544, after a not inglorious reign of ten years. He left two legitimate sons, named Sayri Tupac and Tupac Amaru, by his wife and niece the Princess Ataria Cusi Huarcay, daughter of his ill-fated brother Huascar. This marriage was legalized by a bull of Pope Paul III in the time of the Viceroy Marquis of Cañete, 1555--1561. He had also an illegitimate son named Cusi Titu Yupanqui, and a daughter named Maria Tupac Usca, married to Don Pedro Ortiz de Orue, one of the first conquerors[9]. [Note 9: Diego Ortiz de Orue was born in the village of Getafe, near Madrid. He went out to Peru in 1559, and at once began to study the Quichua language. He was _encomendero_ of Maras, a village overlooking the valley of Yucay. By the Inca princess he had a daughter named Catalina married to Don Luis Justiniani of Seville, descended from the Genoese family. Their son Luis was the grandfather of Dr Justo Pastor Justiniani who married Manuela Cataño, descended from Tupac Inca Yupanqui. Their son Don Pablo Justiniani was Cura of Laris until his death in 1858, and was a great depository of Inca lore. He had a very early copy of the Inca drama of Ollanta.] Sayri Tupac succeeded as fourteenth Inca of Peru. On the arrival of the Marquis of Cañete as Viceroy in 1555, he caused overtures to be made to Sayri Tupac through his aunts, who were living at Cuzco with their Spanish husbands, Juan Sierra de Leguisano and Diego Hernandez. It was finally arranged that the Inca should receive 17000 _castellanos_ of rent and the valley of Yucay. On October 7th, 1557, Sayri Tupac left Vilcapampa with 300 followers, reaching Andahuaylas on November 5th. He entered Lima on January 6th, 1558, was cordially greeted by the Viceroy and received investiture, assuming the names of Manco Ccapac Pachacuti Yupanqui. He went to live in the lovely vale of Yucay. He had been baptized with the name of Diego, but he did not long survive, dying at Yucay in 1560. His daughter Clara Beatriz married Don Martin Garcia Loyola. Their daughter Lorenza was created Marchioness of Oropesa and Yucay, with remainder to descendants of her great uncle Tupac Amaru. She was the wife of Juan Henriquez de Borja, grandson of the Duke of Gandia. On the death of Sayri Tupac, his illegitimate brother, Cusi Titu Yupanqui assumed sovereignty, owing to the youth of the legitimate brother Tupac Amaru, both remaining in Vilcapampa. Paullu Tupac Yupanqui, the next brother of Manco Inca, was baptized with the name of Cristóval. He accompanied Almagro in his expedition to Chile, and was with young Almagro at the battle of Chupas. Eventually he was allowed to fix his residence on the Colcampata of Cuzco, at the foot of the fortress, and by the side of the church of San Cristóval. From the terrace of the Colcampata there is a glorious view with the snowy peak of Vilcañota in the far distance. Paullu died in May, 1549, and was succeeded on the Colcampata by his son Carlos Inca. He had two other sons named Felipe and Bartolomé. From the latter was descended the late Archdeacon of Cuzco, Dr Justo Salmaraura Inca. Titu Atauchi, the youngest son of Huayna Ccapac, had a son Alonso. The princesses, daughters of Huayna Ccapac and sisters of Manco and Paullu, were Beatriz Ñusta, married first to Martin de Mustincia, and secondly to Diego Hernandez of Talavera; Leonor Ñusta, the wife of Juan de Balsa, who was killed at the battle of Chupas on the side of young Almagro, secondly of Francisco de Villacastin: Francisca Ñusta, niece of Huayna Ccapac, married to Juan de Collantes, and was great-grandmother of Bishop Piedrahita, the historian of Nueva Granada: another Beatriz Ñusta married Mancio Sierra de Leguisano, the generous defender of the natives; and Inez Ñusta married first Francisco Pizarro and had a daughter Francisca, who has descendants, and secondly to Francisco Ampuero. Angelina, daughter of Atahualpa, was married to Juan de Betanzos, the author and Quichua scholar. The brother of Huayna Ccapac, named Hualpa Tupac Yupanqui, had a daughter, Isabel Ñusta Yupanqui, the wife of Garcilasso de la Vega, and mother of the Inca Garcilasso de la Vega[10], the historian, author of the _Comentarios Reales_. [Note 10: The Inca Garcilasso was a third cousin of the regicide Viceroy Toledo. Their great grandfathers were brothers.] This then was the position of the Inca family when the Viceroy, Francisco de Toledo, came to Cuzco in 1571. Cusi Titu Yupanqui and Tupac Amaru, sons of the Inca Manco were in the mountains of Vilcapampa, the former maintaining his independence. Carlos Inca, son of Paullu, was baptized, and living on the Colcampata at Cuzco with his wife Maria de Esquivel. Seven Inca princesses had married Spaniards, most of them living at Cuzco with their husbands and children. The events, connected with the Inca family, which followed on the arrival of the Viceroy Toledo at Cuzco, will be found fully described in this volume. It need only be stated here that the inexorable tyrant, having got the innocent young prince Tupac Amaru into his power, resolved to put him to death. The native population was overwhelmed with grief. The Spaniards were horrified. They entreated that the lad might be sent to Spain to be judged by the King. The heads of religious orders and other ecclesiastics went down on their knees. Nothing could move the obstinate narrow-minded Viceroy. The deed was done. When too late Toledo seems to have had some misgivings. The judicial murder took place in December, 1571. The history of the Incas was finished in March, 1572. Yet there is no mention of the death of Tupac Amaru. For all that appears he might have been still in Vilcapampa. Nevertheless the tidings reached Philip II, and the Viceroy's conduct was not approved. There was astonishing audacity on the part of Toledo, in basing arguments on the alleged cruelty and tyranny of the Incas, when the man was actually red-handed with the blood of an innocent youth, and engaged in the tyrannical persecution of his relations and the hideous torture of his followers. His arguments made no impression on the mind of Philip II. The King even showed some favour to the children of Tupac Amaru by putting them in the succession to the Marquisate of Oropesa. In the Inca pedigrees Toledo is called "el execrable regicidio." When he presented himself on his return from Peru the King angrily exclaimed: "Go away to your house; for I sent you to serve kings; and you went to kill kings[11]." [Note 11: "Idos a vuestra casa, que yo os envie a servir reyes; y vos fuiste a matar reyes."] All his faithful services as a legislator and a statesman could not atone for this cruel judicial murder in the eyes of his sovereign. He went back to his house a disgraced and broken-hearted man, and died soon afterwards. The history of the Incas by Sarmiento is followed, in this volume, by a narrative of the execution of Tupac Amaru and of the events leading to it, by an eye-witness, the Captain Baltasar de Ocampo. It has been translated from a manuscript in the British Museum. The narrative of Ocampo, written many years after the event, is addressed to the Viceroy Marquis of Montes Claros. Its main object was to give an account of the province of Vilcapampa, and to obtain some favours for the Spanish settlers there. Vilcapampa is a region of very special historical and geographical interest, and it is one of which very little is known. It is a mountainous tract of country, containing the lofty range of Vilcacunca and several fertile valleys, between the rivers Apurimac and Vilcamayu, to the north of Cuzco. The mountains rise abruptly from the valley of the Vilcamayu below Ollantay-tampu, where the bridge of Chuqui-chaca opened upon paths leading up into a land of enchantment. No more lovely mountain scenery can be found on this earth. When Manco Inca escaped from the Spaniards he took refuge in Vilcapampa, and established his court and government there. The Sun temple, the convent of virgins, and the other institutions of the Incas at Cuzco, were transferred to this mountain fastness. Even handsome edifices were erected. Here the Incas continued to maintain their independence for 35 years. Ocampo opens his story with a very interesting account of the baptism of Melchior Carlos, son of Carlos Inca, who had become a Christian, and lived in the palace on the Colcampata at Cuzco. He then describes the events which culminated in the capture, of the Inca Tupac Amaru, and gives a pathetic and touching account of the judicial murder of that ill-fated young prince. Ocampo was an actor in these events and an eye-witness. The rest of his narrative consists of reminiscences of occurrences in Vilcapampa after it was occupied by the Spaniards. He owned property there, and was a settler holding official posts. He tells of the wealth and munificence of a neighbour. He gives the history of an expedition into the forests to the northward, which will form material for the history of these expeditions when it is written. He tells the story of an insurrection among the negro labourers, and complains of the spiritual destitution of his adopted land. He finally returns to Cuzco and gives an account of a very magnificent pageant and tilting match. But this story should have preceded the mournful narrative of the fate of Tupac Amaru; for the event took place at the time of the baptism of Melchior Carlos, and before the Viceroy Toledo became a regicide. Ocampo's story is that of an honest old soldier, inclined to be garrulous, but an eye-witness of some most interesting events in the history of Peru. I think it is an appropriate sequel to the history by Sarmiento, because it supplies material for judging whether the usurpation and tyranny were on the side of the Incas or of their accuser. [Illustration: _Facsimile (reduced) of_ PAGE II OF THE SARMIENTO MS. 1572. _From the original, Göttingen University Library. Reproduced and printed for the Hakluyt Society by Donald Macbeth._] THE SECOND PART OF THE GENERAL HISTORY CALLED "INDICA" WHICH WAS COMPOSED BY THE CAPTAIN PEDRO SARMIENTO DE GAMBOA BY ORDER OF THE MOST EXCELLENT LORD DON FRANCISCO DE TOLEDO VICEROY GOVERNOR AND CAPTAIN-GENERAL OF THE KINGDOMS OF PERU AND MAYOR-DOMO OF THE ROYAL HOUSEHOLD OF CASTILLE 1572 [Illustration: _Facsimile (reduced) of_ PAGE I OF THE SARMIENTO MS. 1572. _From the original, Göttingen University Library_. _Reproduced and printed for the Hakluyt Society by Donald Macbeth_.] TO HIS SACRED CÆSARIAN MAJESTY THE KING, DON FELIPE, OUR LORD. Among the excellencies, O sovereign and catholic Philip, that are the glorious decorations of princes, placing them on the highest pinnacle of estimation, are, according to the father of Latin eloquence, generosity, kindness, and liberality. And as the Roman Consuls held this to be the principal praise of their glory, they had this title curiously sculptured in marble on the Quirinal and in the forum of Trajan---"Most powerful gift in a Prince is liberality[12]." For this kings who desired much to be held dear by their own people and to be feared by strangers, were incited to acquire the name of liberal. Hence that royal sentence became immortal "It is right for kings to give." As this was a quality much valued among the Greeks, the wise Ulysses, conversing with Antinous[13], King of the Phæacians, said---"You are something like a king, for you know how to give, better than others." Hence it is certain that liberality is a good and necessary quality of kings. [Note 12: "Primum signum nobilitatis est liberalitas."] [Note 13: Alcinous.] I do not pretend on this ground, most liberal monarch, to insinuate to your Majesty the most open frankness, for it would be very culpable on my part to venture to suggest a thing which, to your Majesty, is so natural that you would be unable to live without it. Nor will it happen to so high minded and liberal a lord and king, what befell the Emperor Titus who, remembering once, during supper time, that he had allowed one day to pass without doing some good, gave utterance to this laudable animadversion of himself. "O friends! I have lost a day[14]." For not only does your Majesty not miss a day, but not even an hour, without obliging all kinds of people with benefits and most gracious liberality. The whole people, with one voice, says to your Majesty what Virgil sang to Octavianus Augustus: "Nocte pluit tota, redeunt spectacula mane, Divisum imperium cum Jove Cæsar habet." [Note 14: "Amici! diem perdidi." Suetonius.] But what I desire to say is that for a king who complies so well with the obligation of liberality, and who gives so much, it is necessary that he should possess much; for nothing is so suitable for a prince as possessions and riches for his gifts and liberalities, as Tully says, as well as to acquire glory. For it is certain, as we read in Sallust that "in a vast empire there is great glory[15]"; and in how much it is greater, in so much it treats of great things. Hence the glory of a king consists in his possessing many vassals, and the abatement of his glory is caused by the diminution of the number of his subjects. [Note 15: Proem of Catiline.] Of this glory, most Christian king, God Almighty gives you so large a share in this life that all the enemies of the holy catholic church of Christ our Lord tremble at your exalted name; whence you most justly deserve to be named the strength of the church. As the treasure which God granted that your ancestors should spend, with such holy magnanimity, on worthy and holy deeds, in the extirpation of heretics, in driving the accursed Saracens out of Spain, in building churches, hospitals and monasteries, and in an infinite number of other works of charity and justice, with the zeal of zealous fathers of their country, not only entitled them to the most holy title of catholics, but the most merciful and almighty God, whom they served with all their hearts, saw fit to commence repayment with temporal goods, in the present age. It is certain that "He who grants celestial rewards does not take away temporal blessings[16]," so that they earned more than the mercies they received. This was the grant to them of the evangelical office, choosing them from among all the kings of this world as the evangelizers of his divine word in the most remote and unknown lands of those blind and barbarous gentiles. We now call those lands the Indies of Castille, because through the ministry of that kingdom they will be put in the way of salvation, God himself being the true pilot. He made clear and easy the dark and fearful Atlantic sea which had been an awful portent to the most ancient Argives, Athenians, Egyptians, and Phoenicians, and what is more to the proud Hercules, who, having come to Cadiz from the east, and seen the wide Atlantic sea, he thought this was the end of the world and that there was no more land. So he set up his columns with this inscription "Ultra Gades nil" or "Beyond Cadiz there is nothing." But as human knowledge is ignorance in the sight of God, and the force of the world but weakness in his presence, it was very easy, with the power of the Almighty and of your grandparents, to break and scatter the mists and difficulties of the enchanted ocean. Laughing with good reason at Alcides and his inscription, they discovered the Indies which were very populous in souls to whom the road to heaven could be shown. The Indies are also most abundant in all kinds of inestimable treasures, with which the heavy expenses were repaid to them, and yet remained the richest princes in the world, and thus continued to exercise their holy and Christian liberality until death. By reason of this most famous navigation, and new and marvellous discovery, they amended the inscription on the columns of Hercules, substituting "Plus ultra" for "Ultra Gades nil"; the meaning was, and with much truth, that further on there are many lands. So this inscription, "Plus ultra," remained on the blazon of the arms and insignia of the Indies of Castille. [Note 16: From the poem of Coelius Sedulius, a Christian poet who flourished about A.D. 450. The passage is--"Hostis Herodes impie Christum venire quod timeo? Non eripit mortalia qui regna dat coelestia." (Note by Dr Peitschmann.)] As there are few who are not afflicted by the accursed hunger for gold, and as good successes are food for an enemy, the devil moved the bosoms of some powerful princes with the desire to take part in this great business. Alexander VI, the Vicar of Jesus Christ, considering that this might give rise to impediments in preaching the holy evangel to the barbarous idolaters, besides other evils which might be caused, desired of his own proper motion, without any petition from the catholic kings, by authority of Almighty God, to give, and he gave and conceded for ever, the islands and main lands which were then discovered and which might hereafter be discovered within the limits and demarcation of 180° of longitude, which is half the world, with all the dominions, rights, jurisdictions and belongings, prohibiting the navigation and trading in those lands from whatever cause, to the other princes, kings, and emperors from the year 1493, to prevent many inconveniences. But as the devil saw that this door was shut, which he had begun to open to introduce by it dissensions and disturbances, he tried to make war by means of the very soldiers who resisted him, who were the same preachers. They began to make a difficulty about the right and title which the kings of Castille had over these lands. As your invincible father was very jealous in matters touching his conscience, he ordered this point to be examined, as closely as possible, by very learned doctors who, according to the report which was given out, were indirect and doubtful in their conclusions. They gave it as their opinion that these Incas, who ruled in these kingdoms of Peru, were and are the true and natural lords of that land. This gave a handle to foreigners, as well catholics as heretics and other infidels, for throwing doubt on the right which the kings of Spain claim and have claimed to the Indies. Owing to this the Emperor Don Carlos of glorious memory was on the point of abandoning them, which was what the enemy of the faith of Christ wanted, that he might regain the possession of the souls which he had kept in blindness for so many ages. All this arose owing to want of curiosity on the part of the governors in those lands, at that time, who did not use the diligence necessary for ascertaining the truth, and also owing to certain reports of the Bishop of Chiapa who was moved to passion against certain conquerors in his bishoprick with whom he had persistent disputes, as I knew when I passed through Chiapa and Guatemala[17]. Though his zeal appears holy and estimable, he said things on the right to this country gained by the conquerors of it, which differ from the evidence and judicial proofs which have been seen and taken down by us, and from what we who have travelled over the Indies enquiring about these things, leisurely and without war, know to be the facts[18]. [Note 17: See the introduction to my _Voyages of Sarmiento_ p. x.] [Note 18: Sarmiento here refers to the efforts of Las Casas to protect the natives from the tyranny and cruelties of the Spanish settlers. He appears to have been in Guatemala when Las Casas arrived to take up his appointment as Bishop of Chiapas, and encountered hostility and obstruction from certain "conquistadores de su obispado," as Sarmiento calls them. On his return to Spain, the good Las Casas found that a certain Dr Sepulveda had written a treatise maintaining the right of Spain to subdue the natives by war. Las Casas put forward his _Historia Apologetica_ in reply. A Junta of theologians was convoked at Valladolid in 1550, before which Sepulveda attacked and Las Casas defended the cause of the natives. Mr. Helps (_Spanish conquest in America_, vol. iv. Book xx. ch. 2) has given a lucid account of the controversy. Sarmiento is quite wrong in saying that Las Casas was ignorant of the history of Peru. The portion of his _Historia Apologetica_ relating to Peru, entitled _De las antiguas gentes del Peru_, has been edited and published by Don Marcos Jimenez de la Espada in the "Coleccion de libros Españoles raros ó curiosos" (1892). It shows that Las Casas knew the works of Xeres, Astete, Cieza de Leon, Molina, and probably others; and that he had a remarkably accurate knowledge of Peruvian history.] This chaos and confusion of ignorance on the subject being so spread over the world and rooted in the opinions of the best informed literary men in Christendom, God put it into the heart of your Majesty to send Don Francisco de Toledo, Mayor-domo of your royal household, as Viceroy of these kingdoms[19]. When he arrived, he found many things to do, and many things to amend. Without resting after the dangers and long voyages in two seas which he had suffered, he put the needful order into all the things undertook new and greater labours, such as no former viceroys or governors had undertaken or even thought of. His determination was to travel over this most rugged country himself, to make a general visitation of it, during which, though it is not finished, it is certain that he has remedied many and very great faults and abuses in the teaching and ministry of the Christian doctrine, giving holy and wise advice to its ministers that they should perform their offices as becomes the service of God, and the discharge of your royal conscience, reducing the people to congregations of villages formed on suitable and healthy sites which had formerly been on crags and rocks where they were neither taught nor received spiritual instruction. In such places they lived and died like wild savages, worshipping idols as in the time of their Inca tyrants and of their blind heathenism. Orders were given to stop their public drinking bouts, their concubinage and worship of their idols and devils, emancipating and freeing them from the tyrannies, of their _curacas_, and finally giving them a rational life, which was before that of brutes in their manner of loading them as such. [Note 19: Don Francisco de Toledo was Viceroy of Peru, from Nov. 16th, 1569, to Sept. 28th, 1581, and in some respects a remarkable man. He was a younger son of the third Count of Oropesa who had a common ancestor with the Dukes of Alva. His mother was Maria de Figueroa daughter of the Count of Feria. Through her he was directly descended from the first Duke of Alva. He was a first cousin of that Duke of Feria who made a love match with Jane Dormer, the friend and playmate of our Edward VI. Moreover Don Francisco was a third cousin of Charles V. Their great grandmothers were sisters, daughters of Fadrique Henriquez, the Admiral of Castille. This Viceroy was advanced in years. He held the appointment of a Mayor-domo at the court of Philip II, and another brother Juan was Ambassador at Rome. The Viceroy Toledo came to Peru with the Inquisition, which proved as great a nuisance to him as it was a paralyzing source of terror to his people. He was a man of extraordinary energy and resolution, and was devoted heart and soul to the public service. Sarmiento does not speak too highly of his devotion to duty in undertaking a personal visit to every part of his government. He was a most prolific legislator, founding his rules, to some extent, on the laws of the Incas. He was shrewd but narrow minded and heartless; and his judicial murder of the young Inca, Tupac Amaru, has cast an indelible stain on his memory. Such a man could have no chance in an attack on the sound arguments of Las Casas. There is a picture which depicts the outward appearance of the Viceroy Toledo. A tall man with round stooping shoulders, in a suit of black velvet with the green cross of Alcantara embroidered on his cloak. A gloomy sallow face, with aquiline nose, high forehead and piercing black eyes too close together. The face is shaded by a high beaver hat, while one hand holds a sword, and the other rests on a table.] [Illustration: _Facsimile (reduced) of the_ COAT OF ARMS OF DON FRANCISCO DE TOLEDO, VICEROY OF PERU, 1569--1581. _From the Sarmiento MS. 1572, Göttingen University Library. Reproduced and printed for the Hakluyt Society by Donald Macbeth._] The work done by your Viceroy is such that the Indians are regenerated, and they call him loudly their protector and guardian, and your Majesty who sent him, they call their father. So widely has the news spread of the benefits he has conferred and is still conferring, that the wild warlike Indians in many contiguous provinces, holding themselves to be secure under his word and safe conduct, have come to see and communicate with him, and have promised obedience spontaneously to your Majesty. This has happened in the Andes of Xauxa, near Pilcocanti, and among the Mañaries and Chunchos to the east of Cuzco. These were sent back to their homes, grateful and attached to your royal service, with the presents he gave them and the memory of their reception. [Illustration: DON FRANCISCO DE TOLEDO, Viceroy of Peru, A.D. 1569-1581. After the portrait at Lima, from a sketch by Sir Clements Markham, 1853.] Among Christians, it is not right to take anything without a good title, yet that which your Majesty has to these parts, though more holy and more honourable than that which any other kings in the world have for any of their possessions, has suffered detriment, as I said before, in the consciences of many learned men and others, for want of correct information. The Viceroy proposes to do your Majesty a most signal service in this matter, besides the performance of all the other duties of which he has charge. This is to give a secure and quiet harbour to your royal conscience against the tempests raised even by your own natural subjects, theologians and other literary men, who have expressed serious opinions on the subject, based on incorrect information. Accordingly, in his general visitation, which he is making personally throughout the kingdom, he has verified from the root and established by a host of witnesses examined with the greatest diligence and care, taken from among the principal old men of the greatest ability and authority in the kingdom, and even those who pretend to have an interest in it from being relations and descendants of the Incas, the terrible, inveterate and horrible tyranny of the Incas, being the tyrants who ruled in these kingdoms of Peru, and the _curacas_ who governed the districts. This will undeceive all those in the world who think that the Incas were legitimate sovereigns, and that the _curacas_ were natural lords of the land. In order that your Majesty may, with the least trouble and the most pleasure, be informed, and the rest, who are of a contrary opinion, be undeceived, I was ordered by the Viceroy Don Francisco de Toledo, whom I follow and serve in this general visitation, to take this business in hand, and write a history of the deeds of the twelve Incas of this land, and of the origin of the people, continuing the narrative to the end. This I have done with all the research and diligence that was required, as your Majesty will see in the course of the perusal and by the ratification of witnesses. It will certify to the truth of the worst and most inhuman tyranny of these Incas and of their _curacas_ who are not and never were original lords of the soil, but were placed there by Tupac Inca Yupanqui, [_the greatest, the most atrocious and harmful tyrant of them all_]. The _curacas_ were and still are great tyrants appointed by other great and violent tyrants, as will clearly and certainly appear in the history; so that the tyranny is proved, as well as that the Incas were strangers in Cuzco, and that they had seized the valley of Cuzco, and all the rest of their territory from Quito to Chile by force of arms, making themselves Incas without the consent or election of the natives. Besides this, there are their tyrannical laws and customs. [_It will be understood that your Majesty has a specially true and holy title to these kingdoms of Peru, because your Majesty and your most sacred ancestors stopped the sacrifices of innocent men, the eating of human flesh, the accursed sin, the promiscuous concubinage with sisters and mothers, the abominable use of beasts, and their wicked and accursed customs[20].]_ For from each one God demands an account of his neighbour, and this duty specially appertains to princes, and above all to your Majesty. Only for this may war be made and prosecuted by the right to put a stop to the deeds of tyrants. Even if they had been true and natural lords of the soil, it would be lawful to remove them and introduce a new government, because man may rightly be punished for these sins against nature, though the native community has not been opposed to such practices nor desires to be avenged, as innocent, by the Spaniards. For in this case they have no right to deliver themselves and their children over to death, and they should be forced to observe natural laws, as we are taught by the Archbishop of Florence, Innocent, supported by Fray, Francisco de Victoria in his work on the title to the Indies. So that by this title alone, without counting many others, your Majesty has the most sufficient and legitimate right to the Indies, better than any other prince in the world has to any lordship whatever. For, whether more or less concealed or made known, in all the lands that have been discovered in the two seas of your Majesty, north and south, this general breaking of the law of nature has been found. [Note 20: For a contradiction of these slanders by an impartial witness see Cieza de Leon, ii. p. 78.] By this same title your Majesty may also, without scruple, order the conquest of those islands of the archipelago of "Nombre de Jesus," vulgarly but incorrectly called the Solomon Isles, of which I gave notice and personally discovered in the year 1567; although it was for the General Alvaro de Mendaña; and many others which are in the same South Sea[21]. I offer myself to your Majesty to discover and settle these islands, which will make known and facilitate all the commercial navigation, with the favour of God, by shorter routes. I offer much, well do I see it, but I trust in almighty God with whose favour, I believe I can do what I say in your royal service. The talent which God has given me leads me to aspire to the accomplishment of these achievements, and does not demand of me a strict account, and I believe that I shall comply with what will be required, for never did I so wish to achieve anything. Your Majesty sees and does not lose what other kings desire and hold by good fortune. This makes me speak so freely of my desire to die in your service in which I have laboured since my childhood, and under what circumstances others may say. [Note 21: See my introduction to the _Voyages of Sarmiento_, pp. xiii--xvii.] Believing that, in writing this present history, I have not done a less but a greater service than all the rest, I obeyed your Viceroy who made me undertake it. Your Majesty will read it many times because, besides that the reading of it is pleasant, your Majesty will take a great interest in the matters of conscience and of administration of which it treats. I call this the Second Part, because it is to be preceded by the geographical description of all these lands, which will form the First Part. This will result in great clearness for the comprehension of the establishment of governments, bishopricks, new settlements, and of discoveries, and will obviate the inconveniences formerly caused by the want of such knowledge. Although the First Part ought to precede this one in time, it is not sent to your Majesty because it is not finished, a great part of it being derived from information collected during the general visitation. Suffice that it will be best in quality, though not in time. After this Second Part will be sent a Third Part on the times of the evangel. All this I have to finish by order of the Viceroy Don Francisco de Toledo. May your Majesty receive my work with the greatest and most favourable attention, as treating of things that will be of service to God and to your Majesty and of great profit to my nation; and may our Lord preserve the sacred catholic and royal person of your Majesty, for the repair and increase of the catholic Church of Jesus Christ. From Cuzco. _The 4th of March_, 1572. Your catholic royal Majesty from the least vassal of your Majesty The Captain Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa. [Illustration: _Facsimile_ (_reduced_) _of the last page of_ SARMIENTO'S INTRODUCTORY LETTER TO KING PHILIP II, 1572. _From the original MS., Göttingen University Library. Reproduced and printed for the Hakluyt Society by Donald Macbeth._] I. DIVISION OF THE HISTORY. This general history of which I took charge by order of Don Francisco de Toledo, Viceroy of these kingdoms of Peru, will be divided into three Parts. The First will be the natural history of these lands, being a particular description of them. It will contain accounts of the marvellous works of nature, and other things of great profit and interest. I am now finishing it, that it may be sent to your Majesty after this, though it ought to have come before it. The Second and Third Parts treat of the people of these kingdoms and of their deeds in the following order. In the Second Part, which is the present one, the most ancient and first peoplers of this land will be discussed in general, and then, descending to particulars, I shall describe [_the terrible and inveterate tyranny of_] the Ccapac Incas of these kingdoms, down to the end and death of Huascar, the last of the Incas. The Third and Last Part will treat of the times of the Spaniards, and of their notable deeds in the discovery and settlement of this kingdom and others adjoining it, with the captains, governors, and viceroys who have ruled here, down to the present year 1572. II. THE ANCIENT DIVISION OF THE LAND. When historians wish to write, in an orderly way, of the world or some part of it, they generally first describe the situation containing it, which is the land, before they deal with what it contains, which is the population, to avoid the former in the historical part. If this is so in ancient and well known works, it is still more desirable that in treating of new and strange lands, like these, of such vast extent, a task which I have undertaken, the same order should be preserved. This will not only supply interesting information but also, which is more to be desired, it will be useful for navigation and new discoveries, by which God our Lord may be served, the territories of the crown of Spain extended, and Spaniards enriched and respected. As I have not yet finished the particular description of this land, which will contain everything relating to geography and the works of nature minutely dealt with, in this volume I shall only offer a general summary, following the most ancient authors, to recall the remains of those lands which are now held to be new and previously unknown, and of their inhabitants. The land, which we read of as having existed in the first and second age of the world, was divided into five parts. The three continents, of which geographers usually write, Asia, Africa, and Europe, are divided by the river Tanais, the river Nile, and the Mediterranean Sea, which Pomponius calls "our" sea. Asia is divided from Europe by the river Tanais[22], now called Silin, and from Africa by the Nile, though Ptolemy divides it by the Red Sea and isthmus of the desert of Arabia Deserta. Africa is divided from Europe by "our" sea, commencing at the strait of Gibraltar and ending with the Lake of Meotis. The other two parts are thus divided. One was called, and still ought to be called, Catigara[23] in the Indian Sea, a very extensive land now distinct from Asia. Ptolemy describes it as being, in his time and in the time of Alexander the Great, joined on to Asia in the direction of Malacca. I shall treat of this in its place, for it contains many and very precious secrets, and an infinity of souls, to whom the King our Lord may announce the holy catholic faith that they may be saved, for this is the object of his Majesty in these new lands of barbarous idolatry. The fifth part is or was called the Atlantic Island, as famous as extensive, and which exceeded all the others, each one by itself, and even some joined together. The inhabitants of it and their description will be treated of, because this is the land, or at least part of it, of these western Indies of Castille. [Note 22: The Don.] [Note 23: Marinus of Tyre, quoted by Ptolemy, gave an enormous extension to eastern Asia, and placed the region he called Catigara far to the S.E. of it. Catigara was described by Marinus of Tyre as an emporium and important place of trade. It is not mentioned in the Periplus of the Erythræan Sea.] III. DESCRIPTION OF THE ANCIENT ATLANTIC ISLAND. The cosmographers do not write of this ancient Atlantic Island because there was no memory, when they wrote, of its very rich commercial prosperity in the second, and perhaps in the first age. But from what the divine Plato tells us and from the vestiges we see which agree with what we read, we can not only say where it was and where parts of it were, as seen in our time, but we can describe it almost exactly, its grandeur and position. This is the truth, and the same Plato affirms it as true, in the Timæus, where he gives its truthful and marvellous history. We will speak first of its situation, and then of its inhabitants. It is desirable that the reader should give his attention because, although it is very ancient history, it is so new to the ordinary teaching of cosmography that it may cause such surprise as to raise doubts of the story, whence may arise a want of appreciation. From the words which Plato refers to Solon, the wisest of the seven of Greece, and which Solon had heard with attention from the most learned Egyptian priest in the city called Delta, we learn that this Atlantic Island was larger than Asia and Africa together, and that the eastern end of this immense island was near the strait which we now call of Gibraltar. In front of the mouth of the said strait, the island had a port with a narrow entrance; and Plato says that the island was truly continental. From it there was a passage by the sea, which surrounded it, to many other neighbouring islands, and to the main land of Europe and Africa. In this island there were kings of great and admirable power who ruled over that and many adjacent islands as well as the greater part of Europe and Africa, up to the confines of Egypt, of which I shall treat presently. The extent of the island was from the south, where were the highest mountains, to the north. The mountains exceeded in extent any that now exist, as well in their forests, as in height, and in beauty. These are the words of Plato in describing the situation of this most richly endowed and delightful Atlantic Island. It now remains for me to do my duty, which is to explain what has been said more clearly and from it to deduce the situation of the island. From what Plato says that this island had a port near the mouth of the strait of the pillars of Hercules, that it was larger than Asia and Africa together, and that it extended to the south, I gather three things clearly towards the understanding of all that invites attention. The first is that the Atlantic Island began less than two leagues from the mouth of the strait, if more it was only a little more. The coast of the island then turned north close to that of Spain, and was joined to the island of Cadiz or Gadiz, or Caliz, as it is now called. I affirm this for two reasons, one by authority and the other by conjectural demonstration. The authority is that Plato in his Critias, telling how Neptune distributed the sovereignty of the island among his ten sons, said that the second son was called in the mother tongue "Gadirum," which in Greek we call "Eumelo." To this son he gave the extreme parts of the island near the columns of Hercules, and from his name the place was called Gadiricum which is Caliz. By demonstration we see, and I have seen with my own eyes, more than a league out at sea and in the neighbourhood of the island of Caliz, under the water, the remains of very large edifices of a cement which is almost imperishable[24], an evident sign that this island was once much larger, which corroborates the narrative of Critias in Plato. The second point is that the Atlantic Island was larger than Asia and Africa. From this I deduce its size, which is incredible or at least immense. It would give the island 2300 leagues of longitude, that is from east to west. For Asia has 1500 leagues in a straight line from Malacca which is on its eastern front, to the boundary of Egypt; and Africa has 800 leagues from Egypt to the end of the Atlantic mountains or "Montes Claros" facing the Canary Islands; which together make 2300 leagues of longitude. If the island was larger it would be more in circuit. Round the coast it would have 7100 leagues, for Asia is 5300 and Africa 2700 leagues in circuit, a little more or less, which together makes 7100 leagues, and it is even said that it was more. [Note 24: Dr Peitschmann quotes from Juan Bautista Suarez de Salazar, _Grandezas y antigüedades de la isla y ciudad de Cadiz_ (Cadiz, 1610)---"That which all those who traverse the sea affirm was that to the south, the water being clear, there is seen beneath it at a distance of a league, ruins of edifices which are good evidence that the ocean has gained upon the land in this part." He refers also to a more recent history of Cadiz and its province by Adolfo de Castro (1858), and to the five first books of the _General Chronicle of Spain_ of Florian de Ocampo, 1552 (lib. ii. cap. II).] Having considered the measurement of its great size we come to the third point, which is the true position over which this great island extended. Plato says that the position of the island extended to the south; opposite to the north. From this we should understand that, the front conterminous with Spain from the strait of Gibraltar to Cadiz thence extended westward, making a curve along the coast of Barbary or Africa, but very close to it, between west and south, which is what sailors call south-west. For if it was opposite to north, which is between east and north, called north-east, it must necessarily have its direction in the said south-west, west-south-west, or south-south-west. It would include and incorporate the Canary Islands which, according to this calculation, would be part of it, and from thence the land trended south-west. As regards the south, it would extend rather more to the south and south-south-west, finally following the route by which we go when we sail from Spain to the Indies, forming a continent or main land with these western Indies of Castille, joining on to them by the parts stretching south-west, and west-south-west, a little more or less from the Canaries. Thus there was sea on one side and on the other of this land, that is on the north and south, and the Indies united with it, and they were all one. The proof of this is that if the Atlantic Island had 2300 leagues of longitude, and the distance of Cadiz to the mouth of the river Marañon or Orellana and Trinidad, on the coast of Brazil, is, not more than 1000, 900, or 1100 leagues, being the part where this land joined to America, it clearly appears that, to complete the complement of 2300 leagues, we have to include in the computation all the rest of the land from the mouth of the Marañon and Brazil to the South Sea, which is what they now call America. Following this course it would come to Coquimbo. Counting what is still wanting, this would be much less than 2300 leagues. Measuring the circumference, the island was more than 7100 leagues round, because that is about the circumference of Asia and Africa by their coasts. If this land is joined to the other, which in fact it was in conformity with the description, it would have a much greater circuit, for even now these parts of the western Indies, measured by compass, and latitude, have more than 7100 leagues. From all this it may be inferred that the Indies of Castille formed a continent with the Atlantic Island, and consequently that the same Atlantic Island, which extended from Cadiz over the sea we traverse to the Indies, and which all cosmographers call the Atlantic Ocean because the Atlantic Island was in it, over which we now navigate, was land in ancient times. Finally we shall relate the sequel, first giving an account of the sphere at that time and of the inhabitants. IV. FIRST INHABITANTS OF THE WORLD AND PRINCIPALLY OF THE ATLANTIC ISLAND. Having described the four parts of the world, for of Catigara, which is the fifth, we shall not speak except in its place which the ancients assigned to it, it will be right to come to the races which peopled them. All of which I have to treat has to be personal and heathen history. The chief value and perfection of history consists in its accuracy, thoroughly sifting each event, verifying the times and periods of what happened so that no doubt may remain of what passed. It is in this way that I desire to write the truth in so far as my ability enables me to do so respecting a thing so ancient as the first peopling of these new lands. I wish, for the better illustration of the present history, to precede it with the foundations that cannot be denied, counting the time in conformity with the chronology of the Hebrews in the days before our Saviour Jesus Christ, and the times after his most holy nativity according to the counting used by our mother the holy church, not making account of the calculations of Chaldean or Egyptian interpreters. Thus, passing over the first age from Adam to the Deluge, which covers 1656 years, we will begin from the second age, which is that of the patriarch Noah, second universal father of mortals. The divine scriptures show us that eight persons were saved from the flood, in the ark. Noah and his wife Terra or Vesta, named from the first fire lighted by crystal for the first sacrifice as Berosus would have; and his three sons to wit, Cam and his wife Cataflua, Sem and his wife Prusia or Persia, Japhet and his wife Fun a, as we read in the register of the chronicles. The names of some of these people remain, and to this day we can see clearly whence they were derived, as the Hebrews from Heber, the Assyrians from Amur, but most of them have been so changed that human intelligence is insufficient to investigate by this way. Besides the three sons, Noah had others after the flood. The descendants of these men having multiplied and become very numerous, Noah divided the world among his first sons that they might people it, and then embarked on the Euxine Sea as we gather from Xenophon. The giant Noah then navigated along the Mediterranean Sea, as Filon says and Annius repeats, dividing the whole land among his sons. He gave it in charge to Sem to people Asia from the Nile to the eastern Indies, with some of the sons he got after the flood. To Cam he gave Africa from the Rinocoruras to the straits of Gibraltar with some more of the sons. Europe was chosen for Japhet to people with the rest of the sons begotten after the flood, who were all the sons of Tuscan, whence descend the Tadescos, Alemanes, and the nations adjacent to them. In this voyage Noah founded some towns and colonies on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, and remained in them for ten years, until 112 years after the universal deluge. He ordered his daughter Araxa to remain in Armenia where the ark rested, with her husband and children, to people that country. Then he, with the rest of his companions, went to Mesopotamia and settled. There Nembrot was raised up for king, of the descendants of Cam. This Nembrot, says Berosus, built Babylon 130 years after the flood. The sons of Sem elected for their king, Jektan, son of Heber. Those of Japhet chose Fenec for their king, called Assenes by Moses. There were 300,000 men under him only 310 years after the deluge. Each king, with his companions, set out to people the part of the world chosen for them by the patriarch Noah. It is to be noted that, although Noah divided the parts of the world among his three sons and their descendants, many of them did not keep to the boundaries. For some of one lineage settled on the lands of another brother. Nembrot, being of the line of Cam, remained in the parts of Sem, and many others were mixed together in the same way. Thus the three parts of the world were peopled by these and their descendants, of whom I do not propose to treat in detail, for our plan is to proceed in our narrative until we come to the inhabitants of the Atlantic Island, the subject of this history. This was so near Spain that, according to the common fame, Caliz used to be so close to the main land in the direction of the port of Santa Maria, that a plank would serve as a bridge to pass from the island to Spain. So that no one can doubt that the inhabitants of Spain, Jubal and his descendants, peopled that land, as well as the inhabitants of Africa which was also near. Hence it was called the Atlantic Island from having been peopled by Atlas, the giant and very wise astrologer who first settled Mauritania now called Barbary, as Godefridus and all the chronicles teach us. This Atlas was the son of Japhet by the nymph Asia, and grandson of Noah. For this there is no authority except the above, corroborated by the divine Plato as I began by explaining, and it will be necessary to seek his help to give the reader such evidence as merits belief respecting the inhabitants of this Atlantic Island. V. INHABITANTS OF THE ATLANTIC ISLAND. We have indicated the situation of the Atlantic Island and those who, in conformity with the general peopling of the world, were probably its first inhabitants, namely the early Spaniards and the first Mauritanian vassals of the King Atlas. This wonderful history was almost forgotten in ancient times, Plato alone having preserved it, as has already been related in its place, and which should again be consulted for what remains. Plato, in Critias, says that to Neptune's share came the Atlantic Island, and that he had ten sons. He divided the whole island amongst them, which before and in his time was called the empire of the floating islands, as Volaterranius tells us. It was divided by Neptune into ten regions or kingdoms. The chief one, called Venus, he gave to his eldest son named Atlantis, and appointed him sovereign of the whole island; which consequently took the name of Atlantica, and the sea Atlantic, a name which it retains to this day. The second son, named Gadirun, received the part which lies nearest to Spain and which is now Caliz. To the third son Neptune gave a share. His name was Amferes, the fourth's Eutoctenes, the seventh's Alusipo, the eighth's Mestores, the ninth's Azaen, the tenth's Diaprepem. These and their descendants reigned for many ages, holding the lordships, by the sea, of many other islands, which could not have been other than Hayti, which we call Santo Domingo, Cuba and others, also peopled by emigrants from the Atlantic Island. They also held sway over Africa as far as Egypt, and over Europe to Tirrenia and Italy. The lineage of Atlas extended in a grand succession of generations, and his kingdom was ruled in succession by the firstborns. They possessed such a copious supply of riches that none of the natives had seen it all, and that no new comers could realise it. This land abounded in all that is necessary for sustaining human life, pasture, timber, drugs, metals, wild beasts and birds, domestic animals including a great number of elephants, most fragrant perfumes, liquors, flowers, fruits, wine, and all the vegetables used for food, many dates, and other things for presents. That island produced all things in great profusion. In ancient times it was sacred, beautiful, admirable and fertile, as well as of vast extent. In it were extensive kingdoms, sumptuous temples, palaces calling forth great admiration, as is seen from the relation of Plato respecting the metropolis of the island which exceeded Babylon, Troy, or Rome, with all their rich buildings, curious and well-constructed forts, and even the seven wonders of the world concerning which the ancients sing so much. In the chief city of this empire there was a port to which so many ships and merchants resorted from all parts, that owing to the vast concourse a great and continual noise caused the residents to be thunderstruck. The number of these Atlantics ready for war was so great that in the capital city alone they had an ordinary garrison of 60,000 soldiers, always distributed among farms, each farm measuring 100 furlongs. The rest inhabited the woods and other places, and were innumerable. They took to war 10,000 two-horse chariots each containing eight armed men, with six slingers and stone throwers on either side. For the sea they had 200,000 boats with four men in each, making 800,000 men for the sea-service alone. This was quite necessary owing to the great number of subject nations which had to be governed and kept in obedience. The rest which Plato relates on this subject will be discussed in the sequel, for I now proceed to our principal point, which is to establish the conclusion that as these people carried their banners and trophies into Europe and Africa which are not contiguous, they must have overrun the Indies of Castille and peopled them, being part of the same main land. They used much policy in their rule. But at the end of many ages, by divine permission, and perhaps owing to their sins, it happened that a great and continuous earthquake, with an unceasing deluge, perpetual by day and night, opened the earth and swallowed up those warlike and ambitious Atlantic men. The Atlantic Island remained absorbed beneath that great sea, which from that cause continued to be unnavigable owing to the mud of the absorbed island in solution, a wonderful thing. This special flood may be added to the five floods recorded by the ancients. These are the general one of Moses, the second in Egypt of which Xenophon makes mention, the third flood in Achaia of Greece in the time of Ogyges Atticus, described by Isidore as happening in the days of Jacob, the fourth in Thessaly in the time of Deucalion and Pyrrha, in the days of Moses according to Isidore, in 782 as given by Juan Annius. The fifth flood is mentioned by Xenophon as happening in Egypt in the time of Proteus. The sixth was this which destroyed so great a part of the Atlantic Island and sufficed so to separate the part that was left unsubmerged, that all mortals in Asia, Africa and Europe believed that all were drowned. Thus was lost the intercourse and commerce of the people of these parts with those of Europe and Africa, in such sort that all memory of them would have been lost, if it had not been for the Egyptians, preservers of the most ancient deeds of men and of nature. The destruction of the Atlantic Island, over at least 1000 leagues of longitude, was in the time when Aod[25] governed the people of Israel, 1320 years before Christ and 2162 years after the Creation, according to the Hebrews. I deduce this calculation from what Plato relates of the conversation between Solon and the Egyptian priest. For, according to all the chronicles, Solon lived in the time of Tarquinius Priscus the King of Rome, Josiah being King of Israel at Jerusalem, before Christ 610 years. From this period until the time when the Atlantics had put a blockade over the Athenians 9000 lunar years had passed which, referred to solar years, make 869. All added together make the total given above. Very soon afterwards the deluge must have come, as it is said to have been in the time of Aod[25] or 748 years after the general deluge of Noah. This being so it is to be noted that the isle of Caliz, the Canaries, the Salvages, and Trinidad must have been parts of the absorbed land. [Note 25: Ehud.] It may be assumed that these very numerous nations of Atlantis were sufficient to people those other lands of the Western Indies of Castille. Other nations also came to them, and peopled some provinces after the above destruction. Strabo and Solinus say that Ulysses, after the fall of Troy, navigated westward to Lusitania, founded Lisbon, and, after it had been built, desired to try his fortune on the Atlantic Ocean by the way we now go to the Indies. He disappeared, and it was never afterwards known what had become of him. This is stated by Pero Anton Beuter, a noble Valencian historian and, as he mentions, this was the opinion of Dante Aligheri, the illustrious Florentine poet. Assuming this to be correct we may follow Ulysses from island to island until he came to Yucatan and Campeachy, part of the territory of New Spain. For those of that land have the Grecian bearing and dress of the nation of Ulysses, they have many Grecian words, and use Grecian letters. Of this I have myself seen many signs and proofs. Their name for God is "Teos" which is Greek, and even throughout New Spain they use the word "Teos" for God. I have also to say that in passing that way, I found that they anciently preserved an anchor of a ship, venerating it as an idol, and had a certain genesis in Greek, which should not be dismissed as absurd at first sight. Indeed there are a sufficient number of indications to support my conjecture concerning Ulysses. From thence all those provinces of Mexico, Tabasco, Xalisco, and to the north the Capotecas, Chiapas, Guatemalas, Honduras, Lasandones, Nicaraguas, Tlaguzgalpas, as far as Nicoya, Costa Rica, and Veragua. Moreover Esdras recounts that those nations which went from Persia by the river Euphrates came to a land never before inhabited by the human race. Going down this river there was no way but by the Indian Sea to reach a land where there was no habitation. This could only have been Catigara, placed in 90° S. by Ptolemy, and according to the navigators sent by Alexander the Great, 40 days of navigation from Asia. This is the land which the describers of maps call the unknown land of the south, whence it is possible to go on settling people as far as the Strait of Magellan to the west of Catigara, and the Javas, New Guinea, and the islands of the archipelago of Nombre de Jesus which I, our Lord permitting, discovered in the South Sea in the year 1568, the unconquered Felipe II reigning as King of Spain and its dependencies by the demarcation of 180° of longitude. It may thus be deduced that New Spain and its provinces were peopled by the Greeks, those of Catigara by the Jews, and those of the rich and most powerful kingdoms of Peru and adjacent provinces by the Atlantics who were descended from the primeval Mesopotamians and Chaldæans, peoplers of the world. These, and other points with them, which cannot be discussed with brevity, are true historical reasons, of a quality worthy of belief, such as men of reason and letters may adopt respecting the peopling of these lands. When we come to consider attentively what these barbarians of Peru relate of their origin and of the tyrannical rule of the Incas Ccapacs, and the fables and extravagances they recount, the truth may be distinguished from what is false, and how in some of their fables they allude to true facts which are admitted and held by us as such. Therefore the reader should peruse with attention and read the most strange and racy history of barbarians that has, until now, been read of any political nation in the world. VI. THE FABLE OF THE ORIGIN OF THESE BARBAROUS INDIANS OF PERU, ACCORDING TO THEIR BLIND OPINIONS. As these barbarous nations of Indians were always without letters, they had not the means of preserving the monuments and memorials of their times, and those of their predecessors with accuracy and method. As the devil, who is always striving to injure the human race, found these unfortunates to be easy of belief and timid in obedience, he introduced many illusions, lies and frauds, giving them to understand that he had created them from the first, and afterwards, owing to their sins and evil deeds, he had destroyed them with a flood, again creating them and giving them food and the way to preserve it. By chance they formerly had some notice, passed down to them from mouth to mouth, which had reached them from their ancestors, respecting the truth of what happened in former times. Mixing this with the stories told them by the devil, and with other things which they changed, invented, or added, which may happen in all nations, they made up a pleasing salad, and in some things worthy of the attention of the curious who are accustomed to consider and discuss human ideas. One thing must be noted among many others. It is that the stories which are here treated as fables, which they are, are held by the natives to be as true as we hold the articles of our faith, and as such they affirm and confirm them with unanimity, and swear by them. There are a few, however, who by the mercy of God are opening their eyes and beginning to see what is true and what is false respecting those things. But we have to write down what they say and not what we think about it in this part. We shall hear what they hold respecting their first age, [_and afterwards we shall come to the inveterate and cruel tyranny of the Inca tyrants who oppressed these kingdoms of Peru for so long. All this is done by order of the most excellent Don Francisco de Toledo, Viceroy of these kingdoms_]. I have collected the information with much diligence so that this history can rest on attested proofs from the general testimony of the whole kingdom, old and young, Incas and tributary Indians. The natives of this land affirm that in the beginning, and before this world was created, there was a being called Viracocha. He created a dark world without sun, moon or stars. Owing to this creation he was named Viracocha Pachayachachi, which means "Creator of all things[26]." [Note 26: Uiracocha (Viracocha) was the Creator. Garcilasso de la Vega pointed out the mistake of supposing that the word signified "foam of the sea" (ii. p. 16). He believed it to be a name, the derivation of which he did not attempt to explain. Blas Valera (i. p. 243) said the meaning was the "will and power of God"; not that this is the signification of the word, but by reason of the godlike qualities attributed to Him who was known by it. Cieza de Leon says that Tici-Uiracocha was God, Creator of heaven and earth: Acosta that to Tici-Uiracocha they assigned the chief power and command over all things; Montesinos that Illa-tici-Uiracocha was the name of the creator of the world; Molina that Tecsi-Uiracocha was the Creator and incomprehensible God; the anonymous Jesuit that Uiracocha meant the great God of "Pirua"; Betanzos that the Creator was Con-Tici-Uiracocha. According to Montesinos and the anonymous Jesuit _Uira_ or _Vira_ is a corruption of _Pirua_ meaning a depository. The first meaning of _Cocha_ is a lake, but here it is held to signify profundity, abyss, space. The "Dweller in Space." _Ticci_ or _Tici_ is base or foundation, hence the founder. _Illa_ means light. The anonymous Jesuit gives the meaning "Eternal Light" to _Illa-Ticci_. The word _Con_, given by Betanzos and Garcia, has no known meaning. Pachacamac and Pachayachachi are attributes of the deity. _Pacha_ means time or place, also the universe. _Camac_ is the Ruler, _Yachachi_ the Teacher. "The Ruler and Teacher of the Universe." The meaning and significance of the word _Uiracocha_ has been very fully discussed by Señor Don Leonardo Villar of Cuzco in a paper entitled _Lexicologia Keshua Uiracocha_ (Lima, 1887).] And when he had created the world he formed a race of giants of disproportioned greatness painted and sculptured, to see whether it would be well to make real men of that size. He then created men in his likeness as they are now; and they lived in darkness. Viracocha ordered these people that they should live without quarrelling, and that they should know and serve him. He gave them a certain precept which they were to observe on pain of being confounded if they should break it. They kept this precept for some time, but it is not mentioned what it was. But as there arose among them the vices of pride and covetousness, they transgressed the precept of Viracocha Pachayachachi and falling, through this sin, under his indignation, he confounded and cursed them. Then some were turned into stones, others into other things, some were swallowed up by the earth, others by the sea, and over all there came a general flood which they call _uñu pachacuti_, which means "water that overturns the land." They say that it rained 60 days and nights, that it drowned all created things, and that there alone remained some vestiges of those who were turned into stones, as a memorial of the event, and as an example to posterity, in the edifices of Pucara, which are 60 leagues from Cuzco. Some of the nations, besides the Cuzcos, also say that a few were saved from this flood to leave descendants for a future age. Each nation has its special fable which is told by its people, of how their first ancestors were saved from the waters of the deluge. That the ideas they had in their blindness may be understood, I will insert only one, told by the nation of the Cañaris, a land of Quito and Tumibamba, 400 leagues from Cuzco and more. They say that in the time of the deluge called _uñu pachacuti_ there was a mountain named Guasano in the province of Quito and near a town called Tumipampa. The natives still point it out. Up this mountain went two of the Cañaris named Ataorupagui and Cusicayo. As the waters increased the mountain kept rising and keeping above them in such a way that it was never covered by the waters of the flood. In this way the two Cañaris escaped. These two, who were brothers, when the waters abated after the flood, began to sow. One day when they had been at work, on returning to their hut, they found in it some small loaves of bread, and a jar of chicha, which is the beverage used in this country in place of wine, made of boiled maize. They did not know who had brought it, but they gave thanks to the Creator, eating and drinking of that provision. Next day the same thing happened. As they marvelled at this mystery, they were anxious to find out who brought the meals. So one day they hid themselves, to spy out the bringers of their food. While they were watching they saw two Cañari women preparing the victuals and putting them in the accustomed place. When about to depart the men tried to seize them, but they evaded their would-be captors and escaped. The Cañaris, seeing the mistake they had made in molesting those who had done them so much good, became sad and prayed to Viracocha for pardon for their sins, entreating him to let the women come back and give them the accustomed meals. The Creator granted their petition. The women came back and said to the Cañaris--"The Creator has thought it well that we should return to you, lest you should die of hunger." They brought them food. Then there was friendship between the women and the Cañari brothers, and one of the Cañari brothers had connexion with one of the women. Then, as the elder brother was drowned in a lake which was near, the survivor married one of the women, and had the other as a concubine. By them he had ten sons who formed two lineages of five each, and increasing in numbers they called one Hanansaya which is the same as to say the upper party, and the other Hurinsaya, or the lower party. From these all the Cañaris that now exist are descended[27]. [Note 27: The same story of the origin of the Cañaris is told by Molina, p. 8. But the mountain is called Huaca-yuan; and instead of women the beings who brought the food were macaws. Molina tells another story received from the people of Ancas-mayu. Both seem to have been obtained by asking leading questions about a deluge.] In the same way the other nations have fables of how some of their people were saved from whom they trace their origin and descent. But the Incas and most of those of Cuzco, those among them who are believed to know most, do not say that anyone escaped from the flood, but that Viracocha began to create men afresh, as will be related further on. One thing is believed among all the nations of these parts, for they all speak generally and as well known of the general flood which they call _uñu pachacuti_. From this we may clearly understand that if, in these parts they have a tradition of the great flood, this great mass of the floating islands which they afterwards called the Atlanticas, and now the Indies of Castille or America must have begun to receive a population immediately after the flood, although, by their account, the details are different from those which the true Scriptures teach us. This must have been done by divine Providence, through the first people coming over the land of the Atlantic Island, which was joined to this, as has been already said. For as the natives, though barbarous, give reasons for their very ancient settlement, by recording the flood, there is no necessity for setting aside the Scriptures by quoting authorities to establish this origin. We now come to those who relate the events of the second age after the flood, which is the subject of the next chapter. VII. FABLE OF THE SECOND AGE, AND CREATION OF THE BARBAROUS INDIANS ACCORDING TO THEIR ACCOUNT. It is related that everything was destroyed in the flood called _uñu pachacuti_[28]. It must now be known that Viracocha Pachayachachi, when he destroyed that land as has been already recounted, preserved three men, one of them named Taguapaca, that they might serve and help him in the creation of new people who had to be made in the second age after the deluge, which was done in this manner. The flood being passed and the land dry, Viracocha determined to people it a second time, and, to make it more perfect, he decided upon creating luminaries to give it light. With this object he went, with his servants, to a great lake in the Collao, in which there is an island called Titicaca, the meaning being "the rock of lead," of which we shall treat in the first part. Viracocha went to this island, and presently ordered that the sun, moon, and stars should come forth, and be set in the heavens to give light to the world, and it was so. They say that the moon was created brighter than the sun, which made the sun jealous at the time when they rose into the sky. So the sun threw over the moon's face a handful of ashes, which gave it the shaded colour it now presents. This frontier lake of Chucuito, in the territory of the Collao, is 57 leagues to the south of Cuzco. Viracocha gave various orders to his servants, but Taguapaca disobeyed the commands of Viracocha. So Viracocha was enraged against Taguapaca, and ordered the other two servants to take him, tie him hands and feet, and launch him in a _balsa_ on the lake. This was done. Taguapaca was blaspheming against Viracocha for the way he was treated, and threatening that he would return and take vengeance, when he was carried by the water down the drain of the same lake, and was not seen again for a long time. This done, Viracocha made a sacred idol in that place, as a place for worship and as a sign of what he had there created[29]. [Note 28: _Uñu pachacuti_ would mean the world (_pacha_) overturned (_cuti_) by water (_uñu_). Probably a word coined by the priests, after putting leading questions about a universal deluge.] [Note 29: This servant of Uiracocha is also mentioned by Cieza de Leon and Yamqui Pachacuti. Cieza appears to consider that Tuapaca was merely the name of Uiracocha in the Collao. Yamqui Pachacuti gives the names Tarapaca and Tonapa and connects them with Uiracocha. But he also uses the word Pachacca, a servant. These names are clearly the same as the Tahuapaca of Sarmiento. _Tahua_ means four, but Sarmiento gives three as the number of these servants of Uiracocha. The meaning of _paca_ is anything secret or mysterious, from _pacani_ to hide. The names represent an ancient myth of some kind, but it is not possible, at this distance of time, to ascertain more than the names. Tonapa looks like a slip of the pen, and is probably Tarapa for Tarapaca. Don Samuel A. Lapone Quevedo published a mythological essay entitled _El Culto de Tonapa_ with reference to the notice in the work of Yamqui Pachacuti; but he is given to speculations about phallic and solar worship, and to the arbitrary alteration of letters to fit into his theories.] Leaving the island, he passed by the lake to the main land, taking with him the two servants who survived. He went to a place now called Tiahuanacu in the province of Colla-suyu, and in this place he sculptured and designed on a great piece of stone, all the nations that he intended to create. This done, he ordered his two servants to charge their memories with the names of all tribes that he had depicted, and of the valleys and provinces where they were to come forth, which were those of the whole land. He ordered that each one should go by a different road, naming the tribes, and ordering them all to go forth and people the country. His servants, obeying the command of Viracocha, set out on their journey and work. One went by the mountain range or chain which they call the heights over the plains on the South Sea. The other went by the heights which overlook the wonderful mountain ranges which we call the Andes, situated to the east of the said sea. By these roads they went, saying with a loud voice "Oh you tribes and nations, hear and obey the order of Ticci Viracocha Pachayachachi, which commands you to go forth, and multiply and settle the land." Viracocha himself did the same along the road between those taken by his two servants, naming all the tribes and places by which he passed. At the sound of his voice every place obeyed, and people came forth, some from lakes, others from fountains, valleys, caves, trees, rocks and hills, spreading over the land and multiplying to form the nations which are to-day in Peru. Others affirm that this creation of Viracocha was made from the Titicaca site where, having originally formed some shapes of large strong men[30] which seemed to him out of proportion, he made them again of his stature which was, as they say, the average height of men, and being made he gave them life. Thence they set out to people the land. As they spoke one language previous to starting, they built those edifices, the ruins of which may still be seen, before they set out. This was for the residence of Viracocha, their maker. After departing they varied their languages, noting the cries of wild beasts, insomuch that, coming across each other afterwards, those could not understand who had before been relations and neighbours. [Note 30: Jayaneo. This was the name given to giants in the books of chivalry. See _Don Quijote_, i. cap. 5, p. 43.] Whether it was in one way or the other, all agree that Viracocha was the creator of these people. They have the tradition that he was a man of medium height, white and dressed in a white robe like an alb secured round the waist, and that he carried a staff and a book in his hands. Besides this they tell of a strange event; how that Viracocha, after he had created all people, went on his road and came to a place where many men of his creation had congregated. This place is now called Cacha. When Viracocha arrived there, the inhabitants were estranged owing to his dress and bearing. They murmured at it and proposed to kill him from a hill that was near. They took their weapons there, and gathered together with evil intentions against Viracocha. He, falling on his knees on some plain ground, with his hands clasped, fire from above came down upon those on the hill, and covered all the place, burning up the earth and stones like straw. Those bad men were terrified at the fearful fire. They came down from the hill, and sought pardon from Viracocha for their sin. Viracocha was moved by compassion. He went to the flames and put them out with his staff. But the hill remained quite parched up, the stones being rendered so light by the burning that a very large stone which could not have been carried on a cart, could be raised easily by one man. This may be seen at this day, and it is a wonderful sight to behold this hill, which is a quarter of a league in extent, all burnt up. It is in the Collao[31]. [Note 31: Not in the Collaos but in the valley of the Vilcamayu. Afterwards a very remarkable temple was built there, described by Squier.] After this Viracocha continued his journey and arrived at a place called Urcos, 6 leagues to the south of Cuzco. Remaining there some days he was well served by the natives of that neighbourhood. At the time of his departure, he made them a celebrated _huaca_ or statue, for them to offer gifts to and worship; to which statue the Incas, in after times, offered many rich gifts of gold and other metals, and above all a golden bench. When the Spaniards entered Cuzco they found it, and appropriated it to themselves. It was worth $17,000. The Marquis Don Francisco Pizarro took it himself, as the share of the General. Returning to the subject of the fable, Viracocha continued his journey, working his miracles and instructing his created beings. In this way he reached the territory on the equinoctial line, where are now Puerto Viejo and Manta. Here he was joined by his servants. Intending to leave the land of Peru, he made a speech to those he had created, apprising them of the things that would happen. He told them that people would come, who would say that they were Viracocha their creator, and that they were not to believe them; but that in the time to come he would send his messengers who would protect and teach them. Having said this he went to sea with his two servants, and went travelling over the water as if it was land, without sinking. For they appeared like foam over the water and the people, therefore, gave them the name of Viracocha which is the same as to say the grease or foam of the sea[32]. At the end of some years after Viracocha departed, they say that Taguapaca, who Viracocha ordered to be thrown into the lake of Titicaca in the Collao, as has already been related, came back and began, with others, to preach that he was Viracocha. Although at first the people were doubtful, they finally saw that it was false, and ridiculed them[33]. [Note 32: A mistake. See Garcilasso de la Vega, ii. p. 66.] [Note 33: This story is told in a somewhat different form by Yamqui Pachacuti, p. 72.] This absurd fable of their creation is held by these barbarians and they affirm and believe it as if they had really seen it to happen and come to pass[34]. [Note 34: The tradition of the exercise of his creative powers by Viracocha at lake Titicaca, is derived from the more ancient people who were the builders of Tiahuanacu. Besides Sarmiento, the authors who give this Titicaca Myth are Garcilasso de la Vega, Cieza de Leon, Molina, Betanzos, Yamqui Pachacuti, Polo de Ondegardo, and the anonymous Jesuit. Acosta, Montesinos, Balboa and Santillana are silent respecting it.] VIII. THE ANCIENT _BEHETRIAS_[35] OF THESE KINGDOMS OF PERU AND THEIR PROVINCES. It is important to note that these barbarians could tell nothing more respecting what happened from the second creation by Viracocha down to the time of the Incas. But it may be assumed that, although the land was peopled and full of inhabitants before the Incas, it had no regular government, nor did it have natural lords elected by common consent to govern and rule, and who were respected by the people, so that they were obeyed and received tribute. On the contrary all the people were scattered and disorganized, living in complete liberty, and each man being sole lord of his house and estate. In each tribe there were two divisions. One was called Hanansaya, which means the upper division, and the other Hurinsaya, which is the lower division, a custom which continues to this day. These divisions do not mean anything more than a way to count each other, for their satisfaction, though afterwards it served a more useful purpose, as will be seen in its place. [Note 35: _Behetria_. A condition of perfect equality without any distinction of rank. Freedom from the subjection of any lord.] As there were dissensions among them, a certain kind of militia was organized for defence, in the following way. When it became known to the people of one district that some from other parts were coming to make war, they chose one who was a native, or he might be a stranger, who was known to be a valiant warrior. Often such a man offered himself to aid and to fight for them against their enemies. Such a man was followed and his orders were obeyed during the war. When the war was over he became a private man as he had been before, like the rest of the people, nor did they pay him tribute either before or afterwards, nor any manner of tax whatever. To such a man they gave and still give the name of _Sinchi_ which means valiant. They call such men "Sinchi-cuna" which means "valiant now" as who should say--"now during the time the war lasts you shall be our valiant man, and afterwards no ": or another meaning would be simply "valiant men," for "cuna" is an adverb of time, and also denotes the plural[36]. In whichever meaning, it is very applicable to these temporary captains in the days of _behetrias_ and general liberty. So that from the general flood of which they have a tradition to the time when the Incas began to reign, which was 3519 years, all the natives of these kingdoms lived on their properties without acknowledging either a natural or an elected lord. They succeeded in preserving, as it is said, a simple state of liberty, living in huts or caves or humble little houses. This name of "Sinchi" for those who held sway only during war, lasted throughout the land until the time of Tupac Inca Yupanqui, the tenth Inca, who instituted "Curacas" and other officials in the order which will be fully described in the life of that Inca. Even at the present time they continue this use and custom in the provinces of Chile and in other parts of the forests of Peru to the east of Quito and Chachapoyas, where they only obey a chief during war time, not any special one, but he who is known to be most valiant, enterprising and daring in the wars. The reader should note that all the land was private property with reference to any dominion of chiefs, yet they had natural chiefs with special rights in each province, as for instance among the natives of the valley of Cuzco and in other parts, as we shall relate of each part in its place. [Note 36: Cinchicona. _Sinchi_ means strong. _Cuna_ is the plural particle. _Sinchi_ was the name for a chief or leader. I have not met with _cuna_ as an adverb of time and meaning "now." No such meaning is given in the _Grammar_ of Domingo de Santo Tomas, which was published in 1560, twelve years before Sarmiento wrote.] IX. THE FIRST SETTLERS IN THE VALLEY OF CUZCO. I have explained how the people of these lands preserved their inheritances and lived on them in ancient times, and that their proper and natural countries were known. There were many of these which I shall notice in their places, treating specially at present of the original settlers of the valley where stands the present city of Cuzco. For from there we have to trace the origin of the tyranny of the Incas, who always had their chief seat in the valley of Cuzco. Before all things it must be understood that the valley of Cuzco is in 130° 15' from the equator on the side of the south pole[37]. In this valley, owing to its being fertile for cultivation, there were three tribes settled from most ancient times, the first called Sauaseras, the second Antasayas, the third Huallas. They settled near each other, although their lands for sowing were distinct, which is the property they valued most in those days and even now. These natives of the valley lived there in peace for many years, cultivating their farms. [Note 37: 13° 31'. He is 16 miles out in his latitude.] Some time before the arrival of the Incas, three Sinchis, strangers to this valley, the first named Alcabisa[38], the second Copalimayta, and the third Culunchima, collected certain companies and came to the valley of Cuzco, where, by consent of the natives, they settled and became brothers and companions of the original inhabitants. So they lived for a long time. There was concord between these six tribes, three native and three immigrant. They relate that the immigrants came out to where the Incas then resided, as we shall relate presently, and called them relations. This is an important point with reference to what happened afterwards. [Note 38: The Alcabisas, as original inhabitants of the Cuzco valley, are mentioned by Cieza de Leon (ii. p. 105) who calls them Alcaviquiza. Betanzos has Alcaviya, and Balboa Allcay-villcas. Cieza describes the victory over them by Mayta Ccapac. Yamqui Pachacuti gives Allcayviesas, Cullinchinas, and Cayancachis as the names of the tribes who originally inhabited the Cuzco valley. Cayancachi is a southern suburb of Cuzco outside the Huatanay river.] Before entering upon the history of the Incas I wish to make known or, speaking more accurately, to answer a difficulty which may occur to those who have not been in these parts. Some may say that this history cannot be accepted as authentic being taken from the narratives of these barbarians, because, having no letters, they could not preserve such details as they give from so remote an antiquity. The answer is that, to supply the want of letters, these barbarians had a curious invention which was very good and accurate. This was that from one to the other, from fathers to sons, they handed down past events, repeating the story of them many times, just as lessons are repeated from a professor's chair, making the hearers say these historical lessons over and over again until they were fixed in the memory. Thus each one of the descendants continued to communicate the annals in the order described with a view to preserve their histories and deeds, their ancient traditions, the numbers of their tribes, towns, provinces, their days, months and years, their battles, deaths, destructions, fortresses and "Sinchis." Finally they recorded, and they still record, the most notable things which consist in their numbers (or statistics), on certain cords called _quipu_, which is the same as to say reasoner or accountant. On these cords they make certain knots by which, and by differences of colour, they distinguish and record each thing as by letters. It is a thing to be admired to see what details may be recorded on these cords, for which there are masters like our writing masters[39]. [Note 39: The system of recording by _quipus_ is described by Garcilasso de la Vega, i. pp. 150 and 191, also ii. p. 117 and more fully at ii. pp. 121--125. Cieza de Leon mentions the _quipu_ system in his first part (see i. p. 291 and note) and in the second part (ii. pp. 33--35, 53, 57, 61,165). At p. 32 the method of preserving the memory of former events is described very much as in the text. See also Molina, pp. 10, 169. Molina also describes the boards on which historical events were painted, p. 4. They were, he says, kept in a temple near Cuzco, called Poquen-cancha. See also Cieza de Leon (second part), p. 28.] Besides this they had, and still have, special historians in these nations, an hereditary office descending from father to son. The collection of these annals is due to the great diligence of Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui, the ninth Inca, who sent out a general summons to all the old historians in all the provinces he had subjugated, and even to many others throughout those kingdoms. He had them in Cuzco for a long time, examining them concerning their antiquities, origin, and the most notable events in their history. These were painted on great boards, and deposited in the temple of the Sun, in a great hall. There such boards, adorned with gold, were kept as in our libraries, and learned persons were appointed, who were well versed in the art of understanding and declaring their contents. No one was allowed to enter where these boards were kept, except the Inca and the historians, without a special order of the Inca. In this way they took care to have all their past history investigated, and to have records respecting all kinds of people, so that at this day the Indians generally know and agree respecting details and important events, though, in some things, they hold different opinions on special points. By examining the oldest and most prudent among them, in all ranks of life, who had most credit, I collected and compiled the present history, referring the sayings and declarations of one party to their antagonists of another party, for they are divided into parties, and seeking from each one a memorial of its lineage and of that of the opposing party. These memorials, which are all in my possession, were compared and corrected, and ultimately verified in public, in presence of representatives of all the parties and lineages, under oaths in presence of a judge, and with expert and very faithful interpreters also on oath, and I thus finished what is now written. Such great diligence has been observed, because a thing which is the foundation of the true completion of such a great work as the establishment of the tyranny of the cruel Incas of this land will make all the nations of the world understand the judicial and more than legitimate right that the King of Castille has to these Indies and to other lands adjacent, especially to these kingdoms of Peru. As all the histories of past events have been verified by proof, which in this case has been done so carefully and faithfully by order and owing to the industry of the most excellent Viceroy Don Francisco de Toledo, no one can doubt that everything in this volume is most sufficiently established and verified without any room being left for reply or contradiction. I have been desirous of making this digression because, in writing the history, I have heard that many entertain the doubts I have above referred to, and it seemed well to satisfy them once for all. X. HOW THE INCAS BEGAN TO TYRANNIZE OVER THE LANDS AND INHERITANCES. Having explained that, in ancient times, all this land was owned by the people, it is necessary to state how the Incas began their tyranny. Although the tribes all lived in simple liberty without recognising any lord, there were always some ambitious men among them, aspiring for mastery. They committed violence among their countrymen and among strangers to subject them and bring them to obedience under their command, so that they might serve them and pay tribute. Thus bands of men belonging to one region went to others to make war and to rob and kill, usurping the lands of others. As these movements took place in many parts by many tribes, each one trying to subjugate his neighbour, it happened that 6 leagues from the valley of Cuzco, at a place called Paccari-tampu, there were four men with their four sisters, of fierce courage and evil intentions, although with lofty aims. These, being more able than the others, understood the pusillanimity of the natives of those districts and the ease with which they could be made to believe anything that was propounded with authority or with any force. So they conceived among themselves the idea of being able to subjugate many lands by force and deception. Thus all the eight brethren, four men and four women, consulted together how they could tyrannize over other tribes beyond the place where they lived, and they proposed to do this by violence. Considering that most of the natives were ignorant and could easily be made to believe what was said to them, particularly if they were addressed with some roughness, rigour and authority, against which they could make neither reply nor resistance, because they are timid by nature, they sent abroad certain fables respecting their origin, that they might be respected and feared. They said that they were the sons of Viracocha Pachayachachi, the Creator, and that they had come forth out of certain windows to rule the rest of the people. As they were fierce, they made the people believe and fear them, and hold them to be more than men, even worshipping them as gods. Thus they introduced the religion that suited them. The order of the fable they told of their origin was as follows. XI. THE FABLE OF THE ORIGIN OF THE INCAS OF CUZCO. All the native Indians of this land relate and affirm that the Incas Ccapac originated in this way. Six leagues S.S.W. of Cuzco by the road which the Incas made, there is a place called Paccari-tampu, which means "the house of production[40]" at which there is a hill called Tampu-tocco, meaning "the house of windows." It is certain that in this hill there are three windows, one called "Maras-tocco," the other "Sutic-tocco," while that which is in the middle, between these two, was known as "Ccapac-tocco," which means "the rich window," because they say that it was ornamented with gold and other treasures. From the window called "Maras-tocco" came forth, without parentage, a tribe of Indians called Maras. There are still some of them in Cuzco. From the "Sutic-tocco" came Indians called Tampus, who settled round the same hill, and there are also men of this lineage still in Cuzco. From the chief window of "Ccapac-tocco," came four men and four women, called brethren. These knew no father nor mother, beyond the story they told that they were created and came out of the said window by order of Ticci Viracocha, and they declared that Viracocha created them to be lords. For this reason they took the name of Inca, which is the same as lord. They took "Ccapac" as an additional name because they came out of the window "Ccapac-tocco," which means "rich," although afterwards they used this term to denote the chief lord over many. [Note 40: Correctly "the tavern of the dawn."] The names of the eight brethren were as follows: The eldest of the men, and the one with the most authority was named MANCO CCAPAC, the second AYAR AUCA, the third AYAR CACHI, the fourth AYAR UCHU. Of the women the eldest was called MAMA OCCLO, the second MAMA HUACO, the third MAMA IPACURA, or, as others say, MAMA CURA, the fourth MAMA RAUA. The eight brethren, called Incas, said--"We are born strong and wise, and with the people who will here join us, we shall be powerful. We will go forth from this place to seek fertile lands and when we find them we will subjugate the people and take the lands, making war on all those who do not receive us as their lords," This, as they relate, was said by Mama Huaco, one of the women, who was fierce and cruel. Manco Ccapac, her brother, was also cruel and atrocious. This being agreed upon between the eight, they began to move the people who lived near the hill, putting it to them that their reward would be to become rich and to receive the lands and estates of those who were conquered and subjugated. For these objects they moved ten tribes or _ayllus_, which means among these barbarians "lineages" or "parties"; the names of which are as follows: I. CHAUIN CUZCO AYLLU of the lineage of AYAR CACHI, of which there are still some in Cuzco, the chiefs being MARTIN CHUCUMBI, and DON DIEGO HUAMAN PAOCAR. II. ARAYRACA AYLLU CUZCO-CALLAN. At present there are of this ayllu JUAN PIZARRO YUPANQUI, DON FRANCISCO QUISPI, ALONSO TARMA YUPANQUI of the lineage of AYAR UCHU. III. TARPUNTAY AYLLU. Of this there are now some in Cuzco. IV. HUACAYTAQUI AYLLU. Some still living in Cuzco. V. SAÑOC AYLLU. Some still in Cuzco. The above five lineages are HANAN-CUZCO, which means the party of Upper Cuzco. VI. SUTIC-TOCCO AYLLU is the lineage which came out of one of the windows called "SUTIC-TOCCO," as has been before explained. Of these there are still some in Cuzco, the chiefs being DON FRANCISCO AVCA MICHO AVRI SUTIC, and DON ALONSO HUALPA. VII. MARAS AYLLU. These are of the men who came forth from the window "MARAS-TOCCO." There are some of these now in Cuzco, the chiefs being DON ALONSO LLAMA OCA, and DON GONZALO AMPURA LLAMA OCA. VIII. CUYCUSA AYLLU. Of these there are still some in Cuzco, the chief being CRISTOVAL ACLLARI. IX. MASCA AYLLU. Of this there is in Cuzco--JUAN QUISPI. X. ORO AYLLU. Of this lineage is DON PEDRO YUCAY. I say that all these _ayllus_ have preserved their records in such a way that the memory of them has not been lost. There are more of them than are given above, for I only insert the chiefs who are the protectors and heads of the lineages, under whose guidance they are preserved. Each chief has the duty and obligation to protect the rest, and to know the history of his ancestors. Although I say that these live in Cuzco, the truth is that they are in a suburb of the city which the Indians call Cayocache and which is known to us as Belem, from the church of that parish which is that of our Lady of Belem. Returning to our subject, all these followers above mentioned marched with Manco Ccapac and the other brethren to seek for land [_and to tyrannize over those who did no harm to them, nor gave them any excuse for war, and without any right or title beyond what has been stated_]. To be prepared for war they chose for their leaders Manco Ccapac and Mama Huaco, and with this arrangement the companies of the hill of Tampu-tocco set out, to put their design into execution. XII. THE ROAD WHICH THESE COMPANIES OF THE INCAS TOOK TO THE VALLEY OF CUZCO, AND OF THE FABLES WHICH ARE MIXED WITH THEIR HISTORY. The Incas and the rest of the companies or _ayllus_ set out from their homes at Tampu-tocco, taking with them their property and arms, in sufficient numbers to form a good squadron, having for their chiefs the said Manco Ccapac and Mama Huaco. Manco Ccapac took with him a bird like a falcon, called _indi_[41], which they all worshipped and feared as a sacred, or, as some say, an enchanted thing, for they thought that this bird made Manco Ccapac their lord and obliged the people to follow him. It was thus that Manco Ccapac gave them to understand, and it was carried in _vahidos_[42], always kept in a covered hamper of straw, like a box, with much care. He left it as an heirloom to his son, and the Incas had it down to the time of Inca Yupanqui. In his hand he carried with him a staff of gold, to test the lands which they would come to. [Note 41: This bird called _indi_, the familiar spirit of Manco Ccapac, is not mentioned by any other author. There is more about it in the life of Mayta Ccapac, the great-grandson of Manco Ccapac. The word seems to be the same as _Ynti_ the Sun-God.] [Note 42: _Vahido_ means giddiness, vertigo.] Marching together they came to a place called Huana-cancha, four leagues from the valley of Cuzco, where they remained for some time, sowing and seeking for fertile land. Here Manco Ccapac had connexion with his sister Mama Occlo, and she became pregnant by him. As this place did not appear able to sustain them, being barren, they advanced to another place called Tampu-quiro, where Mama Occlo begot a son named Sinchi Rocca. Having celebrated the natal feasts of the infant, they set out in search of fertile land, and came to another place called Pallata, which is almost contiguous to Tampu-quiro, and there they remained for some years. Not content with this land, they came to another called Hays-quisro, a quarter of a league further on. Here they consulted together over what ought to be done respecting their journey, and over the best way of getting rid of Ayar Cachi, one of the four brothers. Ayar Cachi was fierce and strong, and very dexterous with the sling. He committed great cruelties and was oppressive both among the natives of the places they passed, and among his own people. The other brothers were afraid that the conduct of Ayar Cachi would cause their companies to disband and desert, and that they would be left alone. As Manco Ccapac was prudent, he concurred with the opinion of the others that they should secure their object by deceit. They called Ayar Cachi and said to him, "Brother! Know that in Ccapac-tocco we have forgotten the golden vases called _tupac-cusi_[43], and certain seeds, and the _napa_[44], which is our principal ensign of sovereignty." The _napa_ is a sheep of the country, the colour white, with a red body cloth, on the top ear-rings of gold, and on the breast a plate with red badges such as was worn by rich Incas when they went abroad; carried in front of all on a pole with a cross of plumes of feathers. This was called _suntur-paucar_[45]. They said that it would be for the good of all, if he would go back and fetch them. When Ayar Cachi refused to return, his sister Mama Huaco, raising her foot, rebuked him with furious words, saying, "How is it that there should be such cowardice in so strong a youth as you are? Get ready for the journey, and do not fail to go to Tampu-tocco, and do what you are ordered." Ayar Cachi was shamed by these words. He obeyed and started to carry out his orders. They gave him, as a companion, one of those who had come with them, named Tampu-chacay, to whom they gave secret orders to kill Ayar Cachi at Tampu-tocco, and not to return with him. With these orders they both arrived at Tampu-tocco. They had scarcely arrived when Ayar Cachi entered through the window Ccapac-tocco, to get the things for which he had been sent. He was no sooner inside than Tampu-chacay, with great celerity, put a rock against the opening of the window and sat upon it, that Ayar Cachi might remain inside and die there. When Ayar Cachi turned to the opening and found it closed he understood the treason of which the traitor Tampu-chacay had been guilty, and determined to get out if it was possible, to take vengeance. To force an opening he used such force and shouted so loud that he made the mountain tremble. With a loud voice he spoke these words to Tampu-chacay, "Thou traitor! thou who hast done me so much harm, thinkest thou to convey the news of my mortal imprisonment? That shall never happen. For thy treason thou shalt remain outside, turned into a stone." So it was done, and to this day they show the stone on one side of the window Ccapac-tocco. Turn we now to the seven brethren who had remained at Hays-quisro. The death of Ayar Cachi being known, they were very sorry for what they had done, for, as he was valiant, they regretted much to be without him when the time came to make war on any one. So they mourned for him. This Ayar Cachi was so dexterous with a sling and so strong that with each shot he pulled down a mountain and filled up a ravine. They say that the ravines, which we now see on their line of march, were made by Ayar Cachi in hurling stones. [Note 43: _Tupac-cusi_, meaning golden vases, does not occur elsewhere. It may be a mis-print for _tupac-ccuri, tupac_ meaning anything royal and ccuri gold.] [Note 44: _Napa_ was the name of a sacred figure of a llama, one of the insignia of royalty. See Molina, pp. 19, 39, 47. The verb _napani_ is to salute, _napay_, salutation. _Raymi-napa_ was the flock dedicated for sacrifice.] [Note 45: _Suntur-paucar_ was the head-dress of the Inca. See Balboa, p. 20. Literally the "brilliant circle." See also Molina, pp. 6, 17, 39, 42, 44, and Yamqui Pachacuti, pp. 14, 106, 120.] The seven Incas and their companions left this place, and came to another called Quirirmanta at the foot of a hill which was afterwards called Huanacauri. In this place they consulted together how they should divide the duties of the enterprise amongst themselves, so that there should be distinctions between them. They agreed that as Manco Ccapac had had a child by his sister, they should be married and have children to continue the lineage, and that he should be the leader. Ayar Uchu was to remain as a _huaca_ for the sake of religion. Ayar Auca, from the position they should select, was to take possession of the land set apart for him to people. Leaving this place they came to a hill at a distance of two leagues, a little more or less, from Cuzco. Ascending the hill they saw a rainbow, which the natives call _huanacauri_. Holding it to be a fortunate sign, Manco Ccapac said: "Take this for a sign that the world will not be destroyed by water. We shall arrive and from hence we shall select where we shall found our city." Then, first casting lots, they saw that the signs were good for doing so, and for exploring the land from that point and becoming lords of it. Before they got to the height where the rainbow was, they saw a _huaca_ which was a place of worship in human shape, near the rainbow. They determined among themselves to seize it and take it away from there. Ayar Uchu offered himself to go to it, for they said that he was very like it. When Ayar Uchu came to the statue or _huaca_, with great courage he sat upon it, asking it what it did there. At these words the _huaca_ turned its head to see who spoke, but, owing to the weight upon it, it could not see. Presently, when Ayar Uchu wanted to get off he was not able, for he found that the soles of his feet were fastened to the shoulders of the _huaca_. The six brethren, seeing that he was a prisoner, came to succour him. But Ayar Uchu, finding himself thus transformed, and that his brethren could not release him, said to them--"O Brothers, an evil work you have wrought for me. It was for your sakes that I came where I must remain for ever, apart from your company. Go! go! happy brethren, I announce to you that you will be great lords. I, therefore, pray that in recognition of the desire I have always had to please you, you will honour and venerate me in all your festivals and ceremonies, and that I shall be the first to whom you make offerings. For I remain here for your sakes. When you celebrate the _huarachico_ (which is the arming of the sons as knights) you shall adore me as their father, for I shall remain here for ever." Manco Ccapac answered that he would do so, for that it was his will and that it should be so ordered. Ayar Uchu promised for the youths that he would bestow on them the gifts of valour, nobility, and knighthood, and with these last words he remained, turned into stone. They constituted him the _huaca_ of the Incas, giving it the name of Ayar Uchu Huanacauri.[46] And so it always was, until the arrival of the Spaniards, the most venerated _huaca_, and the one that received the most offerings of any in the kingdom. Here the Incas went to arm the young knights until about twenty years ago, when the Christians abolished this ceremony. It was religiously done, because there were many abuses and idolatrous practices, offensive and contrary to the ordinances of God our Lord. [Note 46: Huanacauri was a very sacred _huaca_ of the Peruvians. Cieza de Leon tells much the same story as Sarmiento, ii. pp. 17, 18, 19, 22, 89, 101, 107, 111. Garcilasso de la Vega mentions Huanacauri four times, i. pp. 65, 66, and ii. pp. 169, 230, as a place held in great veneration. It is frequently mentioned by Molina. The word is given by Yamqui Pachacuti as Huayna-captiy. _Huayna_ means a youth, _captiy_ is the subjunctive of the verb _cani_, I am. The word appears to have reference to the arming of youths, and the ordeals they went through, which took place annually at this place.] XIII. ENTRY OF THE INCAS INTO THE VALLEY OF CUZCO, AND THE FABLES THEY RELATE CONCERNING IT. The six brethren were sad at the loss of Ayar Uchu, and at the loss of Ayar Cachi; and, owing to the death of Ayar Cachi, those of the lineage of the Incas, from that time to this day, always fear to go to Tampu-tocco, lest they should have to remain there like Ayar Cachi. They went down to the foot of the hill, whence they began their entry into the valley of Cuzco, arriving at a place called Matahua, where they stopped and built huts, intending to remain there some time. Here they armed as knight the son of Manco Ccapac and of Mama Occlo, named Sinchi Rocca, and they bored his ears, a ceremony which is called _huarachico_, being the insignia of his knighthood and nobility, like the custom known among ourselves. On this occasion they indulged in great rejoicings, drinking for many days, and at intervals mourning for the loss of their brother Ayar Uchu. It was here that they invented the mourning sound for the dead, like the cooing of a dove. Then they performed the dance called _Ccapac Raymi_, a ceremony of the royal or great lords. It is danced, in long purple robes, at the ceremonies they call _quicochico_[47], which is when girls come to maturity, and the _huarachico_[48], when they bore the ears of the Incas, and the _rutuchico_[49] when the Inca's hair is cut the first time, and the _ayuscay_[50], which is when a child is born, and they drink continuously for four or five days. [Note 47: Quicu-chicuy was the ceremony when girls attained puberty. The customs, on this occasion, are described by Molina, p. 53. See also Yamqui Pachacuti, p. 80, and the anonymous Jesuit, p. 181.] [Note 48: Huarachicu was the great festival when the youths went through their ordeals, and were admitted to manhood and to bear arms. Garcilasso de la Vega gives the word as "Huaracu"; and fully describes the ordeals and the ceremonies, ii. pp. 161--178. See also Molina, pp. 34 and 41--46, and Yamqui Pachacuti, p. 80.] [Note 49: Rutuchicu is the ceremony when a child reaches the age of one year, from _rutuni_, to cut or shear. It receives the name which it retains until the Huarachicu if a boy, and until the Quicu-chicuy if a girl. They then receive the names they retain until death. At the Rutuchicu the child was shorn. Molina, p. 53.] [Note 50: Molina says that Ayuscay was the ceremony when the woman conceives. Molina, p. 53.] After this they were in Matahua for two years, waiting to pass on to the upper valley to seek good and fertile land. Mama Huaco, who was very strong and dexterous, took two wands of gold and hurled them towards the north. One fell, at two shots of an arquebus, into a ploughed field called Colcapampa and did not drive in well, the soil being loose and not terraced. By this they knew that the soil was not fertile. The other went further, to near Cuzco, and fixed well in the territory called Huanay-pata, where they knew the land to be fertile. Others say that this proof was made by Manco Ccapac with the staff of gold which he carried himself, and that thus they knew of the fertility of the land, when the staff sunk in the land called Huanay-pata, two shots of an arquebus from Cuzco. They knew the crust of the soil to be rich and close, so that it could only be broken by using much force. Let it be by one way or the other, for all agree that they went trying the land with a pole or staff until they arrived at this Huanay-pata, when they were satisfied. They were sure of its fertility, because after sowing perpetually, it always yielded abundantly, giving more the more it was sown. They determined to usurp that land by force, in spite of the natural owners, and to do with it as they chose. So they returned to Matahua. From that place Manco Ccapac saw a heap of stones near the site of the present monastery of Santo Domingo at Cuzco. Pointing it out to his brother Ayar Auca, he said, "Brother! you remember how it was arranged between us, that you should go to take possession of the land where we are to settle. Well! look at that stone." Pointing out the stone he continued, "Go thither flying," for they say that Ayar Auca had developed some wings, "and seating yourself there, take possession of land seen from that heap of stones. We will presently come to settle and reside." When Ayar Auca heard the words of his brother, he opened his wings and flew to that place which Manco Ccapac had pointed out. Seating himself there, he was presently turned into stone, and was made the stone of possession. In the ancient language of this valley the heap was called _cozco_, whence that site has had the name of Cuzco to this day[51]. From this circumstance the Incas had a proverb which said, "Ayar Auca cuzco huanca," or, "Ayar Auca a heap of marble." Others say that Manco Ccapac gave the name of Cuzco because he wept in that place where he buried his brother Ayar Cachi. Owing to his sorrow and to the fertility he gave that name which in the ancient language of that time signified sad as well as fertile. The first version must be the correct one because Ayar Cachi was not buried at Cuzco, having died at Ccapac-tocco as has been narrated before. And this is generally affirmed by Incas and natives. [Note 51: _Cuzco_ means a clod, or hard unirrigated land. _Cuzquini_ is to break clods of earth, or to level. Montesinos derives the name of the city from the verb "to level," or from the heaps of clods, of earth called _cuzco_. Cusquic-Raymi is the month of June.] Five brethren only remaining, namely Manco Ccapac, and the four sisters, and Manco Ccapac being the only surviving brother out of four, they presently resolved to advance to where Ayar Auca had taken possession. Manco Ccapac first gave to his son Sinchi Rocca a wife named Mama Cuca, of the lineage of Sañu, daughter of a Sinchi named Sitic-huaman, by whom he afterwards had a son named Sapaca. He also instituted the sacrifice called _capa cocha_[52], which is the immolation of two male and two female infants before the idol Huanacauri, at the time when the Incas were armed as knights. These things being arranged, he ordered the companies to follow him to the place where Ayar Auca was. [Note 52: Ccapac-cocha. The weight of evidence is, on the whole, in favour of this sacrifice of two infants having taken place at the Huarachicu, Cieza de Leon, in remarking that the Spaniards falsely imputed crimes to the Indians to justify their ill-treatment, says that the practice of human sacrifice was exaggerated, ii. pp. 79, 80. See also Molina, pp-54, 57. Yamqui Pachacuti, p. 86.] Arriving on the land of Huanay-pata, which is near where now stands the _Arco de la plata_ leading to the Charcas road, he found settled there a nation of Indians named Huallas, already mentioned. Manco Ccapac and Mama Occlo began to settle and to take possession of the land and water, against the will of the Huallas. On this business they did many violent and unjust things. As the Huallas attempted to defend their lives and properties, many cruelties were committed by Manco Ccapac and Mama Occlo. They relate that Mama Occlo was so fierce that, having killed one of the Hualla Indians, she cut him up, took out the inside, carried the heart and lungs in her mouth, and with an _ayuinto_, which is a stone fastened to a rope, in her hand, she attacked the Huallas with diabolical resolution. When the Huallas beheld this horrible and inhuman spectacle, they feared that the same thing would be done to them, being simple and timid, and they fled and abandoned their rights. Mama Occlo reflecting on her cruelty, and fearing that for it they would be branded as tyrants, resolved not to spare any Huallas, believing that the affair would thus be forgotten. So they killed all they could lay their hands upon, dragging infants from their mothers' wombs, that no memory might be left of these miserable Huallas. Having done this Manco Ccapac advanced, and came within a mile of Cuzco to the S.E., where a Sinchi named Copalimayta came out to oppose him. We have mentioned this chief before and that, although he was a late comer, he settled with the consent of the natives of the valley, and had been incorporated in the nation of Sauaseray Panaca, natives of the site of Santo Domingo at Cuzco. Having seen the strangers invading their lands and tyrannizing over them, and knowing the cruelties inflicted on the Huallas, they had chosen Copalimayta as their Sinchi. He came forth to resist the invasion, saying that the strangers should not enter his lands or those of the natives. His resistance was such that Manco Ccapac and his companions were obliged to turn their backs. They returned to Huanay-pata, the land they had usurped from the Huallas. From the sowing they had made they derived a fine crop of maize, and for this reason they gave the place a name which means something precious[53]. [Note 53: The origin of the Inca dynasty derived from Manco Ccapac and his brethren issuing from the window at Paccari-tampu may be called the Paccari-tampu myth. It was universally received and believed. Garcilasso de la Vega gives the meanings of the names of the brothers. Ayar Cachi means salt or instruction in rational life, Ayar Uchu is pepper, meaning the delight experienced from such teaching, and Ayar Sauca means pleasure, or the joy they afterwards experienced from it. Balboa gives an account of the death of Ayar Cachi, but calls him Ayar Auca. He also describes the turning into stone at Huanacauri. Betanzos tells much the same story as Sarmiento; as do Cieza de Leon and Montesinos, with some slight differences. Yamqui Pachacuti gives the names of the brothers, but only relates the Huanacauri part of the story. Montesinos and Garcilasso de la Vega call one of the brothers Ayar Sauca. Sarmiento, Betanzos and Balboa call him Ayar Auca. All agree in the names of the other brothers.] After some months they returned to the attack on the natives of the valley, to tyrannize over them. They assaulted the settlement of the Sauaseras, and were so rapid in their attack that they captured Copalimayta, slaughtering many of the Sauaseras with great cruelty. Copalimayta, finding himself a prisoner and fearing death, fled out of desperation, leaving his estates, and was never seen again after he escaped. Mama Huaco and Manco Ccapac usurped his houses, lands and people. In this way MANCO CCAPAC, MAMA HUACO, SINCHI ROCCA, and MANCO SAPACA settled on the site between the two rivers, and erected the House of the Sun, which they called YNTI-CANCHA. They divided all that position, from Santo Domingo to the junction of the rivers into four neighbourhoods or quarters which they call _cancha_. They called one QUINTI-CANCHA, the second CHUMPI-CANCHA, the third SAYRI-CANCHA, and the fourth YARAMPUY-CANCHA. They divided the sites among themselves, and thus the city was peopled, and, from the heap of stones of Ayar Auca it was called CUZCO[54]. [Note 54: Garcilasso de la Vega gives the most detailed description of the city of Cuzco and its suburbs, ii. p. 235, but he does not mention these four divisions. The space from Santo Domingo to the junction of the rivers only covers a few acres; and was devoted to the gardens of the Sun.] XIV. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MANCO CCAPAC AND THE ALCABISAS, RESPECTING THE ARABLE LAND. It has been said that one of the natural tribes of this valley of Cuzco was the Alcabisas. At the time when Manco Ccapac settled at Ynti-cancha and seized the goods of the Sauaseras and Huallas, the Alcabisas were settled half an arquebus shot from Ynti-canchi, towards the part where Santa Clara now stands. Manco Ccapac had a plan to spread out his forces that his tyrannical intentions might not be impeded, so he sent his people, as if loosely and idly, making free with the land. He took the lands without distinction, to support his companies. As he had taken those of the Huallas and Sauaseras, he wished also to take those of the Alcabisas. As these Alcabisas had given up some, Manco Ccapac wished and intended to take all or nearly all. When the Alcabisas saw that the new comers even entered their houses, they said: "These are men who are bellicose and unreasonable! they take our lands! Let us set up landmarks on the fields they have left to us." This they did, but Mama Huaco said to Manco Ccapac, "let us take all the water from the Alcabisas, and then they will be obliged to give us the rest of their land." This was done and they took away the water. Over this there were disputes; but as the followers of Manco Ccapac were more and more masterful, they forced the Alcabisas to give up their lands which they wanted, and to serve them as their lords, although the Alcabisas never voluntarily served Manco Ccapac nor looked upon him as their lord. On the contrary they always went about saying with loud voices-to those of Manco Ccapac--"Away! away! out of our territory." For this Manco Ccapac was more hard upon them, and oppressed them tyrannically. Besides the Alcabisas there were other tribes, as we have mentioned before. These Manco Ccapac and Mama Huaco totally destroyed, and more especially one which lived near Ynti-cancha, in the nearest land, called Humanamean, between Ynti-cancha and Cayocachi[55], where there also lived another native Sinchi named Culunchima. Manco Ccapac entered the houses and lands of all the natives, especially of the Alcabisas, condemned their Sinchi to perpetual imprisonment, sending the others to banishment in Cayocachi, and forcing them to pay tribute. But they were always trying to free themselves from the tyranny, as the Alcabisas did later[56]. [Note 55: Garcilasso de la Vega describes Cayau-cachi as a small village of about 300 inhabitants in his time. It was about 1000 paces west of the nearest house of the city in 1560; but he had been told that, at the time of his writing in 1602, the houses had been extended so as to include it.] [Note 56: Cieza de Leon and Balboa corroborate the story of Sarmiento that the Alcabisas (Cieza calls them Alcaviquizas, Balboa has Allcay-villcas) were hostile to the Incas, Cieza, ii. p. 105, Balboa, p. 25. Yamqui Pachacuti mentions them as Allcayviesas, p. 76.] Having completed the yoke over the natives, their goods and persons, Manco Ccapac was now very old. Feeling the approach of death, and fearing that in leaving the sovereignty to his son, Sinchi Rocca, he and his successors might not be able to retain it owing to the bad things he had done and to the tyranny he had established, he ordered that the ten lineages or companies that had come with him from Tampu-tocco should form themselves into a garrison or guard, to be always on the watch over the persons of his son and of his other descendants to keep them safe. They were to elect the successor when he had been nominated by his father, or succeeded on the death of his father. For he would not trust the natives to nominate or elect, knowing the evil he had done, and the force he had used towards them. Manco Ccapac being now on the point of death, he left the bird _indi_ enclosed in its cage, the _tupac-yauri_[57] or sceptre, the _napa_ and the _suntur-paucar_ the insignia of a prince, [_though tyrant_,] to his son Sinchi Rocca that he might take his place, [_and this without the consent or election of any of the natives_]. [Note 57: _Tupac-yauri_ The sceptre of the sovereign. Molina, pp. 25, 40, 41. Yamqui Pachacuti, p. 92.] Thus died Manco Ccapac, according to the accounts of those of his _ayllu_ or lineage, at the age of 144 years, which were divided in the following manner. When he set out from Paccari-tampu or Tampu-tocco he was 36 years of age. From that time until he arrived at the valley of Cuzco, during which interval he was seeking for fertile lands, there were eight years. For in one place he stayed one, in another two years, in others more or less until he reached Cuzco, where he lived all the rest of the time, which was 100 years, as _Ccapac_ or supreme and rich sovereign. They say that he was a man of good stature, thin, rustic, cruel though frank, and that in dying he was converted into a stone of a height of a vara and a half. The stone was preserved with much veneration in the Ynti-cancha until the year 1559 when, the licentiate Polo Ondegardo being Corregidor of Cuzco, found it and took it away from where it was adored and venerated by all the Incas, in the village of Bimbilla near Cuzco. From this Manco Ccapac were originated the ten ayllus mentioned above. From his time began the idols _huauquis_, which was an idol or demon chosen by each Inca for his companion and oracle which gave him answers[58]. That of Manco Ccapac was the bird _indi_ already mentioned. This Manco Ccapac ordered, for the preservation of his memory, the following: His eldest son by his legitimate wife, who was his sister, was to succeed to the sovereignty. If there was a second son his duty was to be to help all the other children and relations. They were to recognize him as the head in all their necessities, and he was to take charge of their interests, and for this duty estates were set aside. This party or lineage was called _ayllu_ If there was no second son, or if there was one who was incapable, the duty was to be passed on to the nearest and ablest relation. And that those to come might have a precedent or example, Manco Ccapac made the first _ayllu_ and called it _Chima Panaca Ayllu_, which means the lineage descending from Chima, because the first to whom he left his _ayllu_ or lineage in charge was named _Chima_, and _Panaca_ means "to descend." It is to be noted that the members of this _ayllu_ always adored the statue of Manco Ccapac, and not those of the other Incas, but the _ayllus_ of the other Incas always worshipped that statue and the others also. It is not known what was done with the body, for there was only the statue. They carried it in their wars, thinking that it secured the victories they won. They also took it to Huanacauri, when they celebrated the _huarachicos_ of the Incas. Huayna Ccapac took it with him to Quito and Cayambis, and afterwards it was brought back to Cuzco with the dead body of that Inca. There are still those of this _ayllu_ in Cuzco who preserve the memory of the deeds of Manco Ccapac. The principal heads of the _ayllu_ are now Don Diego Chaco, and Don Juan Huarhua Chima. They are Hurin-cuzcos. Manco Ccapac died in the year 665 of the nativity of Christ our Lord, Loyba the Goth reigning in Spain, Constantine IV being Emperor. He lived in the Ynti-cancha, House of the Sun. [Note 58: Sarmiento says that every sovereign Inca had a familiar demon or idol which he called _guauqui_, and that the _guauqui_ of Manco Ccapac was the _indi_ or bird already mentioned. This is corroborated by Polo de Ondegardo. The word seems to be the same as _Huauqui_, a brother.] XV. COMMENCES THE LIFE OF SINCHI ROCCA, THE SECOND INCA. It has been said that Manco Ccapac, the first Inca, who tyrannized over the natives of the valley of Cuzco, only subjugated the Huallas, Alcabisas, Sauaseras, Culunchima, Copalimayta and the others mentioned above, who were all within the circuit of what is now the city of Cuzco. To this Manco Ccapac succeeded his son Sinchi Rocca, son also of Mama Occlo, his mother and aunt[59]. He succeeded by nomination of his father, under the care of the _ayllus_ who then all lived together, but not by election of the people, they were all either in flight, prisoners, wounded or banished, and were all his mortal enemies owing to the cruelties and robberies exercised upon them by his father Manco Ccapac. Sinchi Rocca was not a warlike person, and no feats of arms are recorded of him, nor did he sally forth from Cuzco, either himself or by his captains[60]. He added nothing to what his father had subjugated, only holding by his _ayllus_ those whom his father had crushed. He had for a wife Mama Cuca of the town of Saño by whom he had a son named Lloqui Yupanqui. Lloqui means left-handed, because he was so. He left his _ayllu_ called _Raura Panaca Ayllu_ of the Hurin-cuzco side. There are some of this _ayllu_ living, the chiefs being Don Alonso Puscon and Don Diego Quispi. These have the duty of knowing and maintaining the things and memories of Sinchi Rocca. He lived in Ynti-cancha, the House of the Sun, and all his years were 127. He succeeded when 108, and reigned 19 years. He died in the year of the nativity of our Lord Jesus Christ 675, Wamba being King of Spain, Leo IV Emperor, and Donus Pope. He left an idol of stone shaped like a fish called _Huanachiri Amaru_, which during life was his idol or _guauqui_. Polo, being Corregidor of Cuzco, found this idol, with the body of Sinchi Rocca, in the village of Bimbilla, among some bars of copper. The idol had attendants and cultivated lands for its service. [Note 59: All the authorities concur that Sinchi Rocca was the second sovereign of the Inca dynasty, except Montesinos, who makes him the first and calls him Inca Rocca. Acosta has Inguarroca, and Betanzos Chincheroca.] [Note 60: Cieza de Leon and Garcilasso de la Vega also say that Sinchi Rocca waged no wars. The latter tells us that, by peaceful means, he extended his dominions over the Canchis, as far as Chuncara.] XVI. THE LIFE OF LLOQUI YUPANQUI, THE THIRD INCA. On the death of Sinchi Rocca the Incaship was occupied by Lloqui Yupanqui, son of Sinchi Rocca by Mama Cuca his wife. It is to be noted that, although Manco Ccapac had ordered that the eldest son should succeed, this Inca broke the rule of his grandfather, for he had an elder brother named Manco Sapaca[61], as it is said, who did not consent, and the Indians do not declare whether he was nominated by his father. From this I think that Lloqui Yupanqui was not nominated, but Manco Sapaca as the eldest, for so little regard for the natives or their approval was shown. This being so, it was tyranny against the natives and infidelity to relations with connivance of the _ayllus_ legionaries; and with the Inca's favour they could do what they liked, by supporting him. So Lloqui Yupanqui lived in Ynti-cancha like his father[62]. He never left Cuzco on a warlike expedition nor performed any memorable deed, but merely lived like his father, having communication with some provinces and chiefs. These were Huaman Samo, chief of Huaro, Pachaculla Viracocha, the Ayamarcas of Tampu-cunca, and the Quilliscachis[63]. [Note 61: Manco Sapaca, the eldest son of Sinchi Rocca, is also mentioned by Balboa, pp. 14, 20, 22.] [Note 62: All the authorities concur in making Lloqui Yupanqui the third Inca, except Acosta, who has Iaguarhuaque. Herrera spells it Lloki Yupanqui, Fernandez has Lloccuco Panque, merely corrupt spellings. Cieza de Leon also represents this reign to have been peaceful, but Garcilasso de la Vega makes Lloqui Yupanqui conquer the Collao.] [Note 63: Huaro or Guaro is a village south of Cuzco in the valley of the Vilcamayu (Balboa, p. 110). Huaman Samo was the chief of Huaro. Balboa mentions Pachachalla Viracocha as a chief of great prudence and ability who submitted to Lloqui Yupanqui, pp. 21, 22. The Ayamarcas formed a powerful tribe about 12 miles south of Cuzco. The Quilliscachis formed one of the original tribes in the valley of Cuzco (Yamqui Pachacuti, p. 110). Tampu-cunca only occurs here.] One day Lloqui Yupanqui being very sad and afflicted, the Sun appeared to him in the form of a person and consoled him by saying---"Do not be sorrowful, Lloqui Yupanqui, for from you shall descend great Lords," also, that he might hold it for certain that he would have male issue. For Lloqui Yupanqui was then very old, and neither had a son nor expected to have one. This having been made known, and what the Sun had announced to Lloqui Yupanqui having been published to the people, his relations determined to seek a wife for him. His brother Manco Sapaca, understanding the fraternal disposition, sought for a woman who was suitable for it. He found her in a town called Oma, two leagues from Cuzco, asked for her from her guardians, and, with their consent, brought her to Cuzco. She was then married to Lloqui Yupanqui. Her name was Mama Cava, and by her the Inca had a son named Mayta Ccapac. This Lloqui did nothing worthy of remembrance. He carried with him an idol, which was his _guauqui_ called _Apu Mayta_. His _ayllu_ is _Avayni Panaca Ayllu_, because the first who had the charge of this _ayllu_ was named Avayni. This Inca lived and died in Ynti-cancha. He was 132 years of age, having succeeded at the age of 21, so that he was sovereign or "ccapac" for 111 years. He died in 786, Alfonso el Casto being King of Spain and Leo IV Supreme Pontiff. Some of this _ayllu_ still live at Cuzco. The chiefs are Putisuc Titu Avcaylli, Titu Rimachi, Don Felipe Titu Cunti Mayta, Don Agustin Cunti Mayta, Juan Bautista Quispi Cunti Mayta. They are Hurin-cuzcos. The Licentiate Polo found the body of this Inca with the rest. XVII. THE LIFE OF MAYTA CCAPAC, THE FOURTH INCA[64]. [Note 64: All authorities agree that Mayta Ccapac was the fourth Inca, except Acosta and Betanzos. Acosta has Viracocha. Betanzos places Mayta Ccapac after Ccapac Yupanqui, whom other authorities make his son. His reign was peaceful except that he encountered and finally vanquished the Alcabisas. But Garcilasso de la Vega makes him the conqueror of the region south of lake Titicaca, as well as provinces to the westward, including the settlement of Arequipa. All this is doubtless a mistake on the part of Garcilasso.] Mayta Ccapac, the fourth Inca, son of Lloqui Yupanqui and his wife Mama Cava, is to those Indians what Hercules is to us, as regards his birth and acts, for they relate strange things of him. At the very first the Indians of his lineage, and all the others in general, say that his father, when he was begotten, was so old and weak that every one believed he was useless, so that they thought the conception was a miracle. The second wonder was that his mother bore him three months after conception, and that he was born strong and with teeth. All affirm this, and that he grew at such a rate that in one year he had as much strength and was as big as a boy of eight years or more. At two years he fought with very big boys, knocked them about and hurt them seriously. This all looks as if it might be counted with the other fables, but I write what the natives believe respecting their ancestors, and they hold this to be so true that they would kill anyone who asserted the contrary. They say of this Mayta that when he was of very tender years, he was playing with some boys of the Alcabisas and Culunchimas, natives of Cuzco, when he hurt many of them and killed some. And one day, drinking or taking water from a fountain, he broke the leg of the son of a Sinchi of the Alcabisas, and hunted the rest until they shut themselves up in their houses, where the Alcabisas lived without injuring the Incas. But now the Alcabisas, unable to endure longer the naughtiness of Mayta Ccapac, which he practised under the protection of Lloqui Yupanqui, and the _ayllus_ who watched over him, determined to regain their liberty and to venture their lives for it. So they selected ten resolute Indians to go to the House of the Sun where Lloqui Yupanqui and his son Mayta Ccapac lived, and enter it with the intention of killing them. At the time Mayta Ccapac was in the court yard of the house, playing at ball with some other boys. When he saw enemies entering the house with arms, he threw one of the balls he was playing with, and killed one. He did the same to another, and, attacking the rest, they all fled. Though the rest escaped, they had received many wounds, and in this state they went back to their Sinchis of Calunchima and Alcabasa. The Chiefs, considering the harm Mayta Ccapac had done to the natives when a child, feared that when he was grown up he would destroy them all, and for this reason they resolved to die for their liberty. All the inhabitants of the valley of Cuzco, that had been spared by Manco Ccapac, united to make war on the Incas. This very seriously alarmed Lloqui Yupanqui. He thought he was lost, and reprehended his son Mayta Ccapac, saying, "Son! why hast thou been so harmful to the natives of this valley, so that in my old age I shall die at the hands of our enemies?" As the _ayllus_, who were in garrison with the Incas, rejoiced more in rapine and disturbances than in quiet, they took the part of Mayta Ccapac and told the old Inca to hold his peace, leaving the matter to his son, so Lloqui Yupanqui took no further steps in reprehending Mayta Ccapac. The Alcabisas and Culunchimas assembled their forces and Mayta Ccapac marshalled his _ayllus_. There was a battle between the two armies and although it was doubtful for some time, both sides fighting desperately for victory, the Alcabisas and Calunchimas were finally defeated by the troops of Mayta Ccapac. But not for this did the Alcabisas give up the attempt to free themselves and avenge their wrongs. Again they challenged Mayta Ccapac to battle, which he accepted. As they advanced they say that such a hail storm fell over the Alcabisas that they were defeated a third time, and entirely broken up. Mayta Ccapac imprisoned their Sinchi for the remainder of his life. Mayta Ccapac married Mama Tacucaray, native of the town of Tacucaray, and by her he had a legitimate son named Ccapac Yupanqui, besides four others named Tarco Huaman, Apu Cunti Mayta, Queco Avcaylli, and Rocca Yupanqui. This Mayta Ccapac was warlike, and the Inca who first distinguished himself in arms after the time of Mama Huaco and Manco Ccapac. They relate of him that he dared to open the hamper containing the bird _indi_. This bird, brought by Manco Ccapac from Tampu-tocco, had been inherited by his successors, the predecessors of Mayta Ccapac, who had always kept it shut up in a hamper or box of straw, such was the fear they had of it. But Mayta Ccapac was bolder than any of them. Desirous of seeing what his predecessors had guarded so carefully, he opened the hamper, saw the bird _indi_ and had some conversation with it. They say that it gave him oracles, and that after the interview with the bird he was wiser, and knew better what he should do, and what would happen. With all this he did not go forth from the valley of Cuzco, although chiefs from some distant nations came to visit him. He lived in Ynti-cancha, the House of the Sun. He left a lineage called _Usca Mayta Panaca Ayllu_, and some members of it are still living in Cuzco. The heads are named Don Juan Tambo Usca Mayta, and Don Baltasar Quiso Mayta. They are Hurin-cuzcos. Mayta Ccapac died at the age of 112 years, in the year 890 of the nativity of our Lord Jesus Christ. The Licentiate Polo found his body and idol _guauqui_ with the rest. XVIII. THE LIFE OF CCAPAC YUPANQUI, THE FIFTH INCA[65]. [Note 65: All authorities are agreed that Ccapac Yupanqui was the fifth Inca, except Betanzos, who puts him in his father's place. Garcilasso attributes extensive conquests to him, both to south and west.] At the time of his death, Mayta Ccapac named Ccapac Yupanqui as his successor, his son by his wife Mama Tacucaray. This Ccapac Yupanqui, as soon as he succeeded to the Incaship, made his brothers swear allegiance to him, and that they desired that he should be Ccapac. They complied from fear, for he was proud and cruel. At first he lived very quietly in the Ynti-cancha. It is to be noted that although Ccapac Yupanqui succeeded his father, he was not the eldest son. Cunti Mayta, who was older, had an ugly face. His father had, therefore, disinherited him and named Ccapac Yupanqui as successor to the sovereignty, and Cunti Mayta as high priest. For this reason Ccapac Yupanqui was not the legitimate heir, although he tyrannically forced his brothers to swear allegiance to him. This Inca, it is said, was the first to make conquests beyond the valley of Cuzco. He forcibly subjugated the people of Cuyumarca and Ancasmarca, four leagues from Cuzco. A wealthy Sinchi of Ayamarca, from fear, presented his daughter, named Ccuri-hilpay to the Inca. Others say that she was a native of Cuzco. The Inca received her as his wife, and had a son by her named Inca Rocca, besides five other sons by various women. These sons were named Apu Calla, Humpi, Apu Saca, Apu Chima-chaui, and Uchun-cuna-ascalla-rando[66]. Apu Saca had a son named Apu Mayta, a very valiant and famous captain, who greatly distinguished himself in the time of Inca Rocca and Viracocha Inca, in company with Vicaquirau, another esteemed captain. Besides these Ccapac Yupanqui had another son named Apu Urco Huaranca[67]. This Ccapac Yupanqui lived 104 years, and was Ccapac for 89 years. He succeeded at the age of 15, and died in the year 980 of the nativity of our redeemer Jesus Christ. His _ayllu_ or lineage was and is called _Apu Mayta Panaca Ayllu_. Several of this lineage are now living, the principal heads being four in number, namely, Don Cristobal Cusi-hualpa, Don Antonio Piçuy, Don Francisco Cocasaca, and Don Alonso Rupaca. They are Hurin-cuzcos. The Licentiate Polo found the idol or _guaoqui_ of this Inca with the body. They were hidden with the rest, to conceal the idolatrous ceremonies of heathen times. [Note 66: _Calla_ means a distaff. _Humpi_ means perspiration. _Saca_ is a game bird, also a comet. Chima-chaui is a proper name with no meaning. The name of the fifth son is rather unmanageable. Uchun-cuna-ascalla-rando. _Uchun-cuna_ would mean the Peruvian pepper with the plural particle. _Ascalla_ would be a small potato. _Rando_ is a corrupt form of _runtu_, an egg. This little Inca seems to have done the marketing.] [Note 67: _Urco_, the male gender. _Huaranca_, a thousand.] XIX. THE LIFE OF INCA ROCCA, THE SIXTH INCA[68]. When Ccapac Yupanqui died, Inca Rocca, his son by his wife Ccuri-hilpay, succeeded by nomination of his father and the guardian _ayllus_. This Inca Rocca showed force and valour at the beginning of his Incaship, for he conquered the territories of Muyna[69] and Pinahua with great violence and cruelty. They are rather more than four leagues to the south-south-east of Cuzco. He killed their Sinchis Muyna Pancu, and Huaman-tupac, though some say that Huaman-tupac fled and was never more seen. He did this by the help of Apu Mayta his nephew, and grandson of Ccapac Yupanqui. He also conquered Caytomarca, four leagues from Cuzco. He discovered the waters of Hurin-chacan and those of Hanan-chacan, which is as much as to say the upper and lower waters of Cuzco, and led them in conduits; so that to this day they irrigate fields; and his sons and descendants have benefited by them to this day. [Note 68: All authorities are agreed respecting Inca Rocca as the sixth Inca. Garcilasso makes him extend the Inca dominion beyond the Apurimac, and into the country of the Chancos.] [Note 69: Muyna is a district with a lake, 14 miles S.S.W. of Cuzco. Pinahua is mentioned by Garcilasso as a chief to the westward, i. p. 71.] Inca Rocca gave himself up to pleasures and banquets, preferring to live in idleness. He loved his children to that extent, that for them he forgot duties to his people and even to his own person. He married a great lady of the town of Pata-huayllacan, daughter of the Sinchi of that territory, named Soma Inca. Her name was Mama Micay. From this marriage came the wars between Tocay Ccapac and the Cuzcos as we shall presently relate. By this wife Inca Rocca had a son named Titu Cusi Hualpa[70], and by another name Yahuar-huaccac, and besides this eldest legitimate son he had four other famous sons named Inca Paucar, Huaman Taysi Inca, and Vicaquirau Inca[70]. The latter was a great warrior, companion in arms with Apu Mayta. These two captains won great victories and subdued many provinces for Viracocha Inca and Inca Yupanqui. They were the founders of the great power to which the Incas afterwards attained. [Note 70: _Titu_ means august or magnanimous. _Cusi_ joyful. _Hualpa_ a game bird. _Paucar_ means beautiful or bright coloured. _Huaman_ a falcon. _Vica_ may be _nilca_ sacred. _Quirau_ a cradle.] As the events which happened in the reign of Inca Rocca touching the Ayamarcas will be narrated in the life of his son, we will not say more of this Inca, except that, while his ancestors had always lived in the lower part of Cuzco, and were therefore called Hurin-cuzcos, he ordered that those who sprang from him should form another party, and be called Hanan-cuzcos, which means the Cuzcos of the upper part. So that from this Inca began the party of upper or Hanan-cuzcos, for presently he and his successors left their residence at the House of the Sun, and established themselves away from it, building palaces where they lived, in the upper part of the town. It is to be noted that each Inca had a special palace in which he lived, the son not wishing to reside in the palace where his father had lived. It was left in the same state as it was in when the father died, with servants, relations, _ayllus_ or heirs that they might maintain it, and keep the edifices in repair. The Incas and their _ayllus_ were, and still are Hanan-cuzco; although afterwards, in the time of Pachacuti, these _ayllus_ were reformed by him. Some say that then were established the two parties which have been so celebrated in these parts. Inca Rocca named his son Vicaquirao as the head of his lineage, and it is still called after him the _Vicaquirao Panaca Ayllu_. There are now some of this lineage living in Cuzco, the principal heads who protect and maintain it being the following: Don Francisco Huaman Rimachi Hachacoma, and Don Antonio Huaman Mayta. They are Hanan-cuzcos. Inca Rocca lived 103 years, and died in the year 1088 of the nativity of our Lord. The Licentiate Polo found his body in the town called Rarapa, kept there with much care and veneration according to their rites. XX. THE LIFE OF TITU CUSI HUALPA, VULGARLY CALLED YAHUAR-HUACCAC. Titu Cusi Hualpa Inca, eldest son of Inca Rocca and his wife Mama Micay, had a strange adventure in his childhood[71]. These natives therefore relate his life from his childhood, and in the course of it they tell some things of his father, and of some who were strangers in Cuzco, as follows. It has been related how the Inca Rocca married Mama Micay by the rites of their religion. But it must be understood that those of Huayllacan had already promised to give Mama Micay, who was their countrywoman and very beautiful, in marriage to Tocay Ccapac, Sinchi of the Ayamarcas their neighbours. When the Ayamarcas[72] saw that the Huayllacans had broken their word, they were furious and declared war, considering them as enemies. War was carried on, the Huayllacans defending themselves and also attacking the Ayamarcas, both sides committing cruelties, inflicting deaths and losses, and causing great injury to each other. While this war was being waged, Mama Micay gave birth to her son Titu Cusi Hualpa. The war continued for some years after his birth, when both sides saw that they were destroying each other, and agreed to come to terms, to avoid further injury. The Ayamarcas, who were the most powerful, requested those of Huayllacan to deliver the child Titu Cusi Hualpa into their hands, to do what they liked with him. On this condition they would desist from further hostilities, but if it was not complied with, they announced that they would continue a mortal war to the end. The Huayllacans, fearing this, and knowing their inability for further resistance, accepted the condition, although they were uncles and relations of the child. In order to comply it was necessary for them to deceive the Inca. There was, in the town of Paulo, a brother of Inca Rocca and uncle of Titu Cusi Hualpa named Inca Paucar. He went or sent messengers to ask Inca Rocca to think well of sending his nephew Titu Cusi Hualpa to his town of Paulo in order that, while still a child, he might learn to know and care for his relations on his mother's side, while they wanted to make him the heir of their estates. Believing in these words the Inca Rocca consented that his son should be taken to Paulo, or the town of Micocancha. As soon as they had the child in their town the Huayllacans made great feasts in honour of Titu Cusi Hualpa, who was then eight years old, a little more or less. His father had sent some Incas to guard him. When the festivities were over, the Huayllacans sent to give notice to the Ayamarcas that, while they were occupied in ploughing certain lands which they call _chacaras_, they might come down on the town and carry off the child, doing with him what they chose, in accordance with the agreement. The Ayamarcas, being informed, came at the time and to the place notified and, finding the child Titu Cusi Hualpa alone, they carried it off. [Note 71: The very interesting story of the kidnapping of the heir of Inca Rocca, is well told by Sarmiento.] [Note 72: The Ayarmarcas seem to have occupied the country about 15 miles S.S.W. of Cuzco, near Muyna. The word Ayar is the same as that in the names of the brethren of Manco Ccapac. But others omit the r, and make it Ayamarca, Cieza de Leon, pp. 114, 115, Garcilasso, i. p. 80, Yamqui Pachacuti, p. 90. The month of October was called Ayamarca-Raymi. Molina says that it was because the Ayamarca tribe celebrated the feast of Huarachicu in that month.] Others say that this treason was carried out in another way. While the uncle was giving the child many presents, his cousins, the sons of Inca Paucar, became jealous and treated with Tocay Ccapac to deliver the child into his hands. Owing to this notice Tocay Ccapac came. Inca Paucar had gone out to deliver to his nephew a certain estate and a flock of llamas. Tocay Ccapac, the enemy of Inca Rocca was told by those who had charge of the boy. He who carried him fled, and the boy was seized and carried off by Tocay Ccapac. Be it the one way or the other, the result was that the Ayamarcas took Titu Cusi Hualpa from the custody of Inca Paucar in the town of Paulo, while Inca Paucar and the Huayllacans sent the news to Inca Rocca by one party, and with another took up arms against the Ayamarcas. XXI. WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE AYAMARCAS HAD STOLEN TITU CUSI HUALPA. When the Ayamarcas and their Sinchi Tocay Ccapac stole the son of Inca Rocca, they marched off with him. The Huayllacans of Paulopampa, under their Sinchi Paucar Inca, marched in pursuit, coming up to them at a place called Amaro, on the territory of the Ayamarcas. There was an encounter between them, one side to recover the child, and the other to keep their capture. But Paucar was only making a demonstration so as to have an excuse ready. Consequently the Ayamarcas were victorious, while the Huayllacans broke and fled. It is said that in this encounter, and when the child was stolen, all the _orejones_ who had come as a guard from Cuzco, were slain. The Ayamarcas then took the child to the chief place of their province called Ahuayro-cancha. Many say that Tocay Ccapac was not personally in this raid but that he sent his Ayamarcas, who, when they arrived at Ahuayro-cancha, presented the child Titu Cusi Hualpa to him, saying, "Look here, Tocay Ccapac, at the prisoner we have brought you." The Sinchi received his prize with great satisfaction, asking in a loud voice if this was the child of Mama Micay, who ought to have been his wife. Titu Cusi Hualpa, though but a child, replied boldly that he was the son of Mama Micay and of the Inca Rocca. Tocay was indignant when he had heard those words, and ordered those who brought the child as a prisoner to take him out and kill him. The boy, when he heard such a sentence passed upon him, was so filled with sadness and fright, that he began to weep from fear of death. He began to shed tears of blood and with indignation beyond his years, in the form of a malediction he said to Tocay and the Ayamarcas, "I tell you that as sure as you murder me there will come such a curse on you and your descendants that you will all come to an end, without any memory being left of your nation." The Ayamarcas and Tocay attentively considered this curse of the child together with the tears of blood. They thought there was some great mystery that so young a child should utter such weighty words, and that the fear of death should make such an impression on him that he should shed tears of blood. They were in suspense divining what it portended, whether that the child would become a great man. They revoked the sentence of death, calling the child _Yahuar-huaccac_, which means "weeper of blood," in allusion to what had taken place. But although they did not wish to kill him then and with their own hands, they ordered that he should lead such a life as that he would die of hunger. Before this they all said to the child that he should turn his face to Cuzco and weep over it, because those curses he had pronounced, would fall on the inhabitants of Cuzco, and so it happened. This done they delivered him to the most valiant Indians, and ordered them to take him to certain farms where flocks were kept, giving him to eat by rule, and so sparingly that he would be consumed with hunger before he died. He was there for a year without leaving the place, so that they did not know at Cuzco, or anywhere else, whether he was dead or alive. During this time Inca Rocca, being without certain knowledge of his son, did not wish to make war on the Ayamarcas because, if he was alive, they might kill him. So he did no more than prepare his men of war and keep ready, while he enquired for his son in all the ways that were possible. XXII. HOW IT BECAME KNOWN THAT YAHUAR-HUACCAC WAS ALIVE. As the child Yahuar-huaccac was a year among the shepherds without leaving their huts, which served as a prison, no one knew where he was, because he could not come forth, being well watched by the shepherds and other guards. But it so happened that there was a woman in the place called Chimpu Orma, native of the town of Anta, three leagues from Cuzco. She was a concubine of the Sinchi Tocay Ccapac, and for this reason she had leave to walk about and go into all parts as she pleased. She was the daughter of the Sinchi of Anta, and having given an account of the treatment of the child to her father, brothers, and relations, she persuaded them to help in his liberation. They came on a certain day and, with the pass given them by Chimpu Orma, the father and relations arranged the escape of Yahuar-huaccac. They stationed themselves behind a hill. Yahuar-huaccac was to run in a race with some other boys, to see which could get to the top of the hill first. When the prince reached the top, the men of Anta, who were hidden there, took him in their arms and ran swiftly with him to Anta. When the other boys saw this they quickly gave notice to the valiant guards, who ran after the men of Anta. They overtook them at the lake of Huaypon, where there was a fierce battle. Finally the Ayamarcas got the worst of it, for they were nearly all killed or wounded. The men of Anta continued their journey to their town, where they gave many presents to Yahuar-huaccac and much service, having freed him from the mortal imprisonment in which Tocay Ccapac held him. In this town of Anta the boy remained a year, being served with much love, but so secretly that his father Inca Rocca did not know that he had escaped, during all that time. At the end of a year those of Anta agreed to send messengers to Inca Rocca to let him know of the safety of his son and heir, because they desired to know and serve him. The messengers went to Inca Rocca and, having delivered their message, received the reply that the Inca only knew that the Ayamarcas had stolen his son. They were asked about it again and again, and at last Inca Rocca came down from his throne and closely examined the messengers, that they might tell him more, for not without cause had he asked them so often. The messengers, being so persistently questioned by Inca Rocca, related what had passed, and that his son was free in Anta, served and regaled by the chief who had liberated him. Inca Rocca rejoiced, promised favours, and dismissed the messengers with thanks. Inca Rocca then celebrated the event with feasts and rejoicings. But not feeling quite certain of the truth of what he had been told, he sent a poor man seeking charity to make enquiries at Anta, whether it was all true. The poor man went, ascertained that the child was certainly liberated, and returned with the news to Inca Rocca; which gave rise to further rejoicings in Cuzco. Presently the Inca sent many principal people of Cuzco with presents of gold, silver, and cloth to the Antas, asking them to receive them and to send back his son. The Antas replied that they did not want his presents which they returned, that they cared more that Yahuar-huaccac should remain with them, that they might serve him and his father also, for they felt much love for the boy. Yet if Inca Rocca wanted his son, he should be returned on condition that, from that time forwards, the Antas should be called relations of the _orejones_. When Inca Rocca was made acquainted with the condition, he went to Anta and conceded what they asked for, to the Sinchi and his people. For this reason the Antas were called relations of the Cuzcos from that time. Inca Rocca brought his son Yahuar-huaccac to Cuzco and nominated him successor to the Incaship, the _ayllus_ and _orejones_ receiving him as such. At the end of two years Inca Rocca died, and Yahuar-huaccac, whose former name was Titu Cusi Hualpa, remained sole Inca. Before Inca Rocca died he made friends with Tocay Ccapac, through the mediation of Mama Chicya, daughter of Tocay Ccapac, who married Yahuar-huaccac, and Inca Rocca gave his daughter Ccuri-Occllo in marriage to Tocay Ccapac. XXIII. YAHUAR-HUACCAC INCA YUPANQUI COMMENCES HIS REIGN ALONE, AFTER THE DEATH OF HIS FATHER[73]. When Yahuar-huaccac found himself in possession of the sole sovereignty, he remembered the treason with which he had been betrayed by the Huayllacans who sold him and delivered him up to his enemies the Ayamarcas; and he proposed to inflict an exemplary punishment on them. When the Huayllacans knew this, they humbled themselves before Yahuar-huaccac, entreating him to forgive the evil deeds they had committed against him. Yahuar-huaccac, taking into consideration that they were relations, forgave them. Then he sent a force, under the command of his brother Vicaquirau, against Mohina and Pinahua, four leagues from Cuzco, who subdued these places. He committed great cruelties, for no other reason than that they did not come to obey his will. This would be about 23 years after the time when he rested in Cuzco. Some years afterwards the town of Mollaca, near Cuzco, was conquered and subjugated by force of arms. [Note 73: _Yahuar_ means blood. _Huaccani_ to weep. Yahuar-huaccac succeeded to Inca Rocca according to Garcilasso de la Vega, Montesinos, Betanzos, Balboa, Yamqui Pachacuti and Sarmiento. Cieza de Leon and Herrera have Inca Yupanqui. Garcilasso makes this Inca banish his son Viracocha, who returns in consequence of a dream, and defeats the Chancas. This all seems to be a mistake. It was Viracocha who fled, and his son Inca Yupanqui, surnamed Pachacuti, who defeated the Chancas and dethroned his father.] Yahuar-huaccac had, by his wife Mama Chicya, three legitimate sons. The eldest was Paucar Ayllu. The second, Pahuac Hualpa Mayta[74], was chosen to succeed his father, though he was not the eldest. The third was named Viracocha, who was afterwards Inca through the death of his brother. Besides these he had three other illegitimate sons named Vicchu Tupac because he subdued the town of Vicchu, Marca-yutu, and Rocca Inca. As the Huayllacans wanted Marca-yutu to succeed Yahuar-huaccac, because he was their relation, they determined to kill Pahuac Hualpa Mayta, who was nominated to succeed. With this object they asked his father to let him go to Paulo. Forgetting their former treason, he sent the child to its grandfather Soma Inca with forty _orejones_ of the _ayllus_ of Cuzco as his guard. When he came to their town they killed him, for which the Inca, his father, inflicted a great punishment on the Huayllacans, killing some and banishing others until very few were left. [Note 74: Or Pahuac Mayta Inca (Garcilasso de la Vega, i. p. 23) so named from his swiftness. _Pahuani_, to run.] The Inca then went to the conquest of Pillauya, three leagues from Cuzco in the valley of Pisac, and to Choyca, an adjacent place, and to Yuco. After that he oppressed by force and with cruelties, the towns of Chillincay, Taocamarca, and the Caviñas, making them pay tribute. The Inca conquered ten places himself or through his son and captains. Some attribute all the conquests to his son Viracocha. This Inca was a man of gentle disposition and very handsome face. He lived 115 years. He succeeded his father at the age of 19, and was sovereign for 96 years. He left an _ayllu_ named _Aucaylli Panaca_, and some are still living at Cuzco. The principal chiefs who maintain it are Don Juan Concha Yupanqui, Don Martin Titu Yupanqui, and Don Gonzalo Paucar Aucaylli. They are Hanan-cuzcos. The body of this Inca has not been discovered[75]. It is believed that those of the town of Paulo have it, with the Inca's _guauqui_. [Note 75: In the margin of the MS., "The witnesses said that they believed that the licentiate Polo found it." Navamuel.] XXIV. LIFE OF VIRACOCHA THE EIGHTH INCA[76]. [Note 76: All authorities agree respecting Viracocha as the eighth Inca.] As the Huayllacans murdered Pahuac Hualpa Mayta who should have succeeded his father Yahuar-huaccac, the second son Viracocha Inca was nominated for the succession, whose name when a child was Hatun Tupac Inca, younger legitimate son of Yahuar-huaccac and Mama Chicya. He was married to Mama Runtucaya, a native of Anta. Once when this Hatun Tupac Inca was in Urcos, a town which is a little more than five leagues S.S.E. of Cuzco, where there was a sumptuous _huaca_ in honour of Ticci Viracocha, the deity appeared to him in the night. Next morning he assembled his _orejones_, among them his tutor Hualpa Rimachi, and told them how Viracocha had appeared to him that night, and had announced great good fortune to him and his descendants. In congratulating him Hualpa Rimachi saluted him, "O Viracocha Inca." The rest followed his example and celebrated this name, and the Inca retained it all the rest of his life. Others say that he took this name, because, when he was armed as a knight and had his ears bored, he took Ticci Viracocha as the godfather of his knighthood. Be it as it may, all that is certain is that when a child, before he succeeded his father, he was named Hatun Tupac Inca, and afterwards, for the rest of his life, Viracocha Inca. After he saw the apparition in Urcos, the Inca came to Cuzco, and conceived the plan of conquering and tyrannizing over all the country that surrounds Cuzco. For it is to be understood that, although his father and grandfather had conquered and robbed in these directions, as their only object was rapine and bloodshed, they did not place garrisons in the places they subdued, so that when the Inca, who had conquered these people, died, they rose in arms and regained their liberty. This is the reason that we repeat several times that a place was conquered, for it was by different Incas. For instance Mohina and Pinahua, although first overrun by Inca Rocca, were also invaded by Yahuar-huaccac, and then by Viracocha and his son Inca Yupanqui. Each town fought so hard for its liberty, both under their Sinchis and without them, that one succeeded in subjugating one and another defeated another. This was especially the case in the time of the Incas. Even in Cuzco itself those of one suburb, called Carmenca, made war on another suburb called Cayocachi. So it is to be understood that, in the time of the seven Incas preceding Viracocha, although owing to the power they possessed in the _ayllus_, they terrorized those of Cuzco and the immediate neighbourhood, the subjection only lasted while the lance was over the vanquished, and that the moment they had a chance they took up arms for their liberty. They did this at great risk to themselves, and sustained much loss of life, even those in Cuzco itself, until the time of Viracocha Inca. This Inca had resolved to subjugate all the tribes he possibly could by force and cruelty. He selected as his captains two valiant _orejones_ the one named Apu Mayta and the other Vicaquirau, of the lineage of Inca Rocca. With these captains, who were cruel and impious, he began to subjugate, before all things, the inhabitants of Cuzco who were not Incas _orejones_, practising on them great cruelties and putting many to death. At this time many towns and provinces were up in arms. Those in the neighbourhood of Cuzco had risen to defend themselves from the _orejones_ Incas of Cuzco who had made war to tyrannize over them. Others were in arms with the same motives as the Incas, which was to subdue them if their forces would suffice. Thus it was that though many Sinchis were elected, their proceedings were confused and without concert, so that each force was small, and they were all weak and without help from each other. This being known to Viracocha, it encouraged him to commence his policy of conquest beyond Cuzco. Before coming to treat of the nations which Viracocha Inca conquered, we will tell of the sons he had. By Mama Runtucaya, his legitimate wife, he had four sons, the first and eldest Inca Rocca, the second Tupac Yupanqui, the third Inca Yupanqui, and the fourth Ccapac Yupanqui. By another beautiful Indian named Ccuri-chulpa, of the Ayavilla nation in the valley of Cuzco he also had two sons, the one named Inca Urco, the other Inca Socso. The descendants of Inca Urco, however, say that he was legitimate, but all the rest say that he was a bastard[77]. [Note 77: Urco is made by Cieza de Leon to succeed, and to have been dethroned by Inca Yupanqui owing to his flight from the Chancas. Yamqui Pachacuti records the death of Urco. Herrera, Fernandez, Yamqui Pachacuti also make Urco succeed Viracocha.] XXV. THE PROVINCES AND TOWNS CONQUERED BY THE EIGHTH INCA VIRACOCHA. Viracocha, having named Apu Mayta and Vicaquirau as his captains, and mustered his forces, gave orders that they should advance to make conquests beyond the valley of Cuzco. They went to Pacaycacha, in the valley of Pisac, three leagues and a half from Cuzco. And because the besieged did not submit at once they assaulted the town, killing the inhabitants and their Sinchi named Acamaqui. Next the Inca marched against the towns of Mohina, Pinahua, Casacancha, and Runtucancha, five short leagues from Cuzco. They had made themselves free, although Yahuar-huaccac had sacked their towns. The captains of Viracocha attacked and killed most of the natives, and their Sinchis named Muyna Pancu and Huaman Tupac. The people of Mohina and Pinahua suffered from this war and subsequent cruelties because they said that they were free, and would not serve nor be vassals to the Incas. At this time the eldest son, Inca Rocca, was grown up and showed signs of being a courageous man. Viracocha, therefore, made him captain-general with Apu Mayta and Vicaquirau as his colleagues. They also took with them Inca Yupanqui, who also gave hopes owing to the valour he had shown in the flower of his youth. With these captains the conquests were continued. Huaypar-marca was taken, the Ayamarcas were subdued, and Tocay Ccapac and Chihuay Ccapac, who had their seats near Cuzco, were slain. The Incas next subjugated Mollaca and ruined the town of Cayto, four leagues from Cuzco, killing its Sinchi named Ccapac Chani They assaulted the towns of Socma and Chiraques, killing their Sinchis named Puma Lloqui and Illacumbi, who were very warlike chiefs in that time, who had most valorously resisted the attacks of former Incas, that they might not come from Cuzco to subdue them. The Inca captains also conquered Calca and Caquia Xaquixahuana, three leagues from Cuzco, and the towns of Collocte and Camal. They subdued the people between Cuzco and Quiquisana with the surrounding country, the Papris and other neighbouring places; all within seven or eight leagues round Cuzco. [_In these conquests they committed very great cruelties, robberies, put many to death and destroyed towns, burning and desolating along the road without leaving memory of anything_.] As Viracocha was now very old, he nominated as his successor his bastard son Inca Urco, without regard to the order of succession, because he was very fond of his mother. This Inca was bold, proud, and despised others, so that he aroused the indignation of the warriors, more especially of the legitimate sons, Inca Rocca, who was the eldest, and of the valiant captains Apu Mayta and Vicaquirau. These took order to prevent this succession to the Incaship, preferring one of the other brothers, the best conditioned, who would treat them well and honourably as they deserved. They secretly set their eyes on the third of the legitimate sons named Cusi, afterwards called Inca Yupanqui, because they believed that he was mild and affable, and, besides these qualities, he showed signs of high spirit and lofty ideas. Apu Mayta was more in favour of this plan than the others, as he desired to have some one to shield him from the fury of Viracocha Inca. Mayta thought that the Inca would kill him because he had seduced a woman named Cacchon Chicya, who was a wife of Viracocha. Apu Mayta had spoken of his plan and of his devotion to Cusi, to his colleague Vicaquirau. While they were consulting how it should be managed, the Chancas of Andahuaylas, thirty leagues from Cuzco, marched upon that city, as will be narrated in the life of Inca Yupanqui. Inca Viracocha, from fear of them, fled from Cuzco, and went to a place called Caquia Xaquixahuana, where he shut himself up, being afraid of the Chancas. Here he died after some years, deprived of Cuzco of which his son Cusi had possession for several years before his father's death. Viracocha Inca was he who had made the most extensive conquests beyond Cuzco and, as we may say, he tyrannized anew even as regards Cuzco, as has been said above. Viracocha lived 119 years, succeeding at the age of 18. He was Ccapac 101 years. He named the _ayllu_, which he left for the continuance of his lineage, _Socso Panaca Ayllu_, and some are still living at Cuzco, the heads being Amaru Titu, Don Francisco Chalco Yupanqui, Don Francisco Anti Hualpa. They are Hanan-cuzcos. This Inca was industrious, and inventor of cloths and embroidered work called in their language _Viracocha-tocapu_, and amongst us _brocade_. He was rich [_for he robbed much_] and had vases of gold and silver. He was buried in Caquia Xaquixahuana and Gonzalo Pizarro, having heard that there was treasure with the body, discovered it and a large sum of gold. He burnt the body, and the natives collected the ashes and hid them in a vase. This, with the Inca's _guauqui_, called _Inca Amaru_, was found by the Licentiate Polo, when he was Corregidor of Cuzco. XXVI. THE LIFE OF INCA YUPANQUI OR PACHACUTI[78], THE NINTH INCA. [Note 78: Inca Yupanqui surnamed Pachacuti was the ninth Inca. All the authorities agree that he dethroned either his father Viracocha, or his half brother Urco, after his victory over the Chancas, and that he had a long and glorious reign.] It is related, in the life of Inca Viracocha, that he had four legitimate sons. Of these the third named Cusi, and as surname Inca Yupanqui, was raised to the Incaship by the famous captains Apu Mayta and Vicaquirau, and by the rest of the legitimate sons, and against the will of his father. In the course of their intrigues to carry this into effect, the times gave them the opportunity which they could not otherwise have found, in the march of the Chancas upon Cuzco. It happened in this way. Thirty leagues to the west of Cuzco there is a province called Andahuaylas, the names of the natives of it being Chancas. In this province there were two Sinchis, [_robbers and cruel tyrants_] named Uscovilca and Ancovilca who, coming on an expedition from near Huamanca with some companies of robbers, had settled in the valley of Andahuaylas, and had there formed a state. They were brothers. Uscovilca being the elder and principal one, instituted a tribe which he called Hanan-chancas or upper Chancas. Ancovilca formed another tribe called Hurin-chancas or lower Chancas. These chiefs, after death, were embalmed, and because they were feared for their cruelties in life, were kept by their people. The Hanan-chancas carried the statue of Uscovilca with them, in their raids and wars. Although they had other Sinchis, they always attributed their success to the statue of Uscovilca, which they called Ancoallo. The tribes and companies of Uscovilca had multiplied prodigiously in the time of Viracocha. It seemed to them that they were so powerful that no one could equal them, so they resolved to march from Andahuaylas and conquer Cuzco. With this object they elected two Sinchis, one named Asto-huaraca, and the other Tomay-huaraca, one of the tribe of Hanan-chanca, the other of Hurin-chanca. These were to lead them in their enterprise. The Chancas and their Sinchis were proud and insolent. Setting out from Andahuaylas they marched on the way to Cuzco until they reached a place called Ichu-pampa, five leagues west of that city, where they halted for some days, terrifying the neighbourhood and preparing for an advance. The news spread terror among the _orejones_ of Cuzco, for they doubted the powers of Inca Viracocha, who was now very old and weak. Thinking that the position of Cuzco was insecure, Viracocha called a Council of his sons and captains Apu Mayta and Vicaquirau. These captains said to him--"Inca Viracocha! we have understood what you have proposed to us touching this matter, and how you ought to meet the difficulty. After careful consideration it appears to us that as you are old and infirm owing to what you have undergone in former wars, it will not be well that you should attempt so great a business, dangerous and with victory doubtful, such as that which now presents itself before your eyes. The wisest counsel respecting the course you should adopt is that you should leave Cuzco, and proceed to the place of Chita, and thence to Caquia Xaquixahuana, which is a strong fort, whence you may treat for an agreement with the Chancas." They gave this advice to Viracocha to get him out of Cuzco and give them a good opportunity to put their designs into execution, which were to raise Cusi Inca Yupanqui to the throne. In whatever manner it was done, it is certain that this advice was taken by the Inca Viracocha. He determined to leave Cuzco and proceed to Chita, in accordance with their proposal. But when Cusi Inca Yupanqui found that his father was determined to leave Cuzco, they say that he thus addressed him, "How father can it fit into your heart to accept such infamous advice as to leave Cuzco, city of the Sun and of Viracocha, whose name you have taken, whose promise you hold that you shall be a great lord, you and your descendants." Though a boy, he said this with the animated daring of a man high in honour. The father answered that he was a boy and that he spoke like one, in talking without consideration, and that such words were of no value. Inca Yupanqui replied that he would remain where they would be remembered, that he would not leave Cuzco nor abandon the House of the Sun. They say that all this was planned by the said captains of Viracocha, Apu Mayta and Vicaquirau, to throw those off their guard who might conceive suspicion respecting the remaining of Inca Yupanqui in Cuzco. So Viracocha left Cuzco and went to Chita, taking with him his two illegitimate sons Inca Urco and Inca Socso. His son Inca Yupanqui remained at Cuzco, resolved to defend the city or die in its defence. Seven chiefs remained with him; Inca Rocca his elder and legitimate brother, Apu Mayta, Vicaquirau, Quillis-cacha, Urco Huaranca, Chima Chaui Pata Yupanqui, Viracocha Inca Paucar, and Mircoy-mana the tutor of Inca Yupanqui. XXVII COMING OF THE CHANCAS AGAINST CUZCO. At the time when Inca Viracocha left Cuzco, Asto-huaraca and Tomay-huaraca set out for Ichu-pampa, first making sacrifices and blowing out the lungs of an animal, which they call _calpa_. This they did not well understand, from what happened afterwards. Marching on towards Cuzco, they arrived at a place called Conchacalla, where they took a prisoner. From him they learnt what was happening at Cuzco, and he offered to guide them there secretly. Thus he conducted them half way. But then his conscience cried out to him touching the evil he was doing. So he fled to Cuzco, and gave the news that the Chancas were resolutely advancing. The news of this Indian, who was a Quillis-cachi of Cuzco, made Viracocha hasten his flight to Chita, whither the Chancas sent their messengers summoning him to surrender, and threatening war if he refused. Others say that these were not messengers but scouts and that Inca Viracocha, knowing this, told them that he knew they were spies of the Chancas, that he did not want to kill them, but that they might return and tell their people that if they wanted anything he was there. So they departed and at the mouth of a channel of water some of them fell and were killed. At this the Chancas were much annoyed. They said that the messengers had been ordered to go to Inca Viracocha, and that they were killed by his captain Quequo Mayta. While this was proceeding with the messengers of the Chancas, the Chanca army was coming nearer to Cuzco. Inca Yupanqui made great praying to Viracocha and to the Sun to protect the city. One day he was at Susurpuquio in great affliction, thinking over the best plan for opposing his enemies, when there appeared a person in the air like the Sun, consoling him and animating him for the battle. This being held up to him a mirror in which the provinces he would subdue were shown, and told him that he would be greater than any of his ancestors: he was to have no doubt, but to return to the city, because he would conquer the Chancas who were marching on Cuzco. With these words the vision animated Inca Yupanqui. He took the mirror, which he carried with him ever afterwards, in peace or war, and returned to the city, where he began to encourage those he had left there, and some who came from afar[79]. The latter came to look on, not daring to declare for either party, fearing the rage of the conqueror if they should join the conquered side. Inca Yupanqui, though only a lad of 20 or 22 years, provided for everything as one who was about to fight for his life. [Note 79: Susurpuquio seems to have been a fountain or spring on the road to Xaquixahuana. Molina relates the story of the vision somewhat differently, p. 12. Mrs. Zelia Nuttall thinks that the description of the vision bears such a very strong resemblance to a bas relief found in Guatemala that they must have a common origin.] While the Inca Yupanqui was thus engaged the Chancas had been marching, and reached a place very near Cuzco called Cusi-pampa, there being nothing between it and Cuzco but a low hill. Here the Quillis-cachi was encountered again. He said that he had been to spy, and that he rejoiced to meet them. This deceiver went from one side to the other, always keeping friends with both, to secure the favour of the side which eventually conquered. The Chancas resumed the march, expecting that there would be no defence. But the Quillis-cachi, mourning over the destruction of his country, disappeared from among the Chancas and went to Cuzco to give the alarm. "To arms! to arms!" he shouted, "Inca Yupanqui. The Chancas are upon you." At these words the Inca, who was not off his guard, mustered and got his troops in order, but he found very few willing to go forth with him to oppose the enemy, almost all took to the hills to watch the event. With those who were willing to follow, though few in number, chiefly the men of the seven Sinchis, brothers and captains, named above, he formed a small force and came forth to receive the enemy who advanced in fury and without order. The opposing forces advanced towards each other, the Chancas attacking the city in four directions. The Inca Yupanqui sent all the succour he could to the assailed points, while he and his friends advanced towards the statue and standard of Uscovilca, with Asto-huaraca and Tomay-huaraca defending them. Here there was a bloody and desperate battle, one side striving to enter the city, and the other opposing its advance. Those who entered by a suburb called Chocos-chacona were valiantly repulsed by the inhabitants. They say that a woman named Chañan-ccuri-coca here fought like a man, and so valiantly opposed the Chancas that they were obliged to retire. This was the cause that all the Chancas who saw it were dismayed. The Inca Yupanqui meanwhile was so quick and dexterous with his weapon, that those who carried the statue of Uscovilca became alarmed, and their fear was increased when they saw great numbers of men coming down from the hills. They say that these were sent by Viracocha, the creator, as succour for the Inca. The Chancas began to give way, leaving the statue of Uscovilca, and they say even that of Ancovilca. Attacking on two sides, Inca Rocca, Apu Mayta, and Vicaquirau made great havock among the Chancas. Seeing that their only safety was in flight, they turned their backs, and their quickness in running exceeded their fierceness in advancing. The men of Cuzco continued the pursuit, killing and wounding, for more than two leagues, when they desisted. The Chancas returned to Ichu-pampa, and the _orejones_ to Cuzco, having won a great victory and taken a vast amount of plunder which remained in their hands. The Cuzcos rejoiced at this victory won with so little expectation or hope. They honoured Inca Yupanqui with many epithets, especially calling him PACHACUTI, which means "over-turner of the earth," alluding to the land and farms which they looked upon as lost by the coming of the Chancas. For he had made them free and safe again. From that time he was called Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui. As soon as the victory was secure, Inca Yupanqui did not wish to enjoy the triumph although many tried to persuade him. He wished to give his father the glory of such a great victory. So he collected the most precious spoils, and took them to his father who was in Chita, with a principal _orejon_ named Quillis-cachi Urco Huaranca. By him he sent to ask his father to enjoy that triumph and tread on those spoils of the enemy, a custom they have as a sign of victory. When Quillis-cachi Urco Huaranca arrived before Viracocha Inca, he placed those spoils of the Chancas at his feet with great reverence, saying, "Inca Viracocha! thy son Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui, to whom the Sun has given such a great victory, vanquishing the powerful Chancas, sends me to salute you, and says that, as a good and humble son he wishes you to triumph over your victory and to tread upon these spoils of your enemies, conquered by your hands." Inca Viracocha did not wish to tread on them, but said that his son Inca Urco should do so, as he was to succeed to the Incaship. Hearing this the messenger rose and gave utterance to furious words, saying that he did not come for cowards to triumph by the deeds of Pachacuti. He added that if Viracocha did not wish to receive this recognition from so valiant a son, it would be better that Pachachuti should enjoy the glory for which he had worked. With this he returned to Cuzco, and told Pachacuti what had happened with his father. XXVIII. THE SECOND VICTORY OF PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI OVER THE CHANCAS. While Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui was sending the spoil to his father, the Chancas were recruiting and assembling more men at Ichu-pampa, whence they marched on Cuzco the first time. The Sinchis Tomay-huaraca and Asto-huaraca began to boast, declaring that they would return to Cuzco and leave nothing undestroyed. This news came to Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui. He received it with courage and, assembling his men, he marched in search of the Chancas. When they heard that the Incas were coming, they resolved to march out and encounter them, but the advance of Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui was so rapid that he found the Chancas still at Ichu-pampa. As soon as the two forces came in sight of each other, Asto-huaraca, full of arrogance, sent to Inca Yupanqui to tell him that he could see the power of the Chancas and the position they now held. They were not like him coming from the poverty stricken Cuzco, and if he did not repent the past and become a tributary and vassal to the Chancas; Asto-huaraca would dye his lance in an Inca's blood. But Inca Yupanqui was not terrified by the embassy. He answered in this way to the messenger. "Go back brother and say to Asto-huaraca, your Sinchi, that Inca Yupanqui is a child of the Sun and guardian of Cuzco, the city of Ticci Viracocha Pachayachachi, by whose order I am here guarding it. For this city is not mine but his; and if your Sinchi should wish to own obedience to Ticci Viracocha, or to me in His name, he will be honourably received. If your Sinchi should see things in another light, show him that I am here with our friends, and if he should conquer us he can call himself Lord and Inca. But let him understand that no more time can be wasted in demands and replies. God (Ticci Viracocha) will give the victory to whom he pleases." With this reply the Chancas felt that they had profited little by their boasting. They ran to their arms because they saw Pachacuti closely following the bearer of his reply. The two armies approached each other in Ichu-pampa, encountered, and mixed together, the Chancas thrusting with long lances, the Incas using slings, clubs, axes and arrows, each one defending himself and attacking his adversary. The battle raged for a long time, without advantage on either side. At last Pachacuti made a way to where Asto-huaraca was fighting, attacked him and delivered a blow with his hatchet which cut off the Chanca's head. Tomay-huaraca was already killed. The Inca caused the heads of these two captains to be set on the points of lances, and raised on high to be seen by their followers. The Chancas, on seeing the heads, despaired of victory without leaders. They gave up the contest and sought safety in flight. Inca Yupanqui and his army followed in pursuit, wounding and killing until there was nothing more to do. This great victory yielded such rich and plentiful spoils, that Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui proposed to go to where his father was, report to him the story of the battle and the victory, and to offer him obedience that he might triumph as if the victory was his own. Loaded with spoil and Chanca prisoners he went to visit his father. Some say that it was at a place called Caquia Xaquixahuana, four leagues from Cuzco, others that it was at Marco, three leagues from Cuzco. Wherever it was, there was a great ceremony, presents being given, called _muchanaco_[80]. When Pachacuti had given his father a full report, he ordered the spoils of the enemy to be placed at his feet, and asked his father to tread on them and triumph over the victory. But Viracocha Inca, still intent upon having Inca Urco for his successor, desired that the honour offered to him should be enjoyed by his favourite son. He, therefore, did not wish to accept the honours for himself. Yet not wishing to offend the Inca Yupanqui Pachacuti on such a crucial point, he said that he would tread on the spoils and prisoners, and did so. He excused himself from going to triumph at Cuzco owing to his great age, which made him prefer to rest at Caquia Xaquixahuana. [Note 80: _Muchani_, I worship. _Nacu_ is a particle giving a reciprocal or mutual meaning, "joint worship."] With this reply Pachacuti departed for Cuzco with a great following of people and riches. The Inca Urco also came to accompany him, and on the road there was a quarrel in the rear guard between the men of Urco and those of Pachacuti. Others say that it was an ambush laid for his brother by Urco and that they fought. The Inca Pachacuti took no notice of it, and continued his journey to Cuzco, where he was received with much applause and in triumph. Soon afterwards, as one who thought of assuming authority over the whole land and taking away esteem from his father, as he presently did, he began to distribute the spoils, and confer many favours with gifts and speeches. With the fame of these grand doings, people came to Cuzco from all directions and many of those who were at Caquia Xaquixahuana left it and came to the new Inca at Cuzco. XXIX. THE INCA YUPANQUI ASSUMES THE SOVEREIGNTY AND TAKES THE FRINGE, WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF HIS FATHER. When the Inca Yupanqui found himself so strong and that he had been joined by so many people, he determined not to wait for the nomination of his father, much less for his death, before he rose with the people of Cuzco with the further intention of obtaining the assent of those without. With this object he caused a grand sacrifice to be offered to the Sun in the Inti-cancha or House of the Sun, and then went to ask the image of the Sun who should be Inca. The oracle of the devil, or perhaps some Indian who was behind to give the answer, replied that Inca Yupanqui Pachacuti was chosen and should be Inca. On this answer being given, all who were present at the sacrifice, prostrated themselves before Pachacuti, crying out "Ccapac Inca Intip Churin," which means "Sovereign Lord Child of the Sun." Presently they prepared a very rich fringe of gold and emeralds wherewith to crown him. Next day they took Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui to the House of the Sun, and when they came to the image of the Sun, which was of gold and the size of a man, they found it with the fringe, as if offering it of its own will. First making his sacrifices, according to their custom, he came to the image, and the High Priest called out in his language "Intip Apu," which means "Governor of things pertaining to the Sun." With much ceremony and great reverence the fringe was taken from the image and placed, with much pomp, on the forehead of Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui. Then all called his name and hailed him "Intip Churin Inca Pachacuti," or "Child of the Sun Lord, over-turner of the earth." From that time he was called Pachacuti besides his first name which was Inca Yupanqui. Then the Inca presented many gifts and celebrated the event with feasts. [_He was sovereign Inca without the consent of his father or of the people, but by those he had gained over to his side by gifts_.] XXX. PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI REBUILDS THE CITY OF CUZCO. As soon as the festivities were over, the Inca laid out the city of Cuzco on a better plan; and formed the principal streets as they were when the Spaniards came. He divided the land for communal, public, and private edifices, causing them to be built with very excellent masonry. It is such that we who have seen it, and know that they did not possess instruments of iron or steel to work with, are struck with admiration on beholding the equality and precision with which the stones are laid, as well as the closeness of the points of junction. With the rough stones it is even more interesting to examine the work and its composition. As the sight alone satisfies the curious, I will not waste time in a more detailed description. Besides this, Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui, considering the small extent of land round Cuzco suited for cultivation, supplied by art what was wanting in nature. Along the skirts of the hills near villages, and also in other parts, he constructed very long terraces of 200 paces more or less, and 20 to 30 wide, faced with masonry, and filled with earth, much of it brought from a distance. We call these terraces _andenes_, the native name being _sucres_. He ordered that they should be sown, and in this way he made a vast increase in the cultivated land, and in provision for sustaining the companies and garrisons. In order that the precise time of sowing and harvesting might be known, and that nothing might be lost, the Inca caused four poles to be set up on a high mountain to the east of Cuzco, about two _varas_ apart, on the heads of which there were holes, by which the sun entered, in the manner of a watch or astrolabe. Observing where the sun struck the ground through these holes, at the time of sowing and harvest, marks were made on the ground. Other poles were set up in the part corresponding to the west of Cuzco, for the time of harvesting the maize. Having fixed the positions exactly by these poles, they built columns of stone for perpetuity in their places, of the height of the poles and with holes in like places. All round it was ordered that the ground should be paved; and on the stones certain lines were drawn, conforming to the movements of the sun entering through the holes in the columns. Thus the whole became an instrument serving for an annual time-piece, by which the times of sowing and harvesting were regulated. Persons were appointed to observe these watches, and to notify to the people the times they indicated[81]. [Note 81: The pillars at Cuzco to determine the time of the solstices were called _Sucanca_. The two pillars denoting the beginning of winter, whence the year was measured, were called _Pucuy Sucanca_. Those notifying the beginning of spring were _Chirao Sucanca_. _Suca_ means a ridge or furrow and _sucani_ to make ridges: hence _sucanca_, the alternate light and shadow, appearing like furrows. Acosta says there was a pillar for each month. Garcilasso de la Vega tells us that there were eight on the east, and eight on the west side of Cuzco (i. p. 177) in double rows, four and four, two small between two high ones, 20 feet apart. Cieza de Leon says that they were in the Carmenca suburb (i. p. 325). To ascertain the time of the equinoxes there was a stone column in the open space before the temple of the Sun in the centre of a large circle. This was the _Inti-huatana_. A line was drawn across from east to west and they watched when the shadow of the pillar was on the line from sunrise to sunset and there was no shadow at noon. There is another _Inti-huatana_ at Pisac, and another at Hatun-colla. _Inti_, the Sun God, _huatani_, to seize, to tie round, _Inti-huatana_, a sun circle.] Besides this, as he was curious about the things of antiquity, and wished to perpetuate his name, the Inca went personally to the hill of Tampu-tocco or Paccari-tampu, names for the same thing, and entered the cave whence it is held for certain that Manco Ccapac and his brethren came when they marched to Cuzco for the first time, as has already been narrated. After he had made a thorough inspection, he venerated the locality and showed his feeling by festivals and sacrifices. He placed doors of gold on the window Ccapac-tocco, and ordered that from that time forward the locality should be venerated by all, making it a prayer place and _huaca_, whither to go to pray for oracles and to sacrifice. Having done this the Inca returned to Cuzco. He ordered the year to be divided into twelve months, almost like our year. I say almost, because there is some difference, though slight, as will be explained in its place. He called a general assembly of the oldest and wisest men of Cuzco and other parts, who with much diligence scrutinized and examined the histories and antiquities of the land, principally of the Incas and their forefathers. He ordered the events to be painted and preserved in order, as I explained when I spoke of the method adopted in preparing this history. XXXI. PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI REBUILDS THE HOUSE OF THE SUN AND ESTABLISHES NEW IDOLS IN IT. Having adorned the city of Cuzco with edifices, streets, and the other things that have been mentioned, Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui reflected that since the time of Manco Ccapac, none of his predecessors had done anything for the House of the Sun. He, therefore, resolved to enrich it with more oracles and edifices to appal ignorant people and produce astonishment, that they might help in the conquest of the whole land which he intended to subdue, and in fact he commenced and achieved the subjugation of a large portion of it He disinterred the bodies of the seven deceased Incas, from Manco Ccapac to Yahuar-huaccac, which were all in the House of the Sun, enriching them with masks, head-dresses called _chuco_, medals, bracelets, sceptres called _yauri_ or _champi_[82], and other ornaments of gold. He then placed them, in the order of their seniority, on a bench with a back, richly adorned with gold, and ordered great festivals to be celebrated with representations of the lives of each Inca. These festivals, which are called _purucaya_[83], were continued for more than four months. Great and sumptuous sacrifices were made to each Inca, at the conclusion of the representation of his acts and life. This gave them such authority that it made all strangers adore them, and worship them as gods. These strangers, when they beheld such majesty, humbled themselves, and put up their hands to worship or _mucha_ as they say. The corpses were held in great respect and veneration until the Spaniards came to this land of Peru. [Note 82: _Champi_ means a one-handed battle axe (Garcilasso de la Vega, I. lib. ix. cap. 31). Novices received it at the festival of Huarachicu, with the word _Auccacunapac_, for traitors.] [Note 83: According to Mossi _puruccayan_ was the general mourning on the death of the Inca.] Besides these corpses, Pachacuti made two images of gold. He called one of them Viracocha Pachayachachi. It represented the creator, and was placed on the right of the image of the Sun. The other was called _Chuqui ylla_, representing lightning, placed on the left of the Sun. This image was most highly venerated by all. Inca Yupanqui adopted this idol for his _guauqui_[84], because he said that it had appeared and spoken in a desert place and had given him a serpent with two heads, to carry about with him always, saying that while he had it with him, nothing sinister could happen in his affairs. To these idols the Inca gave the use of lands, flocks, and servants, especially of certain women who lived in the same House of the Sun, in the manner of nuns. These all came as virgins but few remained without having had connexion with the Inca. At least he was so vicious in this respect, that he had access to all whose looks gave him pleasure, and had many sons. [Note 84: _Huauqui_, brother.] Besides this House, there were some _huacas_ in the surrounding country. These were that of Huanacauri, and others called Anahuarqui, Yauira, Cinga, Picol, Pachatopan[85] [_to many they made the accursed sacrifices, which they called_ Ccapac Cocha, _burying children, aged 5 or 6, alive as offerings to the devil, with many offerings of vases of gold and silver_]. [Note 85: Anahuarqui was the name of the wife of Tupac Inca Yupanqui. Yauira may be for Yauirca, a fabulous creature described by Yamqui Pachacuti. Cinga and Picol do not occur elsewhere. Pachatopan is no doubt _Pacha tupac_, beautiful land.] The Inca, they relate, also caused to be made a great woollen chain of many colours, garnished with gold plates, and two red fringes at the end. It was 150 fathoms in length, more or less. This was used in their public festivals, of which there were four principal ones in the year. The first was called RAYMI or CCAPAC RAYMI, which was when they opened the ears of knights at a ceremony called _huarachico_. The second was called SITUA resembling our lights of St John[86]. They all ran at midnight with torches to bathe, saying that they were thus left clean of all diseases. The third was called YNTI RAYMI, being the feast of the Sun, known as _aymuray_. In these feasts they took the chain out of the House of the Sun and all the principal Indians, very richly dressed, came with it, in order, singing, from the House of the Sun to the Great Square which they encircled with the chain. This was called _moroy urco_[87]. [Note 86: The months and the festivals which took place in each month are given by several authorities. The most correct are those of Polo de Ondegardo and Calancha who agree throughout. Calancha gives the months as received by the first Council of Lima. 22 June--22 July. INTIP RAYMI (_Sun Festival_). 22 July--22 Aug. CHAHUAR HUARQUIZ--Ploughing month. 22 Aug.--22 Sept. YAPAQUIZ (SITUA _or Moon Festival_)--Sowing month. 22 Sept.--22 Oct. CCOYA RAYMI---Expiatory feast. Molina a month behind. 22 Oct.--22 Nov. UMA RAYMI--Month of brewing chicha. 22 Nov.--22 Dec. AYAMARCA--Commemoration of the dead. 22 Dec.--22 Jan. CCAPAC RAYMI (HUARACHICU _festival_). 22 Jan.--22 Feb. CAMAY--Month of exercises. 22 Feb.--22 March. HATUN POCCOY (great ripening). 22 March--22 April. PACHA POCCOY (MOSOC NINA _festival_). 22 April--22 May. AYRIHUA (Harvest). 22 May--22 June. AYMURAY (Harvest home).] [Note 87: The great chain, used at festivals, is called by Sarmiento Muru-urco. See also Molina. _Muru_ means a coloured spot, or a thing of variegated colours. Molina says that it was the house where the chain was kept that was called Muru-urco, as well as the cable. _Huasca_ is another name for a cable (See G. de la Vega, ii. p, 422).] XXXII. PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI DEPOPULATES TWO LEAGUES OF COUNTRY NEAR CUZCO. After Pachacuti had done what has been described in the city, he turned his attention to the people. Seeing that there were not sufficient lands for sowing, so as to sustain them, he went round the city at a distance of four leagues from it, considering the valleys, situation, and villages. He depopulated all that were within two leagues of the city. The lands of depopulated villages were given to the city and its inhabitants, and the deprived people were settled in other parts. The citizens of Cuzco were well satisfied with the arrangement, for they were given what cost little, and thus he made friends by presents taken from others, and took as his own the valley of Tambo [_which was not his_]. The news of the enlargement of this city went far and wide, and reached the ears of Viracocha Inca, retired in Caquia Xaquixahuana[88]. He was moved to go and see Cuzco. The Inca Yupanqui went for him, and brought him to Cuzco with much rejoicing. He went to the House of the Sun, worshipped at Huanacauri and saw all the improvements that had been made. Having seen everything he returned to his place at Caquia Xaquixahuana, where he resided until his death, never again visiting Cuzco, nor seeing his son Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui. [Note 88: This great plain to the north-west of Cuzco, called Xaquixahuana, and Sacsahuana, is now known as Surita. Most of the early writers call it Sacsahuana. Sarmiento always places the word Caquia before the name. _Capuchini_ is to provide, _capuchic_ a purveyor. Hence _Capuquey_ means "my goods," abbreviated to _Caguey_, "my property." The meaning is "my estate of Xaquixahuana."] XXXIII. PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI KILLS HIS ELDER BROTHER NAMED INCA URCO. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui found himself so powerful with the companies he had got together by liberal presents to all, that he proposed to subjugate by their means all the territories he could reach. For this he mustered all the troops that were in Cuzco, and provided them with arms, and all that was necessary for war. Affairs being in this state Pachacuti heard that his brother Urco was in a valley called Yucay, four leagues from Cuzco, and that he had assembled some people. Fearing that the movement was intended against him the Inca marched there with his army. His brother Inca Rocca went with him, who had the reputation of being a great necromancer. Arriving at a place called Paca in the said valley, the Inca went out against his brother Urco, and there was a battle between them. Inca Rocca hurled a stone which hit Urco on the throat. The blow was so great that Urco fell into the river flowing down the ravine where they were fighting. Urco exerted himself and fled, swimming down the river, with his axe in his hand. In this way he reached a rock called Chupellusca, a league below Tampu, where his brothers overtook him and killed him. From thence the Inca Pachacuti Yupanqui, with his brother Inca Rocca marched with their troops to Caquia Xaquixahuana to see his father who refused ever to speak with or see him, owing to the rage he felt at the death of Inca Urco. But Inca Rocca went in, where Viracocha was and said, "Father! it is not reasonable that you should grieve so much at the death of Urco, for I killed him in self defence, he having come to kill me. You are not to be so heavy at the death of one, when you have so many sons. Think no more of it, for my brother Pachacuti Yupanqui is to be Inca, and I hold that you should favour him and be as a father to him." Seeing the resolution of his son Inca Rocca, Viracocha did not dare to reply or to contradict him. He dismissed him by saying that that was what he wished, and that he would be guided by him in everything. With this the Inca Yupanqui and his brother Inca Rocca returned to Cuzco, and entered the city triumphing over the past victories and over this one. The triumph was after this manner. The warriors marched in order, in their companies, dressed in the best manner possible, with songs and dances, and the captives, their eyes on the ground, dressed in long robes with many tassels. They entered by the streets of the city, which were very well adorned to receive them. They went on, enacting their battles and victories, on account of which they triumphed. On reaching the House of the Sun, the spoils and prisoners were thrown on the ground, and the Inca walked over them, trampling on them and saying--"I tread on my enemies." The prisoners were silent without raising their eyes. This order was used in all their triumphs. At the end of a short time Inca Viracocha died of grief at the death of Inca Urco, deprived and despoiled of all honour and property. They buried his body in Caquia Xaquixahuana. XXXIV. THE NATIONS WHICH PACHACUTI INCA SUBJUGATED AND THE TOWNS HE TOOK: AND FIRST OF TOCAY CCAPAC, SINCHI OF THE AYAMARCAS, AND THE DESTRUCTION OF THE CUYOS. Near Cuzco there is a nation of Indians called Ayamarcas who had a proud and wealthy Sinchi named Tocay Ccapac. Neither he nor his people wished to come and do reverence to the Inca. On the contrary, he mustered his forces to attack the Inca if his country was invaded. This being known to Inca Yupanqui, he assembled his _ayllus_ and other troops. He formed them into two parties, afterwards called Hanan-cuzcos and Hurin-cuzcos, forming them into a corps, that united no one might be able to prevail against them. This done he consulted over what should be undertaken. It was resolved that all should unite for the conquest of all neighbouring nations. Those who would not submit were to be utterly destroyed; and first Tocay Ccapac, chief of the Ayamarcas, was to be dealt with, being powerful and not having come to do homage at Cuzco. Having united his forces, the Inca marched against the Ayamarcas and their Sinchi, and there was a battle at Huanancancha. Inca Yupanqui was victorious, assaulting the villages and killing nearly all the Ayamarcas. He took Tocay Ccapac as a prisoner to Cuzco, where he remained in prison until his death. After this Inca Yupanqui took to wife a native of Choco named Mama Anahuarqui. For greater pleasure and enjoyment, away from business, he went to the town of the Cuyos, chief place of the province of Cuyo-suyu. Being one day at a great entertainment, a potter, servant of the Sinchi, without apparent reason, threw a stone or, as some say, one of the jars which they call _ulti_, at the Inca's head and wounded him. The delinquent, who was a stranger to the district, was seized and tortured to confess who had ordered him to do it. He stated that all the Sinchis of Cuyo-suyu, who were Cuyo Ccapac, Ayan-quilalama, and Apu Cunaraqui, had conspired to kill the Inca and rebel. This was false, for it had been extorted from fear of the torture or, as some say, he said it because he belonged to a hostile tribe and wished to do them harm. But the Inca, having heard what the potter said, ordered all the Sinchis to be killed with great cruelty. After their deaths he slaughtered the people, leaving none alive except some children and old women. Thus was that nation destroyed, and its towns are desolate to this day. XXXV. THE OTHER NATIONS CONQUERED BY INCA YUPANQUI, EITHER IN PERSON OR THROUGH HIS BROTHER INCA ROCCA. Inca Yupanqui and his brother Inca Rocca, who was very cruel, had determined to oppress and subdue all the nations who wished to be independent and would not submit to them. They knew that there were two Sinchis in a town called Ollantay-tampu, six leagues from Cuzco, the one named Paucar-Ancho and the other Tocori Tupac, who ruled over the Ollantay-tampus, but would not come to do homage, nor did their people wish to do so. The Inca marched against them with a large army and gave them battle. Inca Rocca was severely wounded, but at last the Ollantay-tampus were conquered. [_All were killed, the place was destroyed so that no memory was left of it_][89] and the Inca returned to Cuzco. [Note 89: This is untrue. The splendid ruins remain to this day. The place was long held against the Spaniards by Inca Manco.] There was another Sinchi named Illacumpi, chief of two towns four leagues from Cuzco, called Cugma and Huata. Inca Yupanqui and Inca Rocca sent to him to do homage, but he replied that he was as good as they were and free, and that if they wanted anything, they must get it with their lances. For this answer the Inca made war upon the said Sinchi. He united his forces with those of two other Sinchis, his companions, named Paucar Tupac and Puma Lloqui, and went forth to fight the Inca. But they were defeated and killed, with nearly all their people. The Inca desolated that town with fire and sword, and with very great cruelty. He then returned to Cuzco and triumphed for that victory. The Inca received information, after this, that there was a town called Huancara, 11 leagues from Cuzco, ruled by Sinchis named Ascascahuana and Urcu-cuna. So a message was sent to them, calling upon them to give reverence and obedience to the Inca and to pay tribute. They replied that they were not women to come and serve, that they were in their native place, and that if any one came to seek them they would defend themselves. Moved to anger by this reply, Inca Yupanqui and Inca Rocca made war, killed the Sinchis and most of their people and brought the rest prisoners to Cuzco, to force them into obedience. Next they marched to another town called Toguaro, six leagues from Huancara, killing the Sinchi, named Alca-parihuana, and all the people, not sparing any but the children, that they might grow and repeople that land. With similar cruelties in all the towns, the Inca reduced to pay tribute the Cotabambas, Cotaneras, Umasayus, and Aymaracs, being the principal provinces of Cunti-suyu. The Inca then attacked the province of the Soras, 40 leagues from Cuzco. The natives came forth to resist, asking why the invaders sought their lands, telling them to depart or they would be driven out by force. Over this question there was a battle, and two towns of the Soras were subdued at that time, the one called Chalco, the other Soras. The Sinchi of Chalco was named Chalco-pusaycu, that of Soras Huacralla. They were taken prisoners to Cuzco, and there was a triumph over them. There was another place called Acos, 10 or 11 leagues from Cuzco. The two Sinchis of it were named Ocacique and Utu-huasi. These were strongly opposed to the demands of the Inca and made a very strenuous resistance. The Inca marched against them with a great army. But he met with serious difficulty in this conquest, for the Acos defended themselves most bravely and wounded Pachacuti on the head with a stone. He would not desist, but it was not until after a long time that they were conquered. He killed nearly all the natives of Acos, and those who were pardoned and survived after that cruel slaughter, were banished to the neighbourhood of Huamanca, to a place now called Acos[90]. [Note 90: Acobamba, the present capital of the province of Angaraes.] In all these campaigns which have been described, Inca Rocca was the companion in arms, and participator in the triumphs of Inca Yupanqui. It is to be noted that in all the subdued provinces chiefs were placed, superseding or killing the native Sinchis. Those who were appointed, acted as guards or captains of the conquered places, holding office in the Inca's name and during his pleasure. In this way the conquered provinces were oppressed and tyrannized over by the yoke of servitude. A superior was appointed over all the others who were nominated to each town, as general or governor. In their language this officer was called Tucuyrico[91], which means "he who knows and oversees all." [Note 91: _Tucuyricuc_, he who sees all. _Tucuy_ means all. _Ricini_ to see. Garcilasso de la Vega, I. lib. ii. cap. 14. Balboa, p. 115. Montesinos, p. 55. Santillana, p. 17.] Thus in the first campaign undertaken by Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui, after the defeat of the Chancas, he subdued the country as far as the Soras, 40 leagues to the west of Cuzco. The other nations, and some in Cunti-suyu, from fear at seeing the cruelties committed on the conquered, came in to submit, to avoid destruction. [_But they ever submitted against their wills_.] XXXVI. PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI ENDOWS THE HOUSE OF THE SUN WITH GREAT WEALTH. After Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui had conquered the lands and nations mentioned above, and had triumphed over them, he came to visit the House of the Sun and the Mama-cunas or nuns who were there. He assisted one day, to see how the Mama-cunas served the dinner of the Sun. This was to offer much richly cooked food to the image or idol of the Sun, and then to put it into a great fire on an altar. The same order was taken with the liquor. The chief of the Mama-cunas saluted the Sun with a small vase, and the rest was thrown on the fire. Besides this many jars full of that liquor were poured into a trough which had a drain, all being offerings to the Sun. This service was performed with vessels of clay. As Pachacuti considered that the material of the vases was too poor, he presented very complete sets of vases of gold and silver for all the service that was necessary. To adorn the house more richly he caused a plate of fine gold to be made, two _palmas_ broad and the length of the court-yard. He ordered this to be nailed high up on the wall in the manner of a cornice, passing all round the court-yard. This border or cornice of gold remained there down to the time of the Spaniards. XXXVII. PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI CONQUERS THE PROVINCE OF COLLA-SUYU. To the south of Cuzco there was a province called Colla-suyu or Collao, consisting of plain country, which was very populous. At the time that Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui was at Cuzco after having conquered the provinces already mentioned, the Sinchi of Collao was named Chuchi Ccapac or Colla Ccapac, which is all one. This Chuchi Ccapac increased so much in power and wealth among those nations of Colla-suyu, that he was respected by all the Collas, who called him Inca Ccapac. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui determined to conquer him from a motive of jealousy, together with all the provinces of the Collao. With this object he assembled his army and marched on the route to the Collao in order to attack Chuchi Ccapac who waited for him at Hatun-Colla, a town of the Collao where he resided, 40 leagues from Cuzco, without having taken further notice of the coming nor of the forces of Inca Yupanqui. When he came near to Hatun Colla, the Inca sent a message to Chuchi Colla, requesting him to serve and obey him or else to prepare for battle, when they would try their fortunes. This message caused much heaviness to Chuchi Colla, but he replied proudly that he waited for the Inca to come and do homage to him like the other nations that had been conquered by him, and that if the Inca did not choose to do so, he would prepare his head, with which he intended to drink in his triumph after the victory which he would win if they should come to a battle. After this reply Inca Yupanqui ordered his army to approach that of Chuchi Ccapac the next day, which was drawn up ready to fight. Soon after they came in sight, the two forces attacked each other, and the battle continued for a long time without either side gaining any advantage. Inca Yupanqui, who was very dexterous in fighting, was assisting in every part, giving orders, combating, and animating his troops. Seeing that the Collas resisted so resolutely, and stood so firmly in the battle, he turned his face to his men saying in a loud voice: "O Incas of Cuzco! conquerors of all the land! Are you not ashamed that people so inferior to you, and unequal in weapons, should be equal to you and resist for so long a time?" With this he returned to the fight, and the troops, touched by this rebuke, pressed upon their enemies in such sort that they were broken and defeated. Inca Yupanqui, being an experienced warrior, knew that the completion of the victory consisted in the capture of Chuchi Ccapac. Although he was fighting, he looked out for his enemy in all directions and, seeing him in the midst of his people, the Inca attacked them at the head of his guards, took him prisoner, and delivered him to a soldier with orders to take him to the camp and keep him safe. The Inca and his army then completed the victory and engaged in the pursuit, until all the Sinchis and captains that could be found were captured. Pachacuti went to Hatun-colla, the residence and seat of government of Chuchi Ccapac, where he remained until all the provinces which obeyed Chuchi Ccapac, were reduced to obedience, and brought many rich presents of gold, silver, cloths, and other precious things. Leaving a garrison and a governor in the Collao to rule in his name, the Inca returned to Cuzco, taking Chuchi Ccapac as a prisoner with the others. He entered Cuzco, where a solemn triumph was prepared. Chuchi Colla and the other Colla prisoners were placed before the Inca's litter dressed in long robes covered with tassels in derision and that they might be known. Having arrived at the House of the Sun, the captives and spoils were offered to the image of the Sun, and the Inca, or the priest for him, trod on all the spoils and captives that Pachacuti had taken in the Collao, which was great honour to the Inca. When the triumph was over, to give it a good finish, the Inca caused the head of Chuchi Ccapac to be cut off, and put in the house called _Llasa-huasi_[92], with those of the other Sinchis he had killed. He caused the other Sinchis and captains of Chuchi Ccapac to be given to the wild beasts, kept shut up for the purpose, in a house called _Samca-huasi_[93]. [Note 92: Llasa-huasi. _Llasa_ means weight, from _llasani_ to weigh. _Huasi_ a house.] [Note 93: Samgaguacy. This should be _Samca-huasi_, a prison for grave offences. Serpents and toads were put into the prison with the delinquents. Mossi, p. 233.] In these conquests Pachacuti was very cruel to the vanquished, and people were so terrified at the cruelties that they submitted and obeyed from fear of being made food for wild beasts, or burnt, or otherwise cruelly tormented rather than resist in arms. It was thus with the people of Cunti-suyu who, seeing the cruelty and power of Inca Yupanqui, humiliated themselves and promised obedience. It was for the cause and reason stated, and because they were threatened with destruction if they did not come to serve and obey. Chuchi Ccapac had subjugated a region more than 160 leagues from north to south, over which he was Sinchi or, as he called himself, Ccapac or Colla-Ccapac, from within 20 leagues of Cuzco as far as the Chichas, with all the bounds of Arequipa and the sea-coast to Atacama, and the forests of the Musus. For at this time, seeing the violence and power with which the Inca of Cuzco came down upon those who opposed him, without pardoning anyone, many Sinchis followed his example, and wanted to do the same in other parts, where each one lived, so that all was confusion and tyranny in this kingdom, no one being secure of his own property. We shall relate in their places, as the occasion offers, the stories of the Sinchis, tyrants, besides those of the Incas who, from the time of Inca Yupanqui, began to get provinces into their power, and tyrannize over the inhabitants. Inca Yupanqui, as has already been narrated, had given the House of the Sun all things necessary for its services, besides which, after he came from Colla-suyu, he presented many things brought from there for the image of the Sun, and for the mummies of his ancestors which were kept in the House of the Sun. He also gave them servants and lands. He ordered that the _huacas_ of Cuzco should be adopted and venerated in all the conquered provinces, ordaining new ceremonies for their worship and abolishing the ancient rites. He charged his eldest legitimate son, named Amaru Tupac Inca, with the duty of abolishing the _huacas_ which were not held to be legitimate, and to see that the others were maintained and received the sacrifices ordered by the Inca. Huayna Yamqui Yupanqui, another son of Inca Yupanqui, was associated with the heir in this duty. XXXVIII. PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI SENDS AN ARMY TO CONQUER THE PROVINCE OF CHINCHAY-SUYU. When Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui returned from the conquest of Colla-suyu and the neighbouring provinces, as has been narrated in the preceding chapter, he was well stricken in years, though not tired of wars, nor was his thirst for dominion satisfied. Owing to his age he chose to remain at Cuzco, as the seat of his government, to establish the lands he had subdued, in the way which he well knew how to establish. In order to lose no time in extending his conquests, he assembled his people, from among whom he chose 70,000 provided with arms and all things necessary for a military campaign. He nominated his brother, Ccapac Yupanqui, to be Captain-General, giving him for colleagues another of his brothers named Huayna Yupanqui, and one of his sons named Apu Yamqui Yupanqui. Among the other special captains in this army was one named Anco Ayllo of the Chanca nation, who had remained a prisoner in Cuzco from the time that the Inca conquered the Chanca's at Cuzco and at Ichu-pampa. He had ever since been sad and brooding, thinking of a way of escape. But he dissimulated so well that the Inca treated him as a brother and trusted him. Hence the Inca nominated him as commander of all the Chancas in the army. For to each nation the Inca gave a captain from among their own people, because he would understand how to rule them and they would obey him better. This Anco Ayllo, seeing there was an opportunity for fulfilling his desire, showed satisfaction at receiving this commission from the Inca, and promised to do valuable service, as he knew those nations whose conquest was about to be undertaken. When the army was ready to march, the Inca gave the Captain-General his own arms of gold, and to the other captains he gave arms with which to enter the battles. He made a speech to them, exhorting them to achieve success, showing them the honourable reward they would obtain, and the favours he, as a friend, would show them, if they served in that war. He gave special orders to Ccapac Yupanqui that he should advance with his conquering army as far as a province called Yana-mayu, the boundary of the nation of the Hatun-huayllas, and that there he should set up the Inca's boundary pillars, and he was on no account to advance further. He was to conquer up to that point and then return to Cuzco, leaving sufficient garrisons in the subjugated lands. He was also to establish posts at every half league, which they call _chasquis_, by means of which the Inca would be daily informed of what had happened and was being done[94]. [Note 94: For accounts of the _chasquis_ or Inca couriers see Garcilasso de la Vega, ii. pp. 49, 60, 119, 120, 121. Balboa, p. 248. Polo de Ondegardo, p. 169.] Ccapac Yupanqui set out from Cuzco with these orders, and desolated all the provinces which did not submit. On arriving at a fortress called Urco-collac, near Parcos, in the country of Huamanca, he met with valorous resistance from the inhabitants. Finally he conquered them. In the battle the Chancas distinguished themselves so that they gained more honour than the Cuzcos _orejones_ and the other nations. This news came to the Inca, who was much annoyed that the Chancas should have distinguished themselves more, and had gained more honour than the Incas. He imagined that it would make them proud, so he proposed to have them killed. He sent a messenger ordering Ccapac Yupanqui to lay a plan for killing all the Chancas in the best way he could devise, and if he did not kill them, the Inca would kill him. The runner of the Inca reached Ccapac Yupanqui with this order, but it could not be kept a secret. It became known to a wife of Ccapac Yupanqui, who was a sister of Anco Ayllo, the captain of the Chancas. This woman told her brother, who always longed for his liberty, and now was urgently minded to save his life. He secretly addressed his Chanca soldiers, putting before them the cruel order of the Inca, and the acquisition of their liberty if they would follow him. They all agreed to his proposal. When they came to Huarac-tambo, in the neighbourhood of the city of Huanuco, all the Chancas fled with their captain Anco Ayllo, and besides the Chancas other tribes followed this chief. Passing by the province of Huayllas they pillaged it, and, continuing their route in flight from the Incas, they agreed to seek a rugged and mountainous land where the Incas, even if they sought them, would not be able to find them. So they entered the forests between Chachapoyas and Huanuco, and went on to the province of Ruparupa. These are the people who are settled on the river Pacay and, according to the received report, thence to the eastward by the river called Cocama which falls into the great river Marañon. They were met with by the captain Gomez d'Arias, who entered by Huanuco, in the time of the Marquis of Cañete, in the year 1556. Though Ccapac Yupanqui went in chase of the Chancas, they were so rapid in their flight that he was unable to overtake them[95]. [Note 95: Garcilasso de la Vega also gives an account of the flight of the Chancas under Anco-ayllu or Hanco-hualla, ii. pp. 82, 329.] In going after them Ccapac Yupanqui went as far as Caxamarca, beyond the line he was ordered not to pass by the Inca. Although he had the order in his mind, yet when he saw that province of Caxamarca, how populous it was and rich in gold and silver, by reason of the great Sinchi, named Gusmanco Ccapac, who ruled there and was a great tyrant, having robbed many provinces round Caxamarca, Ccapac Yupanqui resolved to conquer it, although he had no commission from his brother for undertaking such an enterprise. On commencing to enter the land of Caxamarca, it became known to Gusmanco Ccapac. That chief summoned his people, and called upon another Sinchi, his tributary, named Chimu Ccapac, chief of the territory where now stands the city of Truxillo on the coast of Peru. Their combined forces marched against Ccapac Yupanqui, who by a certain ambush, and other stratagems, defeated, routed and captured the two Sinchis Gusmanco Ccapac and Chimu Ccapac, taking vast treasure of gold, silver and other precious things, such as gems, and coloured shells, which these natives value more than silver or gold. Ccapac Yupanqui collected all the treasure in the square of Caxamarca, where he then was; and when he saw such immense wealth he became proud and vainglorious, saying that he had gained and acquired more than his brother the Inca. His arrogance and boasting came to the ears of his sovereign, who, although he felt it deeply and desired an opportunity to kill him, dissimulated for a time and waited until the return to Cuzco. Inca Yupanqui feared that his brother would rebel, and for this reason he appeared to be pleased before the envoys sent by Ccapac Yupanqui. He sent them back with orders that Ccapac Yupanqui should return to Cuzco with the treasure that had been taken in the war, as well as the principal men of the subdued provinces, and the sons of Gusmanco Ccapac and Chimu Ccapac. The great chiefs themselves were to remain, in their territories with a sufficient garrison to keep those lands obedient to the Inca. On receiving this order Ccapac Yupanqui set out for Cuzco with all the treasure, and marched to the capital full of pride and arrogance. Inca Yupanqui, who himself subdued so many lands and gained so much honour, became jealous, as some say afraid, and sought excuses for killing his brother. When he knew that Ccapac Yupanqui had reached Limatambo, eight leagues from Cuzco, he ordered his lieutenant-governor named Inca Capon, to go there and cut off the head of Ccapac Yupanqui. The reasons given were that he had allowed Anco Ayllo to escape, and had gone beyond the line prescribed. The governor went and, in obedience to his orders, he killed the Inca's two brothers Ccapac Yupanqui and Huayna Yupanqui. The Inca ordered the rest to enter Cuzco, triumphing over their victories. This was done, the Inca treading on the spoils, and granting rewards. They say that he regretted that his brother had gained so much honour, and that he wished that he had sent his son who was to be his successor, named Tupac Inca Yupanqui, that he might have enjoyed such honour, and that this jealousy led him to kill his brother. XXXIX. PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI PLANTS _MITIMAES_ IN ALL THE LANDS HE HAD CONQUERED. As all the conquests made by this Inca were attended with such violence and cruelties, with such spoliation and force, and the people who became his subjects by acquisition, or to speak more correctly by rapine, were numerous, they obeyed so long as they felt the force compelling them, and, as soon as they were a little free from that fear, they presently rebelled and resumed their liberty. Then the Inca was obliged to conquer them again. Turning many things in his mind, and seeking for remedies, how he could settle once for all the numerous provinces he had conquered, at last he hit upon a plan which, although adapted to the object he sought to attain, and coloured with some appearance of generosity, was really the worst tyranny he perpetrated. He ordered visitors to go through all the subdued provinces, with orders to measure and survey them, and to bring him models of the natural features in clay. This was done. The models and reports were brought before the Inca. He examined them and considered the mountainous fastnesses and the plains. He ordered the visitors to look well to what he would do. He then began to demolish the fastnesses and to have their inhabitants moved to plain country, and those of the plains were moved to mountainous regions, so far from each other, and each so far from their native country, that they could not return to it. Next the Inca ordered the visitors to go and do with the people what they had seen him do with the models. They went and did so. He gave orders to others to go to the same districts, and, jointly with the _tucuricos_, to take some young men, with their wives, from each district. This was done and they were brought to Cuzco from all the provinces, from one 30, from another 100, more or less according to the population of each district. These selected people were presented before the Inca, who ordered that they should be taken to people various parts. Those of Chinchay-suyu were sent to Anti-suyu, those of Cunti-suyu to Colla-suyu, so far from their native country that they could not communicate with their relations or countrymen. He ordered that they should be settled in valleys similar to those in their native land, and that they should have seeds from those lands that they might be preserved and not perish, giving them land to sow without stint, and removing the natives. The Incas called these colonists _mitimaes_[96], which means "transported" or "moved," He ordered them to learn the language of the country to which they were removed, but not to forget the general language, which was the Quichua, and which he had ordered that all his subjects in all the conquered provinces must learn and know. With it conversation and business could be carried on, for it was the clearest and richest of the dialects. The Inca gave the colonists authority and power to enter the houses of the natives at all hours, night or day, to see what they said, did or arranged, with orders to report all to the nearest governor, so that it might be known if anything was plotted against the government of the Inca, who, knowing the evil he had done, feared all in general, and knew that no one served him voluntarily, but only by force. Besides this the Inca put garrisons into all the fortresses of importance, composed of natives of Cuzco or the neighbourhood, which garrisons were called _michecrima_[97]. [Note 96: The system of _mitimaes_ was a very important part of the Inca polity. It is frequently referred to by Cieza de Leon, and described by Garcilasso de la Vega, ii. p. 215. See also Balboa, pp. 28, 114,143,249. Molina, pp. 4, 22, 23. Yamqui Pachacuti, pp. 95, 97, Polo de Ondegardo, p. 161.] [Note 97: _Michec_ a shepherd, hence a governor. _Rimay_ to speak.] XL. THE COLLAS, SONS OF CHUCHI CCAPAC, REBEL AGAINST INCA YUPANQUI TO OBTAIN THEIR FREEDOM. After Inca Yupanqui had celebrated the triumphs and festivities consequent on the conquest of Chinchay-suyu, and arranged the system of _mitimaes_, he dismissed the troops. He himself went to Yucay, where he built the edifices, the ruins of which may still be seen. These being finished, he went down the valley of Yucay to a place which is now called Tambo, eight leagues from Cuzco, where he erected some magnificent buildings. The sons of Chuchi Ccapac, the great Sinchi of the Collao, had to labour as captives at the masonry and other work. Their father, as has already been narrated, was conquered in the Collao and killed by the Inca. These sons of Chuchi Ccapac, feeling that they were being vilely treated, and remembering that they were the sons of so great a man as their father, also seeing that the Inca had disbanded his army, agreed to risk their lives in obtaining their freedom. One night they fled, with all the people who were there, and made such speed that, although the Inca sent after them, they could not be overtaken. Along the route they took, they kept raising the inhabitants against the Inca. Much persuasion was not needed, because, as they were obeying by force, they only sought the first opportunity to rise. On this favourable chance, many nations readily rebelled, even those who were very near Cuzco, but principally the Collao and all its provinces. The Inca, seeing this, ordered a great army to be assembled, and sought the favour of auxiliaries from Gusmanco Ccapac and Chimu Ccapac. He collected a great number of men, made sacrifices _calpa_[98], and buried some children alive, which is called _capa cocha_, to induce their idols to favour them in that war. All being ready, the Inca nominated two of his sons as captains of the army, valorous men, named the one Tupac Ayar Manco, the other Apu Paucar Usnu. The Inca left Cuzco with more than 200,000 warriors, and marched against the sons of Chuchi Ccapac, who also had a great power of men and arms, and were anxious to meet the Incas and fight for their lives against the men of Cuzco. [Note 98: _Calpa_ means force, vigour; also an army.] As both were seeking each other, they soon met, and joined in a stubborn and bloody battle, in which there was great slaughter, because one side fought for life and liberty and the other for honour. As those of Cuzco were better disciplined and drilled, and more numerous than their adversaries, they had the advantage. But the Collas preferred to die fighting rather than to become captives to one so cruel and inhuman as the Inca. So they opposed themselves to the arms of the _orejones_, who, with great cruelties, killed as many of the Collas as opposed their advance. The sons of the Inca did great things in the battle, with their own hands, on that day. The Collas were defeated, most of them being killed or taken prisoners. Those who fled were followed to a place called Lampa. There the wounded were cared for, and the squadrons refreshed. The Inca ordered his two sons, Tupac Ayar Manco and Apu Paucar Usnu, to press onward, conquering the country as far as the Chichas, where they were to set up their cairns and return. The Inca then returned to Cuzco, for a triumph over the victory he had gained. The Inca arrived at Cuzco, triumphed and celebrated the victory with festivities. And because he found that a son had been born to him, he raised him before the Sun, offered him, and gave him the name of Tupac Inca Yupanqui. In his name he offered treasures of gold and silver to the Sun, and to the other oracles and _huacas_, and also made the sacrifice of _capa cocha_. Besides this he made the most solemn and costly festivals that had ever been known, throughout the land. This was done because Inca Yupanqui wished that this Tupac Inca should succeed him, although he had other older and legitimate sons by his wife and sister Mama Anahuarqui. For, although the custom of these tyrants was that the eldest legitimate son should succeed, it was seldom observed, the Inca preferring the one he liked best, or whose mother he loved most, or he who was the ablest among the brothers. XLI. AMARU TUPAC INCA AND APU PAUCAR USNU CONTINUE THE CONQUEST OF THE COLLAO AND AGAIN SUBDUE THE COLLAS. As soon as the Inca returned to Cuzco, leaving his two sons Tupac Amaru and Apu Paucar Usnu[99] in the Callao, those captains set out from Lampa, advancing to Hatun-Colla, where they knew that the Collas had rallied their troops to fight the Cuzcos once more, and that they had raised one of the sons of Chuchi Ccapac to be Inca. The Incas came to the place where the Collas were awaiting them in arms. They met and fought valorously, many being killed on both sides. At the end of the battle the Collas were defeated and their new Inca was taken prisoner. Thus for a third time were the Collas conquered by the Cuzcos. By order of the Inca, his sons, generals of the war, left the new Inca of the Collas at Hatun-Colla, as a prisoner well guarded and re-captured. The other captains went on, continuing their conquests, as the Inca had ordered, to the confines of Charcas and the Chichas. [Note 99: Tupac Amaru. _Tupac_ means royal, and _amaru_ a serpent. _Apu_ a chief, _paucar_ beautiful and _usnu_ a judgment seat.] While his sons prosecuted the war, Pachacuti their father, finished the edifices at Tambo, and constructed the ponds and pleasure houses of Yucay. He erected, on a hill near Cuzco, called Patallata, some sumptuous houses, and many others in the neighbourhood of the capital. He also made many channels of water both for use and for pleasure; and ordered all the governors of provinces who were under his sway, to build pleasure houses on the most convenient sites, ready for him when he should visit their commands. While Inca Yupanqui proceeded with these measures, his sons had completed the conquest of the Collao. When they arrived in the vicinity of Charcas, the natives of Paria, Tapacari, Cochabambas, Poconas and Charcas retreated to the country of the Chichas and Chuyes, in order to make a combined resistance to the Incas, who arrived where their adversaries were assembled, awaiting the attack. The Inca army was in three divisions. A squadron of 5000 men went by the mountains, another of 20,000 by the side of the sea, and the rest by the direct road. They arrived at the strong position held by the Charcas and their allies, and fought with them. The Incas were victorious, and took great spoils of silver extracted by those natives from the mines of Porco. It is to be noted that nothing was ever known of the 5000 _orejones_ who entered by the mountains or what became of them. Leaving all these provinces conquered, and subdued, Amaru Tupac Inca and Apu Paucar Usnu returned to Cuzco where they triumphed over their victories, Pachacuti granting them many favours, and rejoicing with many festivals and sacrifices to idols. XLII. PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI NOMINATES HIS SON TUPAC INCA YUPANQUI AS HIS SUCCESSOR. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui was now very old; and he determined to nominate a successor to take his place after his death. He called together the Incas his relations, of the _ayllus_ of Hanan-cuzco and Hurin-cuzco and said, "My friends and relations! I am now, as you see, very old, and I desire to leave you, when my days are over, one who will govern and defend you from your enemies. Some propose that I should name Amaru Tupac Inca, but it does not appear to me that he has the qualifications to govern so great a lordship as that which I have acquired. I, therefore, desire to nominate another with whom you will be more content." The relations, in their reply, gave thanks to the Inca, and declared that they would derive great benefit from his nomination. He then said that he named his son Tupac Inca, and ordered him to come forth from the house. He had been there for 15 or 16 years to be brought up, without any one seeing him except very rarely and as a great favour. He was now shown to the people, and the Inca presently ordered a fringe of gold to be placed in the hand of the image of the Sun, with the head-dress called _pillaca-llaytu_[100]. After Tupac Inca had made his obeisance to his father, the Inca and the rest rose and went before the image of the Sun where they made their sacrifices and offered _capa cocha_ to that deity. Then they offered the new Inca Tupac Yupanqui, beseeching the Sun to protect and foster him, and to make him so that all should hold and judge him to be a child of the Sun and father of his people. This done the oldest and principal _orejones_ took Tupac Inca to the Sun, and the priests took the fringe from the hands of the image, which they call _mascapaycha_, and placed it over the head of Tupac Inca Yupanqui until it rested on his forehead. He was declared Inca Ccapac and seated in front of the Sun on a seat of gold, called _duho_[101], garnished with emeralds and other precious stones. Seated there, they clothed him in the _ccapac hongo_[102], placed the _suntur paucar_ in his hand, gave him the other insignia of Inca, and the priests raised him on their shoulders. When these ceremonies were completed, Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui ordered that his son Tupac Inca should remain shut up in the House of the Sun, performing the fasts which it is the custom to go through before receiving the order of chivalry; which ceremony consisted in opening the ears. The Inca ordered that what had been done should not be made public until he gave the command to publish it. [Note 100: _Pillaca-llatu_ is a cloth or cloak woven of two colours, black and brown.] [Note 101: This word is corrupt. _Tiana_ is the word for a seat.] [Note 102: Ccapac uncu. The word _uncu_ means a tunic.] XLIII. HOW PACHACUTI ARMED HIS SON TUPAC INCA. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui found happiness in leaving memory of himself. With this object he did extraordinary things as compared with those of his ancestors, in building edifices, celebrating triumphs, not allowing himself to be seen except as a great favour shown to the people, for as such it was considered, on the day that he appeared. Then he ordered that no one should come to behold him without worshipping and bringing something in his hand to offer him. This custom was continued by all his descendants, and was observed inviolably. [_Thus, from the time of this Pachacuti began an unheard of and inhuman tyranny in addition to the tyrannies of his ancestors._] As he was now old and desirous of perpetuating his name, it appeared to him that he would obtain his desire by giving authority to his son and successor named Tupac Inca. So the boy was brought up, confined in the House of the Sun for more than 16 years, seeing no one but his tutors and masters until he was brought and presented to the Sun, to be nominated as has already been explained. To invest him at the _huarachico_ the Inca ordered a new way of giving the order of chivalry. For this he built round the city four other houses for prayer to the Sun, with much apparatus of gold idols, _huacas_ and service, for his son to perambulate these stations after he had been armed as a knight. Affairs being in this state, there came to the Inca Pachacuti, his son Amaru Tupac Inca, who had been named by his father as his successor some years before, because he was the eldest legitimate son. He said, "Father Inca! I understand that you have a son in the House of the Sun whom you have ordered to be successor after your own days. Order that he may be show to me." The Inca, looking upon this as boldness on the part of Amaru Tupac, replied, "It is true, and I desire you and your wife shall be his vassals, and that you shall serve and obey him as your Lord and Inca." Amaru replied that he wished to do so, and that for this reason, he desired to see him and offer sacrifice to him, and that orders should be given to take him where his brother was. The Inca gave permission for this, Amaru Tupac Inca taking what was necessary for the ceremony, and being brought to where Tupac Inca was fasting. When Amaru saw him in such majesty of wealth and surroundings, he fell on his face to the earth, adoring, offering sacrifices and obedience. On learning that it was his brother, Tupac Inca raised him and saluted him in the face. Presently Inca Yupanqui caused the necessary preparations to be made for investing his son with the order of chivalry. When all was ready, the Inca, accompanied by all his principal relations and courtiers, went to the House of the Sun, where they brought out Tupac Inca with great solemnity and pomp. For they carried with him all the idols of the Sun, Vircocha, the other _huacas, moro-urco_. All being placed in order with such pomp as had never been seen before, they all went to the great square of the city, in the centre of which a bonfire was made. All relations and friends then killed many animals, offering them as sacrifices by throwing them into the flames. They worshipped the heir, offering him rich gifts, the first that brought a gift being his father. Following the example all the rest adored, seeing that his father had shown him reverence. Thus did the _orejones_ Incas and all the rest who were present, seeing that for this they had been called and invited, to bring their gifts and offer them to their new Inca. [Illustration: GROUP OF INCAS, in ceremonial dresses, from the pictures in the Church of Santa Ana, Cuzco A.D. 1570. From a sketch by Sir Clements Markham, 1853.] This being done, the festival called _Ccapac Raymi_ was commenced, being the feast of kings, and consequently the most solemn festival kept by these people. When the ceremonies had been performed, they bored the ears of Tupac Inca Yupanqui, which is their mode of investiture into the order of chivalry and nobility. He was then taken to the stations of the Houses of the Sun, giving him the weapons and other insignia of war. This being finished his father the Inca Yupanqui gave him, for his wife, one of his sisters named Mama Ocllo, who was a very beautiful woman with much ability and wisdom. XLIV. PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI SENDS HIS SON TUPAC INCA YUPANQUI TO CONQUER CHINCHAY-SUYU. The Inca Yupanqui desired that his son should be employed on some service that would bring him fame, as soon as he had been proclaimed his successor, and armed as a knight. He had information that Chinchay-suyu was a region where name and treasure might be acquired, especially from a Sinchi named Chuqui-Sota in Chachapoyas. He, therefore, ordered all preparations to be made for the conquest of Chinchay-suyu. He gave the prince for his tutors, captains, and captains-general of his army, two of his brothers, the one named Auqui Yupanqui and the other Tilca Yupanqui. The army being assembled and the preparations made, they set out from Cuzco. Tupac went in such pomp and majesty that, where he passed, no one dared to look him in the face, in such veneration was he held. The people left the roads along which he had to pass and, ascending the hills on either side, worshipped and adored. They pulled out their eyebrows and eyelashes, and blowing on them, they made offering to the Inca. Others offered handfuls of a very precious herb called _coca_. When he arrived at the villages, he put on the dress and head-gear of that district, for all were different in their dress and head-gear as they are now. For Inca Yupanqui, so as to know each nation he had conquered, ordered that each one should have a special dress and head-gear, which they call _pillu_, _llaytu_ and _chuco_, different one from the other, so as to be easily distinguished and recognized. Seating himself, Tupac Inca made a solemn sacrifice of animals and birds, burning them in a fire which was kindled in his presence; and in this way they worshipped the sun, which they believed to be God. In this manner Tupac Inca began to repeat the conquests and tyranny of all his ancestors and his father. For, although many nations were conquered by his father, almost all were again with arms in their hands to regain their liberty, and the rest to defend themselves. As Tupac Inca advanced with such power, force and pride, he not only claimed the subjection of the people, but also usurped the veneration they gave to their gods or devils, for truly he and his father made them worship all with more veneration than the Sun. Tupac Inca finally marched out of Cuzco and began to proceed with measures for subduing the people in the near vicinity. In the province of the Quichuas[103] he conquered and occupied the fortresses of Tohara, Cayara, and Curamba, and in the province of Angaraes the fortresses of Urco-colla and Huaylla-pucara, taking its Sinchi named Chuquis Huaman prisoner. In the province of Xauxa he took Sisiquilla Pucara, and in the province of Huayllas the fortresses of Chuncu-marca and Pillahua-marca. In Chachapoyas the fortress of Piajajalca fell before him, and he took prisoner a very rich chief named Chuqui Sota. He conquered the province of the Paltas, and the valleys of Pacasmayu and Chimu, which is now Truxillo. He destroyed it as Chimu Ccapac had been subdued before. He also conquered the province of the Cañaris, and those who resisted were totally destroyed. The Cañaris submitted from fear, and he took their Sinchis, named Pisar Ccapac, Cañar Ccapac and Chica Ccapac, and built an impregnable fortress there called Quinchi-caxa. [Note 103: The province of the Quichuas was in the valley of the Pachachaca, above Abancay.] Tupac Inca Yupanqui then returned to Cuzco with much treasure and many prisoners. He was well received by his father with a most sumptuous triumph, and with the applause of all the _orejones_ of Cuzco. They had many feasts and sacrifices, and to please the people they celebrated the festival called Inti Raymi with feasts and dances, a time of great rejoicing. The Inca granted many favours for the sake of his son Tupac Inca, that he might have the support of his subjects, which was what he desired. For as he was very old and unable to move about, feeling the approach of death, his aim was to leave his son in the possession of the confidence of his army. XLV. HOW PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI VISITED THE PROVINCES CONQUERED FOR HIM BY HIS CAPTAINS. It has been related how the Inca Yupanqui placed garrisons of Cuzco soldiers, and a governor called _tucuyrico_ in all the provinces he conquered and oppressed. It must be known that owing to his absorbing occupations in conquering other provinces, training warriors, and placing his son in command for the conquest of Chinchay-suyu, he had not been able to put his final intentions and will into execution, which was to make those he oppressed submissive subjects and tributaries. Seeing that the people were in greater fear at beholding the valour of Tupac Inca, he determined to have a visitation of the land, and nominated 16 visitors, four for each of the four _suyus_ or divisions of the empire, which are _Cunti-suyu_ from Cuzco south and west as far as the South Sea, _Chinchay-suyu_ from Cuzco to the north and west, _Anti-suyu_ from Cuzco to the east, and _Colla-suyu_ from Cuzco to the south, south-west, and south-east. These visitors each went to the part to which he was appointed, and inspected, before all things, the work of the _tucuyricos_ and the methods of their government. They caused irrigating channels to be constructed for the crops, broke up land where this had been neglected, built _andenes_ or cultivated terraces, and took up pastures for the Sun, the Inca, and Cuzco. Above all they imposed very heavy tribute on all the produce, [_so that they all went about to rob and desolate property and persons_]. The visitations occupied two years. When they were completed the visitors returned to Cuzco, bringing with them certain cloths descriptive of the provinces they had visited. They reported fully to the Inca all that they had found and done. Besides these, the Inca also despatched other _orejones_ as overseers to make roads and hospices on the routes of the Inca, ready for the use of his soldiers. These overseers set out, and made roads, now called "of the Inca," over the mountains and along the sea coast. Those on the sea coast are all provided, at the sides, with high walls of _adobe_, wherever it was possible to build them, except in the deserts where there are no building materials. These roads go from Quito to Chile, and into the forests of the Andes. Although the Inca did not complete all, suffice it that he made a great part of the roads, which were finished by his sons and grandsons. XLVI. TUPAC INCA YUPANQUI SETS OUT, A SECOND TIME, BY ORDER OF HIS FATHER, TO CONQUER WHAT REMAINED UNSUBDUED IN CHINCHAY-SUYU. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui knew from the report made by his son when he returned from the conquest of Chinchay-suyu, that there were other great and rich nations and provinces beyond the furthest point reached by Tupac Inca. That no place might be left to conquer, the Inca ordered his son to return with a view to the subjugation of the parts of Quito. He assembled the troops and gave his son the same two brothers as his colleagues, Tilca Yupanqui and Anqui Yupanqui, who had gone with him on the former expedition. [_Tupac inflicted unheard of cruelties and deaths on those who defended themselves and did not wish to give him obedience_.] In this way he arrived at Tumipampa, within the territory of Quito, whose Sinchi, named Pisar Ccapac, was confederated with Pilla-huaso, Sinchi of the provinces and site of Quito. These two chiefs had a great army and were determined to fight Tupac Inca for their country and lives. Tupac sent messengers to them, demanding that they should lay down their arms and give him obedience. They replied that they were in their own native country, that they were free, and did not wish to serve any one nor be tributaries. Tupac and his colleagues rejoiced at this answer, because their wish was to find a pretext to encounter them with blows and to rob them, which was the principal object of the war. They say that the Inca army numbered more than 250,000 experienced soldiers. Tupac ordered them to march against the men of Quito and the Cañaris. They encountered each other, both sides fighting with resolution and skill. The victory was for a long time doubtful because the Quitos and Cañaris pressed stubbornly against their enemies. When the Inca saw this he got out of the litter in which he travelled, animated his people, and made signs for the 50,000 men who were kept in reserve for the last necessity. When these fresh troops appeared the Quitos and Cañaris were defeated and fled, the pursuit being continued with much bloodshed and cruelty, the victors shouting, "Ccapac Inca Yupanqui! Cuzco! Cuzco!" All the chiefs were killed. They captured Pilla-huaso in the vanguard. No quarter was given, in order to strike terror into those who heard of it. Thence Inca Tupac marched to the place where now stands the city of San Francisco de Quito, where they halted to cure the wounded and give much needed rest to the others. So this great province remained subject, and Tupac sent a report of his proceedings to his father. Pachacuti rejoiced at the success of his son, and celebrated many festivals and sacrifices on receiving the tidings. After Tupac Inca had rested at Cuzco, re-organized his army, and cured the wounded he went to Tumipampa, where his wife and sister bore him a son, to whom he gave the name of Titu Cusi Hualpa, afterwards known as Huayna Ccapac. After the Inca Tupac had rejoiced and celebrated the birthday festivals, although the four years were passed that his father had given him to complete the conquests, he heard that there was a great nation towards the South Sea, composed of Indians called Huancavelicas. So he determined to go down to conquer. At the head of the mountains above them he built the fortress of Huachalla, and then went down against the Huancavelicas. Tupac divided his army into three parts, and took one by the most rugged mountains, making war on the Huancavelica mountaineers. He penetrated so far into the mountains that for a long time nothing was known of him, whether he was dead or alive. He conquered the Huancavelicas although they were very warlike, fighting on land and at sea in _balsas_, from Tumbez to Huañapi, Huamo, Manta, Turuca and Quisin. Marching and conquering on the coast of Manta, and the island of Puna, and Tumbez, there arrived at Tumbez some merchants who had come by sea from the west, navigating in _balsas_ with sails. They gave information of the land whence they came, which consisted of some islands called Avachumbi and Ninachumbi, where there were many people and much gold. Tupac Inca was a man of lofty and ambitious ideas, and was not satisfied with the regions he had already conquered. So he determined to challenge a happy fortune, and see if it would favour him by sea. Yet he did not lightly believe the navigating merchants, for such men, being great talkers, ought not to be credited too readily. In order to obtain fuller information, and as it was not a business of which news could easily be got, he called a man, who accompanied him in his conquests, named Antarqui who, they all declare, was a great necromancer and could even fly through the air. Tupac Inca asked him whether what the merchant mariners said was true. Antarqui answered, after having thought the matter well out, that what they said was true, and that he would go there first. They say that he accomplished this by his arts, traversed the route, saw the islands, their people and riches, and, returning, gave certain information of all to Tupac Inca. The Inca, having this certainty, determined to go there. He caused an immense number of _balsas_ to be constructed, in which he embarked more than 20,000 chosen men; taking with him as captains Huaman Achachi, Cunti Yupanqui, Quihual Tupac (all Hanan-cuzcos), Yancan Mayta, Quisu Mayta, Cachimapaca Macus Yupanqui, Llimpita Usca Mayta (Hurin-cuzcos); his brother Tilca Yupanqui being general of the whole fleet. Apu Yupanqui was left in command of the army which remained on land. Tupac Inca navigated and sailed on until he discovered the islands of Avachumbi and Ninachumbi, and returned, bringing back with him black people, gold, a chair of brass, and a skin and jaw bone of a horse. These trophies were preserved in the fortress of Cuzco until the Spaniards came. An Inca now living had charge of this skin and jaw bone of a horse. He gave this account, and the rest who were present corroborated it. His name is Urco Huaranca. I am particular about this because to those who know anything of the Indies it will appear a strange thing and difficult to believe. The duration of this expedition undertaken by Tupac Inca was nine months, others say a year, and, as he was so long absent, every one believed he was dead. But to deceive them and make them think that news of Tupac Inca had come, Apu Yupanqui, his general of the land army, made rejoicings. This was afterwards commented upon to his disadvantage, and it was said that he rejoiced because he was pleased that Tupac Inca Yupanqui did not appear. It cost him his life. These are the islands which I discovered in the South Sea on the 30th of November, 1567, 200 and more leagues to the westward, being the great discovery of which I gave notice to the Licentiate Governor Castro. But Alvaro de Mendaña, General of the Fleet, did not wish to occupy them[104]. [Note 104: This story of the navigation of Tupac Inca to the islands of Ninachumbi and Avachumbi or Hahua chumpi is told by Balboa as well as by Sarmiento. They were no doubt two of the Galapagos Islands. _Nina chumpi_ means fire island, and _Hahua chumpi_ outer island. See my introduction to the _Voyages of Sarmiento_, p. xiii; and _Las Islas de Galapagos_ by Marco Jimenes de la Espada.] After Tupac Inca disembarked from the discovery of the islands, he proceeded to Tumipampa, to visit his wife and son and to hurry preparations for the return to Cuzco to see his father, who was reported to be ill. On the way back he sent troops along the coast to Truxillo, then called Chimu, where they found immense wealth of gold and silver worked into wands, and into beams of the house of Chimu Ccapac, with all which they joined the main army at Caxamarca. Thence Tupac Inca took the route to Cuzco, where he arrived after an absence of six years since he set out on this campaign. Tupac Inca Yupanqui entered Cuzco with the greatest, the richest, and the most solemny triumph with which any Inca had ever reached the House of the Sun, bringing with him people of many different races, strange animals, innumerable quantities of riches. But behold the evil condition of Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui and his avarice, for though Tupac Inca was his son whose promotion he had procured, he felt such jealousy that his son should have gained such honour and fame in those conquests, that he publicly showed annoyance that it was not himself who triumphed, and that all was not due to him. So he determined to kill his sons Tilca Yupanqui and Auqui Yupanqui who had gone with Tupac Inca, their crime being that they had disobeyed his orders by delaying longer than the time he had fixed, and that they had taken his son to such a distance that he thought he would never return to Cuzco. They say that he killed them, though some say that he only killed Tilca Yupanqui. At this Tupac Inca Yupanqui felt much aggrieved, that his father should have slain one who had worked so well for him. The death was concealed by many feasts in honour of the victories of Tupac Inca, which were continued for a year. XLVII. DEATH OF PACHACUTI INCA YUPANQUI. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui derived much comfort from his grandson, the son of Tupac Inca. He always had the child with him, and caused him to be brought up and cherished in his residence and dormitory. He would not let him out of his sight. Being in the highest prosperity and sovereignty of his life, he fell ill of a grave infirmity, and, feeling that he was at the point of death, he sent for all his sons who were then in the city. In their presence he first divided all his jewels and contents of his wardrobe. Next he made them plough furrows in token that they were vassals of their brother, and that they had to eat by the sweat of their hands. He also gave them arms in token that they were to fight for their brother. He then dismissed them. He next sent for the Incas _orejones_ of Cuzco, his relations, and for Tupac Inca his son to whom he spoke, with a few words, in this manner:--"Son! you now see how many great nations I leave to you, and you know what labour they have cost me. Mind that you are the man to keep and augment them. No one must raise his two eyes against you and live, even if he be your own brother. I leave you these our relations that they may be your councillors. Care for them and they shall serve you. When I am dead, take care of my body, and put it in my houses at Patallacta. Have my golden image in the House of the Sun, and make my subjects, in all the provinces, offer up solemn sacrifice, after which keep the feast of _purucaya_, that I may go to rest with my father the Sun." Having finished his speech they say that he began to sing in a low and sad voice with words of his own language. They are in Castilian as follows: "I was born as a flower of the field, As a flower I was cherished in my youth, I came to my full age, I grew old, Now I am withered and die." Having uttered these words, he laid his head upon a pillow and expired, giving his soul to the devil, having lived 125 years. For he succeeded, or rather he took the Incaship into his hands when he was 22, and he was sovereign 103 years. He had four legitimate sons by his wife Mama Anahuarqui, and he had 100 sons and 50 daughters who were bastards. Being numerous they were called _Hatun-ayllu_, which means a "great lineage." By another name this lineage is called _Inaca Panaca Ayllu_. Those who sustain this lineage at the present time are Don Diego Cayo, Don Felipa Inguil, Don Juan Quispi Cusi, Don Francisco Chaco Rimachi, and Don Juan Illac. They live in Cuzco and are Hanan-cuzcos. Pachacuti was a man of good stature, robust, fierce, haughty, insatiably bent on tyrannizing over all the world, [_and cruel above measure. All the ordinances he made for the people were directed to tyranny and his own interests_]. His conduct was infamous for he often took some widow as a wife and if she had a daughter that he liked, he also took the daughter for wife or concubine. If there was some gallant and handsome youth in the town who was esteemed for something, he presently made some of his servants make friends with him, get him into the country, and kill him the best way they could. He took all his sisters as concubines, saying they could not have a better husband than their brother. This Inca died in the year 1191. He conquered more than 300 leagues, 40 more or less in person accompanied by his legitimate brothers, the captains Apu Mayta and Vicaquirao, the rest by Amaru Tupac Inca his eldest son, Ccapac Yupanqui his brother, and Tupac Inca his son and successor, with other captains, his brothers and sons. This Inca arranged the parties and lineages of Cuzco in the order that they now are. The Licentiate Polo found the body of Pachacuti in Tococachi, where now is the parish of San Blas of the city of Cuzco, well preserved and guarded. He sent it to Lima by order of the Viceroy of this kingdom, the Marquis of Cañete. The _guauqui_ or idol of this Inca was called _Inti Illapa_. It was of gold and very large, and was brought to Caxamarca in pieces. The Licentiate Polo found that this _guauqui_ or idol had a house, estate, servants and women. XLVIII. THE LIFE OF TUPAC INCA YUPANQUI[105], THE TENTH INCA. [Note 105: All authorities agree that Tupac Inca Yupanqui was the successor of Pachacuti except Betanzos, Santillana and Garcilasso de la Vega. Betanzos has a Yamqui Yupanqui. Garcilasso gives the reign of another Inca named Inca Yupanqui between Pachacuti and Tupac Inca. He was ignorant of the fact that Pachacuti and Inca Yupanqui were the same person. Santillana follows Garcilasso but calls Pachacuti's other self Ccapac Yupanqui.] When Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui died, two _orejones_ were deputed to watch the body, and to allow no one to enter or go out to spread the news of his death, until orders had been given. The other Incas and _orejones_ went with Tupac Inca to the House of the Sun and then ordered the twelve captains of the _ayllus_ of the Inca's guard to come. They came with 2200 men of the guard, under their command, fully armed, and surrounded the Yupanqui with the fringe, and gave him the other insignia of sovereignty, as he had now inherited and succeeded his father. Taking him in the midst of themselves, and of the guards, they escorted him to the great square, where he was seated, in majesty, on a superb throne. All the people of the city were then ordered to come and make obeisance to the Inca on pain of death. Those who had come with the Inca, went to their houses to fetch presents to show reverence and do homage to the new Inca. He remained with his guards only, until they returned with presents, doing homage and adoring. The rest of the people did the same, and sacrifices were offered. [_It is to be noted that only those of Cuzco did this, and if any others were present who did so, they must have been forced or frightened by the armed men and the proclamation_.] This having been done, they approached the Inca and said, "O Sovereign Inca! O Father! now take rest." At these words Tupac Inca showed much sadness and covered his head with his mantle, which they call _llacolla_, a square cloak. He next went, with all his company, to the place where the body of his father was laid, and there he put on mourning. All things were then arranged for the obsequies, and Tupac Inca Yupanqui did everything that his father had ordered at the point of death, touching the treatment of his body and other things. XLIX. TUPAC INCA YUPANQUI CONQUERS THE PROVINCE OF THE ANTIS. Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui being dead, and Tupac Inca ruling alone, he caused all the Sinchis and principal men of the conquered provinces to be summoned. Those came who feared the fury of the Inca, and with them the Indians of the province of Anti-suyu, who are the dwellers in the forests to the eastward of Cuzco, who had been conquered in the time of Pachacuti his father. Tupac Inca ordered them all to do homage, adore, and offer sacrifices. The Antis were ordered to bring from their country several loads of lances of palm wood for the service of the House of the Sun. The Antis, who did not serve voluntarily, looked upon this demand as a mark of servitude. They fled from Cuzco, returned to their country, and raised the land of the Antis in the name of freedom. Tupac Inca was indignant, and raised a powerful army which he divided into three parts. He led the first in person, entering the Anti-suyu by Ahua-tona. The second was entrusted to a captain named Uturuncu Achachi, who entered Anti-suyu by a town they call Amaru. The third, under a captain named Chalco Yupanqui, advanced by way of Pilcopata. All these routes were near each other, and the three divisions formed a junction three leagues within the forest, at a place called Opatari, whence they commenced operations against the settlements of the Antis. The inhabitants of this region were Antis, called Opataris, and were the first to be conquered. Chalco Yupanqui carried an image of the Sun. The forests were very dense and full of evil places; so that they could not force their way through, nor did they know what direction to take in order to reach the settlements of the natives, which were well concealed in the thick vegetation. To find them the explorers climbed up the highest trees, and pointed out the places where they could see smoke rising. So they worked away at road making through the undergrowth until they lost that sign of inhabitants and found another. In this way the Inca made a road where it seemed impossible to make one. The Sinchi of the greater part of these provinces of the Antis was Condin Savana, of whom they say that he was a great wizard and enchanter, and they had the belief, and even now they affirm that he could turn himself into different shapes. Tupac Inca and his captains penetrated into this region of the Antis, which consists of the most terrible and fearful forests, with many rivers, where they endured immense toil, and the people who came from Peru suffered from the change of climate, for Peru is cold and dry, while the forests of Anti-suyu are warm and humid. The soldiers of Tupac Inca became sick, and many died. Tupac Inca himself, with a third of his men who came with him to conquer, were lost in the forests, and wandered for a long time, without knowing whether to go in one direction or another until he fell in with Uturuncu Achachi who put him on the route. On this occasion Tupac Inca and his captains conquered four great tribes. The first was that of the Indians called Opataris. The next was the Mano-suyu. The third tribe was called Mañaris or Yanasimis, which means those of the black mouth: and the province of Rio, and the province of the Chunchos. They went over much ground in descending the river Tono, and penetrated as far as the Chiponauas. The Inca sent another great captain, named Apu Ccuri-machi, by the route which they now call of Camata. This route was in the direction of the rising of the sun, and he advanced until he came to the river of which reports have but now been received, called Paytiti, where he set up the frontier pillars of Inca Tupac. During the campaign against these nations, Tupac Inca took prisoners the following Sinchis: Vinchincayua, Cantahuancuru, Nutan-huari[106]. [Note 106: This expedition of Tupac Inca Yupanqui into the montaña of Paucartambo, and down the River Tono is important. Garcilasso de la Vega describes it in chapters xiii., xiv., xv. and xvi. of Book vii. He says that five rivers unite to form the great Amaru-mayu or Serpent River, which he was inclined to think was a tributary of the Rio de la Plata. He describes fierce battles with the Chunchos, who were reduced to obedience. After descending the River Tono, Garcilasso says that the Incas eventually reached the country of the Musus (Moxos) and opened friendly relations with them. Many Incas settled in the country of the Musus. Garcilasso then gives some account of Spanish expeditions into the montaña, led by Diego Aleman, Gomez de Tordoya, and Juan Alvarez Maldonado. The account in the text agrees, in the main, with that of Garcilasso de la Vega. Sarmiento gives the names of four Indian tribes who were encountered, besides the Chunchos.] During the campaign an Indian of the Collas, named Coaquiri, fled from his company, reached the Collao, and spread the report that Tupac Inca was dead. He said that there was no longer an Inca, that they should all rise and that he would be their leader. Presently he took the name of Pachacuti, the Collas rose, and chose him as their captain. This news reached Tupac Inca in Anti-suyu where he was in the career of conquest. He resolved to march against the Collas and punish them. He left the forests, leaving Uturuncu Achachi to complete the conquest, with orders to return into Peru when that service was completed, but not to enter Cuzco triumphing until the Inca should come. L. TUPAC INCA YUPANQUI GOES TO SUBDUE AND PACIFY THE COLLAS. As the Collas were one of those nations which most desired their freedom, they entered upon attempts to obtain it whenever a chance offered, as has already been explained. Tupac Inca Yupanqui resolved to crush them once for all. Having returned from the Antis, he increased his army and nominated as captains Larico, the son of his cousin Ccapac Yupanqui, his brother Chachi, Cunti Yupanqui, and Quihual Tupac. With this army he advanced to the Collao. The Collas had constructed four strong places at Llallaua, Asillo, Arapa, and Pucara. The Inca captured the chiefs and the leader of all, who was Chuca-chucay Pachacuti Coaquiri, he who, as we have said, fled from Anti-suyu. Afterwards these were the drummers[107] of Inca Tupac. Finally, owing to the great diligence of Inca Tupac, although the war occupied some years, the Incas conquered and subdued all [_perpetrating great cruelties on them_]. Following up his victories, in pursuit of the vanquished, he got so far from Cuzco that he found himself in Charcas. So he determined to advance further, subduing every nation of which he received notice. He eventually prosecuted his conquests so far that he entered Chile, where he defeated the great Sinchi Michimalongo, and Tangalongo, Sinchi of the Chilians as far as the river Maule. He came to Coquimbo in Chile and to the banks of the Maule, where he set up his frontier columns, or as others say a wall, to show the end of his conquests. From this campaign he returned with great riches in gold, having discovered many mines of gold and silver. He then returned to Cuzco. These spoils were joined with those of Uturuncu Achachi, who had returned from the forests of the Antis after a campaign of three years. He was at Paucar-tampu, awaiting the return of his brother, who entered Cuzco with a very great triumph. They made great feasts to commemorate the conquests, presenting gifts and granting many favours to the soldiers who had served with the Inca in these campaigns. As the provinces of the Chumpi-vilicas saw the power and greatness of Tupac Inca Yupanqui they came to submit with the rest of Cunti-suyu. [Note 107: _i.e._ their skins were made into drums.] Besides this the Inca went to Chachapoyas, and crushed those who had been suspected, visiting many provinces on the road. On his return to Cuzco he made certain ordinances, as well for peace as for war time. He increased the _mitimaes_ which his father had instituted, as has been explained in the account of his life, giving more privileges and liberty. Besides, he caused a general visitation to be made of all the land from Quito to Chile, registering the whole population for more than a thousand leagues; and imposed a tribute [_so heavy that no one could be owner of a_ mazorca _of maize, which is their bread for food, nor of a pair of_ usutas, _which are their shoes, nor marry, nor do a single thing without special licence from Tupac Inca. Such was the tyranny and oppression to which he subjected them_]. He placed over the _tucuricos_ a class of officers called _Michu_[108] to collect the taxes and tributes. [Note 108: _Michu_ should be _Michec_ a shepherd, also a governor. _Michisca_ the governed.] Tupac Inca saw that in the districts and provinces the Sinchis claimed to inherit by descent. He resolved to abolish this rule, and to put them all under his feet, both great and small. He, therefore, deposed the existing Sinchis, and introduced a class of ruler at his own will, who were selected in the following way. He appointed a ruler who should have charge of 10,000 men, and called him _huanu_, which means that number. He appointed another ruler over 1000, and called him _huaranca_, which is 1000. The next had charge of 500, called _pichca-pachaca_, or 500. To another called _pachac_ he gave charge of 100, and to another he gave charge of 10 men, called _chunca curaca_. All these had also the title of _Curaca_, which means "principal" or "superior," over the number of men of whom they had charge. These appointments depended solely on the will of the Inca, who appointed and dismissed them as he pleased, without considering inheritance, or succession. From that time forward they were called _Curacas_, which is the proper name of the chiefs of this land, and not _Caciques_, which is the term used by the vulgar among the Spaniards. That name of _Cacique_ belongs to the islands of Santo Domingo and Cuba. From this place we will drop the name of _Sinchi_ and only use that of _Curaca_. LI. TUPAC INCA MAKES THE YANACONAS. Among the brothers of the Inca there was one named Tupac Ccapac, a principal man, to whom Tupac Inca had given many servants to work on his farms, and serve on his estates. It is to be understood that Tupac Inca made his brother visitor-general of the whole empire that had been conquered up to that time. Tupac Ccapac, in making the visitation, came to the place where his brother had given him those servants. Under colour of this grant, he took those and also many more, saying that all were his _yana-cunas_[109], which is the name they give to their servants. He persuaded them to rebel against his brother, saying that if they would help him he would show them great favours. He then marched to Cuzco, very rich and powerful, where he gave indications of his intentions. [Note 109: Garcilasso de la Vega says that the meaning of _Yanacona_ is "a man who is under the obligation to perform the duties of a servant." Balboa, p. 129, tells the same story of the origin of the _Yanaconas_ as in the text. The amnesty was granted on the banks of the river Yana-yacu, and here they were called Yana-yacu-cuna, corrupted into Yana-cona. The Spaniards adopted the word for all Indians in domestic service, as distinguished from _mitayos_ or forced labourers.] He intended his schemes to be kept secret, but Tupac Inca was informed of them and came to Cuzco. He had been away at the ceremony of arming one of his sons named Ayar Manco. Having convinced himself that his information was correct, he killed Tupac Ccapac with all his councillors and supporters. Finding that many tribes had been left out of the visitation by him, for this attempt, Tupac Inca went in person from Cuzco, to investigate the matter and finish the visitation. While doing this the Inca came to a place called Yana-yacu, which means "black water" because a stream of a very dark colour flows down that valley, and for that reason they call the river and valley Yana-yacu. Up to this point he had been inflicting very cruel punishment without pardoning any one who was found guilty either in word or deed. In this valley of Yana-yacu his sister and wife, Mama Ocllo, asked him not to continue such cruelties, which were more butchery and inhumanity than punishment, and not to kill any more but to pardon them, asking for them as her servants. In consequence of this intercession, the Inca ceased the slaughter, and said that he would grant a general pardon. As the pardon was proclaimed in Yana-yacu, he ordered that all the pardoned should be called Yana-yacus. They were known as not being allowed to enter in the number of servants of the House of the Sun, nor those of the visitation. So they remained under the Curacas. This affair being finished, the visitation made by Tupac Ccapac was considered to be of no effect. So the Inca returned to Cuzco with the intention of ordering another visitation to be made afresh. LII. TUPAC INCA YUPANQUI ORDERS A SECOND VISITATION OF THE LAND, AND DOES OTHER THINGS. As the visitation entrusted to Tupac Ccapac was not to his liking, the Inca revoked it, and nominated another brother named Apu Achachi to be visitor-general. The Inca ordered him not to include the Yana-yacus in the visitation, because they were unworthy to enter into the number of the rest, owing to what they had done, Apu Achachi set out and made his general visitation, reducing many of the Indians to live in villages and houses who had previously lived in caves and hills and on the banks of rivers, each one by himself. He sent those in strong fastnesses into plains, that they might have no site for a fortress, on the strength of which they might rebel. He reduced them into provinces, giving them their Curacas in the order already described. He did not make the son of the deceased a Curaca, but the man who had most ability and aptitude for the service. If the appointment did not please the Inca he, without more ado, dismissed him and appointed another, so that no Curaca, high or low, felt secure in his appointment. To these Curacas were given servants, women and estates, submitting an account of them, for, though they were Curacas, they could not take a thing of their own authority, without express leave from the Inca. In each province all those of the province made a great sowing of every kind of edible vegetable for the Inca, his overseers coming to the harvest. Above all there was a _Tucurico Apu_, who was the governor-lieutenant of the Inca in that province. It is true that the first Inca who obliged the Indians of this land to pay tribute of everything, and in quantity, was Inca Yupanqui. But Tupac Inca imposed rules and fixed the tribute they must pay, and divided it according to what each province was to contribute as well for the general tax as those for _Huacas_, and Houses of the Sun. [_In this way the people were so loaded with tributes and taxes, that they had to work perpetually night and day to pay them, and even then they could not comply, and had no time for sufficient labour to suffice for their own maintenance_.] Tupac Inca divided the estates throughout the whole empire, according to the measure which they call _tupu_. He divided the months of the year, with reference to labour in the fields, as follows. Three months in the year were allotted to the Indians for the work of their own fields, and the rest must be given up to the work of the Sun, of _huacas_, and of the Inca. In the three months that were given to themselves, one was for ploughing and sowing, one for reaping, and another in the summer for festivals, and for make and mend clothes days. The rest of their time was demanded for the service of the Sun and the Incas. This Inca ordered that there should be merchants who might profit by their industry in this manner. When any merchant brought gold, silver, precious stones, or other valuable things for sale, they were to be asked where they got them, and in this way they gave information respecting the mines and places whence the valuables had been taken. Thus a very great many mines of gold and silver, and of very fine colours, were discovered. This Inca had two Governors-General in the whole empire, called Suyuyoc Apu[110]; one resided at Xauxa and the other at Tiahuanacu in Colla-suyu. [Note 110: _Suyu_ a great division of the empire, or a province. _Yoc_ a terminal particle denoting possession or office.] Tupac Inca ordered the seclusion of certain women in the manner of our professed nuns, maidens of 12 years and upwards, who were called _acllas_[111]. From thence they were taken to be given in marriage to the _Tucurico Apu_, or by order of the Inca who, when any captain returned with victory, distributed the _acllas_ to captains, soldiers and other servants who had pleased him, as gracious gifts which were highly valued. As they took out some, they were replaced by others, for there must always be the number first ordained by the Inca. If any man takes one out, or is caught inside with one they are both hanged, tied together. [Note 111: _Aclla_ means chosen, selected.] This Inca made many ordinances, in his tyrannical mode of government, which will be given in a special volume. LIII. TUPAC INCA MAKES THE FORTRESS OF CUZCO. After Tupac Inca Yupanqui had visited all the empire and had come to Cuzco where he was served and adored, being for the time idle, he remembered that his father Pachacuti had called the city of Cuzco the lion city. He said that the tail was where the two rivers unite which flow through it[112], that the body was the great square and the houses round it, and that the head was wanting. It would be for some son of his to put it on. The Inca discussed this question with the _orejones_, who said that the best head would be to make a fortress on a high plateau to the north of the city. [Note 112: This district of Cuzco has always been called _Pumap chupan_ or tail of the puma.] This being settled, the Inca sent to all the provinces, to order the tucuricos to supply a large number of people for the work of the fortress. Having come, the workmen were divided into parties, each one having its duties and officers. Thus some brought stones, others worked them, others placed them. The diligence was such that in a few years, the great fortress of Cuzco was built, sumptuous, exceedingly strong, of rough stone, a thing most admirable to look upon. The buildings within it were of small worked stone, so beautiful that, if it had not been seen, it would not be believed how strong and beautiful it was. What makes it still more worthy of admiration is that they did not possess tools to work the stone, but could only work with other stones. This fortress was intact until the time of the differences between Pizarro and Almagro, after which they began to dismantle it, to build with its stones the houses of Spaniards in Cuzco, which are at the foot of the fortress. Great regret is felt by those who see the ruins. When it was finished, the Inca made many store houses round Cuzco for provisions and clothing, against times of necessity and of war; which was a measure of great importance[113]. [Note 113: This fortress of Cuzco, on the Sacsahuaman Hill, was well described by Cieza de Leon and in greater detail by Garcilasso de la Vega, ii. pp. 305--318. Both ascribe it to Inca Yupanqui or his son Tupac Inca, as does Sarmiento. The extensive edifices, built of masonry of his period, were no doubt the work of Tupac Inca who thus got credit for the whole. These later edifices were pulled down by the Spaniards, for material for building their houses in the city. But the wonderful cyclopean work that remains is certainly of much more ancient date, and must be assigned, like Tiahuanacu, to the far distant age of the monolithic empire.] LIV. DEATH OF TUPAC INCA YUPANQUI. Having visited and divided the lands, and built the fortress of Cuzco, besides edifices and houses without number, Tupac Inca Yupanqui went to Chinchero[114], a town near Cuzco, where he had very rich things for his recreation; and there he ordered extensive gardens to be constructed to supply his household. When the work was completed he fell ill of a grave infirmity, and did not wish to be visited by anyone. But as he became worse and felt the approach of death, he sent for the _orejones_ of Cuzco, his relations, and when they had assembled in his presence he said: "My relations and friends! I would have you to know that the Sun my Father desires to take me to himself, and I wish to go and rest with him. I have called you to let you know who it is that I desire to succeed me as lord and sovereign, and who is to rule and govern you." They answered that they grieved much at his illness, that as the Sun his father had so willed it so must it be, that his will must be done, and they besought the Inca to nominate him who was to be sovereign in his place. Tupac Inca then replied: "I nominate for my successor my son Titu Cusi Hualpa, son of my sister and wife, Mama Ocllo." For this they offered many thanks, and afterwards the Inca sank down on his pillow and died, having lived 85 years. [Note 114: Chinchero is a village near Cuzco, on the heights overlooking the lovely valley of Yucay, with magnificent mountains in the background. The remains of the Inca palace are still standing, not unlike those on the Colcampata at Cuzco.] Tupac Inca succeeded his father at the age of 18 years. He had two legitimate sons, 60 bastards, and 30 daughters. Some say that at the time of his death, or a short time before, he had nominated one of his illegitimate sons to succeed him named Ccapac Huari, son of a concubine whose name was Chuqui Ocllo. He left a lineage or _ayllu_ called _Ccapac Ayllu_, whose heads, who sustain it and are now living, are Don Andres Tupac Yupanqui, Don Cristobal Pisac Tupac, Don Garcia Vilcas, Don Felipe Tupac Yupanqui, Don Garcia Azache, and Don Garcia Pilco. They are Hanan-cuzcos. The deceased Inca was frank, merciful in peace, cruel in war and punishments, a friend to the poor, a great man of indefatigable industry and a notable builder. [_He was the greatest tyrant of all the Incas_.] He died in the year 1528. Chalco Chima burnt his body in 1533, when he captured Huascar, as will be related in its place. The ashes, with his idol or _guauqui_ called _Cusi-churi_, were found in Calis-puquiu where the Indians had concealed it, and offered to it many sacrifices. LV. THE LIFE OF HUAYNA CCAPAC, ELEVENTH INCA[115]. [Note 115: All authorities agree that Huayna Ccapac was the son and successor of Tupac Inca.] As soon as Tupac Inca was dead, the _orejones_, who were with him at the time of his death, proceeded to Cuzco for the customary ceremonies. These were to raise the Inca his successor before the death of his father had become known to him, and to follow the same order as in the case of the death of Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui. As the wives and sons of Tupac Inca also went to Cuzco, the matter could not be kept secret. A woman who had been a concubine of the late Inca, named Ccuri Ocllo, a kins-woman of Ccapac Huari, as soon as she arrived at Cuzco, spoke to her relations and to Ccapac Huari in these words. "Sirs and relations! Know that Tupac Inca is dead and that, when in health, he had named Ccapac Huari for his successor, but at the end, being on the point of death, he said that Titu Cusi Hualpa, son of Mama Ocllo, should succeed him. You ought not to consent to this. Rather call together all your relations and friends, and raise Ccapac Huari, your elder brother, son of Chuqui Ocllo, to be Inca." This seemed well to all the relations of Ccapac Huari, and they sent to assemble all the other relations on his behalf. While this was proceeding, the _orejones_ of Cuzco, knowing nothing of it, were arranging how to give the fringe to Titu Cusi Hualpa. The plot of the party of Ccapac Huari became known to the late Inca's brother, Huaman Achachi. He assembled some friends, made them arm themselves, and they went to where Titu Cusi Hualpa was retired and concealed. They then proceeded to where the friends of Ccapac Huari had assembled, and killed many of them, including Ccapac Huari himself. Others say that they did not kill Ccapac Huari at that time, but only took him. His mother Chuqui Ocllo was taken and, being a rebel as well as a witch who had killed her lord Tupac Inca, she was put to death. Ccapac Huari was banished to Chinchero, where he was given a maintenance, but he was never allowed to enter Cuzco again until his death. They also killed the woman Ccuri Ocllo, who had advised the raising of Ccapac Huari to the Incaship. LVI. THEY GIVE THE FRINGE OF INCA TO HUAYNA CCAPAC, THE ELEVENTH INCA. The city of Cuzco being pacified, Huaman Achachi went to Quispicancha, three leagues from Cuzco, where Titu Cusi Hualpa was concealed, and brought his nephew to Cuzco, to the House of the Sun. After the sacrifices and accustomed ceremonies, the image of the Sun delivered the fringe to Titu Cusi Hualpa. This being done, and the new Inca having been invested with all the insignia of Ccapac, and placed in a rich litter, they bore him to the _huaca_ Huanacauri, where he offered a sacrifice. The _orejones_ returned to Cuzco by the route taken by Manco Ccapac. Arrived at the first square, called Rimac-pampa, the accession was announced to the people, and they were ordered to come and do homage to the new Inca. When they all assembled, and saw how young he was, never having seen him before, they all raised their voices and called him _Huayna Ccapac_ which means "the boy chief" or "the boy sovereign." For this reason he was called Huayna Ccapac from that time, and the name Titu Cusi Hualpa was no longer used. They celebrated festivals, armed him as a knight, adored, and presented many gifts---as was customary. LVII. THE FIRST ACTS OF HUAYNA CCAPAC AFTER HE BECAME INCA. As Huayna Ccapac was very young when he succeeded, they appointed a tutor and coadjutor for him named Hualpaya, a son of Ccapac Yupanqui, brother of Inca Yupanqui. This prince made a plot to raise himself to the Incaship, but it became known to Huaman Achachi, then Governor of Chinchay-suyu. At the time he was in Cuzco, and he and his people killed Hualpaya and others who were culpable. Huaman Achachi assumed the government, but always had as a councillor his own brother Auqui Tupac Inca. In course of time Huayna Ccapac went to the House of the Sun, held a visitation, took account of the officials, and provided what was necessary for the service, and for that of the _Mama-cunas_. He took the chief custodianship of the Sun from him who then held it, and assumed the office himself with the title of "Shepherd of the Sun." He next visited the other _huacas_ and oracles, and their estates. He also inspected the buildings of the city of Cuzco and the houses of the _orejones_. Huayna Ccapac ordered the body of his father Tupac Inca to be embalmed. After the sacrifices, the mourning, and other ceremonies, he placed the body in the late Inca's residence which was prepared for it, and gave his servants all that was necessary for their maintenance and services. The same Huayna Ccapac mourned for his father and for his mother who died nearly at the same time. LVIII. HUAYNA CCAPAC CONQUERS CHACHAPOYAS. After Huayna Ccapac had given orders respecting the things mentioned in the last chapter, it was reported to him that there were certain tribes near the territory of the Chachapoyas which might be conquered, and that on the way he might subdue the Chachapoyas who had rebelled. He gave orders to his _orejones_ and assembled a large army. He set out from Cuzco, having first offered sacrifices and observed the _calpa_[116]. On the route he took, he reformed many things. Arriving at the land of the Chachapoyas, they, with other neighbouring tribes, put themselves in a posture of defence. They were eventually vanquished and treated with great severity. The Inca then returned to Cuzco and triumphed at the victory gained over the Chachapoyas and other nations. [Note 116: _Calpa_ means force, power. _Calpay_ work. _Calparicu_ "one who gives strength," used for a wizard. The Calpa was a ceremony connected with divination.] While he was absent on this campaign, he left as Governor of Cuzco one of his illegitimate brothers named Sinchi Rocca, an eminent architect. He built all the edifices at Yucay, and the houses of the Inca at Casana in the city of Cuzco. He afterwards built other edifices round Cuzco for Huayna Ccapac, on sites which appeared most convenient. LIX. HUAYNA CCAPAC MAKES A VISITATION OF THE WHOLE EMPIRE FROM QUITO TO CHILE. Huayna Ccapac having rested in Cuzco for a long time and, wishing to undertake something, considered that it was a long time since he had visited the empire. He determined that there should be a visitation, and named his uncle Huaman Achachi to conduct it in Chinchay-suyu as far as Quito, he himself undertaking the region of Colla-suyu. Each one set out, Huayna Ccapac, in person, taking the route to the Collao, where he examined into the government of his _tucuricos_, placing and dismissing governors and Curacas, opening lands and making bridges and irrigating channels. Constructing these works he arrived at Charcas and went thence to Chile, which his father had conquered, where he dismissed the governor, and appointed two native Curacas named Michimalongo and Antalongo, who had been vanquished by his father. Having renewed the garrison, he came to Coquimbo and Copiapo, also visiting Atacama and Arequipa. He next went to Anti-suyu and Alayda, by way of Collao and Charcas. He entered the valley of Cochabamba, and there made provinces of _mitimaes_ in all parts, because the natives were few, and there was space for all, the land being fertile. Thence he went to Pocona to give orders on that frontier against the Chirihuanas, and to repair a fortress which had been built by his father. While engaged on these measures, he received news that the provinces of Quito, Cayambis, Carangues, Pastos, and Huancavilcas had rebelled. He, therefore, hurried his return and came to Tiahuanacu, where he prepared for war against the Quitos and Cayambis, and gave orders how the Urus[117] were to live, granting them localities in which each tribe of them was to fish in the lake. He visited the Temple of the Sun and the _huaca_ of Ticci Viracocha on the island of Titicaca, and sent orders that all those provinces should send troops to go to that war which he had proclaimed. [Note 117: The Urus are a tribe of fishermen, with a peculiar language, living among the reed beds in the S.W. part of Lake Titicaca.] LX. HUAYNA CCAPAC MAKES WAR ON THE QUITOS, PASTOS, CARANGUES, CAYAMBIS, HUANCAVILCAS. Knowing that the Pastos, Quitos, Carangues, Cayambis and Huancavilcas had rebelled, killed the _tucuricos_, and strengthened their positions with strong forces, Huayna Ccapac, with great rapidity, collected a great army from all the districts of the four _suyus_. He nominated Michi of the Hurin-cuzcos, and Auqui Tupac of the Hanan-cuzcos as captains, and left his uncle Huaman Achachi as governor of Cuzco. Others say that he left Apu Hilaquito and Auqui Tupac Inca in Cuzco, with his son who was to succeed named Tupac Cusi Hualpa Inti Illapa, and with him another of his sons named Titu Atanchi, who remained to perform the fasts before knighthood. It is to be noted that Huayna Ccapac was married, in conformity with custom and with the prescribed ceremonies to Cusi Rimay Coya, by whom he had no male child. He, therefore, took his sister Araua Ocllo to wife, by whom he had a son Tupac Cusi Hualpa, vulgarly called Huascar. Preparing for the campaign he ordered that Atahualpa and Ninan Cuyoche, his illegitimate sons, now grown men, should go with him. His other sons, also illegitimate, named Manco Inca and Paulu Tupac, were to remain with Huascar. These arrangements having been made, the Inca set out for Quito. On the way he came to Tumipampa where he had himself been born. Here he erected great edifices where he placed, with great solemnity, the caul in which he was born. Marching onwards and reaching the boundary of the region where the Quitos were in arms, he marshalled his squadrons, and presently resolved to conquer the Pastos. For this service he selected two captains of the Collao, one named Mollo Cavana, the other Mollo Pucara, and two others of Cunti-suyu named Apu Cautar Canana and Cunti Mollo, under whose command he placed many men of their nations, and 2000 _orejones_ as guards, under Auqui Tupac Inca, brother of Huayna Ccapac and Acollo Tupac of the lineage of Viracocha. They marched to the country of the Pastos who fell back on their chief place, leaving their old people, women and children, with a few men, that the enemy might think there was no one else. The Incas easily conquered these and, thinking that was all, they gave themselves up to idleness and pleasure. One night, when they were engaged in a great rejoicing, eating and drinking freely, without sentries, the Pastos attacked them, and there was a great slaughter, especially among the Collas. Those who escaped, fled until they came to the main army of the Incas which was following them. They say that Atahualpa and Ninan Cuyoche brought up assistance, and that, with the confidence thus gained, Huayna Ccapac ordered the war to be waged most cruelly. So they entered the country of the Pastos a second time, burning and destroying the inhabited places and killing all the people great and small, men and women, young and old. That province having been subdued, a governor was appointed to it. Huayna Ccapac then returned to Tumipampa, where he rested some days, before moving his camp for the conquest of the Carangues, a very warlike nation. In this campaign he subdued the Macas to the confines of the Cañaris, those of Quisna, of Ancamarca, the province of Puruvay, the Indians of Nolitria, and other neighbouring nations. Thence he went down to Tumbez, a seaport, and then came to the fortresses of Carangui and Cochisque. In commencing to subdue those of Cochisque he met with a stubborn resistance by valiant men, and many were killed on both sides. At length the place was taken, and the men who escaped were received in the fortress of Carangui. The Incas decided that the country surrounding this fortress should first be subdued. They desolated the country as far as Ancas-mayu and Otabalo, those who escaped from the fury of the Incas taking refuge in the fortress. Huayna Ccapac attacked it with his whole force, but was repulsed by the garrison with much slaughter, and the _orejones_ were forced to fly, defeated by the Cayambis, the Inca himself being thrown down. He would have been killed if a thousand of his guard had not come up with their captains Cusi Tupac Yupanqui and Huayna Achachi, to rescue and raise him. The sight of this animated the _orejones_. All turned to defend their Inca, and pressed on with such vigour that the Cayambis were driven back into their fortress. The Inca army, in one encounter and the other, suffered heavy loss. Huayna Ccapac, on this account, returned to Tumipampa, where he recruited his army, preparing to resume the attack on the Cayambis. At this time some _orejones_ deserted the Inca, leaving him to go back to Cuzco. Huayna Ccapac satisfied the rest by gifts of clothes, provisions, and other things, and he formed an efficient army. It was reported that the Cayambis had sallied from their fortress and had defeated a detachment of the Inca army, killing many, and the rest escaping by flight. This caused great sorrow to the Inca, who sent his brother Auqui Toma, with an army composed of all nations, against the Cayambis of the fortress. Auqui Toma went, attacked the fortress, captured four lines of defence and the outer wall, which was composed of five. But at the entrance the Cayambis killed Auqui Toma, captain of the Cuzcos, who had fought most valorously. This attack and defence was so obstinate and long continued that an immense number of men fell, and the survivors had nowhere to fight except upon heaps of dead men. The desire of both sides to conquer or die was so strong that they gave up their lances and arrows and took to their fists. At last, when they saw that their captain was killed, the Incas began to retreat towards a river, into which they went without any care for saving their lives. The river was in flood and a great number of men were drowned. This was a heavy loss for the cause of Huayna Ccapac. Those who escaped from drowning and from the hands of the enemy, sent the news to the Inca from the other side of the river. Huayna Ccapac received the news of this reverse with heavier grief than ever, for he dearly loved his brother Auqui Toma, who had been killed with so many men who were the pick of the army. Huayna Ccapac was a brave man, and was not dismayed. On the contrary it raised his spirit and he resolved to be avenged. He again got ready his forces and marched in person against the fortress of the Cayambis. He formed the army in three divisions. He sent Michi with a third of the army to pass on one side of the fortress without being seen. This detachment consisted of Cuzco _orejones_, and men of Chinchay-suyu. They were to advance five marches beyond the fortress and, at a fixed time, return towards it, desolating and destroying. The Inca, with the rest of his army marched direct to the attack of the fortress, and began to fight with great fury. This continued some days, during which the Inca lost some men. While the battle was proceeding, Michi and those of Chinchay-suyu turned, desolating and destroying everything in the land of the Cayambis. They were so furious that they did not leave anything standing, making the very earth to tremble. When Huayna Ccapac knew that his detachment was near the fortress, he feigned a flight. The Cayambis, not aware of what was happening in their rear, came out of the fortress in pursuit of the Inca. When the Cayambis were at some distance from their stronghold, the Chinchay-suyus, commanded by Michi, came in sight. These met with no resistance in the fortress as the Cayambis were outside, following Huayna Ccapac. They easily entered it and set it on fire in several parts, killing or capturing all who were inside. The Cayambis were, by this time, fighting with the army of Huayna Ccapac. When they saw their fortress on fire they lost hope and fled from the battle field towards a lake which was near, thinking that they could save themselves by hiding among the beds of reeds. But Huayna Ccapac followed them with great rapidity. In order that none might escape he gave instructions that the lake should be surrounded. In that lake, and the swamps on its borders, the troops of Huayna Ccapac, he fighting most furiously in person, made such havock and slaughter, that the lake was coloured with the blood of the dead Cayambis. From that time forward the lake has been called _Yahuar-cocha_, which means the "lake of blood," from the quantity that was there shed. It is to be noted that in the middle of this lake there was an islet with two willow trees, up which some Cayambis climbed, and among them their two chiefs named Pinto and Canto, most valiant Indians. The troops of Huayna Ccapac pelted them with stones and captured Canto, but Pinto escaped with a thousand brave Cañaris. The Cayambis being conquered, the Cuzcos began to select those who would look best in the triumphal entry into Cuzco. But they, thinking that they were being selected to be killed, preferred rather to die like men than to be tied up like women. So they turned and began to fight. Huayna Ccapac saw this and ordered them all to be killed. The Inca placed a garrison in the fortress, and sent a captain with a detachment in pursuit of Pinto who, in his flight, was doing much mischief. They followed until Pinto went into forests, with other fugitives, escaping for a time. After Huayna Ccapac had rested for some days at Tumipampa, he got information where Pinto was in the forests, and surrounded them, closing up all entrances and exits. Hunger then obliged him, and those who were with him, to surrender. This Pinto was very brave and he had such hatred against Huayna Ccapac that even, after his capture, when the Inca had presented him with gifts and treated him kindly, he never could see his face. So he died out of his mind, and Huayna Ccapac ordered a drum to be made of his skin. The drum was sent to Cuzco, and so this war came to an end. It was at Cuzco in the _taqui_ or dance in honour of the Sun. LXI. THE CHIRIHUANAS COME TO MAKE WAR IN PERU AGAINST THOSE CONQUERED BY THE INCAS. While Huayna Ccapac was occupied with this war of the Cayambis, the Chirihuanas, who form a nation of the forests, naked and eaters of human flesh, for which they have a public slaughter house, uniting, and, coming forth from their dense forests, entered the territory of Charcas, which had been conquered by the Incas of Peru. They attacked the fortress of Cuzco-tuyo, where the Inca had a large frontier garrison to defend the country against them. Their assault being sudden they entered the fortress, massacred the garrison, and committed great havock, robberies and murders among the surrounding inhabitants. The news reached Huayna Ccapac at Quito, and he received it with much heaviness. He sent a captain, named Yasca, to Cuzco to collect troops, and with them to march against the Chirihuanas. This captain set out for Cuzco, taking with him the _huaca_ "Cataquilla[118]" of Caxamarca and Huamachuco, and "Curichaculla" of the Chachapoyas; and the _huacas_ "Tomayrica and Chinchay-cocha," with many people, the attendants of the _huacas_. He arrived at Cuzco where he was very well received by the Governors, Apu Hilaquito and Auqui Tupac Inca. Having collected his troops he left Cuzco for Charcas. On the road he enlisted many men of the Collao. With these he came up with the Chirihuanas and made cruel war upon them. He captured some to send to Huayna Ccapac at Quito, that the Inca might see what these strange men were like. The captain Yasca rebuilt the fortress and, placing in it the necessary garrison, he returned to Cuzco, dismissed his men, and each one returned to his own land. [Note 118: It was the policy of the Incas that the idols and _huacas_ of conquered nations should be sent to Cuzco and deposited there. Catiquilla was an idol of the Caxamarca and Huamachuco people. Arriaga calls it Apu-cati-quilla. _Apu_ the great or chief, _catic_ follower, _quilla_ the moon. Apu-cati-quilla appears to have been a moon god. The other _huacas_ are local deities, all sent to Cuzco. Catiquilla had been kept as an oracle in the village of Tauca in Conchucos (Calancha, p. 471). _Cati-quilla_ would mean "following moon." (See also _Extirpation de la idolatria del Peru_, Joseph de Arriaga. Lima, 1627.)] LXII. WHAT HUAYNA CCAPAC DID AFTER THE SAID WARS. As soon as Huayna Ccapac had despatched the captain against the Chirihuanas, he set out from Tumipampa to organize the nations he had conquered, including Quito, Pasto, and Huancavilcas. He came to the river called Ancas-mayu, between Pasto and Quito, where he set up his boundary pillars at the limit of the country he had conquered. As a token of grandeur and as a memorial he placed certain golden staves in the pillars. He then followed the course of the river in search of the sea, seeking for people to conquer, for he had information that in that direction the country was well peopled. On this road the army of the Inca was in great peril, suffering from scarcity of water, for the troops had to cross extensive tracts of sand. One day, at dawn, the Inca army found itself surrounded by an immense crowd of people, not knowing who they were. In fear of the unknown enemy, the troops began to retreat towards the Inca. Just as they were preparing for flight a boy came to Huayna Ccapac, and said: "My Lord! fear not, those are the people for whom we are in search. Let us attack them." This appeared to the Inca to be good advice and he ordered an impetuous attack to be made, promising that whatever any man took should be his. The _orejones_ delivered such an assault on those who surrounded them that, in a short time, the circle was broken. The enemy was routed, and the fugitives made for their habitations, which were on the sea coast towards Coaques, where the Incas captured an immense quantity of rich spoils, emeralds, turquoises, and great store of very fine _mollo_, a substance formed in sea shells, more valued amongst them than gold or silver. Here the Inca received a message from the Sinchi or Curaca of the island of Puna with a rich present, inviting him to come to his island to receive his service. Huayna Ccapac did so. Thence he went to Huancavilca, where he joined the reserves who had been left there. News came to him that a great pestilence was raging at Cuzco of which the governors Apu Hilaquito his uncle, and Auqui Tupac Inca his brother had died, also his sister Mama Cuca, and many other relations. To establish order among the conquered nations, the Inca went to Quito, intending to proceed from thence to Cuzco to rest. On reaching Quito the Inca was taken ill with a fever, though others say it was small-pox or measles. He felt the disease to be mortal and sent for the _orejones_ his relations, who asked him to name his successor. His reply was that his son Ninan Cuyoche was to succeed, if the augury of the _calpa_ gave signs that such succession would be auspicious, if not his son Huascar was to succeed. Orders were given to proceed with the ceremony of the _calpa_, and Cusi Tupac Yupanqui, named by the Inca to be chief steward of the Sun, came to perform it. By the first _calpa_ it was found that the succession of Ninan Cuyoche would not be auspicious. Then they opened another lamb and took out the lungs, examining certain veins. The result was that the signs respecting Huascar were also inauspicious. Returning to the Inca, that he might name some one else, they found that he was dead. While the _orejones_ stood in suspense about the succession, Cusi Tupac Yupanqui said: "Take care of the body, for I go to Tumipampa to give the fringe to Ninan Cuyoche." But when he arrived at Tumipampa he found that Ninan Cuyoche was also dead of the small-pox pestilence[119]. [Note 119: Ninan Cuyoche is said by Cobos to have been legitimate, a son of the first wife Cusi Rimay Huaco, who is said by Sarmiento and others not to have borne a male heir.] Seeing this Cusi Tupac Yupanqui said to Araua Ocllo--"Be not sad, O Coya! go quickly to Cuzco, and say to your son Huascar that his father named him to be Inca when his own days were over." He appointed two _orejones_ to accompany her, with orders to say to the Incas of Cuzco that they were to give the fringe to Huascar. Cusi Tupac added that he would make necessary arrangements and would presently follow them with the body of Huayna Ccapac, to enter Cuzco with it in triumph, the order of which had been ordained by the Inca on the point of death, on a staff. Huayna Ccapac died at Quito at the age of 80 years. He left more than 50 sons. He succeeded at the age of 20, and reigned 60 years. He was valiant though cruel. He left a lineage or _ayllu_ called _Tumipampa Ayllu_. At present the heads of it, now living, are Don Diego Viracocha Inca, Don Garcia Inguil Tupac, and Gonzalo Sayri. To this _ayllu_ are joined the sons of Paulu Tupac, son of Huayna Ccapac. They are Hanan-cuzcos. Huayna Ccapac died in the year 1524 of the nativity of our Lord Jesus Christ, the invincible Emperor Charles V of glorious memory being King of Spain, father of your Majesty, and the Pope was Paul III. The body of Huayna Ccapac was found by the Licentiate Polo in a house where it was kept concealed, in the city of Cuzco. It was guarded by two of his servants named Hualpa Titu and Sumac Yupanqui. His idol or _guauqui_ was called _Huaraqui Inca_. It was a great image of gold, which has not been found up to the present time. LXIII THE LIFE OF HUASCAR, THE LAST INCA, AND OF ATAHUALPA. Huayna Ccapac being dead, and the news having reached Cuzco, they raised Titu Cusi Hualpa Inti Illapa, called Huascar, to be Inca. He was called Huascar because he was born in a town called Huascar-quihuar, four and a half leagues from Cuzco. Those who remained at Tumipampa embalmed the body of Huayna Ccapac, and collected the spoils and captives taken in his wars, for a triumphal entry into the capital. It is to be noted that Atahualpa, bastard son of Huayna Ccapac by Tocto Coca, his cousin, of the lineage of Inca Yupanqui, had been taken to that war by his father to prove him. He first went against the Pastos, and came back a fugitive, for which his father rated him severely. Owing to this Atahualpa did not appear among the troops, and he spoke to the Inca _orejones_ of Cuzco in this manner. "My Lords! you know that I am a son of Huayna Ccapac and that my father took me with him, to prove me in the war. Owing to the disaster with the Pastos, my father insulted me in such a way that I could not appear among the troops, still less at Cuzco among my relations who thought that my father would leave me well, but I am left poor and dishonoured. For this reason I have determined to remain here where my father died, and not to live among those who will be pleased to see me poor and out of favour. This being so you need not wait for me." He then embraced them all and took leave of them. They departed with tears and grief, leaving Atahualpa at Tumipampa[120]. [Note 120: Atahualpa is said by Sarmiento and Yamqui Pachacuti to have been an illegitimate son of Huayna Ccapac by Tocto Coca his cousin, of the ayllu of Pachacuti. Cieza de Leon says that he was a son by a woman of Quilaco named Tupac Palla. Gomara, who is followed by Velasco, says that Atahualpa was the son of a princess of Quito. As Huayna Ccapac only set out for the Quito campaign twelve years before his death, and Atahualpa was then grown up, his mother cannot have been a woman of Quito. I, therefore, have no doubt that Sarmiento is right.] The _orejones_ brought the body of Huayna Ccapac to Cuzco, entering with great triumph, and his obsequies were performed like those of his ancestors. This being done, Huascar presented gold and other presents, as well as wives who had been kept closely confined in the house of the _acllas_ during the time of his father. Huascar built edifices where he was born, and in Cuzco he erected the houses of Amaru-cancha, where is now the monastery of the "Name of Jesus," and others on the Colcampata, where Don Carlos lives, the son of Paulo. After that he summoned Cusi Tupac Yupanqui, and the other principal _orejones_ who had come with the body of his father, and who were of the lineage of Inca Yupanqui and therefore relations of the mother of Atahualpa. He asked them why they had not brought Atahualpa with them, saying that doubtless they had left him there, that he might rebel at Quito, and that when he did so, they would kill their Inca at Cuzco. The _orejones_, who had been warned of this suspicion, answered that they knew nothing except that Atahualpa remained at Quito, as he had stated publicly, that he might not be poor and despised among his relations in Cuzco. Huascar, not believing what they said, put them to the torture, but he extracted nothing further from them. Huascar considered the harm that these _orejones_ had done, and that he never could be good friends with them or be able to trust them, so he caused them to be put to death. This gave rise to great lamentation in Cuzco and hatred of Huascar among the Hanan-cuzcos, to which party the deceased belonged. Seeing this Huascar publicly said that he divorced and separated himself from relationship with the lineages of the Hanan-cuzcos because they were for Atahualpa who was a traitor, not having come to Cuzco to do homage. Then he declared war with Atahualpa and assembled troops to send against him. Meanwhile Atahualpa sent his messengers to Huascar with presents, saying that he was his vassal, and as such he desired to know how he could serve the Inca. Huascar rejected the messages and presents of Atahualpa and they even say that he killed the messengers. Others say that he cut their noses and their clothing down to their waists, and sent them back insulted. While this was taking place at Cuzco the Huancavilcas rebelled. Atahualpa assembled a great army, nominating as captains--Chalco Chima, Quiz-quiz, Incura Hualpa, Rumi-ñaui, Yupanqui, Urco-huaranca and Uña Chullo. They marched against the Huancavilcas, conquered them, and inflicted severe punishment. Returning to Quito, Atahualpa sent a report to Huascar of what had taken place. At this time Atahualpa received news of what Huascar had done to his messengers, and of the death of the _orejones_; also that Huascar was preparing to make war on him, that he had separated himself from the Hanan-cuzcos, and that he had proclaimed him, Atahualpa, a traitor, which they call _aucca_. Atahualpa, seeing the evil designs entertained by his brother against him, and that he must prepare to defend himself, took counsel with his captains. They were of one accord that he should not take the field until he had assembled more men, and collected as large an army as possible, because negotiations should be commenced when he was ready for battle. At this time an Orejon named Hancu and another named Atoc came to Tumipampa to offer sacrifices before the image of Huayna Ccapac, by order of Huascar. They took the wives of Huayna Ccapac and the insignia of Inca without communication with Atahualpa. For this Atahualpa seized them and, being put to the torture, they confessed what orders Huascar had given them, and that an army was being sent against Atahualpa. They were ordered to be killed, and drums to be made of their skins. Then Atahualpa sent scouts along the road to Cuzco, to see what forces were being sent against him by his brother. The scouts came in sight of the army of Huascar and brought back the news. Atahualpa then marched out of Quito to meet his enemies. The two armies encountered each other at Riopampa where they fought a stubborn and bloody battle, but Atahualpa was victorious. The dead were so numerous that he ordered a heap to be made of their bones, as a memorial. Even now, at this day, the plain may be seen, covered with the bones of those who were slain in that battle. At this time Huascar had sent troops to conquer the nations of Pumacocha, to the east of the Pacamoros, led by Tampu Usca Mayta and by Titu Atauchi, the brother of Huascar. When the news came of this defeat at Riopampa, Huascar got together another larger army, and named as captains Atoc, Huaychac, Hanco, and Huanca Auqui. This Huanca Auqui had been unfortunate and lost many men in his campaign with the Pacamoros. His brother, the Inca Huascar, to insult him, sent him gifts suited to a woman, ridiculing him. This made Huanca Auqui determine to do something worthy of a man. He marched to Tumipampa, where the army of Atahualpa was encamped to rest after the battle. Finding it without watchfulness, he attacked and surprised the enemy, committing much slaughter. Atahualpa received the news at Quito, and was much grieved that his brother Huanca Auqui should have made this attack, for at other times when he could have hit him, he had let him go, because he was his brother. He now gave orders to Quiz-quiz and Chalco Chima to advance in pursuit of Huanca Auqui. They overtook him at Cusi-pampa, where they fought and Huanca Auqui was defeated, with great loss on both sides. Huanca Auqui fled, those of Atahualpa following in pursuit as far as Caxamarca, where Huanca Auqui met a large reinforcement sent by Huascar in support. Huanca Auqui ordered them to march against Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz while he remained at Caxamarca. The troops sent by Huanca Auqui were Chachapoyas and many others, the whole numbering 10,000. They met the enemy and fought near Caxamarca. But the Chachapoyas were defeated and no more than 3000 escaped. Huanca Auqui then fled towards Cuzco, followed by the army of Atahualpa. In the province of Bombon[121], Huanca Auqui found a good army composed of all nations, which Huascar had sent to await his enemies there, who were coming in pursuit. Those of Atahualpa arrived and a battle was fought for two days without either party gaining an advantage. But on the third day Huanca Auqui was vanquished by Quiz-quiz and Chalco Chima. [Note 121: Correctly Pumpu.] Huanca Auqui escaped from the rout and came to Xauxa, where he found a further reinforcement of many Indians, Soras, Chancas, Ayamarcas, and Yanyos, sent by his brother. With these he left Xauxa and encountered the pursuing enemy at a place called Yanamarca. Here a battle was fought not less stubbornly than the former one. Finally, as fortune was against Huanca Auqui, he was again defeated by Chalco Chima, the adventurous captain of the army of Atahualpa. The greater part of the forces of Huanca Auqui was killed. He himself fled, never stopping until he reached Paucaray. Here he found a good company of _orejones_ of Cuzco, under a captain named Mayta Yupanqui who, on the part of Huascar, rebuked Huanca Auqui, asking how it was possible for him to have lost so many battles and so many men, unless he was secretly in concert with Chalco Chima. He answered that the accusation was not true, that he could not have done more; and he told Mayta Yupanqui to go against their enemy, and see what power he brought. He said that Atahualpa was determined to advance if they could not hinder his captains. Then Mayta Yupanqui went on to encounter Chalco Chima, and met him at the bridge of Anco-yacu where there were many skirmishes, but finally the _orejones_ were defeated[122]. [Note 122: This campaign is also fully described by Balboa, and in some detail by Yamqui Pachacuti, pp. 113--116.] LXIV. HUASCAR INCA MARCHES IN PERSON TO FIGHT CHALCO CHIMA AND QUIZ-QUIZ, THE CAPTAINS OF ATAHUALPA. As the fortune of Huascar and his captains, especially of Huanca Auqui, was so inferior to that of Atahualpa and his adventurous and dexterous captains Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz, one side meeting with nothing that did not favour them, the other side with nothing that was not against them, such terrible fear took possession of Huanca Auqui and the other Inca captains after the battle of Anco-yacu bridge, that they fled without stopping to Vilcas, 20 and more leagues from Anco-yacu, on the road to Cuzco. Over the satisfaction that the captains of Atahualpa felt at the glory of so many victories that they had won, there came the news sent by Atahualpa that he had come in person to Caxamarca and Huamachuco, that he had been received as Inca by all the nations he had passed, and that he had assumed the fringe and the _Ccapac-uncu_. He was now called Inca of all the land, and it was declared that there was no other Inca but him. He ordered his captains to march onwards conquering, until they encountered Huascar. They were to give him battle, conquer him like the rest, and if possible take him prisoner. Atahualpa was so elated by his victories, and assumed such majesty, that he did not cease to talk of his successes, and no one dared to raise his eyes before him. For those who had business with him he appointed a lieutenant called "Inca Apu," which means "the Inca's lord," who was to take his place by the Inca when he was seated. Those who had business transacted it with him, entering with a load on their backs, and their eyes on the ground, and thus they spoke of their business with the _Apu_. He then reported to Atahualpa, who decided what was to be done. Atahualpa was very cruel, he killed right and left, destroyed, burnt, and desolated whatever opposed him. From Quito to Huamachuco he perpetrated the greatest cruelties, robberies, outrages, and tyrannies that had ever been done in that land. When Atahualpa arrived at Huamachuco, two principal lords of his house came to offer sacrifice to the _huaca_ of Huamachuco for the success that had attended their cause. These _orejones_ went, made the sacrifice, and consulted the oracle. They received an answer that Atahualpa would have an unfortunate end, because he was such a cruel tyrant and shedder of so much human blood. They delivered this reply of the devil to Atahualpa. It enraged him against the oracle, so he called out his guards and went to where the _huaca_ was kept. Having surrounded the place, he took a halberd of gold in his hand, and was accompanied by the two officers of his household who had made the sacrifice. When he came to where the idol was, an old man aged a hundred years came out, clothed in a dress reaching down to the ground, very woolly and covered with sea shells. He was the priest of the oracle who had made the reply. When Atahualpa knew who he was, he raised the halberd and gave him a blow which cut off his head. Atahualpa then entered the house of the idol, and cut off its head also with many blows, though it was made of stone. He then ordered the old man's body, the idol, and its house to be burnt, and the cinders to be scattered in the air. He then levelled the hill, though it was very large, where that oracle, idol or _huaca_ of the devil stood. All this being made known to Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz, they celebrated festivals and rejoicings, and then resumed their march towards Cuzco. Huascar received reports of all that had happened, and mourned over the great number of men he had lost. He clearly saw that there only remained the remedy of going forth in person to try his fortune, which had hitherto been so adverse. In preparation he kept some fasts--for these gentiles also have a certain kind of fasting, made many sacrifices to the idols and oracles of Cuzco, and sought for replies. All answered that the event would be adverse to him. On hearing this he consulted his diviners and wizards, called by them _umu_, who, to please him, gave him hope of a fortunate ending. He got together a powerful army, and sent out scouts to discover the position of the enemy. The hostile army was reported to be at a place, 14 leagues from Cuzco, called Curahuasi[123]. They found there Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz, and reported that they had left the main road to Cuzco, and had taken that of Cotabamba, which is on the right, coming from Caxamarca or Lima to Cuzco. This route was taken to avoid the bad road and dangerous pass by the Apurimac bridge. Huascar divided his army into three divisions. One consisted of the men of Cunti-suyu, Charcas, Colla-suyu, Chuys, and Chile under the command of a captain named Arampa Yupanqui. His orders were to advance over Cotabamba towards another neighbouring province of the Omasayos, to harass the enemy on the side of the river of Cotabamba and the Apurimac bridge. The survivors of the former battles, under Huanca Auqui, Ahua Panti, and Pacta Mayta, were to attack the enemy on one flank, and to march into Cotabamba. Huascar in person commanded a third division. Thus all the forces of both Huascar and Atahualpa were in Cotabamba. [Note 123: Curahuasi is near the bridge over the Apurimac.] Arampa Yupanqui got news that the forces of Atahualpa were passing through a small valley or ravine which leads from Huanacu-pampa. He marched to oppose them, and fought with a strong squadron of the troops under Chalco Chima. He advanced resolutely to the encounter, and slew many of the enemy, including one of their captains named Tomay Rima. This gave Huascar great satisfaction and he said laughingly to the _orejones_--"The Collas have won this victory. Behold the obligation we have to imitate our ancestors." Presently the captains-general of his army, who were Titu Atauchi, Tupac Atao his brother, Nano, Urco Huaranca and others, marshalled the army to fight those of Atahualpa with their whole force. The armies confronted each other and attacked with skill and in good order. The battle lasted from morning nearly until sunset, many being slain on both sides, though the troops of Huascar did not suffer so much as those of Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz. The latter seeing their danger, many of them retreated to a large grassy plateau which was near, in Huanacu-pampa. Huascar, who saw this, set fire to the grass and burnt a great part of Atahualpa's forces. Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz then retreated to the other side of the river Cotabamba. Huascar, satisfied with what he had done, did not follow up his advantages, but enjoyed the victory which fortune had placed in his hands. For this he took a higher position. Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz, who were experienced in such manoeuvres, seeing that they were not followed, decided to rest their troops, and on another day to attack those who believed themselves to be conquerors. They sent spies to the camp of Huascar, and found from them that Huascar would send a certain division of his troops to take Atahualpa's captains, without their being able to escape. LXV. THE BATTLE BETWEEN THE ARMIES OF HUASCAR AND ATAHUALPA HUASCAR MADE PRISONER. When the morning of the next day arrived Huascar determined to finish off the army of his brother at one blow. He ordered Tupac Atao to go down the ravine with a squadron, discover the position of the enemy, and report what he had seen. Tupac Atao received this order and entered the ravine in great silence, looking from side to side. But the spies of Chalco Chima saw everything without being seen themselves and gave notice to Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz. Chalco Chima then divided his men into two parts and stationed them at the sides of the road where the _orejones_ would pass. When Tupac Atao came onwards, they attacked him to such purpose that scarcely any one escaped, Tupac Atao himself was taken, badly wounded, by whom Chalco Chima was informed that Huascar would follow him with only a squadron of 5000 men, while the rest of his army remained in Huanacu-pampa. Chalco Chima sent this information to Quiz-quiz, who was at a little distance, that they might unite forces. He told him that Tupac Atao was taken, that Huascar was expected with a small force, and that Quiz-quiz was wanted that both might take this enemy on the flanks. This was done. They divided their forces, placing them on both sides as in the attack on Tupac Atao. A short time after they entered the ravine, Huascar and his men came upon the dead bodies of the men of Tupac Atao who, being known to Huascar he wished to turn back, understanding that they were all dead and that there must have been some ambush. But it was too late, for he was surrounded by his enemies. Then he was attacked by the troops of Chalco Chima. When he tried to fly from those who fell upon his rear, he fell into the hands of Quiz-quiz who was waiting for him lower down. Those of Chalco Chima and those of Quiz-quiz fought with great ferocity, sparing none, and killing them all. Chalco Chima, searching for Huascar, saw him in his litter and seized him by the hands, and pulled him out of his litter. Thus was taken prisoner the unfortunate Huascar Inca, twelfth and last tyrant of the Inca Sovereigns of Peru, falling into the power of another greater and more cruel tyrant than himself, his people defeated, killed, and scattered. Placing Huascar in safe durance with a sufficient guard, Chalco Chima went on in the Inca's litter and detached 5000 of his men to advance towards the other troops remaining on the plain of Huanacu-pampa. He ordered that all the rest should follow Quiz-quiz, and that when he let fall the screen, they should attack. He executed this stratagem because his enemies thought that he was Huascar returning victorious, so they waited. He advanced and arrived where the troops of Huascar were waiting for their lord, who, when they saw him, still thought that it was Huascar bringing his enemies as prisoners. When Chalco Chima was quite near, he let loose a prisoner who had been wounded, who went to the Inca troops. He told them what had happened, that it was Chalco Chima, and that he could kill them all by this stratagem. When this was known, and that Chalco Chima would presently order them to be attacked with his whole force, for he had let the screen fall, which was to be the sign, the Inca troops gave way and took to flight, which was what Chalco Chima intended. The troops of Atahualpa pursued, wounding and killing with excessive cruelty and ferocity, continuing the slaughter, with unheard of havock, as far as the bridge of Cotabamba. As the bridge was narrow and all could not cross it, many jumped into the water from fear of their ferocious pursuers, and were drowned. The troops of Atahualpa crossed the river, continuing the pursuit and rejoicing in their victory. During the pursuit they captured Titu Atauchi, the brother of Huascar. Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz arrived at some houses called Quiuipay, about half a league from Cuzco, where they placed Huascar as a prisoner with a sufficient guard. Here they encamped and established their head-quarters. The soldiers of Chalco Chima went to get a view of Cuzco from the hill of Yauina overlooking the city, where they heard the mourning and lamentation of the inhabitants, and returned to inform Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz. Those captains sent a messenger to Cuzco to tell the inhabitants not to mourn, for that there was nothing to fear, it being well known that this was a war between two brothers for the gratification of their own passions. If any of them had helped Huascar they had not committed a crime, for they were bound to serve their Inca; and if there was any fault he would remit and pardon it, in the name of the great Lord Atahualpa. Presently he would order them all to come out and do reverence to the statue of Atahualpa, called _Ticci Ccapac_ which means "Lord of the World." The people of Cuzco consulted together, and resolved to come forth and obey the commands of Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz. They came according to their _ayllus_ and, on arriving at Quiuipay, they seated themselves in that order. Presently the troops of Atahualpa, fully armed, surrounded all those who had come from Cuzco. They took Huanca Auqui, Ahua Panti, and Paucar Usna, who had led the army against them in the battle at Tumipampa. Then they took Apu Chalco Yupanqui and Rupaca, Priests of the Sun, because these had given the fringe to Huascar. These being prisoners Quiz-quiz rose and said--"Now you know of the battles you have fought with me on the road, and the trouble you have caused me. You always raised Huascar to be Inca, who was not the heir. You treated evilly the Inca Atahualpa whom the Sun guards, and for these things you deserve death. But using you with humanity, I pardon you in the name of my Lord Atahualpa, whom may the Sun prosper." But that they might not be without any punishment, he ordered them to be given some blows with a great stone on the shoulders, and he killed the most culpable. Then he ordered that all should be tied by the knees, with their faces towards Caxamarca or Huamachuco where Atahualpa was, and he made them pull out their eyelashes and eyebrows as an offering to the new Inca. All the _orejones_, inhabitants of Cuzco, did this from fear, saying in a loud voice, "Long live! Live for many years Atahualpa our Inca, may our father the Sun increase his life!" Araua Ocllo, the mother of Huascar, and his wife Chucuy Huypa, were there, and were dishonoured and abused by Quiz-quiz. In a loud voice the mother of Huascar said to her son, who was a prisoner, "O unfortunate! thy cruelties and evil deeds have brought you to this state. Did I not tell you not to be so cruel, and not to kill nor ill-treat the messengers of your brother Atahualpa." Having said these words she came to him, and gave him a blow in the face. Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz then sent a messenger to Atahualpa, letting him know all that had happened, and that they had made prisoners of Huascar and many others, and asking for further orders. LXVI. WHAT CHALCO CHIMA AND QUIZ-QUIZ DID CONCERNING HUASCAR AND THOSE OF HIS SIDE IN WORDS. After Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz had sent off the messengers to Atahualpa, they caused the prisoners to be brought before them, and in the presence of all, and of the mother and wife of Huascar, they declared, addressing themselves to the mother of Huascar, that she was the concubine and not the wife of Huayna Ccapac, and that, being his concubine, she had borne Huascar, also that she was a vile woman and not a Coya. The troops of Atahualpa raised a shout of derision, and some said to the _orejones_, pointing their fingers at Huascar--"Look there at your lord! who said that in the battle he would turn fire and water against his enemies?" Huascar was then tied hand and foot on a bed of ropes of straws. The _orejones_, from shame, lowered their heads. Presently Quiz-quiz asked Huascar, "Who of these made you lord, there being others better and more valiant than you, who might have been chosen?" Araua Ocllo, speaking to her son, said, "You deserve all this my son as I told you, and all comes from the cruelty with which you treated your own relations." Huascar replied, "Mother! there is now no remedy, leave us," and he addressed himself to the priest Chalco Yupanqui, saying--"Speak and answer the question asked by Quiz-quiz." The priest said to Quiz-quiz, "I raised him to be lord and Inca by command of his father Huayna Ccapac, and because he was son of a Coya" (which is what we should call Infanta). Then Chalco Chima was indignant, and called the priest a deceiver and a liar. Huascar answered to Quiz-quiz, "Leave off these arguments. This is a question between me and my brother, and not between the parties of Hanan-cuzco and Hurin-cuzco. We will investigate it, and you have no business to meddle between us on this point." Enraged at the answer Chalco Chima ordered Huascar to be taken back to prison, and said to the Incas, to re-assure them, that they could now go back to the city as they were pardoned. The _orejones_ returned, invoking Viracocha in loud voices with these words--"O Creator! thou who givest life and favour to the Incas where art thou now? Why dost thou allow such persecution to come upon us? Wherefore didst thou exalt us, if we are to come to such an end?" Saying these words they beat their cloaks in token of the curse that had come upon them all. LXVII. THE CRUELTIES THAT ATAHUALPA ORDERED TO BE PERPETRATED ON THE PRISONERS AND CONQUERED OF HUASCAR'S PARTY. When Atahualpa knew what had happened, from the messengers of Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz, he ordered one of his relations named Cusi Yupanqui to go to Cuzco, and not to leave a relation or friend of Huascar alive. This Cusi Yupanqui arrived at Cuzco, and Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz delivered the prisoners to him. He made inquiries touching all that Atahualpa had ordered. He then caused poles to be fixed on both sides of the road, extending not more than a quarter of a league along the way to Xaquixahuana. Next he brought out of the prison all the wives of Huascar, including those pregnant or lately delivered. He ordered them to be hung to these poles with their children, and he ordered the pregnant to be cut open, and the stillborn to be hung with them. Then he caused the sons of Huascar to be brought out and hung to the poles. Among the sons of Huayna Ccapac who were prisoners there was one named Paullu Tupac. When they were going to kill him, he protested saying, it was unreasonable that he should be killed, because he had previously been imprisoned by Huascar; and on this ground he was released and escaped death. Yet the reason that he was imprisoned by Huascar was because he had been found with one of the Inca's wives. He was only given very little to eat, the intention being that he should die in prison. The woman with whom he was taken was buried alive. The wars coming on he escaped, and what has been related took place. After this the lords and ladies of Cuzco who were found to have been friends of Huascar were seized and hanged on the poles. Then there was an examination of all the houses of deceased Incas, to see which had been on the side of Huascar, and against Atahualpa. They found that the house of Tupac Inca Yupanqui had sided with Huascar. Cusi Yupanqui committed the punishment of the house to Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz. They seized the steward of the house, and the mummy of Tupac Inca, and those of his family and hung them all, and they burnt the body of Tupac Inca outside the town and reduced it to ashes. And to destroy the house completely, they killed many _mama cunas_ and servants, so that none were left of that house except a few of no account. Besides this they ordered all the Chachapoyas and Cañaris to be killed, and their Curaca named Ulco Colla, who they said had rebelled against the two brothers. All these murders and cruelties were perpetrated in the presence of Huascar to torment him. They murdered over 80 sons and daughters of Huascar, and what he felt most cruelly was the murder, before his eyes, of one of his sisters named Coya Miro, who had a son of Huascar in her arms, and another in her womb; and another very beautiful sister named Chimbo Cisa. Breaking his heart at the sight of such cruelty and grief which he was powerless to prevent, he cried, with a sigh, "Oh Pachayachachi Viracocha, thou who showed favour to me for so short a time, and honoured me and gave me life, dost thou see that I am treated in this way, and seest thou in thy presence what I, in mine, have seen and see." Some of the concubines of Huascar escaped from this cruelty and calamity, because they had neither borne a child nor were pregnant, and because they were beautiful. They say that they were kept to be taken to Atahualpa. Among those who escaped were Doña Elvira Chonay, daughter of Cañar Ccapac, Doña Beatriz Carnamaruay, daughter of the Curaca of Chinchay-cocha, Doña Juana Tocto, Doña Catalina Usica, wife, that was, of Don Paullu Tupac, and mother of Don Carlos, who are living now. In this way the line and lineage of the unfortunate tyrant Huascar, the last of the Incas, was completely annihilated. LXVIII. NEWS OF THE SPANIARDS COMES TO ATAHUALPA. Atahualpa was at Huamachuco celebrating great festivals for his victories, and he wished to proceed to Cuzco and assume the fringe in the House of the Sun, where all former Incas had received it When he was about to set out there came to him two Tallanas Indians, sent by the Curacas of Payta and Tumbez, to report to him that there had arrived by sea, which they call _cocha_, a people with different clothing, and with beards, and that they brought animals like large sheep. The chief of them was believed to be Viracocha, which means the god of these people, and he brought with him many Viracochas, which is as much as to say "gods." They said this of the Governor Don Francisco Pizarro, who had arrived with 180 men and some horses which they called sheep. As the account in detail is left for the history of the Spaniards, which will form the Third Part to come after this, I will only here speak briefly of what passed between the Spaniards and Atahualpa. When this became known to Atahualpa he rejoiced greatly, believing it to be the Viracocha coming, as he had promised when he departed, and as is recounted in the beginning of this history. Atahualpa gave thanks that he should have come in his time, and he sent back the messengers with thanks to the Curacas for sending the news, and ordering them to keep him informed of what might happen. He resolved not to go to Cuzco until he had seen what this arrival was, and what the Viracochas intended to do. He sent orders to Chalco Chima and Quiz-quiz to lose no time in bringing Huascar to Caxamarca, where he would go to await their arrival, for he had received news that certain Viracochas had arrived by sea, and he wished to be there to see what they were like. As no further news came, because the Spaniards were forming a station at Tangarara, Atahualpa became careless and believed that they had gone. For, at another time, when he was marching with his father, in the wars of Quito, news came to Huayna Ccapac that the Viracocha had arrived on the coast near Tumbez, and then they had gone away. This was when Don Francisco Pizarro came on the first discovery, and returned to Spain for a concession, as will be explained in its place. LXIX. THE SPANIARDS COME TO CAXAMARCA AND SEIZE ATAHUALPA, WHO ORDERS HUASCAR TO BE KILLED. ATAHUALPA ALSO DIES. As the subject of which this chapter treats belongs to the Third Part (the history of the Spaniards), I shall here only give a summary of what happened to Atahualpa. Although Atahualpa was careless about the Spaniards they did not miss a point, and when they heard where Atahualpa was, they left Tangarara and arrived at Caxamarca. When Atahualpa knew that the Viracochas were near, he left Caxamarca and went to some baths at a distance of half a league that he might, from there, take the course which seemed best. As he found that they were not gods as he had been made to think at first, he prepared his warriors to resist the Spaniards. Finally he was taken prisoner by Don Francisco Pizarro, the Friar, Vicente Valverde, having first made a certain demand, in the square of Caxamarca. Don Francisco Pizarro knew of the disputes there had been between Atahualpa and Huascar, and that Huascar was a prisoner in the hands of the captains of Atahualpa, and he urged Atahualpa to have his brother brought as quickly as possible. Huascar was being brought to Caxamarca by Atahualpa's order, as has already been said. Chalco Chima obeying this order, set out with Huascar and the captains and relations who had escaped the butchery of Cusi Yupanqui. Atahualpa asked Don Francisco Pizarro why he wanted to see his brother. Pizarro replied that he had been informed that Huascar was the elder and principal Lord of that land and for that reason he wished to see him, and he desired that he should come. Atahualpa feared that if Huascar came alive, the Governor Don Francisco Pizarro would be informed of what had taken place, that Huascar would be made Lord, and that he would lose his state. Being sagacious, he agreed to comply with Pizarro's demand, but sent off a messenger to the captain who was bringing Huascar, with an order to kill him and all the prisoners. The messenger started and found Huascar at Antamarca, near Yana-mayu. He gave his message to the captain of the guard who was bringing Huascar as a prisoner. Directly the captain heard the order of Atahualpa he complied with it. He killed Huascar, cut the body up, and threw it into the river Yana-mayu. He also killed the rest of the brothers, relations, and captains who were with him as prisoners, in the year 1533. Huascar had lived 40 years. He succeeded his father at the age of 31 and reigned for 9 years. His wife was Chucuy Huypa by whom he had no male child. He left no lineage or _ayllu_, and of those who are now living, one only, named Don Alonso Titu Atauchi is a nephew of Huascar, son of Titu Atauchi who was murdered with Huascar. He alone sustains the name of the lineage of Huascar called the _Huascar Ayllu_. In this river of Yana-mayu Atahualpa had fixed his boundary pillars when he first rebelled, saying that from thence to Chile should be for his brother Huascar, and from the Yana-mayu onwards should be his. Thus with the death of Huascar there was an end to all the Incas of Peru and all their line and descent which they held to be legitimate, without leaving man or woman who could have a claim on this country, supposing them to have been natural and legitimate lords of it, in conformity with their own customs and tyrannical laws. For this murder of Huascar, and for other good and sufficient causes, the Governor Don Francisco Pizarro afterwards put Atahualpa to death. He was a tyrant against the natives of this country and against his brother Huascar. He had lived 36 years. He was not Inca of Peru, but a tyrant. He was prudent, sagacious, and valiant, as I shall relate in the Third Part, being events which belong to the deeds of the Spaniards. It suffices to close this Second Part by completing the history of the deeds of the 12 Inca tyrants who reigned in this kingdom of Peru from Manco Ccapac the first to Huascar the twelfth and last tyrant. LXX. IT IS NOTEWORTHY HOW THESE INCAS WERE TYRANTS AGAINST THEMSELVES, BESIDES BEING SO AGAINST THE NATIVES OF THE LAND. It is a thing worthy to be noted [_for the fact that besides being a thing certain and evident the general tyranny of these cruel and tyrannical Incas of Peru against the natives of the land, may be easily gathered from history_], and any one who reads and considers with attention the order and mode of their procedure will see, that their violent Incaship was established without the will and election of the natives who always rose with arms in their hands on each occasion that offered for rising against their Inca tyrants who oppressed them, to get back their liberty. Each one of the Incas not only followed the tyranny of his father, but also began afresh the same tyranny by force, with deaths, robberies and rapine. Hence none of them could pretend, in good faith, to give a beginning to time of prescription, nor did any of them hold in peaceful possession, there being always some one to dispute and take up arms against them and their tyranny. Moreover, and this is above all to be noted, to understand the worst aims of these tyrants and their horrid avarice and oppression, they were not satisfied with being evil tyrants to the natives, but also to their own proper sons, brothers and relations, in defiance of their own laws and statutes, they were the worst and most pertinacious tyrants with an unheard-of inhumanity. For it was enacted among themselves and by their customs and laws that the eldest legitimate son should succeed, yet almost always they broke the law, as appears by the Incas who are here referred to. [Illustration: _Reproduced and printed for the Hakluyt Society by Donald Macbeth._ CAPTURE OF ATAHUALPA, AND SIEGE OF CUZCO, ETC. _From the Rev. C.M. Cracherode's copy in the British Museum._] Before all things Manco Ccapac, the first tyrant, coming from Tampu-tocco, was inhuman in the case of his brother Ayar Cachi, sending him to Tampu-tocco cunningly with orders for Tampu-chacay to kill him out of envy, because he was the bravest, and might for that reason be the most esteemed. When he arrived at the valley of Cuzco he not only tyrannized over the natives, but also over Copalimayta and Columchima who, though they had been received as natives of that valley were his relations, for they were _orejones_. Then Sinchi Rocca, the second Inca, having an older legitimate son named Manco Sapaca who, according to the law he and his father had made, was entitled to the succession, deprived him and nominated Lloqui Yupanqui the second son for his successor. Likewise Mayta Ccapac, the fourth Inca, named for his successor Ccapac Yupanqui, though he had an older legitimate son named Cunti Mayta, whom he disinherited. Viracocha, the eighth Inca, although he had an older legitimate son named Inca Rocca, did not name him as his successor, nor any of his legitimate sons, but a bastard named Inca Urco. This did not come about, Inca Urco did not enjoy the succession, nor did the eldest legitimate son, for there was a new tyranny. For Inca Yupanqui deprived both the one and the other, besides despoiling his father of his honours and estate. The same Inca Yupanqui, having an elder legitimate son named Amaru Tupac Inca, did not name him, but a young son, Tupac Inca Yupanqui. The same Tupac Inca, being of the same condition as his father, having Huayna Ccapac as the eldest legitimate son, named Ccapac Huari as his successor, although the relations of Huayna Ccapac would not allow it, and rose in his favour. If Ccapac Huari was legitimate, as his relations affirm, the evil deed must be fixed on Huayna Ccapac, who deprived his brother Ccapac Huari, and killed his mother and all his relations, making them infamous as traitors, that is supposing he was legitimate. Huayna Ccapac, though he named Ninan Cuyoche, he was not the eldest, and owing to this the succession remained unsettled, and caused the differences between Huascar and Atahualpa, whence proceeded the greatest and most unnatural tyrannies. Turning their arms against their own entrails, robbing, and with inhuman intestine wars they came to a final end. Thus as they commenced by their own authority, so they destroyed all by their own proper hands. It may be that Almighty God permits that one shall be the executioner of the other for his evil deeds, that both may give place to his most holy gospel which, by the hands of the Spaniards, and by order of the most happy, catholic, and unconquered Emperor and King of Spain, Charles V of glorious memory, father of your Majesty, was sent to these blind and barbarous gentiles. Yet against the force and power of the Incas on foot and united, it appeared that it would be impossible for human force to do what a few Spaniards did, numbering only 180, who at first entered with the Governor Don Francisco Pizarro. It is well established that it is a thing false and without reason, and which ought not to be said, that there is now, in these kingdoms, any person of the lineage of the Incas who can pretend to a right of succession to the Incaship of this kingdom of Peru, nor to be natural or legitimate lords. For no one is left who, in conformity with their laws, is able to say that he is the heir, in whole or in part of this land. Only two sons of Huayna Ccapac escaped the cruelty of Atahualpa. They were Paullu Tupac, afterwards called Don Cristóval Paullu, and Manco Inca. They were bastards, which is well known among them. And these, if any honour or estate had belonged to them or their children, your Majesty would have granted more than they had, their brothers retaining their estate and power. For they would merely have been their tributaries and servants. These were the lowest of all, for their lineage was on the side of their mothers which is what these people look at, in a question of birth[124]. [Note 124: These statements about the illegitimacy of Manco and Paullu Inca are made to support the Viceroy's argument and have no foundation in fact. The two princes were legitimate; their mother being a princess of the blood.] And Manco Inca had been a traitor to your Majesty and was a fugitive in the Andes where he died or was killed. Your Majesty caused his son to be brought out, in peace, from those savage wilds. He was named Don Diego Sayri Tupac. He became a Christian, and provision was made for him, his sons and descendants. Sayri Tupac died as a Christian, and he who is now in the Andes in rebellion, named Titu Cusi Yupanqui, is not a legitimate son of Manco Inca, but a bastard and apostate. They hold that another son is legitimate who is with the same Titu, named Tupac Amaru, but he is incapable and the Indians called him _uti_. Neither one nor the other are heirs of the land, because their father was not legitimate. Your Majesty honoured Don Cristóval Paullu with titles and granted him a good _repartimiento_ of Indians, on which he principally lived. Now it is possessed by his son Don Carlos. Paullu left two legitimate sons who are now alive, named Don Carlos and Don Felipe. Besides these he left many illegitimate sons. Thus the known grandsons of Huayna Ccapac, who are now alive and admitted to be so, are those above mentioned. Besides these there are Don Alonso Titu Atauchi, son of Titu Atauchi, and other bastards, but neither one nor the other has any right to be called a natural lord of the land. For the above reasons it will be right to say to those whose duty it may be to decide, that on such clear evidence is based the most just and legitimate title that your Majesty and your successors have to these parts of the Indies, proved by the actual facts that are here written, more especially as regards these kingdoms of Peru without a point to raise against the said titles by which the crown of Spain holds them. Respecting which your Viceroy of these kingdoms, Don Francisco Toledo, has been a careful and most curious enquirer, as zealous for the clearing of the conscience of your Majesty, and for the salvation of your soul, as he has shown and now shows himself in the general visitation which he is making by order of your Majesty, in his own person, not avoiding the very great labours and dangers which he is suffering in these journeys, so long as they result in so great a service to God and your Majesty. LXXI. SUMMARY COMPUTATION OF THE PERIOD THAT THE INCAS OF PERU LASTED. The terrible and inveterate tyranny of the Incas Ccapac of Peru, which had its seat in the city of Cuzco, commenced in the year 565 of our Christian redemption, Justin II being Emperor, Loyva son of Athanagild the Goth being King of Spain, and John III Supreme Pontiff. It ended in 1533, Charles V being the most meritorious Emperor and most Christian King of Spain and its dependencies, patron of the church and right arm of Christendom, assuredly worthy of such a son as your Majesty whom may God our Lord take by the hand as is necessary for the Holy Christian church. Paul III was then Pope. The whole period from Manco Ccapac to the death of Huascar was 968 years. It is not to be wondered at that these Incas lived for so long a time, for in that age nature was stronger and more robust than in these days. Besides men did not then marry until they were past thirty. They thus reached such an age with force and substance whole and undiminished. For these reasons they lived much longer than is the case now. Besides the country where they lived has a healthy climate and uncorrupted air. The land is cleared, dry, without lakes, morasses, or forests with dense vegetation. These qualities all conduce to health, and therefore to the long life of the inhabitants whom may God our Lord lead into his holy faith, for the salvation of their souls. Amen[125]. Maxima Tolleti Proregis gloria creuit Dum regni tenebras, lucida cura, fugat. Ite procul scioli, vobis non locus in istis! Rex Indos noster nam tenet innocue. [Note 125: Cieza de Leon and other authorities adopt a more moderate chronology.] CERTIFICATE OF THE PROOFS AND VERIFICATION OF THIS HISTORY. In the city of Cuzco, on the 29th day of February, 1572, before the very excellent Lord Don Francisco de Toledo, Mayor-domo to His Majesty, and his Viceroy, Governor, and Captain-General of these kingdoms and provinces of Peru, President of the Royal Audience and Chancellory that resides in the city of the Kings, and before me Alvaro Ruiz de Navamuel his Secretary and of the Government and General Visitation of these kingdoms, the Captain Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa presented a petition of the following tenor: Most Excellent Lord, I, the Captain Pedro Sarmiento, Cosmographer-General of these kingdoms of Peru, report that by order of your Excellency I have collected and reduced to a history the general chronicle of the origin and descent of the Incas, of the particular deeds which each one did in his time and in the part he ruled, how each one of them was obeyed, of the tyranny with which, from the time of Tupac Inca Yupanqui, the tenth Inca, they oppressed and subjugated these kingdoms of Peru until by order of the Emperor Charles V of glorious memory, Don Francisco Pizarro came to conquer them. I have drawn up this history from the information and investigations which, by order of your Excellency, were collected and made in the valley of Xauxa, in the city of Guamanga, and in other parts where your Excellency was conducting your visitation, but principally in this city of Cuzco where the Incas had their continual residence, where there is more evidence of their acts, where the _mitimaes_ of all the provinces gathered together by order of the said Incas, and where there is true memory of their _ayllus_. In order that this history may have more authority, I pray that you will see, correct, and give it your authority, so that, wherever it may be seen, it may have entire faith and credit. Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa. Having been seen by his Excellency he said that it may be known if the said history was in conformity with the information and evidence, which has been taken from the Indians and other persons of this city and in other parts, and he ordered that Doctor Loarte, Alcalde of the court of his Majesty should cause to appear before him the principal and most intelligent Indians of the twelve _ayllus_ or lineages of the twelve Incas and other persons who may be summoned, and being assembled before me, the present Secretary, the said history shall be read and declared to them by an interpreter in the language of the said Indians, that each one may understand and discuss it among themselves, whether it is conformable to the truth as they know it. If there is anything to correct or amend, or which may appear to be contrary to what they know, it is to be corrected or amended. So I provide and sign Don Francisco de Toledo Before me Alvaro Ruiz de Navamuel. Afterwards, on the abovesaid day, month, and year the illustrious Doctor Gabriel de Loarte, in compliance with the order of his Excellency and in presence of me the said Secretary, caused to appear before him the Indians of the names, ages and _ayllus_ as follows: _Ayllu of Manco Ccapac._ Aged Sebastian Ylluc 30 Francisco Paucar Chima 30 _Ayllu of Sinchi Rocca._ Diego Cayo Hualpa 70 Don Alonso Puzcon 40 _Ayllu of Lloqui Yupanqui._ Hernando Hualpa 70 Don Garcia Ancuy 45 Miguel Rimachi Mayta 30 _Ayllu of Mayta Ccapac._ Don Juan Tampu Usca Mayta 60 Don Felipe Usca Mayta 70 Francisco Usca Mayta 30 _Ayllu of Ccapac Yupanqui._ Aged Don Francisco Copca Mayta 70 Don Juan Quispi Mayta 30 Don Juan Apu Mayta 30 _Ayllu of Inca Rocca._ Don Pedro Hachacona 53 Don Diego Mayta 40 _Ayllu of Yahuar-huaccac._ Juan Yupanqui 60 Martin Rimachi 26 _Ayllu of Viracocha._ Don Francisco Anti-hualpa 89 Martin Quichua Sucsu 64 Don Francisco Chalco Yupanqui 45 _Ayllu of Pachacuti._ Don Diego Cayo 68 Don Juan Hualpa Yupanqui 75 Don Domingo Pascac 90 Don Juan Quispi Cusi 45 Don Francisco Chanca Rimachi 40 Don Francisco Cota Yupanqui 40 Don Gonzalo Huacanhui 60 Don Francisco Quichua 68 _Ayllu of Tupac Inca._ Don Cristóval Pisac Tupac 50 Don Andres Tupac Yupanqui 40 Don Garcia Pilco Tupac 40 Don Juan Cozco 40 _Ayllu of Huayna Ccapac._ Don Francisco Sayri 28 Don Francisco Ninan Coro 24 Don Garcia Rimac Tupac 34 _Ayllu of Huascar._ Aged Don Alonso Titu Atauchi 40 _Besides these Ayllus._ Don Garcia Paucar Sucsu 34 Don Carlos Ayallilla 50 Don Juan Apanca 80 Don Garcia Apu Rinti 70 Don Diego Viracocha Inca 34 Don Gonzalo Tupac 30 These being together in presence of his Excellency, the said Alcalde of the court, by the words of Gonzalo Gomez Ximenes, interpreter to his Excellency, in the general language of the Indians, said:--"His Excellency, desiring to verify and put in writing and to record the origin of the Incas, your ancestors, their descent and their deeds, what each one did in his time, and in what parts each one was obeyed, which of them was the first to go forth from Cuzco to subdue other lands, and how Tupac Inca Yupanqui and afterwards Huayna Ccapac and Huascar, his son and grandson became lords of all Peru by force of arms; and to establish this with more authenticity, he has ordered that information and other proofs should be supplied in this city and other parts, and that the said information and proofs should be, by Captain Pedro Sarmiento to whom they were delivered, digested into a true history and chronicle. The said Pedro Sarmiento has now made it and presented it to his Excellency, to ascertain whether it is truthfully written in conformity with the sayings and declarations which were made by some Indians of the said _ayllus_. His Excellency is informed that the _ayllus_ and descendants of the twelve Incas have preserved among themselves the memory of the deeds of their ancestors, and are those who best know whether the said chronicle is correct or defective, he has therefore caused you to assemble here, that it may be read in your presence and understood. You, among yourselves, will discuss what will be read and declared in the said language, and see if it agrees with the truth as you know it, and that you may feel a stronger obligation to say what you know, it is ordered that you take an oath." The said Indians replied that they had understood why they had been sent for, and what it was that was required. They then swore, in the said language, by God our Lord, and by the sign of the cross, that they would tell the truth concerning what they knew of that history. The oaths being taken the reading was commenced in sum and substance. There was read on that and following days from their fable of the creation to the end of the history of the Incas. As it was read, so it was interpreted into their language, chapter by chapter. And over each chapter the Indians discussed and conferred among themselves in the said language. All were agreed in confirming and declaring through the interpreter, that the said history was good and true, and in agreement with what they knew and had heard their fathers and ancestors say, as it had been told to them. For, as they have no writing like the Spaniards, they conserve ancient traditions among themselves by passing them from tongue to tongue, and age to age. They heard their fathers and ancestors say that Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui, the ninth Inca, had verified the history of the former Incas who were before him, and painted their deeds on boards, whence also they had been able to learn the sayings of their fathers, and had passed them on to their children. They only amended some names of persons and places and made other slight corrections, which the said Alcalde ordered to be inserted as the Indians had spoken, and this was done. After the said corrections all the Indians, with one accord, said that the history was good and true, in conformity with what they knew and had heard from their ancestors, for they had conferred and discussed among themselves, verifying from beginning to end. They expressed their belief that no other history that might be written could be so authentic and true as this one, because none could have so diligent an examination, from those who are able to state the truth. The said Alcalde signed The Doctor Loarte Gonzalo Gomez Ximenes Before me Alvaro Ruiz de Navamuel. After the above, in the said city of Cuzco, on the 2nd of March of the same year, his Excellency having seen the declaration of the Indians and the affidavits that were made on them, said that he ordered and orders that, with the corrections the said Indians stated should be made, the history should be sent to his Majesty, signed and authenticated by me the said Secretary. It was approved and signed by the said Doctor Gabriel de Loarte who was present at the verification with the Indians, and then taken and signed Don Francisco de Toledo Before Alvaro Ruiz de Navamuel I the said Alvaro Ruiz de Navamuel, Secretary to his Excellency, of the Government, and to the general visitation of these kingdoms, notary to his Majesty, certify that the said testimony and verification was taken before me, and is taken from the original which remains in my possession, and that the said Alcalde, the Doctor Loarte, who signed, said that he placed and interposed upon it his authority and judicial decree, that it may be valued and accepted within his jurisdiction and beyond it. I here made my sign in testimony of the truth Alvaro Ruiz de Navamuel [Illustration: _Facsimile (reduced) of the_ SIGNATURES OF THE ATTESTING WITNESSES TO THE SARMIENTO MS. 1572. _From the original, Göttingen University Library. Reproduced and printed for the Hakluyt Society by Donald Macbeth_.] 
21066	----	Harry Escombe A Tale of Adventure in Peru By Harry Collingwood ________________________________________________________________________ Harry Escombe is a young apprentice in a civil engineer's office. The firm has received a contract to survey and built a railway line in Peru. Harry is chosen to go, and is informed that if he does well in the work the future for him is pretty bright. But there is a fly in the ointment. The man in charge of the project is about as nasty as anyone can be: his character is beautifully depicted throughout the book. He makes Harry do a piece of surveying in an unnecessarily dangerous manner, as a result of which he falls down a precipice from which he cannot be rescued, and is therefore written off as dead. But he was indeed rescued. He was taken to a house where he remained in a coma for some time. Then he is thought to be a re-incarnation of The Inca, and taken by Indians to their own city, where he is worshipped as a god. This could be quite embarrassing if you found yourself in this situation, as you'd be unable to perform miracles, and do the things a deity might be expected to do. However, Harry managed rather well. But eventually he manages to escape from the situation, and to return to his home in England. ________________________________________________________________________ HARRY ESCOMBE A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN PERU BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD CHAPTER ONE. HOW THE ADVENTURE ORIGINATED. The hour was noon, the month chill October; and the occupants--a round dozen in number--of Sir Philip Swinburne's drawing office were more or less busily pursuing their vocation of preparing drawings and tracings, taking out quantities, preparing estimates, and, in short, executing the several duties of a civil engineers' draughtsman as well as they could in a temperature of 35° Fahrenheit, and in an atmosphere surcharged with smoke from a flue that refused to draw--when the door communicating with the chief draughtsman's room opened and the head of Mr Richards, the occupant of that apartment, protruded through the aperture. At the sound of the opening door the draughtsmen, who were acquainted with Mr Richards's ways, glanced up with one accord from their work, and the eye of one of them was promptly caught by Mr Richards, who, raising a beckoning finger, remarked: "Escombe, I want you," and immediately retired. Thereupon Escombe, the individual addressed, carefully wiped his drawing pen upon a duster, methodically laid the instrument in its proper place in the instrument case, closed the latter, and, descending from his high stool, made his way into the chief draughtsman's room, closing the door behind him. He did this with some little trepidation; for these private interviews with his chief were more often than not of a distinctly unpleasant character, having reference to some stupid blunder in a calculation, some oversight in the preparation of a drawing, or something of a similar nature calling for sharp rebuke; and as the lad-- he was but seventeen--accomplished the short journey from one room to the other he rapidly reviewed his most recent work, and endeavoured to decide in which job he was most likely to have made a mistake. But before he could arrive at a decision on this point he was in the presence of Mr Richards, and a single glance at the chief draughtsman's face--now that it could be seen clearly and unveiled by a pall of smoke--sufficed to assure Harry Escombe that in this case at least he had nothing in the nature of censure to fear. For Mr Richards's face was beaming with satisfaction, and a large atlas lay open upon the desk at which he stood. "Sit down, Escombe," remarked the dreaded potentate as he pointed to a chair. Escombe seated himself; and then ensued a silence of a full minute's duration. The potentate seemed to be meditating how to begin. At length-- "How long have you been with us, Escombe?" he enquired, hoisting himself onto a stool as he put the question. "A little over two years," answered Escombe. "I signed my articles with Sir Philip on the first of September the year before last, and came on duty the next day." "Two years!" ejaculated Mr Richards. "I did not think it had been so long as that. But time flies when one is busy, and we have done a lot of work during the last two years. Then you have only another year of pupilage to serve, eh, Escombe?" "Only one year more, Mr Richards," answered the lad. "Ah!" commented Mr Richards, and paused again, characteristically. "Look here, Escombe," he resumed; "you have done very well since you came here; Sir Philip is very pleased with you, and so am I. I have had my eye on you, and have seen that you have been studying hard and doing your best to perfect yourself in all the details of your profession. So far as theory goes you are pretty well advanced. What you need now is practical, out-of-door work, and," laying his hand upon the open atlas, "I have got a job here that I think will just suit you. It is in Peru. Do you happen to know anything of Peru?" Escombe confessed that his knowledge of Peru was strictly confined to what he had learned about that interesting country at school. "It is the same with me," admitted Mr Richards. "All I know about Peru is that it is a very mountainous country, which is the reason, I suppose, why there is considerably less than a thousand miles of railway throughout the length and breadth of it. And what there is is made up principally of short bits scattered about here and there. But there is some talk of altering all that now, and matters have gone so far that Sir Philip has been commissioned to prepare a scheme for constructing a railway from a place called Palpa--which is already connected with Lima and Callao--to Salinas, which is connected with Huacho, and from Huacho to Cochamarca and thence to a place called Cerro de Pasco, which in its turn is connected with Nanucaca; and from Nanucaca along the shore of Lake Chinchaycocha to Ayacucho, Cuzco, and Santa Rosa, which last is connected by rail with Mollendo, on the coast. There is also another scheme afoot which will involve the taking of a complete set of soundings over the length and breadth of Lake Titicaca. Now, all this means a lot of very important and careful survey work which I reckon will take the best part of two years to accomplish. Sir Philip has decided to entrust the work to Mr Butler, who has already done a great deal of survey work for him, as of course you know; but Mr Butler will need an assistant, and Sir Philip, after consultation with me, has decided to offer that post to you. It will be a splendid opportunity for you to acquire experience in a branch of your profession that you know very little of, as yet; and if the scheme should be carried out, you, in consequence of the familiarity with the country which you will have acquired, will stand an excellent chance of obtaining a good post on the job. Now, what do you say, Escombe; are you willing to go? Your pay during the survey will be a guinea a day--seven days a week-- beginning on the day you sail from England and ending on the day of your return; first-class passage out and home; all expenses paid; twenty-five pounds allowed for a special outfit; and everything in the shape of surveying instruments and other necessaries, found. After your return you will of course be retained in the office to work out the scheme, at a salary to be agreed upon, which will to a great extent depend upon the way in which you work upon the survey; while, in the event of the scheme being carried out, you will, as I say, doubtless get a good post on the engineering staff, at a salary that will certainly not be less than your pay during the survey, and may possibly be a good deal more." Young Escombe's heart leapt within him, for here was indeed a rosy prospect suddenly opening out before him, a prospect which promised to put an abrupt and permanent end to certain sordid embarrassments that of late had been causing his poor widowed mother a vast amount of anxiety and trouble, and sowing her beloved head with many premature white hairs. For Harry's father had died about four months before this story opens, leaving his affairs in a condition of such hopeless disorder that the family lawyer had only just succeeded in disentangling them, with the result that the widow had found herself left almost penniless, with no apparent resource but to allow her daughter Lucy to go out into a cold, unsympathetic world to earn her own living and face the many perils that lurk in the path of a young, lovely, innocent, and unprotected girl. But here was a way out of all their difficulties; for, as Harry rapidly bethought himself, if all his expenses were to be paid while engaged upon the survey, he could arrange for at least three hundred pounds of his yearly salary to be paid to his mother at home, which, with economy and what little she had already, would suffice to enable her and Lucy to live in their present modest home, free from actual want. There was but one fly in his ointment, one disturbing item in the alluring programme which Mr Richards had sketched out, and that was Mr Butler, the man who was to be Escombe's superior during the execution of the survey. This man was well known to the occupants of Sir Philip Swinburne's drawing office as a most tyrannical, overbearing man, with an arrogance of speech and offensiveness of manner and a faculty for finding fault that rendered it absolutely impossible to work amicably with him, and at the same time retain one's self respect. Moreover, it was asserted that if there were two equally efficient methods of accomplishing a certain task, he would invariably insist upon the adoption of that method which involved the greatest amount of difficulty, discomfort, and danger, and then calmly sit down in safety and comfort to see it done. Mr Richards had said that Escombe would, upon his return to England, be retained in the office to work out the scheme, at a salary the amount of which would "to a great extent depend upon the way in which he worked on the survey"; and it seemed to Harry that Sir Philip's estimate of the way in which he worked on the survey would be almost entirely based upon Mr Butler's report. Now it was known that, in addition to possessing the unenviable attributes already mentioned, Butler was a most vindictive man, cherishing an undying enmity against all who had ever presumed to thwart or offend him, and he seemed to be one of those unfortunately constituted individuals whom it was impossible to avoid offending. It is therefore not to be wondered at if Escombe hesitated a moment before accepting Mr Richards's offer. "Well, Escombe, what do you say?" enquired the chief draughtsman, after a somewhat lengthy pause. "You do not seem to be very keen upon availing yourself of the opportunity that I am offering you. Is it the climate that you are afraid of? I am told that Peru is a perfectly healthy country." "No, Mr Richards," answered Escombe. "I am not thinking of the climate; it is Mr Butler that is troubling me. You must be fully aware of the reputation which he holds in the office as a man with whom it is absolutely impossible to work amicably. There is Munro, who helped him in that Scottish survey, declares that nothing would induce him to again put himself in Mr Butler's power; and you will remember what a shocking report Mr Butler gave of Munro's behaviour during the survey. Yet the rest of us have found Munro to be invariably most good natured and obliging in every way. Then there was Fielding--and Pierson--and Marshall--" "Yes, I know," interrupted Mr Richards rather impatiently. "I have never been able to rightly understand those affairs, or to make up my mind which was in the wrong. It may be that there were faults on both sides. But, be that as it may, Mr Butler is a first-rate surveyor; we have always found his work to be absolutely accurate and reliable; and Sir Philip has given him this survey to do; so it is too late for us to draw back now, even if Sir Philip would, which I do not think in the least likely. So, if you do not feel inclined to take on the job--" "No; please do not mistake my hesitation," interrupted Escombe. "I will take the post, most gratefully, and do my best in it; only, if Mr Butler should give in an unfavourable report of me when all is over, I should like you to remember that he has done the same with everybody else who has gone out under him; and please do not take it for granted, without enquiry, that his report is perfectly just and unbiased." This was a rather bold thing for a youngster of Escombe's years to say in relation to a man old enough to be his father; but Mr Richards passed it over--possibly he knew rather more about those past episodes than he cared to admit--merely saying: "Very well, then; I dare say that will be all right. Now you had better go to Mitford and draw the money for your special outfit; also get from him a list of what you will require; and to-morrow you can take the necessary time to give your orders before coming to the office. But you must be careful to make sure that everything is supplied in good time, for you sail for Callao this day three weeks." The enthusiasm which caused Escombe's eyes to shine and his cheek to glow as he strode up the short garden path to the door of the trim little villa in West Hill, Sydenham, that night, was rather damped by the reception accorded by his mother and sister to the glorious news which he began to communicate before even he had stepped off the doormat. Where the lad saw only an immediate increase of pay that would suffice to solve the problem of the family's domestic embarrassments, two years of assured employment, with a brilliant prospect beyond, a long spell of outdoor life in a perfect climate and in a most interesting and romantic country, during which he would be perfecting himself in a very important branch of his profession, and, lastly, the possibility of much exciting adventure, Mrs Escombe and Lucy discerned a long sea voyage, with its countless possibilities of disaster, two years of separation from the being who was dearer to them than all else, the threat of strange and terrible attacks of sickness, and perils innumerable from wild beasts, venomous reptiles and insects, trackless forests, precipitous mountain paths, fathomless abysses, swift-rushing torrents, fierce tropical storms, earthquakes, and, worse than all else, ferocious and bloodthirsty savages! What was money and the freedom from care and anxiety which its possession ensured, compared with all the awful dangers which their darling must brave in order to win it? These two gently nurtured women felt that they would infinitely rather beg their bread in the streets than suffer their beloved Harry to go forth, carrying his life in his hands, in order that they might be comfortably housed and clothed and sufficiently fed! And indeed the picture which they drew was sufficiently alarming to have daunted a lad of nervous and timid temperament, and perhaps have turned him from his purpose. But Harry Escombe was a youth of very different mould, and was built of much sterner stuff. There was nothing of the milksop about him, and the dangers of which his mother and sister spoke so eloquently had no terrors for him, but, on the contrary, constituted a positive and very powerful attraction; besides, as he pointed out to his companions, he would not always be clinging to the face of a precipice, or endeavouring to cross an impassable mountain torrent. Storms did not rage incessantly in Peru, any more than they did elsewhere; Mr Richards had assured him that the climate was healthy; ferocious animals and deadly reptiles did not usually attack a man unless they were interfered with; and reference to an Encyclopaedia disclosed the fact that Peru, so far from swarming with untamed savages, was a country enjoying a very fair measure of civilisation. Talking thus, making light of such dangers as he would actually have to face, and dwelling very strongly upon the splendid opening which the offer afforded him, the lad gradually brought his mother and sister into a more reasonable frame of mind, until at length, by the time that the bedroom candles made their appearance, the two women, knowing how completely Harry had set his heart upon going, and recognising also the strength of his contention as to the advantageous character of the opening afforded him by Mr Richards's proposal, had become so far reconciled to the prospect of the separation that they were able to speak of it calmly and to conceal the heartache from which both were suffering. So on the following morning Mrs Escombe and Lucy were enabled to sally forth with cheerful countenance and more or less sprightly conversation as they accompanied the lad to town to assist him in the purchase of his special outfit, the larger portion of which was delivered at The Limes that same evening, and at once unpacked for the purpose of being legibly marked and having all buttons securely sewn on by two pairs of loving hands. The following three weeks sped like a dream, so far as the individual chiefly interested was concerned; during the day he was kept continually busy by Mr Butler in the preparation of lists of the several instruments, articles, and things--from theodolites, levels, measuring chains, steel tapes, ranging rods, wire lines, sounding chains, drawing and tracing paper, cases of instruments, colour boxes, T-squares, steel straight-edges, and drawing pins, to tents, camp furniture, and saddlery--and procuring the same. The evenings were spent in packing and re-packing his kit as the several articles comprising it came to hand, diversified by little farewell parties given in his honour by the large circle of friends with whom the Escombes had become acquainted since their arrival and settlement in Sydenham. At length the preparations were all complete; the official impedimenta--so to speak-- had all been collected at Sir Philip Swinburne's offices in Victoria Street, carefully packed in zinc-lined cases, and dispatched for shipment in the steamer which was to take the surveyors to South America. Escombe had sent on all his baggage to the ship in advance, and the morning came when he must say good-bye to the two who were dearest to him in all the world. They would fain have accompanied him to the docks and remained on board with him until the moment arrived for the steamer to haul out into the river and proceed upon her voyage; but young Escombe had once witnessed the departure of a liner from Southampton and had then beheld the long-drawn-out agony of the protracted leave taking, the twitching features, the sudden turnings aside to hide and wipe away the unbidden tear, the heroic but futile attempts at cheerful, light-hearted conversation, the false alarms when timid people rushed ashore, under the unfounded apprehension that they were about to be carried off across the seas, and the return to the ship to say goodbye yet once again when they found that their fears were groundless. He had seen all this, and was quite determined that his dear ones should not undergo such torture of waiting, he therefore so contrived that his good-bye was almost as brief and matter of fact as though he had been merely going up to Westminster for the day, instead of to Peru for two years. Taking the train for London Bridge, he made his way thence to Fenchurch Street and so to Blackwall, arriving on board the s.s. _Rimac_ with a good hour to spare. But, early as he was, he found that not only had Mr Butler arrived on board before him, but also that that impatient individual had already worked himself into a perfect frenzy of irritation lest he--Harry-- should allow the steamer to leave without him. "Look here, Escombe," he fumed, "this sort of thing won't do at all, you know. I most distinctly ordered you to be on board in good time this morning. I have been searching for you all over the ship; and now, at a quarter to eleven o'clock, you come sauntering on board with as much deliberation as though you had days to spare. What do you mean by being so late, eh?" "Really, Mr Butler," answered Harry, "I am awfully sorry if I have put you out at all, but I thought that so long as I was on board in time to start with the ship it would be sufficient. As it is I am more than an hour to the good; for, as you are aware, the ship does not haul out of dock until midday. Have you been wanting me for anything in particular?" "No, I have not," snapped Butler. "But I was naturally anxious when I arrived on board and found that you were not here. If you had happened to miss the ship I should have been in a pretty pickle; for this Peruvian survey is far too big a job for me to tackle singlehanded." "Of course," agreed Escombe. "But you might have been quite certain that I would not have been so very foolish as to allow the ship to leave without me. I am far too anxious to avail myself of the opportunity which this survey will afford me, to risk the loss of it by being late. Is there anything that you want me to do, Mr Butler? Because, if not, I will go below and arrange matters in my cabin." "Very well," assented Butler ungraciously. "But, now that you are on board, don't you dare to leave the ship and go on shore again--upon any pretence whatever. Do you hear?" "You really need not feel the slightest apprehension, Mr Butler," replied Harry. "I have no intention or desire to go on shore again." And therewith he made his way to the saloon companion, and thence below to his sleeping cabin, his cheeks tingling with shame and anger at having been so hectored in public; for several passengers had been within earshot and had turned to look curiously at the pair upon hearing the sounds of Butler's high-pitched voice raised in anger. "My word," thought the lad, "our friend Butler is beginning early! If he is going to talk to me in that strain on the day of our departure, what will he be like when we are ready to return home? However, I am not going to allow him to exasperate me into forgetting myself, and so answering him as to give him an excuse for reporting me to Sir Philip for insolence or insubordination; there is too much depending upon this expedition for me to risk anything by losing my temper with him. I will be perfectly civil to him, and will do my duty to the very best of my ability, then nothing very serious can possibly happen." Upon entering his cabin Escombe was greatly gratified to learn from the steward that he was to be its sole occupant. He at once annexed the top berth, and proceeded to unpack the trunk containing the clothing and other matters that he would need during the voyage, arranged his books in the rack above the bunk, and then returned to the deck just in time to witness the operation of hauling out of dock. He found Butler pacing the deck in a state of extreme agitation. "Where have you been all this while?" demanded the man, halting abruptly, square in Escombe's path. "What do you mean by keeping out of my sight so long? Are you aware, sir, that I have spent nearly an hour at the gangway watching to see that you did not slink off ashore?" "Have you, really?" retorted Harry. "There was not the slightest need for you to do so, you know, Mr Butler, for I distinctly told you that I did not intend to go ashore again. Didn't I?" "Yes, you did," answered Butler. "But how was I to know that you would keep your word?" "I always keep my word, sir; as you will learn when we become better acquainted," answered the lad. "I hope so, for your sake," returned Butler. "But my experience of youngsters like yourself is that they are not to be trusted." Then, glancing round him and perceiving that several passengers in his immediate neighbourhood were regarding him with unconcealed amusement, he hastily retreated below. As he did so, a man who had been lounging over the rail close at hand, smoking a cigar as he watched the traffic upon the river, turned, and regarding Escombe with a good-natured smile, remarked: "Your friend seems to be a rather cantankerous chap, isn't he? He will have to take care of himself, and keep his temper under rather better control, or he will go crazy when we get into the hot weather. Is he often taken like that?" "I really don't know," answered Harry. "The fact is that I only made his acquaintance about three weeks ago; but I fear that he suffers a great deal from nervous irritability. It must be a very great affliction." "It is, both to himself and to others," remarked the stranger dryly. "I have met his sort before, and I find that the only way to deal with such people is to leave them very severely alone. He seems to be a bit of a bully, so far as I can make out, but he will have to mind his p's and q's while he is on board this ship, or he will be getting himself into hot water and finding things generally made very unpleasant for him. You are in his service, I suppose?" "Yes, in a way I am," answered Escombe with circumspection; "that is to say, we are both in the same service, but he is my superior." "I see," answered the stranger. "How far are you going in the ship?" "We are going to Callao," answered Harry. "To Peru, eh?" returned the stranger. "So am I. I know the country pretty well. I have lived in Lima for the last nine years, and I can tell you that when your friend gets among the Peruvians he will have to pull in his horns a good bit. They are rather a peppery lot, are the Peruvians, and if he attempts to talk to them as he has talked to you to-day, he will stand a very good chance of waking up some fine morning with a long knife between his ribs." "Oh, I hope it will not come to that!" exclaimed Escombe. "But--to leave the subject of my friend and his temper for the present--since you have lived in Peru so long, perhaps you can tell me something about the country, what it is like, what is the character of its climate, and so on. It is possible that I may have to spend a year or so in it. I should therefore be glad to learn something about it, and to get such tips as to the manner of living, and so on, as you can give me before we land." "Certainly," answered the stranger; "I shall be very pleased indeed to give you all the information that I possibly can, and I fancy there are very few people on board this ship who know more about Peru than I do." And therewith Escombe's new acquaintance proceeded to hold forth upon the good and the bad points of the country to which they were both bound, describing in very graphic language the extraordinary varieties of climate to be met with on a journey inland from the coast, the grandeur of its mountain scenery, the astonishing variety of its products, its interesting historical remains; the character of the aboriginal Indians, the beliefs they cherish, and the legends which have been preserved and handed down by them from father to son through many generations; the character and abundance of its mineral wealth, and a variety of other interesting information; so that by the time that Harry went down below to luncheon, he had already become possessed of the feeling that to him Peru was no longer a strange and unknown land. CHAPTER TWO. THE CHIEF OFFICER'S YARN. Upon entering the saloon and searching for his place, Harry found that, much to his satisfaction, he had been stationed at the second table, presided over by the chief officer of the ship--a very genial individual named O'Toole, hailing from the Emerald Isle--and between that important personage and his recently-made Peruvian acquaintance, whose name he now discovered to be John Firmin; while Mr Butler, it appeared, had contrived to get himself placed at the captain's table, which was understood to be occupied by the elite of the passengers. With the serving of the soup Escombe was given a small printed form, which he examined rather curiously, not quite understanding for the moment what it meant. Mr Firmin volunteered enlightenment. "That," he explained, "is an order form, upon which you write the particular kind of liquid refreshment--apart from pure water--with which you wish to be served. You fill it in and hand it to your own particular table steward, who brings you what you have ordered, and at the end of each week he presents you with the orders which you have issued, and you are expected to settle up in spot cash. Very simple, isn't it?" "Perfectly," agreed Harry. "But supposing that one does not wish to order anything, what then?" "You leave the order blank, that is all," answered Firmin. Then noticing that the lad pushed the form away, he asked: "Are you a teetotaler?" "By no means," answered Harry; "I sometimes take a glass of wine or beer, and very occasionally, when I happen to get wet through or am very cold, I take a little spirits; but plain or aerated water usually suffices for me." "I see," remarked Firmin. He remained silent for a few seconds, then turning again to Harry, he said: "I wonder if you would consider me very impertinent if, upon the strength of our extremely brief acquaintance, I were to offer you a piece of advice?" "Certainly not," answered Harry. "You are much older and more experienced than I, Mr Firmin, and have seen a great deal more of the world than I have; any advice, therefore, that you may be pleased to give me I shall be most grateful for, and will endeavour to profit by." "Very well, then," said Firmin, "I will risk it, for I have taken rather a fancy to you, and would willingly do you a good turn. The advice that I wish to give you is this. Make a point of eschewing everything in the nature of alcohol. Have absolutely nothing to do with it. You are young, strong, and evidently in the best of health; your system has therefore no need of anything having the character of a stimulant. Nay, I will go farther than that, and say that you will be very much better, morally and physically, without it; and even upon the occasions which you mention of getting wet or cold, a cup of scalding hot coffee, swallowed as hot as you can take it, will do you far more good than spirits. I am moved to say this to you, my young friend, because I have seen so many lads like you insensibly led into the habit of taking alcohol, and when once that habit is contracted it is more difficult than you would believe to break it off. I have known many promising young fellows who have made shipwreck of their lives simply because they have not possessed the courage and strength of mind to say `no' when they have been invited to take wine or spirits." "By the powers, Misther Firmin, ye niver spoke a thruer word in your life than that same," cut in the chief officer, who had been listening to what was said. "Whin I was a youngster of about Misther Escombe's age I nearly lost my life through the dhrink. I was an apprentice at the time aboard a fine, full-rigged iron clipper ship called the _Joan of Arc_. We were outward bound, from London to Sydney, full up with general cargo, and carried twenty-six passengers in the cuddy, and nearly forty emigrants in the 'tween decks. We had just picked up the north-east trades, blowing fresh, and the `old man', who was a rare hand at carrying on, and was eager to break the record, was driving her along to the south'ard under every rag that we could show to it, including such fancy fakements as skysails, ringtails, water-sails, and all the rest of it. It was a fine, clear, starlit night, with just the trade- clouds driving along overhead, but there was no moon, and consequently, when an exceptionally big patch of cloud came sweeping up, it fell a bit dark. Still, there was no danger--or ought to have been none--for we were well out of the regular track of the homeward-bounders, and in any case, with a proper look-out, it would have been possible to see another craft plenty early enough to give her a good wide berth. But after Jack has got as far south as we then were he is apt to get a bit careless in the matter of keeping a look-out--trusts rather too much to the officer of the watch aft, you know, and is not above snatching a cat-nap in the most comfortable corner he can find, instead of posting himself on the heel of the bowsprit, with his eyes skinned and searching the sea ahead of him. "Now, it happened--although none of us knew it until it was too late-- that our chief mate had rather too strong a liking for rum; not that he was exactly what you might call a drunkard, you know, but he kept a bottle in his cabin, and was in the habit of taking a nip just whenever he felt like it, especially at night time; and on this particular night that I'm talking about he must have taken a nip too many, for when he came on deck at midnight to keep the middle watch he hadn't been up above an hour before he coiled himself down in one of the passenger's deck-chairs and--went to sleep. Of course, under such circumstances as those of which I am speaking--the weather being fine and the wind steady, with no necessity to touch tack or sheet--the watch on deck don't make any pretence of keeping awake; they're on deck and at hand all ready for a call if they're needed, and that's as much as is expected of 'em at night time, since there's no work to be done; and the consequence was that all hands of us were sound asleep long before the mate; and there is no doubt that the look-out--who lost his life, poor chap! through his carelessness--fell asleep too. As to the man at the wheel, well he is not expected to steer the ship and keep a look-out at the same time, and, if he was, he couldn't do it, for his eyes soon grow so dazzled by the light of the binnacle lamps that he can see little or nothing except the illuminated compass card. "That, gentlemen, was the state of affairs aboard the _Joan of Arc_ on the night about which I'm telling ye; the skipper, the passengers, the second mate, and the watch below all in their bunks; and the rest of us, those who were on deck and ought to have been broad awake, almost if not quite as sound asleep as those who were below. I was down on the main deck, sitting on the planks, with my back propping up the front of the poop, my arms crossed, and my chin on my chest, dhreaming that I was back at school in dear old Dublin, when I was startled broad awake by a shock that sent me sprawling as far for'ard as the coaming of the after- hatch, to the accompaniment of the most awful crunching, ripping, and crashing sounds, as the _Joan_ sawed her way steadily into the vitals of the craft that we had struck. Then, amid the yelling of the awakened watch, accompanied by muffled shrieks and shouts from below, there arose a loud twang-twanging as the backstays and shrouds parted under the terrific strain suddenly thrown upon them, then an ear-splitting crash as the three masts went over the bows, and I found myself struggling and fighting to free myself from the raffle of the wrecked mizenmast. I felt very dazed and queer, and a bit sick, for I was dimly conscious of the fact that I had been struck on the head by something when the masts fell, and upon putting up my hand I found that my hair was wet with something warm that was soaking it and trickling down into my eyes and ears. Then I heard the voice of the `old man' yelling for the mate and the carpenter; and as I fought myself clear of the raffle I became aware of many voices frantically demanding to know what had happened, husbands calling for their wives, mothers screaming for their children, the sound of axes being desperately used to clear away the wreck, a sudden awful wail from somewhere ahead, and a rushing and hissing of water as the craft that we had struck foundered under our forefoot, and the skipper's voice again, cracked and hoarse, ordering the boats to be cleared away." O'Toole paused for a moment and gasped as if for breath; his soup lay neglected before him, his elbows were on the table, and his two hands locked together in a grip so tense that the knuckles shone white in the light that came streaming in through the scuttles in the ship's side, his eyes were glassy and staring into vacancy with an intensity of gaze which plainly showed that the whole dreadful scene was again unfolding itself before his mental vision, and the perspiration was streaming down his forehead and cheeks. Then the table steward came up, and, removing his soup, asked him whether he would take cold beef, ham-and-tongue, or roast chicken. The sound of the man's voice seemed to bring the dazed chief officer to himself again; he sighed heavily, and as though relieved to find himself where he was, considered for a moment, and, deciding in favour of cold beef, resumed his narrative. "The next thing that I can remember, gentlemen," he continued, "was that I was on the poop with the skipper, second and third mates, the carpenter, and a few others, lighting for our lives as we strove to keep back the frantic passengers and prevent them from interfering with the hands who were cutting the gripes and working furiously to sling the boats outboard. We carried four boats at the davits, two on each quarter, and those were all that were available, for the others were buried under the raffle and wreckage of the fallen masts, and it would have taken hours to clear them, with the probability that, when got at, they would have been found smashed to smithereens, while a blind man could have told by the feel of the ship that she was settling fast, and might sink under us at any moment. At last one of the boats was cleared and ready for lowering, and as many of the women and children as she would carry were bundled into her, the third mate, two able seamen, and myself being sent along with them by the skipper to take care of them. I would willingly have stayed behind, for there were other women and children--to say nothing of men passengers--to be saved, but I knew that a certain number of us Jacks must of necessity go in each boat to handle and navigate her, and there was no time to waste in arguing the matter; so in I tumbled, just as I was, and the next moment we were rising and falling in the water alongside, the tackle blocks were cleverly unhooked, and we out oars and shoved off, pulling to a safe distance and then lying on our oars to wait for the rest. "I shall never, to my dying day, forget the look of that ship as we pulled away from her. The _Joan_ had been as handsome a craft as ever left the stocks when we hauled out of dock at London some three weeks earlier; but now--her bows were crumpled in until she was as flat for'ard as the end of a sea-chest; her decks were lumbered high with the wreckage of her masts and spars; the standing and running rigging was hanging down over her sides in bights; and she had settled so low in the water that her channels were already buried; while her poop was crowded with madly struggling figures, from which arose a confused babel of sound--shouting, screaming, and cursing--than which I have never heard anything more awful in all my life. "When we had pulled off about fifty fathoms the third mate, who was in charge of the boat, ordered us to lie upon our oars; and presently we saw that the second quarter-boat was being lowered. She reached the water all right, and then we heard the voice of the second mate yelling to the hands on deck to let run the after tackle. The next moment, as the sinking ship rolled heavily to starboard, we saw the stern of the lowered boat lifted high out of the water, the bow dipped under, and in a second, as it seemed, she had swamped, and the whole load of people, some twenty in number, were struggling and drowning alongside as they strove ineffectually to scramble back into the swamped boat, which had now by some chance become released from the tackle that had held her. "For a moment we, in the boat that had got safely away, sat staring, dumb and paralysed with horror at the dreadful scene that was enacting before our eyes. But the next moment those of us who were at the oars started madly backing and pulling to swing the boat round and pull in to the help of the poor wretches who were perishing only a few fathoms away from us. We had hardly got the boat round, however, when Mr Gibson, the third mate, gave the order for us to hold water. "`We mustn't do it,' he said. `The boat is already loaded as deep as she will swim, and the weight of even one more person would suffice to swamp her! As it is, it will take us all our time, and tax our seamanship to the utmost, to keep her afloat; you can see for yourselves that it would be impossible for us to squeeze more than one additional person in among us, and, even if we had the room, we could not get that one in over the gunnel without swamping the craft. To attempt such a thing would therefore only be to throw away uselessly the lives of all of us; we must therefore stay where we are, and endure the awful sight as best we can--ah, there you have a hint of what will happen if we are not careful!'--as the boat, lying broadside-on to the sea, rolled heavily and shipped three or four bucketfuls of water--`pull, starboard, and get her round stem-on to the sea; and you, O'Toole, get hold of the baler and dish that water out of her.' "It was true, every word of it, as a child might have had sense to see. We could do absolutely nothing to help the poor wretches who were drowning there before our very eyes; and in a few minutes all was over, so far as they were concerned. Two or three men, I believe, managed to get back aboard the sinking ship by climbing up the davit tackles; but the rest quickly drowned--as likely as not because they clung to each other and pulled each other down. "But the plight of those aboard the _Joan_ was rapidly becoming desperate; and we could see that they knew it by observing the frantic efforts which they were making to get the other two boats into the water. We could distinctly hear the voice of the skipper rising from time to time above the clamour, urging the people to greater efforts, encouraging one, cautioning another, entreating the maddened passengers to keep back and give the crew room to work. Then, in the very midst of it all there came a dull boom as the decks blew up. We heard the loud hissing of the compressed air as it rushed out between the gaping deck planks; there arose just one awful wail--the sound of which will haunt me to my dying day--and with a long, sliding plunge the _Joan_ lurched forward and dived, bows first, to the bottom. "As for us, we could do nothing but just keep our boat head-on to the sea and let her drift, humouring and coaxing her as best we could when an extra heavy sea appeared bearing down upon us, and baling for dear life continuously to keep her free of the water that, in spite of us, persisted in slapping into her over the bows. The Canaries were the nearest bits of dry land to us, but Mr Jellicoe, the third mate, reckoned that they were a good hundred and fifty miles away, and dead to wind'ard; so it was useless for us to think of reaching them in a boat with her gunnels awash, and not a scrap of food or a drop of fresh water in her. The only thing that we could do was to exert our utmost endeavours to keep the craft afloat, and trust that Providence would send something along soon to pick us up. But--would you believe it?-- although we were right in the track of the outward-bound ships, and although we sighted nine sailing craft and three steamers, nothing came near enough to see us, lying low in the water as we were, until the ninth day, when we were picked up by a barque bound for Cape Town. But by that time, gentlemen, Mr Jellicoe, one seaman, and I were all that remained alive of the boatload that shoved off from the stricken _Joan of Arc_ on that fatal night. Don't ask me by what means we contrived to keep the life in us for so long a time, for I won't tell you. Thus you see that, of the complete complement of ninety-two persons who left London in the _Joan of Arc_, eighty-nine were drowned--to say nothing of those aboard the craft that we had run down--because the mate couldn't-- or wouldn't--control his love of drink. Since that day, gentlemen, coffee is the strongest beverage that has ever passed my lips." "I am delighted to hear it," remarked Firmin, "for observation has led me to the conviction that at least half the tragedies of human life have originated in the craving for intoxicants; and therefore,"--turning to Escombe--"I say again, my young friend, have absolutely nothing to do with them. I have no doubt that, ere you have been long in Peru, you will have made the discovery that it is a thirsty country; but, apart of course from pure water, there is nothing better for quenching one's thirst than fresh, sound, perfectly ripe fruit, failing which, tea, hot or cold--the latter for preference--without milk, and with but a small quantity of sugar, will be found hard to beat. Now, if you are anxious for hints, there is one of absolutely priceless value for you; but I present it you free, gratis, and for nothing." "Thanks very much!" returned Harry. "I will bear it in mind and act upon it. No more intoxicants for me, thank you. Mr O'Toole, accept my thanks for telling us that terrible story of your shipwreck. It has brought home to me, as nothing else has ever done, the awful danger of tampering with so insidious an enemy as alcohol, which I now solemnly abjure for ever." Meanwhile, at the captain's table, Mr Butler was expressing his opinion upon various subjects in loud, strident tones, and with a disputatiousness of manner that caused most of those about him mentally to dub him a blatant cad, and to resolve that they would have as little as possible to do with him. One afternoon, when the _Rimac_ had reached the other side of the Atlantic, Butler called Harry into the cabin of the former and said: "I understand that we shall be at Montevideo the day after to-morrow. Now I want you to understand that I shall expect you not to go on shore either at Montevideo or either of the other places that the _Rimac_ will be stopping at. She will only remain at anchor at any of these places for a few hours; and if you were to go on shore it would be the easiest thing in the world for you to get lost and to miss your passage; therefore in order to obviate any such possibility I have decided not to allow you to leave the ship. Do you understand?" "Yes," answered Escombe, "I understand perfectly, Mr Butler, what you mean. But I certainly do not understand by what authority you attempt to interfere with my personal liberty to the extent of forbidding me to go on shore for a few hours when the opportunity presents itself. I agreed with Sir Philip Swinburne to accompany you to Peru as your assistant upon the survey which he has engaged you to make; and from the moment when that survey commences I will render you all the obedience and deference due to you as my superior, and will serve you to the best of my ability. But it was no part of my contract that I should surrender my liberty to you during the outward and homeward voyage; and when it comes to your forbidding me to leave the ship until our arrival at Callao, you must permit me to say that I feel under no obligation to defer to your wishes. And, quite apart from that, I may as well tell you that I have already accepted an invitation to accompany Mr and Mrs Westwood and a party ashore at Montevideo, and I see no reason why I should withdraw my acceptance." "W-h-a-t!" screamed Butler; "do I understand that you are daring to disobey and defy me?" "Certainly not, sir," answered Harry, "because, as I understand it, disobedience and defiance are impossible where no authority exists; and I beg to remind you that your authority over me begins only upon our arrival at Callao. Yet, purely as a matter of courtesy, I am of course not only prepared but perfectly willing to show all due deference to such reasonable wishes as you may choose to express. But I reserve to myself the right of determining where the line shall be drawn." "Very well, sir," stuttered Butler, "I am glad to learn thus early what sort of behaviour I may expect from you. I shall write home at once to Sir Philip, reporting to him what has passed between us, and requesting him to send me out someone to take your place--someone who can be depended upon to render me implicit obedience at all times." And therewith he whirled about and marched off to his own cabin, where, with the heat of his anger still upon him, he sat down and penned to Sir Philip Swinburne a very strong letter of complaint of what he was pleased to term young Escombe's "insolently insubordinate language and behaviour". As for Harry, Butler's threat to report him to Sir Philip furnished him with a very valuable hint as to the wisest thing to do under the circumstances, and he too lost no time in addressing an epistle to Sir Philip, giving his own version of the affair. Thenceforward Butler pointedly ignored young Escombe's existence for the remainder of the voyage; but by doing so he only made matters still more unpleasant for himself, for his altercation with Harry had been overheard by certain of the passengers, and by them repeated to the rest, with the final result that Butler was promptly consigned to Coventry, and left there by the whole of the saloon passengers. Harry duly went ashore with his friends at Montevideo and--having first posted his letter to Sir Philip and another to his mother and sister-- went out with them by train to Bellavista, where they all enjoyed vastly the little change from the monotony of life at sea, returning in the nick of time to witness a violent altercation between Butler and the boatman who brought him off from the shore. Also Harry went ashore for an hour or two at Punta Arenas, in the Straits of Magellan; and again at Valparaiso and Arica; finally arriving at Callao something over a month from the day upon which he sailed from London. CHAPTER THREE. BUTLER THE TYRANT. At this point Escombe acknowledged himself to be legitimately under Butler's rule and dominion, to obey unquestioningly all the latter's orders, to go where bidden and to do whatever he might be told, even as did the soldiers of the Roman centurion; and Butler soon made him understand and feel that there was a heavy score to be wiped off--a big wound in the elder man's self esteem to be healed. There were a thousand ways now in which Butler was able to make his power and authority over Harry felt; he was careful not to miss a single opportunity, and he spared the lad in nothing. He would not even permit Harry to land until the latter had personally supervised the disembarkation of every item of their somewhat extensive baggage; and when this was at length done he insisted that Escombe should in like manner oversee the loading of them into a railway wagon for Lima, make the journey thither in the same truck with them--ostensibly to ensure that nothing was stolen on the way--and finally, upon their arrival in Lima, he compelled Harry to remain by the truck and mount guard over it until it was coupled to the train for Palpa, and then to proceed to that town in the same truck without seeing anything more of the capital city than could be seen from the station yard. Then, again, at Palpa he insisted that Harry should remain by the truck and supervise the unloading of the baggage and its transference to a lock-up store, giving the lad to understand that he would be held responsible for any loss or damage that might occur during the operation; so that by the time that all this was done poor Escombe was more dead than alive, so utterly exhausted was he from long exposure to the enervating heat, and lack of proper food. But Harry breathed no word of expostulation or complaint. He regarded everything that he now did as in the way of duty and merely as somewhat unpleasant incidents in the execution of the great task that lay before him, and he was content, if not quite as happy and comfortable as he might have been under a more congenial and considerate leader. Besides, he was learning something every minute of the day, learning how to do things and also how not to do them, for he very quickly recognised that although Butler might possibly be an excellent surveyor, he was but a very poor hand at organisation. Then, too, Butler had characteristically neglected the acquisition of any foreign language, consequently they had no sooner arrived at Palpa than he found himself absolutely dependent upon Harry's knowledge of Spanish; and this advantage on Escombe's part served in a great measure to place the two upon a somewhat more equal footing, and gradually to suppress those acts of petty tyranny which Butler had at first evinced a disposition to indulge in. Palpa was the place at which their labours were to begin, and here it became necessary for them to engage a complete staff of assistants, comprising tent bearers, grooms, bush cutters, porters, cooks, and all the other attendants needed for their comfort and convenience during a long spell of camp life in a tropical climate, and in a country where civilisation is still elementary except in the more important centres. Luckily for them, the first section of their work comprised only a stretch of a little more than thirty miles of tolerably flat country, where no serious natural difficulties presented themselves, and that part of their work was soon accomplished. Yet Escombe found even this trifling bit of the great task before him sufficiently arduous; for Butler not only demanded that he should be up and at work in the open at daybreak, and that he should continue at work so long as daylight lasted, but that, when survey work was no longer possible because of the darkness, the lad should "plot" his day's work on paper before retiring to rest. Thus it was generally close upon midnight before Escombe was at liberty to retire to his camp bed and seek his hard-earned and much- needed rest. But it was when they got upon the second section of their work--between Huacho, Cochamarca, and Cerro de Pasco--that their real troubles and difficulties began, for here they had to find a practicable route up the face of the Western Cordillera in the first instance, and, having found it, to measure with the nicest accuracy not only the horizontal distances but the height of every rise and the depth of every declivity in the face of a country made up to a great extent of lofty precipices and fathomless ravines, the whole overgrown with dense vegetation through which survey lines had to be cut at enormous expense of time and labour. And here it was that Butler's almost fiendish malice and ingenuity in the art of making things unpleasant for other people shone forth conspicuously. It was his habit to ride forth every morning accompanied by a strong band of attendants armed with axes and machetes, and well provided with ropes to assist in the scaling of precipitous slopes, for the purpose of selecting and marking out the day's route, a task which could usually be accomplished in a couple of hours; and then to return and supervise the work of his subordinate, which he made as difficult and arduous as possible by insisting upon the securing of a vast amount of superfluous and wholly unnecessary information, in the obtaining of which Harry was obliged to risk his life at least a dozen times a day. Yet the lad never complained; indeed he could not have done so even had he been so disposed, for it was for Butler to determine what amount of information and of what nature was necessary for the proper execution of the survey; but Escombe began to understand now the means by which his superior had acquired the reputation of an accomplished surveyor. It is easy for a man in authority to stand or sit in safety and command another to perform a difficult task at the peril of his life! And if Butler was tyrannically exacting in his treatment of Harry, he was still more so toward the unfortunate peons in his service, and especially those whom he detailed to accompany him daily to assist in the task of selecting and marking out the route of the survey line. These people knew no language but their own, and since Harry was always engaged elsewhere with theodolite, level, and chain, and was, therefore, not available to play the part of interpreter, it became necessary for Butler to secure the services of a man who understood enough English to translate his orders into the vernacular; and because this unfortunate fellow was necessarily always at Butler's elbow, he became the scapegoat upon whose unhappy head the sins and shortcomings of the others were visited in the form of perpetual virulent abuse, until the man's life positively became a burden to him, to such an extent, indeed, that he would undoubtedly have deserted but for the fact that Butler, suspecting his inclination perhaps, positively refused to pay him a farthing of wages until the conclusion of his engagement. It can easily be understood, therefore, that, under the circumstances described, an element of tragedy was steadily developing in the survey camp. But although the overbearing and exacting behaviour of the chief of the expedition was thus making matters particularly unpleasant for everybody concerned, nothing of a really serious character occurred until the second section of the survey had been in progress for a little over two months, by which time the party had penetrated well into the mountain fastnesses, and were beginning to encounter some of the more formidable difficulties of their task. Butler was still limiting his share of the work to the mere marking out of the route, leaving Harry to perform the whole of the actual labour of the survey under his watchful eye, and stirring neither hand nor foot to assist the young fellow, although the occasions were frequent when, had he chosen to give a few minutes' assistance at the theodolite or level, such help would have saved young Escombe some hours of arduous labour, and thus expedited the survey. Now, it happened that a certain day's work terminated at the edge of a _quebrada_, and Butler informed Harry that the first task of the latter, upon the following morning, would be to take a complete set of accurate measurements of this _quebrada_, before pushing on with the survey of the route. A _quebrada_, it may be explained, is a sort of rent or chasm in the mountain, usually with vertical, or at least precipitous sides, and very frequently of terrific depth, the impression suggested by its appearance being that at some period of the earth's history the solid rock of the mountain had been riven asunder by some titanic force. Sometimes a _quebrada_ is several hundreds of feet in width, and of a depth so appalling as to unnerve the most hardy mountaineer. The _quebrada_ in question, however, was of comparatively insignificant dimensions, being only about forty feet wide at the point where the survey line crossed it, and some four hundred feet deep. Now, although Harry was only an articled pupil, he knew quite enough about railway engineering to be perfectly well aware that the elaborate measurements which Butler had instructed him to take were absolutely unnecessary, the accurate determination of the width at the top--where a bridge would eventually have to be thrown across--being all that was really required. Yet he made no demur, for he had already seen that it would be possible to take as many measurements as might be required, with absolute accuracy and ease, by the execution of about a quarter of an hour's preliminary surveying. But when, on the following morning, he commenced this bit of preliminary work, Butler rushed out of his tent and interrupted him. "What are you doing?" he harshly demanded. "Have you forgotten that I ordered you to measure very carefully the _quebrada_ this morning, before doing anything else?" "No, sir," answered Harry, "I have not forgotten. I am doing it now, or, rather, doing the necessary preliminary work." "Doing the necessary preliminary work?" echoed Butler. "What do you mean? I don't understand you." "Then permit me to explain," said Harry suavely. "I have ascertained that, by placing the theodolite over that peg yonder,"--pointing to a newly driven peg some four hundred feet away to the left--"I shall be able to get an uninterrupted view of the _quebrada_ from top to bottom, and, by taking a series of vertical and horizontal angles from the top edge, can measure the contour of the two sides, at the point crossed by the survey line, with the nicest accuracy." "How do you mean?" demanded Butler. Harry proceeded to elaborate his explanation, patiently describing each step of the intended operation, and making it perfectly clear that the elaborate series of unnecessary measurements demanded could be secured with the most beautiful precision. "But," objected Butler, "when you have taken all those angles you will have done only part of the work; you will still have to calculate the length of the vertical and horizontal lines subtended by them--" "A matter of about half an hour's work!" interjected Harry. "Possibly," agreed Butler. "But," he continued, "I do not like your plan at all; I do not approve of it; it is amateurish and theoretical, and I won't have it. A much simpler and more practical way will be for you to go down the _quebrada_ at the end of a rope, measuring as you go." "That is one way certainly," assented Harry; "but, with all submission, Mr Butler, I venture to think that it will not be nearly so accurate as mine. Besides, consider the danger. If the rope should happen to be cut in its passage over the sharp edge of that rock--" "Look here," interrupted Butler, "if you are afraid, you had better say so, and I will do the work myself. But I should like you to understand that timid people are of no use to me." The taunt was unjust, for Harry was not afraid; but he was convinced that his own plan was far and away the more expeditious and the more accurate, also it involved absolutely no danger at all; while it was patent to even the dullest comprehension that there was a distinct element of danger attaching to the other, inasmuch as that if anything should happen to the rope, the person suspended by it must inevitably be precipitated to the bottom, where a mountain stream roared as it leaped and boiled and foamed over a bed of enormous boulders. Had Escombe been ten years older than he actually was he would probably not have hesitated--while disclaiming anything in the nature of cowardice--to express very strongly the opinion that where there were two methods of executing a certain task, one of them perfectly safe, and the other seriously imperilling a human life, it was the imperative duty of the person with whom the decision rested to select the safer method of the two, particularly when that method offered equally satisfactory results with the other. But, being merely a lad, and as yet scarcely certain of himself, remembering also that his future prospects were absolutely at Butler's mercy, to make or mar as he pleased, Harry contented himself with a disclaimer of any such feeling as fear, and expressed his readiness to perform the task in any manner which Butler might choose to approve. At the same time he confessed his inability to understand precisely how the required measurements were to be taken, and requested instructions. "Why," explained Butler impatiently, "the thing is surely simple enough for a baby to understand. You will be lowered over the cliff edge and let down the cliff face exactly five feet at a time. As it happens to be absolutely calm, the rope by which you are to be lowered will hang accurately plumb; all that you will have to do, therefore, will be to measure the distance from your rope to the face of the rock, at every five feet of drop, and you will then have the particulars necessary to plot a contour of the cliff face, from top to bottom. You will do this on both sides of the _quebrada_, and then measure the width across at the top, which will enable us to produce a perfectly correct section of the gorge." "But how am I to measure the distance from the rope to the cliff face?" demanded Harry. "For, as you will have observed, sir, the rock overhangs at the top, and the gorge widens considerably as it descends." "You can do your measuring with a ranging-rod," answered Butler tersely; "and if one is not long enough, tie two together." "Even so," persisted Harry, "I fear I shall not be able to manage--" "Will you, or will you not, do as you are told?" snapped Butler. "If you cannot manage with two rods, I will devise some other plan." "Very well, sir," said Harry. "If you are quite determined to send me over the cliff, I am ready to go. What rope is it your pleasure that I shall use?" "Take the tent ropes," ordered Butler. "You will have an ample quantity if you join them all together. Make a seat for yourself in the end, and then mark off the rest of the rope into five-foot lengths, so that we may know exactly how much to pay out between the measurements. Then lash two ranging-rods together, and you will find that you will manage splendidly." Harry had his doubts, for to his own mind the tent ropes seemed none too strong for such a purpose. Moreover, the clips upon them would render the paying out over the cliff edge exceedingly awkward; still, since it seemed that the choice lay between risking his life and ruining his professional prospects, he chose the former, and set about making his preparations for what he could not help regarding as a distinctly hazardous experiment. These did not occupy him very long, and in about twenty minutes he was standing at the cliff edge, with a padded bight of the rope about his body, and the two joined ranging-rods in his hand, quite ready to be lowered down the face. Then two peons whom he had specially selected for the task, drew in the slack of the rope, passed a complete turn of it round an iron bar driven deep into a rock crevice, and waited for the command of a third who now laid himself prone on the ground, with his head projecting over the edge of the cliff, to watch and regulate the descent. Then Harry, fully realising, perhaps for the first time, the perilous nature of the enterprise, laid himself down and carefully lowered himself over the rocky edge. "Lower gently, brothers!" ordered the man who was supervising the operation, and the rope was carefully eased away until the first five- foot mark reached the cliff edge, while Butler, who now also began at last to recognise and appreciate the ghastly peril to which his obstinacy had consigned a fellow creature, moved off to a point about a hundred yards distant, from which he could watch the entire descent. And he no sooner reached it than he perceived that Harry's objections to the plan were well grounded, and that, even with the two joined rods, it would be impossible for the lad to take the required measurements over more than the first quarter of the depth. This being the case, it was obviously his duty at once to put a stop to so dangerous an attempt, especially as he knew perfectly well that it was as unnecessary as it was dangerous; but to do this would have been tantamount to confessing that he had made a mistake, and this his nature was too mean and petty to permit, so he simply sat down and watched in an ever-growing fever of anxiety lest anything untoward should happen for which he could be blamed. Meanwhile, at the very first stoppage, Harry began to experience some of the difficulties that beset him in the task which he had undertaken. Despite the utmost care in lowering, the rope would persist in oscillating, very gently, it is true, but still sufficient to render it necessary to pause until the oscillation had ceased before attempting to take the measurement; also the torsion of the rope set up a slow revolving movement, so that, even when at length the oscillation ceased, it was only with difficulty that the correct measurement was taken and recorded in the book. This difficulty recurred as every additional five-foot length of rope was paid out, so that each measurement cost fully five minutes of precious time. Moreover, despite the padding of the rope, Harry soon began to find it cutting into his flesh so unpleasantly that he had grave doubts whether he would be able to endure it and hold out until the bottom, far below, should be reached. At length, when about forty feet of rope had been very cautiously paid out, and some eight measurements taken, the peon who was superintending the operation of lowering was suddenly seen to stiffen his body, as though something out of the common had attracted his attention; he raised one hand as a sign to the other two to cease lowering, and gazed intently downward for several seconds. Then he signed for the lowering to be continued, and, to the astonishment of the others, wriggled himself back from the edge of the cliff until he had room to stand upright, when, scrambling hastily to his feet, he sprang to the two men who were lowering, and hissed between his set teeth: "Lower! lower away as quickly and as steadily as you can, my brothers; the life of the young _Senor_ depends upon your speed and steadiness. The rope has stranded--cut by the edge of the rock, most probably--and unless you can lower the _muchacho_ to the bottom ere it parts altogether, he will be dashed to pieces!" Meanwhile Harry, hanging there swinging and revolving in the bight of the rope, was not a little astonished when he found himself being lowered without pause, save such momentary jerks as were occasioned by the passage of the clips round the bar and over the cliff edge, and he instinctively glanced upward to see if he could discover what was wrong--for that something had gone amiss he felt tolerably certain. For a few seconds his eye sought vainly for an explanation, then his gaze was arrested by the sight of two severed ends of one strand of the rope standing out at a distance of about thirty feet above his head, and he knew!--knew that the strength of the slender rope had been decreased by one third, and that his life now depended upon the holding together of the two remaining strands! Harry could see that those two remaining strands were stretched by his hanging weight to the utmost limit of their resistance, and he watched them with dull anxiety, as one in a dream, every moment expecting to see the yarns of which they were composed part one by one under the strain. And the worst of it was that that strain was not a steady one, otherwise there might be some hope that the strands would withstand it long enough to permit him to reach the bottom of the _quebrada_; but at frequent intervals there occurred a couple of jerks--one as a clip passed round the bar, and another as it slid over the cliff edge--and, of course, at every recurrence of the jerk the strain was momentarily increased to an enormous extent. And presently that which he feared happened, a more than usually severe jerk occurred, and one of the yarns in the remaining strands parted. Escombe dully wondered how far he still was from the bottom--a fearful distance, he believed--for he seemed to be cruelly close to the overhanging edge of the cliff, although he had been hanging suspended for a length of time that seemed to him more like hours than minutes. He did not dare to look down, for he had the feeling that if he removed his gaze from those straining and quivering strands for a single instant they would snap, and he would go plunging downward to destruction. Then, as he watched, another yarn parted, and another. A catastrophe was now inevitable, and the lad began to speculate curiously, and from a singularly impersonal point of view, what the sensation would be like when the last yarn had snapped. He had read somewhere that the sensation of falling from a great height was distinctly pleasurable; but what about the other, upon reaching the bottom? A quaint story came into his mind about an Irishman who was said to have fallen off the roof of a house, and who, upon being picked up, was asked whether he had been hurt by his fall, to which the man replied: "No, the fall didn't hurt me a bit, it was stoppin' so quick that did all the mischief!" The humour of the story was not very brilliant, yet somehow it seemed to Escombe at that moment to be ineffably amusing, and he laughed aloud at the quaintness of the conceit. And, as he did so, the remaining yarns of the second strand parted with a little jerk that thrilled him through and through, and he hung there suspended by a single strand, but still being lowered rapidly from above. His eyes were now fixed intently upon the unbroken strand, and he distinctly saw it stretching and straightening out under his weight, but, as it seemed to him, with inconceivable slowness. Then--to such a preternatural state of acuteness had his senses been wrought by the imminence and certainty of ghastly disaster--he saw the last strand slowly parting, not yarn by yarn but fibre by fibre, until, after what seemed to be a veritable eternity of suspense, the last fibre snapped, he heard a loud twang, and found himself floating--as it seemed to him-- very gently downward, so gently, indeed, that, as he was swung round, facing the rocky wall, he was able to note clearly and distinctly every inequality, every projection, every crack, every indentation in the face of the rock; nay, he even felt that, were it worth while to do so, he would have had time enough to make sketches of every one of them as they drifted slowly upward. The next thing of which he was conscious was a loud swishing sound which rose even above the deafening brawl of water among rocks, that he now remembered with surprise had been thundering in his ears for--how many months--or years, was it? Then he became aware that he was somehow among leaves and branches; and again memory reproduced the scene upon which he had looked when, standing upon the cliff edge at a point from which he could command a view of the whole depth of the gorge, he had idly noted that, at the very bottom of it, a few inconsiderable shrubs or small trees, nourished by eternal showers of spray, grew here and there from interstices of the rock, and he realised that he had fallen into the heart of one of them. He contrived to grasp a fairly stout branch with each hand, and was much astonished when they bent and snapped like twigs as his body ploughed through the thick growth; but he knew that the force of his fall had been broken, and, for the first time since he had made the discovery of the severed strand, the hope came that, after all, he might emerge from this adventure with his life. Then he alighted--on his feet--on a great, moss-grown boulder, felt his legs double up and collapse under him, sank into a huddled heap upon the wet, slippery moss, shot off into the leaping, foaming water, and knew no more. CHAPTER FOUR. MAMA CACHAMA. When young Escombe regained his senses it was night, or so he supposed, for all was darkness about him, save for such imperfect illumination as came from a small wood fire which flickered and crackled cheerfully in one corner of the apartment in which he found himself. The apartment! Nay, it was far too large, much too spacious in every dimension, to be a room in an ordinary house, and those walls--or as much as could be seen of them in the faint, ruddy glow of the firelight--were altogether too rough and rugged to have been fashioned by human hands, while the roof was so high that the flickering light of the flames was not strong enough to reach it. It was a cavern, without doubt, and Harry began to wonder vaguely by what means he had come there. For, upon awakening, his mind had been in a state of the most utter confusion, and it was not until he had lain patiently waiting for his ideas to arrange themselves, and had thereby come to the consciousness that he was aching in every bone and fibre of his body, while the latter was almost entirely swathed in bandages, that the recollection of his adventure returned to him. Even then the memory of it was but a dreamy one, and indeed he did not feel at all certain that the entire incident was not a dream from beginning to end, and that he should not presently awake to find himself on the cot in his tent, with the cold, clear dawn peering in past the unfolded flap, and another day's arduous work before him. But he finally concluded that the fire upon which his eyes rested was too real, and, more especially, that his pain was too acute and insistent for him to be dreaming. Then he fell to wondering afresh how in the name of fortune he had found his unconscious way into that cave and upon the pallet which supported him. The fire was the only thing in the cavern that was distinctly visible; certain objects there were here and there, a vague suggestion of which came and went with the rise and fall of the flame, but what they were Harry could not determine. There was, among other matters, an object on the far side of the fire, that looked not unlike a bundle of rags; but when Escombe, in attempting to turn himself over into a more comfortable position, uttered an involuntary groan as a sharp twinge of pain shot through his anatomy, the bundle stirred, and instantly resolved itself into the quaintest figure of a little, old, bowed Indian woman that it is possible to picture. But, notwithstanding her extreme age and apparent decrepitude, the extraordinary old creature displayed marvellous activity. In an instant she was on her feet and beside the pallet, peering eagerly and anxiously into Harry's wide-open eyes. The result of her inspection appeared to be satisfactory, for presently she turned away and, muttering to herself in a tongue which was quite incomprehensible to her patient, disappeared in the all-enveloping darkness, only to reappear a moment later with a small cup in her hand containing a draught of very dark brown, almost black, liquid of an exceedingly pungent but rather agreeable bitter taste, which she placed to his lips, and which the lad at once swallowed without demur. The effect of the draught was instantaneous, as it was marvellously stimulating and exhilarating; and it must also have possessed very remarkable tonic properties, for scarcely had Escombe swallowed it when a sensation of absolutely ravenous hunger assailed him. "Ah!" he sighed, "that was good; I feel ever so much better now. Mother," he continued in Spanish, "I feel hungry: can you find me something to eat?" "Aha! you feel hungry, do you?" responded the old woman in the same language. "Good! I am prepared for that. Wait but a moment, _caro mio_, until I can heat the broth, and your hunger shall soon be satisfied." And with the birdlike briskness which characterised all her actions she moved away into the shadows, presently returning with three iron rods in her hand, which she dexterously arranged in the form of a tripod over the fire, and from which she suspended a small iron pot. Then, taking a few dry sticks from a bundle heaped up near the fire, she broke them into short lengths, which she carefully introduced, one by one, here and there, into the flame, coaxing it into a brisk blaze which soon caused a most savoury and appetising steam to rise from the pot. Next, from some hidden receptacle she produced a bowl and spoon, emptied the smoking contents of the pot into the former, and then, carefully propping her patient into a sitting position, proceeded to feed him. The stew was delicious, to such an extent, indeed, that Harry felt constrained to compliment his hostess upon its composition and to ask of what it was made. He was much astonished--and also, it must be confessed, a little disgusted--when the old lady simply answered, _Lagarto_ (lizard). There was no doubt, however, that he had greatly enjoyed his meal, and felt distinctly the better for it; he therefore put his squeamishness on one side, and asked his companion to enlighten him as to the manner in which he came to be where he was. "It is very simple," answered the old woman. "While my son Yupanqui was fishing in the river, two days ago, he caught sight of something unusual lying at the edge of a sandbank, and upon paddling his _balsa_ to the spot, he found your insensible body lying stranded there, bruised and bleeding; so, like a sensible boy, he took you up and brought you hither as quickly as possible, in order that I might exercise my skill in the attempt to restore you to life. We managed to do so at last, between us; but you were _caduco_ (crazy), and could tell us nothing of yourself, for you spoke persistently in a language that we did not understand; so, as soon as it was seen that you would live, I busied myself in dressing your wounds and bruises, after which I prepared for you a certain medicine which, as I expected, threw you into a deep sleep, from which you have at length awakened in your right mind. And now you have but to lie still and allow your wounds to heal. Which reminds me that now is a very favourable time to dress them afresh." "Two days ago--stranded on a sandbank!" repeated Escombe in bewilderment. "I do not understand you, Mother. Surely I have not been lying insensible for two whole days! And how could I possibly have become stranded on a sandbank? I fell into the river in the _quebrada_, and I am prepared to avouch that there were no sandbanks there!" "In the _quebrada_! Is it possible?" echoed the old woman. "Why, the end of the _quebrada_ is more than a mile away from where Yupanqui found you! But I think I begin to understand a little. You are not a Spaniard--I can tell that by your accent--therefore you must be an Ingles, one of the _ingenieros_ who are making the new railway among the mountains. Is it not so?" "You have guessed it, Mother," answered Escombe. "Yes, I was taking some measurements in the _quebrada_ when the rope by which I was hanging broke, and I fell into a tree, and thence on to the rocks beneath, after which I lost consciousness." "Ah!" exclaimed the old woman, as she proceeded to remove deftly the bandages and re-dress Harry's hurts; "yes, it is wonderful--very wonderful; for if you had not chanced to fall into the tree before striking the rocks, you must certainly have been killed. That I can quite understand. But I cannot understand how, after having fallen into the river, you escaped being dashed to pieces upon the many rocks among which it flows, nor how, having escaped that death, you afterwards escaped drowning in the deep water, for you must have been swept along quite a mile after issuing from the _quebrada_. It is true that when Yupanqui found you, you were lying upon your back; so that, I suppose, is the reason why the river did not suffocate you. Your hurts are doing famously, _Senor Ingles_, thanks to my knowledge of simples. There is only one--this in your head--which is likely to give trouble; but we will soon mend that, if you can prevail upon yourself to lie still and not disturb the bandage." "Oh!" answered Harry; "I will do that all right, now that my senses have come back to me, don't you fear; for I must get well quickly, and return to my work as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Mother, where is your son? I should like to send him with a message to the engineer's camp, if he will go, to let them know that I am alive." "Assuredly, assuredly," assented the queer old creature, as she assiduously bathed the wound in Harry's head with a hot fomentation which she had specially prepared. "He is out hunting, now, but the evening is drawing in and I expect him back ere long. When he returns we will hear what he has to say about it. Doubtless he will willingly go; but if your camp is near the spot where I think you must have fallen, it will take him quite half a day to reach it." "Half a day!" echoed Harry, aghast. "How is that? I should have thought that half an hour would have been nearer the mark." "Nay, my son," answered the old woman, "he will have to travel fast to do it in half a day. You do not know how difficult it is to travel from place to place among these mountains, even when one knows the way. He will have to go a long way round to reach the spot of which I am thinking, for there are many impassable precipices in his course, to say nothing of bogs in which, if one be not very careful, one can disappear, leaving no trace behind." Harry could understand this, now that it had been explained to him, for he had already had experience of the impassable precipices and bottomless morasses spoken of by his companion. But it was disconcerting, to say the least of it, that it would occupy so long to send a message to camp; for, taking into consideration the fact that he had already been two days absent, and that it would require another half-day to send a message, the chances were that, when Yupanqui reached the spot, he would find the survey party gone, and would be obliged to follow them up until he should overtake them. Also he began to wonder how long it would be before his injuries would be sufficiently healed to allow him to travel over a road of so difficult a character as that hinted at in his companion's remarks. He had only to attempt to move on his pallet, and to feel the intolerable aching in every limb that resulted from the effort, to understand that some days--probably at least a week--must elapse ere he would be fit to attempt the journey; and meanwhile where would the survey party be, and how would they be faring without him? What would Butler do? Would he take Harry's death for granted, and proceed singlehanded with the survey; or would he send out a search party to seek for traces of his lost assistant? He must of necessity do one or the other, and the comforting reflection came to Harry that, even if the first course were adopted, the party could not get very far away without being overtaken. "How long do you think it will be, Mother, before I shall be able to rise and move about again?" he enquired. "Nay, my son, who can tell save the good God who holds our lives in His hands?" answered the old woman. "It may be two weeks, or it may be two months, according to whether or not the fever returns. Much must depend upon yourself. If you keep quite quiet, and do not become impatient, you may be able to rise and go into the open for a short time in two weeks, possibly even in less. But you must do in all things exactly as I say, if you wish to get well quickly; and you may trust in me, for I have seen many years and have always been skilled in the art of healing." "I will trust you, of course," answered Harry, reaching out at the cost of some pain and squeezing the old creature's clawlike hand. "Get me well as quickly as you can, Mother, and you will not find me ungrateful. I have the means of rewarding you liberally for all your trouble as soon as I can return to camp." "Reward!" ejaculated the old woman, angrily snatching away her hand; "who spoke of reward? I require no reward, if by that you mean money payment. I have no need of money. This cave has provided me with dry and comfortable housing for many years, while the garden outside and my son's hunting and fishing furnish us with ample food. What need have we of money?" "Pardon, Mother," exclaimed Harry penitently, "I did not mean to offend you. But if you do not need money, there are perhaps other things that you or your son may be glad to have, and you must let me show my gratitude to you in some way, for I cannot forget that to you and your son I owe my life." "Ay, ay; ay, ay; that's as may be," muttered the old creature, as though speaking to herself. "There," she added, as, having completed the dressing of Escombe's injuries, she secured the last bandage, "that is done. Now, more medicine, and then more sleep." And therewith she bustled away into the shadows, returning, a few minutes later, with a generous draught that foamed and sparkled in the goblet like champagne, but left a taste of sickly sweetness upon the palate. As the invalid swallowed the dose a sensation of great ease and comfort permeated his entire system, and the next moment he was asleep. When Harry next awoke, feeling very much better, he saw that his hostess, and a fine, stalwart, copper-coloured young Indian whom he took to be her son, were seated at a roughly framed table, at some little distance from his cot, taking a meal by the light of an earthenware lamp, and conversing together in low tones in a language with which he was unfamiliar. From the manner in which the pair glanced in his direction from time to time he rather suspected that he was the subject of their conversation, which was being conducted with much earnestness, especially by the old woman. That she was maintaining a very keen watch upon her patient was perfectly evident, for at Harry's first movement she sprang to her feet and, snatching up the lamp, rapidly approached his bedside, peering down into his eyes with the same intense eagerness that she had before exhibited, muttering and mumbling to herself excitedly the while. "Ah, ah!" she exclaimed, in tones of much satisfaction, "so you are awake again at last! You have slept well and long, my friend--slept all through the night without a movement. And your skin is cool, too," she continued, laying her skinny hand on Harry's forehead; "cool and moist; no fever. But what of the pain? Is it still severe as ever?" "The pain!" exclaimed Hal, moving himself slightly. "Why, no, it seems almost gone. What magic is this?" "No magic at all," chuckled the quaint old creature, "but merely a poor old Indian woman's skill in simples. You are doing excellently well, _Senor Ingles_--better, even, than I dared hope. And now you are hungry, is it not so? Good! your breakfast is ready and shall be brought to you instantly; and when you have finished, there is my son Yupanqui, who is ready to take any message that you may desire to send to your camp." An excellently roasted bird--which the patient subsequently learned was a parrot,--bread made of Indian corn flour, and a cup of delicious chocolate were speedily dispatched. Then Harry having asked for his notebook, which had been found in his pocket and carefully dried, he pencilled a note to Butler, briefly informing that individual of his escape, and of his hope that he would be sufficiently recovered from his injuries to rejoin the camp in about a fortnight's time, and dispatched Yupanqui with it, describing to the Indian the probable situation of the camp, as nearly as he could, and instructing the man to give it only into the hands of the Englishman, and to ask for a reply, which he was to bring back with him. The next few days passed uneventfully, save that the invalid's progress toward recovery was so rapid and satisfactory that about midday of the third day Harry--who began to find bed becoming very wearisome--was allowed by his nurse to rise and, clad in trousers and the remains of his shirt, go as far as the entrance of the cave and sit there for an hour or two, enjoying the magnificent prospect which greeted his astonished eyes. He found that the cave which had afforded him such perfect shelter during his helplessness formed a chamber, or rather a series of chambers, in an enormous mass of rock that rose sheer out of a little circular, basin-like valley through which flowed the stream from the _quebrada_, the water here spreading out in the form of a lake measuring about a mile across and evidently rather shallow, for here and there he could see small sandbanks showing clear of the water. It was upon one of these that he had been found stranded by Yupanqui. The _quebrada_ died out in the valley about a mile from the mouth of the cave, as could be seen when the spot was indicated by the old Indian woman, and Escombe wondered more than ever by what chance his senseless body had been carried so far by the rushing water without destroying such life as remained in it. The ground sloped rather steeply from the cave down to the water's edge, and some eight or ten acres of it had been dug up at intervals and planted with maize, vegetables of various kinds, and fruit trees, among which Harry recognised the peach, the orange, the mulberry, and the cacao. It was no wonder, he told himself, that his queer but kind-hearted old hostess indignantly disclaimed any need of money. For, with the produce of the garden, and what Yupanqui could bring in from the forest and the river, it seemed to him that their every want, except perhaps in the matter of clothes, must be abundantly supplied. And, so far as clothes were concerned, doubtless the cultivated ground yielded a superabundance ample enough to afford them the means of bartering it for such simple clothing as they needed. The valley was of basin-like form, the sides of it growing ever steeper as they receded from the middle, until they eventually merged into the mountain slopes which hemmed in the valley on every side and went rolling away, ridge beyond ridge, in interminable perspective, until, in the extreme distance, they terminated in the snow-clad peaks of the Andes. Harry's hostess--who now mentioned that she bore the name of Cachama-- appeared to be in a singularly communicative mood that day, for she beguiled the time by not only pointing out and naming the principal peaks in sight, but she also related several very interesting legends connected with certain of them and with the country generally, going back to the time before the conquest, and painting in dazzling colours the glories of the Inca dynasty, and the incredible wealth of the ancient rulers of Peru. She appeared to be pretty intimately acquainted with the history of the conquest of the country by Pizarro, and had many bitter things to say of the strange pusillanimity of the Inca, Atahuallpa, on that fatal 16th of November, 1532, when he went, open- eyed, into the trap prepared for him at Caxamalca, and suffered himself to be seized, in the presence of his entire army, by a mere handful of Spaniards. She gave a most emphatic denial to the suggestion that the country had benefited by the civilised conditions that had followed the conquest. "No, no," said she, "we are infinitely worse off in every way, to-day, than we were under the rule of the Incas. Poverty, misery, oppression, and suffering of every kind are to be met with on all hands and wherever one goes, while four hundred years ago we had a far higher state of civilisation than now exists, in which poverty and oppression, with their countless attendant evils, were unknown. But it will not last for ever, I tell you; brighter and happier days are in store for us of the ancient race, and perhaps even I, old as I am, may live to see it. Yes, I, poor though I am, and compelled to lodge my worn-out body in a cave, have royal blood in my veins, as had my husband, Yupanqui; we are both descended from Huayna Capac, and, but for Atahuallpa's incredible folly, I might have been enjoying comfort and affluence to-day; ay, and possibly my husband might also have been living." Escombe had read Prescott's _Conquest of Peru_ during his schooldays, and the romantic story had implanted within his mind a keen interest in everything pertaining to the history of the country, which had never waned, and which had received a fresh stimulus when he learned that he was not only to visit and spend some time in Peru but also to explore certain parts of it. And now, to find himself actually conversing with someone who claimed descent from those proud Incas, who appeared to have lived in a regal splendour only to be equalled by that of the potentates of the _Arabian Nights_, seemed to him to be a rare slice of good luck; he was therefore careful to say nothing calculated to divert the conversation from the channel in which it was so satisfactorily flowing, but, on the contrary, did everything he could to keep it there. He was, however, very much surprised to find his hostess looking forward so confidently to brighter and happier times for the despised Indian race; for if any one thing seemed absolutely certain, it was that the time was not very far distant when the few scattered survivors must perish, and the race vanish from the face of the earth. It was therefore in somewhat incredulous tones that he turned to Cachama and said: "What grounds have you for the hope--or should I call it the certainty-- that better days are in store for your race? To me it seems that there are very few of you left." "Ay," she answered, "it may so seem to you, for you have as yet seen but little of the country save the _terra caliente_, and very few of us are now to be found near the coast. But when you get farther up among the mountains, and especially when you get into the neighbourhood of Lake Titicaca, you will find that we have not all perished. Furthermore, it is said--with what truth I know not--that when Atahuallpa fell into the hands of the _Conquistadors_, and was strangled by torchlight in the great _plaza_ of Caxamalca, many of the nobles who had been with him fled with their families into the heart of the mountains, and, establishing themselves in a certain secret place, set to work, at the bidding of one Titucocha, a priest of the Sun, to build a new City of the Sun--beside the glories of which those of Cuzco were to be as nothing--against the time when our Lord the Sun should again send Manco Capac, the founder of the Inca dynasty, back to earth to restore the dynasty in all its ancient splendour." "And do you really believe that such a restoration is possible?" asked Escombe with a smile at the old woman's credulity. "Ay," answered Cachama with conviction, "I more than believe, I know! For I have the gift of foreknowledge, to a certain extent, and from my earliest childhood I have felt convinced that the prophecy is true--I cannot explain how, or why; I only know that it is so. And with the passage of the years I have ever felt that the time for its fulfilment was drawing nearer, until now I know that it is so close at hand that even I, old though I am, may live to see it. I would that I could feel as sure of the continuance of the dynasty as I am of its restoration; but I cannot; I can only see--dimly--up to a certain point, beyond which everything is misty and uncertain, with a vague suggestion of disaster which fills, me with foreboding." CHAPTER FIVE. WHAT HAS BECOME OF BUTLER? On the second day after the dispatch of Yupanqui to the surveyors' camp, he had duly returned with a curt officially worded note from Butler acknowledging the receipt of Escombe's "report" of his accident and its result, and requesting the latter to rejoin the survey party with the least possible delay, "as his absence was the cause of much inconvenience and delay in the progress of the survey". Not a word of regret at the occurrence of the accident, much less anything that could be construed into an admission that the writer's own unreasonable demands and orders were the cause of the mishap; and not even a word of congratulation at Escombe's narrow escape from a terrible death; simply a formal request that he would rejoin, "with the least possible delay", for a certain good and sufficient reason. Poor Harry shrugged his shoulders with something very like contempt for the hidebound creature who was, to a great extent, the master of his fate, and who seemed to be absolutely destitute of the very smallest shred of good feeling. He felt that it would be quite hopeless to look for any praise or appreciation from such a man; he foresaw that the fellow would appropriate to himself whatever credit might result from the expedition, and lay upon his (Harry's) shoulders the onus of any shortcomings of complete success. And he came to the conclusion that since such a chief was not worth putting oneself out for, he would remain where he was until it was quite certain that he could travel with perfect safety, and resume duty immediately upon his return to camp. But he was young, and possessed a thoroughly sound constitution; moreover, he had miraculously escaped with unbroken bones, his recovery therefore was rapid, and on the nineteenth day after the accident he rejoined the camp and formally reported himself as prepared to resume duty. It had been Butler's custom, from the commencement of the survey, to flag out a certain length of route daily, and to insist--without very much regard to the difficulties of the task--that that amount of work should be done by nightfall. This length of route usually amounted to from two to three miles, and Escombe had once or twice protested--when the natural difficulties of the work were excessive--that he could not undertake to guarantee the accuracy of his work if so much were demanded of him; to which Butler had retorted that, in his opinion, the amount of work demanded was exceedingly moderate, that he should expect it to be done, and that he should hold Escombe responsible for all inaccuracies. Yet, upon Escombe's return to camp he found that, during the nineteen days of his absence, Butler had advanced the survey by a distance of less than four miles! the explanation which the elder man condescended to make being that, during the four days immediately following the accident, no survey work at all had been done, the whole body of peons having been scattered in various directions, seeking some clue to Harry's fate. For a week or two after Escombe's return to camp matters went very much more smoothly. Whether it was that Harry's accident had given Butler a wholesome fright, or that the conviction had been forced upon the latter that he had been outrageously exacting, there was nothing to show, but certain it was that, for a while, Escombe was allowed to take his own time over his work and do it his own way, with the result that while this state of affairs lasted the lad actually took pleasure in, nay, thoroughly enjoyed, his work. But on the third week after his return Harry began to detect signs that these agreeable conditions were drawing to an end. Thenceforth Butler allowed himself to gradually drift back into his former exacting and autocratic ways, until at length life in the camp again became a veritable purgatory for everybody concerned, Butler himself included, the natural result of his tyrannical conduct being that everybody--Harry excepted--did everything in his power to thwart him, while even the lad himself ceased to attempt the apparently impossible task of pleasing his chief. In this unpleasant and unsatisfactory manner the railway survey proceeded for the two months following Escombe's return to duty; by which time Butler's behaviour had become so unendurable that nearly three-fourths of the peons originally engaged had deserted, notwithstanding the fact that their desertion involved them in the loss of a sum in wages that, to these humble toilers, represented quite a little fortune, and their places had been filled by others of a much less desirable type in every way. And this was all the more to be regretted since the surveyors were now in the very heart of the mountains, where the natural difficulties to be contended with were at their worst, while the newcomers, being of course utterly strange to such work, had to be taught their duties, down to the simplest detail, under the most adverse conditions possible. It can be readily understood that the attempt to instruct a set of ignorant, stupid, sullen, and lawless half-castes under such conditions was a task of surpassing difficulty, resulting in constant acute friction, and demanding the nicest judgment and the utmost diplomacy upon the part of the teachers. Harry met this difficulty by bringing to his assistance an almost sublime patience, that in the course of time--and not a very long time either--completely wore down the opposition of his unwilling pupils and brought a change in their mental attitude which was as surprising as it was satisfactory. Butler, however, knew not the meaning of the word "patience", nor did his character contain the smallest particle of that valuable quality; his method was what he termed "the rough-and-ready", and consisted in emphasising every order, and item of construction, with a kick! It was not surprising, therefore, that the relations between him and the peons daily grew more strained. It was when the tension between Butler on the one hand and the peons on the other had developed to such an extent that the labourers had been goaded into a state of almost open mutiny, that the former set out as usual, on horseback, one morning, accompanied by a half-dozen of the new hands, to seek for and stake out a few miles farther of practicable route. Such a duty as this he usually contrived to complete in time to return to the camp for lunch, after which he was wont to saunter out along the line until he encountered Harry, when he would spend the remainder of the day in making the poor lad's life a burden to him by finding fault with everything he did, frequently insisting upon having some particularly awkward and difficult piece of work done over again. Consequently the progress of the survey was abnormally and exasperatingly slow; and when, upon the day in question, Butler failed to put in an appearance on the scene of operations, young Escombe's first feeling was one of gratification, for he was just then engaged upon an exceptionally difficult task which he was most anxious to complete without being interfered with. So absorbed was the lad in his work that he had not much thought to spare for speculation as to the reason for so unusual a piece of good luck, although it is true that, as the afternoon wore on, he did once or twice permit himself to wonder whether "perchance" he had to thank a slight touch of indisposition, or possibly a sprained ankle, for this unexpected and most welcome freedom from interruption. But when at length, upon his arrival in camp at the conclusion of his day's survey work, he learned, to his astonishment, that neither Butler nor his party of peons had returned, the impression forced itself upon him that something serious had happened, and mustering afresh his own gang of tired and hungry assistants, and providing them with lanterns, ropes, and other aids to a search, he led them forth along the survey line in quest of the absent ones. For a distance of nearly two miles from the camp the route of the missing party was easily followed, being marked by stakes at frequent intervals, indicating the line chosen by Butler as that to be surveyed by Escombe. It ended at the foot of a precipitous slope of bare rock towering aloft some seven or eight hundred feet, with further heights beyond it. Here the searchers were brought to an abrupt halt, for Harry was fully aware that no sane engineer would for a single moment dream of carrying an ordinary railway up that rocky acclivity, while it was well understood that the rack system of construction was to be avoided, if possible, upon the score of expense. The probability was that Butler, upon reaching this point, and finding himself confronted by the necessity to make a wide detour, or, alternatively, to consider the question of a tunnel, had struck off, either to the right or to the left, on a tour of investigation; and there was the chance that, becoming involved in the maze-like intricacies of his surroundings, he had decided to camp out for the night rather than risk an accident by attempting to return in darkness over difficult ground. But this was a question which Harry felt ought to be settled forthwith, and he accordingly issued instructions to his peons to search for the spoor of the party and follow it up. To find the spoor was a very easy matter, for the last stake had been driven in comparatively soft ground, and despite the fact that it was by this time almost pitch dark, a short search, aided by the light of the lanterns, disclosed the hoof prints of Butlers horse, which led off to the left, and which were followed until the searchers found themselves on the borders of an extensive pine wood growing on hard, steeply rising ground over which it was impossible to trace further the trail in the darkness. This impossibility once realised, the search was abandoned for the night, and Harry very reluctantly gave the word for a return to camp, which was reached about nine o'clock. At daybreak the next morning the camp was roused, breakfast prepared and eaten, and, taking with them rations to last until nightfall, the search party again set out upon their quest, making their way direct to the spot where the trail had been lost on the previous night, where it was again picked up without much trouble. It led in straight toward the heart of the wood, and was followed, with ever-increasing difficulty, for a distance of about three-quarters of a mile until it was lost on hard, shaley ground, nor were the utmost efforts of the party equal to finding it again. After carefully considering the situation, therefore, Escombe detailed one man, an Indian, to accompany him, and, placing the remainder of the peons in charge of a man whom he believed he could trust, with instructions to search the wood thoroughly, returned to the outskirts of the timber, and, beginning at the spot where the trail entered it, proceeded, with the assistance of the Indian, to encircle the wood, carefully examining every foot of the ground as they went, in the hope that, if Butler and his party had passed through the timber and emerged on its other side, the Indian would succeed in picking up the spoor. But the hope was vain, for the wood was completely encircled-- the task occupying the entire day--without the discovery of the faintest trace or sign of the passage of the missing party, which was not at all surprising, for when the far side of the wood was reached the soil proved to be of so stony a character, thickly interspersed with great outcrops of rock, that even the most skilled and keen-eyed of trackers might have been excused for failing in the search for footprints on so unyielding a surface. It was a little puzzling to Harry that not even the horse had left any trace behind him; but this was accounted for when, upon rejoining the party who had been detailed to search the interior of the wood, it was discovered that the animal had been found by them, still saddled and bridled, wandering aimlessly about in search of such scanty herbage as the soil there afforded. Upon the horse being brought to him, the young Englishman--mindful of the scarcely concealed hatred which Butler had, almost wantonly, as it seemed, aroused in the breasts of the peons--immediately subjected the animal and his trappings to a most rigorous examination in search of any sign of possible violence, but nothing of the kind could be found, and the only result of the examination was the conclusion, to which everything pointed, that Butler had, for some reason, voluntarily dismounted and at least temporarily abandoned the animal. Butler and his party had now been missing for full twenty-four hours, and Harry speedily arrived at two conclusions which inexorably led him to a third. The first conclusion at which he arrived was that the peons who had accompanied his chief, accustomed as they had been from their earliest childhood to make their way about the country, were so little likely to have lost their way that that theory might be unhesitatingly abandoned; the second was that Butler would certainly not have absented himself purposely from the camp for a whole night and a day, and that therefore--this was the third conclusion--something had gone very seriously wrong. The next problem that presented itself for solution was: What was it that had gone wrong? Had the entire party met with an accident? It was most unlikely. There were seven of them altogether, and in the event of an accident, surely at least one of the seven would have escaped and returned to the camp for help. Had they been seized and carried off by brigands? When Harry put this question to the peons who remained with him he was laughed at good-naturedly and assured that, in the first place, there were no brigands in Peru, so far as they were aware; and, in the second place, that if perchance there were they would probably not have contented themselves with simply carrying off seven men, six of whom would be only an encumbrance to them, but would almost certainly have attacked and sacked the camp some time during the hours of daylight, when it was left comparatively unprotected. There was but one other probable alternative of which Harry could think, and that was that Butler's peons, exasperated at length beyond endurance by some fresh piece of petty tyranny on the white man's part, had deserted, carrying off their employer with them, either with the purpose of being revenged upon him, or in the hope that by holding him as a hostage they might be able to secure payment of the amount of wages due to them. But when Escombe submitted this alternative to his peons for their consideration and opinion, they shook their heads and emphatically declared that they did not believe that any such thing had happened. And when further asked for their opinion as to what had happened, they simply answered that they did not know what to think. But to Harry it seemed that there was a certain lack of spontaneity in this reply, which caused him to doubt whether the speakers were quite sincere in so saying. With a very heavy load of responsibility thus unexpectedly thrown upon his shoulders, the young Englishman spent several anxious hours in camp that night pondering upon what was the proper course for him now to pursue, and he finally came to the conclusion that, having ascertained beyond much possibility of doubt that his chief had been abducted, the next thing to be done was to discover whither and under what circumstances he had been carried off, and then to take the necessary steps to effect his rescue. On the following morning, therefore, he mustered the peons who still remained with him, and briefly explaining to them his theory of an abduction, dispatched six of them in as many different directions to seek for traces of the missing party, offering a substantial reward to the one who should bring him such information as should lead to the recovery of the missing white man; and then, taking a couple of sure-footed mules, set off in company with an Indian tracker to scour the entire neighbourhood, in the hope of obtaining some clue to the whereabouts of the missing party from some of the people by whom that particular part of the country was sparsely inhabited. And in order to avoid the loss of time which would be entailed by returning to camp at night, he took with him three days' provisions for himself and his guide, intending to carry out as exhaustive a search as possible in that space of time. Thus far the search had been prosecuted entirely in a forward direction; but at the last moment, before setting out upon his three days' quest, it suddenly occurred to Escombe that the missing ones might possibly have doubled back and be making their way toward the sea coast, so in order to test the value of this theory he determined to return a few miles along the line of the survey and see whether he could discover any traces of them in that direction. At this time the surveyors were in the heart of an exceptionally difficult tract of country, where the obstacles to rapid work were such that, since Harry's return to duty after his adventures in the _quebrada_, they had not advanced very much more than twenty miles from that spot; thus it was still early in the afternoon of the first day when he found himself gazing down into the abyss, wherein he had so narrowly escaped a terrible death. By a natural association of ideas he no sooner beheld the scene so indelibly engraven upon his memory than his thoughts reverted to Cachama, his kind-hearted old Indian nurse, and her son Yupanqui, and he vaguely wondered whether perhaps either of these might be able to afford him any information or suggestion that would assist him in his quest. The more he thought of it the more did the idea grow upon his mind, and at length he came to the decision that he might as well prosecute his search in the direction of their cave as in any other, and he forthwith communicated his decision to his guide, who, somewhat to Escombe's surprise, at once admitted that he was well acquainted with Cachama and her son, and offered to conduct the young Englishman to the cave in which the two resided, by a short route, if Harry would consent to be blindfolded during their passage of certain portions of the way. To this the lad readily agreed--for he was by this time becoming exceedingly anxious on Butler's account--and thereupon the Indian, having hobbled the mules, demanded Harry's pocket--handkerchief and immediately proceeded to blindfold the owner therewith, after which, with joined hands, the pair resumed their way, travelling for two full hours or more over exceedingly broken and difficult ground. Then the pocket-handkerchief was removed, and Harry found himself standing in the midst of a number of enormous fallen boulders at the foot of a stupendous cliff, and facing an opening in the latter which had all the appearance of being the mouth of a cavern. But by what route he had arrived at the spot he could not tell, for he was so completely hemmed in on every side by the boulders in the midst of which he stood that the surrounding landscape was completely shut out, nothing being visible save the boulders and the face of the cliff with the opening in it. That he was correct in his surmise that this opening was a cavern was now demonstrated by his Indian guide, who said: "Be pleased to take my hand again, Senor, and follow me without fear. This is one of several entrances to the cavern in which Cachama dwells. You will find the ground smooth and even for almost the entire distance, and presently we shall find torches by which to light our way." And so, as a matter of fact, they did; for after traversing some ten or fifteen yards the Indian halted and, releasing Escombe's hand, was heard groping about in the darkness, and a moment later the rattling of dry branches reached the lad's ears. "Now, Senor," came the voice of the Indian out of the darkness, "if you will graciously condescend to produce fire by means of those small sticks which you call `matches' we shall soon have light to guide our steps." So said, so done; and as the torch kindled and blazed up the pair found themselves standing in a rugged rock passage some five feet wide and about eight feet high, with a perfectly smooth floor which, in the flickering, uncertain light of the torch, presented the appearance of having been brought into this condition by human agency. It was not only smooth, but also level at the point where they stood. But even as they started to resume their journey--the Indian bearing the torch and leading the way--Harry saw that it almost immediately began to dip, and ere they had advanced many paces the dip became so pronounced that the smooth floor gave place to a long flight of roughly hewn steps, at first broad and shallow, but rapidly steepening, until they became so narrow and deep as to necessitate a considerable amount of care in the negotiation of them. To Harry this flight seemed interminable; there must have been hundreds of steps, for--although the lad did not time himself--the descent appeared to have occupied considerably more than half an hour; but at length they once more reached level ground and, leaving the steps behind them, proceeded to traverse a narrow and winding passage, the air in which smelt stale and musty, while here and there they were obliged to squeeze their painful way between long, spiky stalactites and stalagmites until they came to more steps--this time leading upward. Harry counted these; there were only one hundred and twenty-three of them, and they were not nearly so steep as the others; and then they ceased, and the pair came to a gently rising floor, along which they passed for about half a mile, finally entering a spacious chamber or cavern, where, very much to the young Englishman's surprise, they found Cachama awaiting them with a torch in her hand. It was perfectly evident that the old lady was intensely angry, for upon the appearance of her visitors she darted toward them and, shaking her fist furiously in the face of the Indian--whom, by the way, she addressed as Arima--she poured out upon him a torrent of strange words, the virulence of which could be pretty accurately estimated by the effect which they produced upon their recipient, for poor Arima writhed under them as though they had been the lash of a whip. For fully ten minutes the old woman stormed relentlessly before she was reduced to silence through want of breath, and then the Indian got his chance to reply, and apparently vindicate himself, for, as he proceeded with what appeared to Escombe to be his explanation, Cachama's wrath gradually subsided until she became sufficiently mistress of herself to greet the young white man, which she did with more cordiality than her previous outburst had led him to expect. "Welcome back to my poor home, Senor!" she exclaimed. "I knew that you were coming, and am glad to see you; but that dolt Arima enraged me, for he brought you by the secret way, although he knew that it is forbidden to reveal that way, or even the fact of its existence, to strangers. He tells me, however, that the matter is urgent, and that he adopted the precaution of blindfolding you so that you might not learn the secret of the approach, therefore I will let the matter pass, especially as I feel certain that I have but to express the wish and you will forget that such a way exists." "Certainly I will, Mama Cachama," answered Harry cheerfully. "You saved my life not long ago, and I should be an ingrate indeed if I refused to conform to your wishes in so simple a matter as that. But I understood you to say that you knew I was coming to you! How on earth could you possibly know that? I didn't know it myself until a few hours ago!" "Did not I tell you that I possess the gift of foreknowledge?" remarked Cachama somewhat impatiently. "You had no sooner conceived the idea of coming to me than I became aware of it; nay, I even knew the way by which you were coming, and it was that knowledge which angered me, for I knew that you could not visit the cave by the secret approach except with the help of one of us! But let that pass. Follow me to my living room, where I have provided a meal for you; and while you are partaking of it you may tell me in what manner you think I can assist you." Ten minutes later Escombe once more found himself in the cavern which he knew so well, partaking of a most excellent stew, and detailing to his hostess between mouthfuls all the particulars relating to the disappearance of Butler and his party of peons. He brought his recital to a close by enquiring whether Cachama or Yupanqui had chanced to see any of the missing ones. "No," said Cachama. "They have not passed near here, or Yupanqui would certainly have seen something of them and mentioned the fact to me. But you have done well to come to me, for it will be strange indeed if I cannot help you. You wish to know what has become of the Senor whom you call Butler; is not that so? Very well. Seat yourself there before me, hold my two hands in yours, and recall to your mind as vividly as possible all the circumstances, be they ever so trivial, that you can remember relating to the doings of the day upon which the Senor disappeared, beginning with the moment of your awakening. Now begin, for I am ready." While the old creature spoke she was arranging matters in such a way that she and Escombe could sit facing each other, knee to knee and with their hands clasped, she leaning slightly back in a reclining posture, with her eyes upturned toward the invisible roof of the cavern. As she finished speaking the young Englishman directed his thoughts backward to the morning of two days ago, mentally reproducing every incident of the day, beginning with the moment when he arose from his camp bed, and intending to continue, if need were, to that other moment when, after the long fruitless search in the pine wood, he cast himself on that same bed at the end of the day and, completely exhausted, sank to sleep. But when he had reached this latter point of retrospection Mama Cachama's eyes were closed and, to Harry's chagrin, she appeared to have fallen into a deep sleep. Before, however, his disappointment had found time to express itself in words the old Indian woman began to speak in a low tone, as though soliloquising. "Yes," she murmured, "I see it all quite distinctly, the white tents gleaming in the brilliant sunshine of early morning, with their ropes strained tight by the dew that has fallen heavily during the night; the peons moving hither and thither, shivering in the keen air as they make their preparations for the day's work; the horses and mules feeding eagerly; the fires blazing cheerily and the blue smoke streaming straight up in the still air. Yes, and I see the two Englishmen, the old and the young one, sitting at breakfast in their tents. The elder man is tall and thin, with black hair touched here and there with grey, and a close-clipped moustache. He is dressed in dark-grey woollen clothing, and wears brown boots reaching to the knee. He is glancing through a little book as he eats, writing in it from time to time. Now he rises and, taking a whip in his hand, puts on a soft cloth cap and goes to the tent door. He calls to one named Jose to bring him his horse, and then gives the young _Ingles_ certain instructions, speaking sharply as though in anger. "Now the horse is brought, and the elder _Ingles_ mounts him somewhat awkwardly, as though he were not accustomed to life in the saddle, and rides off, accompanied by six peons who carry long poles with small flags on them, also heavy hammers, axes, machetes, ropes, and bundles of wooden stakes. The young _Ingles_ also prepares to leave the camp, and busies himself in examining certain strange instruments that are packed in boxes of polished wood. But it is the elder _Ingles_ that I must follow. He leads the way over rising ground, riding toward a snow-clad peak that gleams like silver in the far distance, pausing occasionally while his peons drive a stake into the ground where directed by him. They proceed thus until they find themselves facing a bare rocky slope so steep that scarcely might a llama climb it; and here they pause for a time while the _Ingles_ looks about him. Then they move off to the left, skirting the precipice until they come to a great wood growing on a steep spur of the mountain. They enter this wood and penetrate it for a considerable distance, the ground ever rising more steeply and becoming looser and more difficult as they go. Here the horse finds it so hard to keep his feet, and is in such constant danger of falling, that at length the rider dismounts and, leaving the horse standing, presses forward as though anxious to get to the other side of the wood, his peons following and whispering eagerly together. They are encumbered with the various articles which they carry, and consequently cannot travel over that steep, loose ground so rapidly as the Englishman, who carries nothing but his riding whip and one of the poles with a flag on it, which he uses to help him over the rough ground, and he turns upon them from time to time with angry words, urging them to greater exertion. At first they answer nothing; but at length the strictures of the _Ingles_ goad them to retort, humbly in the beginning, but soon with such heat that he lifts his whip and strikes one of them savagely with it across the face. And at that, as though the blow were a signal, every peon flings from him his burden, and the whole of them hurl themselves upon the white man and bear him to the ground, the one who was struck raising his machete as though to split the skull of his enemy." CHAPTER SIX. FOUND! At this point Mama Cachama became greatly agitated, and struggled violently in an endeavour to wrench her hands out of Escombe's grasp, crying that they were going to murder the Englishman, and that she would not remain to see it. But the vision which she had thus far described was of so extraordinary a character, and impressed the young man so strongly with a sense of its reality and truth, that he was determined to follow up the clue as far as possible; he therefore resolutely retained his grip upon the old woman's hands, under the impression that, if he released them, the vision would pass, possibly beyond recall. But suddenly Cachama's struggles ceased, and she sighed as though relieved of some great fear. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "they will not kill him after all; one of the peons intervenes, pointing out that if the Englishman is killed, none of them may dare to again show their faces in the towns, for information of the murder will be given, and the Peruvian Corporation--who have employed the Englishman to do this work for them--will never rest until every one of the murderers is brought to justice. The others understand this at once, and agree that there shall be no murder; but they are binding the Englishman's hands and feet, so that he cannot escape; and now they are asking each other what will be best to do with him. There is much talk--some urge one thing, some another--now Jose, the man who prevented the murder, speaks--he proposes that the prisoner shall be carried to a certain place and there detained until the whole of their wages be paid them, after which they are to release their prisoner, and each man will go his way, working no more for the Englishman. Now they are pondering on the proposal--yes, they have all agreed to it; and now they are releasing the Englishman's feet, in order that he may walk with them, but his hands remain tied behind him, and one of the peons holds the end of the rope, to make sure that their prisoner shall not escape. Two others grasp him, one by either arm, to help him, for the ground is rough and steep, and the going bad. They move forward again, following an easterly direction--their progress is slow, for the Englishman stumbles at almost every step, his hands being tied. He declares that walking, under such circumstances, is impossible, and angrily demands to be released--but they laugh and jeer at him. He struggles on, falling frequently despite the assistance of the two men who are holding him, and at length the party emerge from the wood on its far side and find themselves on the spur of the mountain, on barren, rocky, open ground. Now they reach the crest of the spur, and, passing over it, still travelling in an easterly direction, descend into the valley beyond until they reach the margin of a small stream flowing northward. Here they pause in the shadow of an enormous granite rock of very remarkable appearance, for it bears a most extraordinary resemblance to the head and neck of an Indian--I know it well; and among us it is called `The Inca's Head'. They sit down beneath this rock and proceed to eat and drink--for it is now two hours past midday--binding the Englishman's feet and releasing his hands to enable him to feed himself. Now the meal is over, and the party resume their march, going northward along the western bank of the stream and plunging ever deeper into the valley. The soil here is once more rich and fertile, being overgrown with long, rank grass--through which they leave a trail easy to follow--and dense masses of mimosa and other bush. Now it is evening, the valley grows dark, and the party prepare to camp for the night; they have found a suitable spot, quite close to the river bank, and are lighting a large fire. They eat and drink again. Now they have finished, and are disposing themselves to rest, one man of the party undertaking to remain awake for a certain time to watch the prisoner, until relieved by another who will perform the same service. "The night passes; the light of dawn sweeps down the steep mountain slopes into the valley, and the peon who is watching the prisoner awakes his fellows. Again they eat and drink. Now they have finished their meal and resume their march, still following the western bank of the stream. I go with them as they plod on, hour after hour, until they reach a point where the stream turns westward, and here they take advantage of a shallow spot which enables them to cross to the other side. They are now marching eastward up the slope of the valley, and at length they emerge upon a great plateau, thickly dotted with extensive clumps of bush, interspersed here and there with wide belts of timber through which they pass. For many miles they plod onward, winding hither and thither among the clumps of bush and through the belts of forest trees, but all the while holding steadily toward the east. Night comes again; a fire is lighted, as on the preceding night, they eat and drink, and once more dispose themselves to sleep, one man again undertaking to watch the prisoner. For a time--how long I know not, but it appears to be about an hour--this man remains faithful to his duty; but, as the moments pass and the prisoner appears to be sleeping heavily, the watcher's vigilance relaxes, he grows drowsy, his eyelids close, he dozes, awakes, dozes again, once more awakes, and finally succumbs to sleep. "Meanwhile the prisoner, who has to all appearance been sleeping heavily, has remained very wide awake, and, observing that his guard is not over watchful, proceeds to strain stealthily upon his bonds, which, he has noticed, are not drawn quite so tight as usual. Gradually he succeeds in loosening them to such an extent that eventually he is able to free one hand. To free the other at once becomes easy, and, this done, the prisoner very cautiously raises himself sufficiently to assure himself that his captors are all soundly sleeping. Satisfied of this, he rolls himself gently over and over, a few inches at a time, until he is outside the circle of his captors, when he rises to his feet and with infinite caution withdraws into the darkness, making for the nearest clump of bush, which, upon reaching, he places between himself and the faint glow of the dying camp fire. Hidden thus from his late captors, should any of them chance to awake and miss him, he now walks rapidly forward, constantly glancing over his shoulder in fear lest he should be pursued; and in this manner he soon places a couple of miles between himself and the sleeping peons. He believes that he is now returning toward the camp over the ground which he has already traversed, and he hastens onward as fast as the uneven nature of the ground will permit. But the night is dark, the stars are obscured by heavy masses of threatening rain-cloud; there is therefore no beacon by which he can guide his footsteps, and, unsuspected by himself, he has gradually swung round until he is heading south-east. And now the gathering storm breaks, the rain falls heavily, and in a few minutes the unhappy fugitive is drenched to the skin, and chilled to the marrow by the fierce and bitter wind which comes swooping down from the snowfields and glaciers of the higher Andes; yet he dares not take shelter from the storm, even in the recesses of a clump of scrub, for he fears that by dawn at the latest, his enemies will be on his track, and--forgetful or ignorant of the fact that the storm will obliterate his trail from all but dogs or experienced trackers--of which the peons have none--the fugitive is madly anxious to put as many miles as possible between himself and his pursuers. On he staggers, blindly and breathlessly, whipped by the pelting rain, buffeted by the furious wind, half-fainting already from exhaustion, yet spurred on by unreasoning terror--I think that unless he is quickly rescued the Englishman will die." Escombe shuddered and went white to the lips. This man, whose every wandering footstep had been faithfully traced through Mama Cachama's marvellous clairvoyant gift, was a remorseless tyrant in his petty way, so curiously constituted that his one idea of pleasure appeared to be the making miserable the lives of all about him, even to going out of his way to do so, to such extent, indeed, that men had been heard to say bitterly that, as in the case of some noxious animal or reptile, the world would be the better for his death. The young Englishman could recall without effort many an occasion when he had been so harassed and worried, and his existence so embittered by the impish spite of this same Butler that even he, gentle and kindly as was his disposition in general, believed he could have contemplated the demise of the other with a feeling not far removed from equanimity. Yet, now that the man was in actual peril, all that was forgotten, every generous instinct in the lad sprang at once to the surface, his one idea was to hurry to the rescue, and he cried eagerly: "Tell me exactly where to find him and I will go at once and bring him in." "Wait, _muchacho_, wait!" exclaimed Cachama impatiently. "Let me follow him first as far as I may, lest I lose him, for now his way is growing erratic, his mind and body are becoming numb with the misery of his plight, and he no longer has any clear knowledge of anything, the one conviction which haunts him being that he must press onward anywhere--no matter where--otherwise his pursuers will overtake him and put him to a terrible death. Ah! now the dawn breaks, and the storm is subsiding; but the Englishman takes no note of this. He seems quite incapable of noticing anything now, but runs on aimlessly, panting and gasping, his breath bursting from his labouring lungs in great sobs, his eyes staring unseeingly before him, his limbs quivering and staggering beneath him, his thin clothing clinging in saturated tatters to his body, which is streaked here and there with blood where the thorns have torn him, as he burst through them in his headlong flight. Aha! the end must surely now be drawing near, for see, the foam upon his lips is tinged with blood, and rapidly grows a deeper crimson; he reels and stumbles as he runs--he is down--no--yes--he is up again--and staggers onwards for a few yards-- now he is down again, falling with a crash--and, rolling over on his back with outstretched arms, lies motionless, his eyes closed, and the blood trickling out of the corners of his mouth." "Is he dead, Mama Cachama? is he dead?" gasped Escombe, his grievances all forgotten now, and his sense of pity stirred to its uttermost depths by the shocking plight of his chief, so graphically painted by the words of the old Indian woman. "Nay," answered Cachama, "he still lives, for his chest heaves and he now and then gasps for breath; but his flight is ended, for the present at least, and if you would find him with the life still in his body you must surely hasten." "But how shall I find him?" demanded Harry. "You must direct me how to go straight to where he lies; for should it be necessary for us to pick up his trail and follow that, he would be dead long ere we could reach him." "Where is Arima?" demanded Cachama. "Let him come to me." "I am here," answered the Indian, drawing near to the old woman. "Then listen attentively, Arima, and mark well what I say," commanded the Mama. She spoke to him for a full minute or more in the Indian tongue, of which Escombe comprehended enough to understand that she was describing what might be termed the bearings of the spot where Butler lay exhausted and senseless, Arima nodding his head understanding and murmuring here and there a word of comprehension as she went on. Her description ended, she paused for a few seconds, then murmured: "It is enough. Now let me awake, for I am old. I have wandered afar, and the journey has wearied me." Whereupon, after an interval of a minute or two, she slowly opened her eyes, stared about her vacantly for a little, and finally said: "Ah, yes, I remember! I was to tell you something, Senor. Have you learned what you desired to know?" "Yes, thanks," answered Harry, "always provided, of course, that-- that,"--he was about to say--"that your information is reliable"; but substituted for those somewhat ungracious words--"that Arima can find the spot which you have described to him." "Think you that you can find it, Arima?" demanded the old woman. "Yes, Mama Cachama," answered Arima, "I shall find it without doubt; for I have listened attentively to all that you have said, and already know the direction generally, in which to seek it, while the particulars which you have given me are so explicit that I can scarcely miss the exact spot." "That is well," approved Cachama. Then, turning to Escombe, she said: "And now, Senor, if you will remain with me for the rest of the day and the coming night it will give me pleasure, and I will do my best for your comfort; the afternoon is wellnigh spent, and if, as I understood you to say, you started from your camp shortly after daybreak this morning, you can scarcely return to it ere nightfall, and the way is a rough and dangerous one to travel in the darkness." "Nevertheless, with many thanks for your hospitable offer, I must go," answered Harry, "for the matter is urgent, as you must know, for your last words to me were that if I would find my--friend with the life still in him I must hasten." "Nay, _amigo_, I know nothing of what I told you while in my state of trance," answered the old woman; "but, whatever it may have been, you may depend that it was true; therefore if I bade you hasten, it is certain that hasten you must, and in that case it would be no kindness in me to urge you to stay. Yet you will not go until you have again eaten and drank." "Thanks again, Mama," answered Harry, "but I fear we must. As you have said, the afternoon is far advanced, and there is therefore all the more reason why we should make the best possible use of every remaining moment of daylight. If you will excuse us, therefore, we will bid you adios and go forthwith. You have rendered me an inestimable service, Mama, for which mere words of thanks seem a very inadequate recompense, yet I will not offend you by offering any other reward. Still, if there is a way--" "There is none--at present--_amigo mio_" interrupted the old woman; "nor do I wish any recompense beyond your thanks. If, as you say, I have been able to help you I am glad, and shall be glad to help you again whenever and as often as you may need my assistance. Nevertheless,"-- looking with sudden intentness into the young Englishman's eyes--"I think--nay, I am certain--that a time is coming when, if you care to remember them, Mama Cachama and Yupanqui will be glad that they befriended you." "Rest assured, then, Mama, that when that time arrives, you will not be forgotten," answered Harry. "And now, _adios_, until we meet again. Remember me to Yupanqui, and say that I am sorry I could not stay to see him. Are you ready, Arima? Then march!" It was close upon midnight when Escombe and his Indian guide rode into camp, after a fatiguing and somewhat adventurous journey; for as Mama Cachama had said, the way was rough and by no means devoid of danger even in the daytime, while at night those dangers were multiplied a hundredfold. Enquiry revealed that none of the six peons whom Harry had that morning despatched to seek for traces of the missing party had returned, and the young man therefore gave Arima instructions to make all necessary preparations to start with him at daybreak, in search of the spot at which Cachama had described Butler as falling exhausted after his terrible flight through the night and storm. Of course Harry scarcely expected to find Butler there, and still less did he hope it, for in that event it would only too probably mean that the missing man was dead, whereas Harry hoped that, after lying exhausted for perhaps some hours, his chief would recover strength enough to make a further effort to return to camp; but he knew that in any case the search must necessarily start from the spot indicated by Cachama, and for that spot, therefore, he must make in the first instance. It was broad daylight, but the sun had not yet risen above the snow- capped Andes when Escombe, accompanied by Arima, each of them mounted upon a sturdy mule, and the Indian leading Butler's saddled and bridled horse, rode out of camp the next morning on their quest for the missing man, taking with them a week's rations for each, and a similar quantity for Butler's use--should they be fortunate enough to find him--as well as a small supply of medical comforts, the whole contained in a pack securely strapped upon the saddle of the led horse. For the first hour the route followed by Arima was identical with that described by Mama Cachama while in her clairvoyant state; but when they reached the wood wherein Butler's horse had been found straying, the Indian bore away to the right, and, skirting the belt of timber for some distance, cut through it near its southern extremity, emerging upon the mountain spur some three miles from, and much higher than, the spot where the first search party had come out. The crest of the spur now lay about half a mile in front of them, and upon reaching it the travellers beheld a magnificent prospect before them. The mountain spur sloped away steeply from their feet, plunging down until it was lost in a wide, densely wooded ravine about a mile in width, beyond which the ground again rose somewhat irregularly in a wide sweep of upland, gradually merging into foothills which, viewed from that distance, appeared to be the advance guard of the towering Andes. The atmosphere was exquisitely clear, revealing every object in the landscape with photographic sharpness, and Arima paused for a few minutes, with the double object of breathing the animals and taking a good, long, comprehensive view of the scene before him. For some minutes he gazed intently at the many landmarks, that stretched away before him and on either hand, and at length turned to Escombe and said, pointing: "You see those twin peaks yonder, Senor?" "Assuredly," assented Harry. "And you also see that hill between them and us--the one, I mean, with the cloud shadow resting upon it which causes it to tell up dark against the sunlit mountain slopes beyond?" "Certainly," again assented Harry. "It is a few miles on the other side of that hill that we shall find the spot of which Mama Cachama spoke," explained Arima. "Then you recognise the various marks which she described for your guidance, do you, and believe that she actually saw them in her trance?" "Without doubt, Senor," answered the Indian in a tone of surprise, as though he wondered at the slight hint of incredulity suggested by the question. "And do you think that, when we arrive, we shall find the chief there?" asked Harry. "Nay, Senor, that I cannot say," answered Arima. "But this I know, that if he is still there when we reach the spot he will be dead." "Yes," assented Escombe, "I fear you are right. And how long will it take us to reach the spot?" "We shall do well if we get there before the sun sinks half-way down the heavens to-morrow," was the answer. "To-morrow!" ejaculated Harry incredulously. "How far, then, is it from where we now stand?" "If we could ride straight to it we might reach it to-day some two hours before sunset," answered Arima. "But that is impossible, Senor; our road lies off yonder to the right, along the slope of the mountain, to the nearest point at which it will be possible for us to cross the ravine; and when we have accomplished that, there will still be a toilsome ride of some three hours before us, ere we can hope to emerge from the ravine on the other side. We shall be fortunate if we accomplish so much before we are overtaken by the darkness." "Is that so?" questioned Harry. "Then in that case we had better press forward without further delay." And, digging his heels into the ribs of his mule, the young Englishman resumed his march. It was shortly after three o'clock on the following afternoon when Arima, who for the previous half-hour had been riding slowly and studying the ground intently, suddenly reined up his mule, and, leaping lightly to the ground, knelt down and carefully examined the long, coarse grass that thickly carpeted the soil. For a full minute he remained thus, delicately fingering the blades and gently pushing them aside, then he rose to his feet, and, with a sigh of satisfaction, pointed with his finger, saying: "Here is the trail of the chief, Senor; he came from yonder and went in that direction." "Are you sure, Arima?" demanded Harry. "I can see no sign of the passage of a man through this grass." "Very possibly not, Senor," answered Arima dryly, "because, you see, you are not accustomed to tracking; moreover, this trail is some days old, and was made while the grass was wet and beaten down by the rain. But it is there, nevertheless, for practised eyes to read, and, being found, can now be easily followed. When the chief passed here he was in a terribly exhausted state, and staggered as he ran, exactly as Mama Cachama described, for just here he stumbled--if your honour will take the trouble to dismount you can see the mark where the toe of his boot dug into the soil--and I think the spot where he fell finally cannot be very far from here." "In that case," said Harry, "let us press on as quickly as possible, for even minutes may be of inestimable value now. As to dismounting and examining the marks for myself, we have no time for that at present, Arima, and I am quite content to take your word for it that matters are as you say. Can you follow the trail mounted, or must you proceed on foot?" "I can follow it mounted, Senor, seeing that I was mounted when I found it," answered Arima. "But it will be well that you should ride a few yards behind me, lest the trail should swerve suddenly to right or left and be crossed by your mule." So saying, the Indian sprang into his saddle and, turning the head of his animal, rode forward at a foot pace, his eyes intently searching the sea of waving grass before him. For a quarter of an hour he rode on thus, with Harry, leading Butler's horse, following a yard or two in his rear; then he suddenly reined his mule aside and, pointing to a barely perceptible depression in the grass, said: "See, Senor, there is where the chief first fell, as described by Mama Cachama--yes--and,"--as his keen eyes roved hither and thither--"yonder is the spot where he fell and lay." A few paces brought them to the spot indicated, and here the signs were clear enough for even Escombe's untrained eyes to read, the grass being still depressed sufficiently to show that a human form had lain there motionless and stretched at length for several hours; moreover, at that part of the depression where the man's head had rested, the grass blades were still flecked here and there with dried, ruddy froth, beneath which lay a little patch of coagulated blood, from which a swarm of flies arose as Arima bent over it and pointed it out to Harry. But the fugitive had disappeared, and the Indian gave it as his opinion that the chief had revived after lying insensible for about six hours, and had immediately resumed his interrupted flight. As to the direction in which he had gone, there was no difficulty in determining that, for, leading away toward the eastward there were two wavering lines, close together, traced through the long grass by the feet of the wanderer, and still distinct enough to be followed by even so inexperienced a tracker as the young Englishman. "Now, Arima," exclaimed Harry, "is there anything worth knowing to be gained by a prolonged examination of this `form'? Because, if not, we will press on at once, since time is precious. The chief went in that direction, of course--even I can see that--and the trail is so clear that we ought to be able to follow it at a canter." "Yes, quite easily, Senor," acquiesced Arima. "There is nothing to be learned here beyond the fact that the Senor Butler fell at this spot, and lay absolutely motionless for so long a time that he must have been in a swoon. Then he revived, sat up, rose to his knees--see, there are the impressions of his two knees, and of the toes of his boots behind them--then he stood for several minutes, as though uncertain whither he would go, and finally struck off to the eastward. But see how the trail wavers this way and that way, even in the short length of it that we can trace from here. He moved quite aimlessly, not knowing whither he would go; and I think that, if he is still alive when we find him, Senor, he will be quite crazy." "So much the greater reason for finding him as quickly as possible. Mount and ride, Arima," exclaimed Harry, pressing his heels into his mule's sides, and urging the animal into a canter along the plainly marked trail until he was taught better by the Indian. "Never ride immediately over a trail which you are following, Senor, but close beside it, on one side or the other of it, so that the trail itself is left quite undisturbed. One never can tell when it may be necessary to study the trail carefully in search of some bit of information which might easily be obliterated if it were ridden or walked over." Harry at once pulled his mule to one side of the trail, Arima following it on the opposite side, and the pair pushed on, winding hither and thither as the track of the fugitive swerved this way and that, until they had travelled a further distance of some nine or ten miles, when they came upon another "form", where Butler had laid himself down to rest for--as Arima estimated--a space of about two hours. There was nothing of importance to be learned here; they therefore pushed forward again with all possible speed, for the sun was now rapidly declining toward the western horizon, and Escombe was anxious to find the wanderer before nightfall, if possible, since another night's exposure in the keen air of that elevated plain might very well prove fatal to a man in Butler's terribly exhausted condition. For the last hour of the pursuit the track had led over rising ground, and it soon became pretty evident that the fugitive had been making his uncertain way toward a gorge between two mountains, which had gradually been opening out ahead of the pursuers. Meanwhile the spoor had been growing fresher with every stride of the cantering mules, showing that the trackers were rapidly gaining upon the chase, and that the latter was now in the very last stage of exhaustion, for the "forms" where he had paused to rest were ever becoming more frequent and closer together. The Indian, therefore, after attentively studying the last form which was encountered, gave it as his opinion that the hunted man could not now be more than a mile or two ahead, and suggested that Harry should push straight on for the entrance of the gorge, in the hope of sighting the fugitive and running him down, while he (Arima), with the led horse, should continue to follow the trail, for if Butler should gain the gorge before being overtaken, his pursuit over the rocky ground might be slow and difficult. Accordingly, Harry turned his mule slightly aside from the trail, and made straight for a landmark indicated by the Indian, pressing his beast forward at its best pace. He had ridden thus about a quarter of an hour, and was rapidly approaching the entrance of the gorge, when he suddenly caught sight of a moving object ahead, winding its way among a number of masses of granite outcrop; and urging his exhausted mule to a final effort, Escombe presently had the satisfaction of identifying the moving object as a man--a white man--attired in a few tattered remnants of what had once been civilised clothing. That the man was Butler there could be no shadow of doubt, and a few strides farther enabled Harry to recognise him. As he did so, the stumbling, staggering figure paused for a moment, glanced behind him, and saw that he was pursued; whereupon he flung his arms above his head, emitted a most horrible, eldritch scream, started to run forward again, staggered a few paces, and fell forward prone upon the ground, where he lay motionless. CHAPTER SEVEN. THE JEWEL. Reining up his mule, Escombe at once glanced behind him to ascertain whether Arima happened to be within sight. Yes, there he was, about a mile distant, pushing along at a trot and winding hither and thither, as he persistently followed the erratic twistings and turnings of the pursued man's spoor. Harry therefore drew his revolver from his belt, and, pointing the muzzle of the weapon upward, discharged two shots in rapid succession to attract the Indian's attention, and then waved his white pocket handkerchief in the air as a sign that the lost man had been found, and that the pursuit was at an end. The Indian immediately uttered a peculiar shrill whoop by way of reply, and turned his beast's head directly toward the spot where the young Englishman could be seen sitting motionless in his saddle; whereupon Harry at once sprang to the ground and, throwing his mule's bridle upon the grass--a sign which the animal had been trained to obey by standing perfectly still--rushed toward the prostrate figure, and, turning it gently over, raised it to a sitting posture, passing his arm round the neck as a support to the drooping head. Yes, the man was Butler, there could be no doubt about that; but oh! what a dreadful change had been wrought by those few days of flight and exposure! Butler had always been a man of somewhat spare build, but now he was emaciated to an extent almost past belief--his cheeks were so hollow that it seemed as though an incautiously rough touch would cause the protruding cheek-bones to burst through the skin; his closed eyes were sunk so deep in their sockets that the eyeballs appeared to have dwindled to the size of small marbles; while the lips had contracted to such an extent as to leave the tightly clenched teeth clearly visible, the general effect being that of a grinning, fleshless skull with a covering of shrivelled skin drawn tightly over it. The once immaculate suit of white clothing was now deeply soiled and stained by contact with the earth and grass, and was a mere wrapping of scarcely recognisable rags, the coat being missing altogether, while great rents in the remaining garments revealed the protruding ribs and the shrunken limbs, the colour of the yellowish-brown skin being almost completely obscured by the latticing of long and deep blood-smeared scratches that mutely told how desperately the man had fought his way through all obstacles in his headlong, panic-stricken flight; his finger nails were broken and ragged; his boots were cut and torn to pieces to such an extent that they afforded scarcely any protection to his feet; and his once iron- grey hair and moustache, as well as his short growth of stubbly beard, were almost perfectly white. With a quick slash of his knife Escombe severed the filthy wisp of silk that had once been a smart necktie, as it had somehow become tightly knotted round the unconscious man's throat, and then impatiently awaited the coming of Arima, who was leading the horse on the saddle of which were strapped the small supply of medical comforts which had been brought along to meet just such a contingency as this; and a few minutes later the Indian cantered up and, flinging himself from the back of his mule, came forward to render assistance. Bidding the man kneel down and support the unconscious Butler's head, Harry sprang to the saddle bags and drew forth a flask of brandy, which he held to the sick man's lips, allowing a few drops of the liquid to find their way between the clenched teeth. For fully ten minutes he strove to coax a small quantity of the spirit down his chiefs throat, and at length had the satisfaction of seeing that some at least had been swallowed. The almost immediate result of this was a groan and a slight, spasmodic movement of the emaciated limbs; and presently, after a few minutes of further persistent effort, Butler opened his eyes. "Ah, that's better!" ejaculated the amateur physician with a sigh of extreme satisfaction. "You will soon be all right now, sir. Let me give you just another spoonful and you will feel like a new man. No, no, please don't keep your teeth clenched like that; open your mouth, Mr Butler, and let me pour a little more down your throat. Do please,"--in a most insinuating tone of voice--"it will do you no end of good. Arima, take hold of his chin and see if you can force his lower jaw open, but be as gentle as you can. There, that's right! Now then!" With a deft touch and no apparent violence the Indian succeeded in getting the locked jaws apart, and Escombe promptly availed himself of the opportunity to pour about a tablespoonful of spirits into the partially open mouth. For a moment there was no result, then a cough and a splutter on the part of the sick man showed that the potent elixir was making its way down his throat, and, with another groan, the patient made a feeble effort to struggle to his feet. But the attempt was a failure, the last particle of strength had already been spent, and, sighing heavily, Butler subsided back upon the supporting arm of the Indian, and lay staring vacantly at the rich sapphire sky that arched above him. Then Harry took him by the hand, and, calling him by name, endeavoured to win some sign of recognition from him, but all in vain. The utmost that he could accomplish was to extract from his patient a few meaningless, incoherent mumblings, which conveyed nothing save the fact that the speaker's mind was, at least for the moment, a perfect blank. At length, convinced that he could do no more until he had got his patient settled in camp, he called upon Arima to help him, and between the two they soon had the unfortunate man comfortably stretched upon a blanket under the lee of an enormous granite rock, which would at least partially shield him from the keen wind of the fast approaching night. Then, with the help of a few stout saplings cut from a clump of bush close at hand, they contrived to rig a small, makeshift kind of tent over the upper half of his body, as a further protection from the cold, and lighted their camp fire close to his feet. Then, while the Indian, with gentle touch, cut away the soiled rags of clothing from the wasted body and limbs, and swathed them in a waterproof rug, Escombe unsaddled and hobbled the horse and mules, and turned them loose to graze. Next he unpacked the saddle bags and camp equipage, and proceeded to prepare a small quantity of hot, nourishing soup, which, with infinite difficulty, he at length induced his patient to swallow, a few drops at a time; and finally, with a makeshift pillow beneath his head, the invalid was gently laid down in a comfortable posture, when he soon sank into a refreshing sleep. The weary pair seized the opportunity thus afforded them to attend to their own most pressing needs; but neither of them closed their eyes in sleep that night, for they had scarcely finished their supper when Butler awoke and again demanded their most unremitting care and attention, as he evinced great uneasiness and perturbation of mind which speedily developed into a state of such violent delirium, that it was only with the utmost difficulty the combined efforts of the pair were able to restrain him from doing either himself or them some serious injury. For more than forty hours did that dreadful delirium continue, the patient being extraordinarily violent during almost the entire period; then his unnatural strength suddenly collapsed, leaving him weak as an infant and in an almost continuous state of lethargy, so profound that it was with great difficulty that his two nurses were able to arouse him sufficiently to administer small quantities of liquid nourishment. It was by this time evident, even to Harry's inexperienced eye, that Butler's condition was desperate, even if not altogether hopeless, and he consulted Arima as to the possibility of procuring the services of a qualified physician; but the Indian had no encouragement to offer. Cerro de Pasco, the nearest town in which one might hope to find a doctor, was some fifty miles distant, as the crow flies, but the difficulties of the way were such that, using the utmost expedition, it would take a messenger at least four days to reach the place, and as many to return--assuming that the messenger were fortunate enough to find a doctor who could be persuaded to set out forthwith--by which time, Harry knew instinctively, the patient would be long past all human aid. Besides, there was no messenger to send, save Arima; and, in view of the possible recurrence of delirium, the lad felt that he would not be justified in sending the Indian away. While the two were still engaged in debating the question of what was best to be done under the distressing circumstances, Butler ended the difficulty by quietly breathing his last, crossing the borderland between life and death without a struggle, and without recovering consciousness. Indeed so perfectly quiet and peaceful was the end that it was some time before young Escombe could convince himself that his chief was really dead; but when at length there could no longer be any question as to the fact, the body was at once wrapped in the waterproof sheet which had formed a makeshift tent for the shelter of the sick man, and packed, with as much reverence as the circumstances would allow, upon the deceased man's horse, for conveyance back to camp for interment, the pair having with them no implements wherewith to dig a grave. Moreover, Harry considered that, taking the somewhat peculiar circumstances of the case into consideration, it was very desirable that the body should be seen and identified by the other members of the survey party before burial took place. This event occurred on the evening of the third day after death, Escombe himself reading the burial service; and he afterwards fashioned with his own hands, and placed at the head of the grave, a wooden cross, upon which he roughly but deeply cut with his pocket knife the name of the dead man and the date of his death. He also, as a matter of precaution, took a very careful set of astronomical observations for the determination of the exact position of the grave, recording the result in his diary at the end of the long entry detailing all the circumstances connected with the sad event. Escombe now suddenly found his young shoulders burdened with a heavy load of responsibility, for not only did Butler's death leave the lad in sole charge of the survey party, with the task of carrying on unaided the exceedingly important work upon which that party was engaged, until assistance could be sent out to him from England; but it also became his immediate duty to report all the circumstances of the death of his leader to the British Consul at Lima--who would doubtless put in motion the necessary machinery for the capture and punishment of the men who were responsible for the events which had brought about Butler's death-- and also to Sir Philip Swinburne, who would, of course, in turn, communicate the sad intelligence to the deceased man's family. And there were also all Butler's private effects to be packed up and sent home forthwith. Yet, taking everything into consideration, the death of his chief was a relief rather than otherwise to the lad, unfeeling though the statement may appear at the first blush. Butler was a man for whom it was quite impossible for anyone to acquire a friendly feeling; Harry therefore felt that when he had committed his chief's body to the earth with as much respectful observance as the circumstances permitted, had carefully and scrupulously collected together and dispatched to England all the dead man's personal belongings, and had taken such steps as were possible for the capture and punishment of the men who were primarily responsible for Butler's death, he had done everything that a strict sense of duty claimed from him, and was not called upon to feign and outwardly manifest a sorrow which had no place in his heart. Besides, he was now the responsible head of the survey party; upon him depended-- for at least the next three months--the conduct of an important and highly scientific operation; and upon the manner in which he conducted it depended very serious issues involving the expenditure of exceedingly large sums of money. This was his opportunity to demonstrate to all concerned the stuff of which he was made; it was an opportunity so splendid that many a young fellow of his age would cheerfully give half a dozen years of his life to obtain such another; for Harry fully realised that if he could carry his task to a successful conclusion his fortune, from the professional point of view, was made. And he felt that he could--ay, and would--do this. The experience which he had already gained since his arrival in Peru had been of inestimable value to him, and he had made the very utmost of it; he therefore felt confident of his ability to carry through his task to the satisfaction of his employers and with credit to himself, and he entered upon it with avidity and keen enjoyment. Moreover, he was tactful, and possessed the happy knack of managing those under him in such a way that he was able to extract the very last ounce of work from them without offending their susceptibilities, or causing them to feel that he was making undue demands upon them. Under these circumstances, and with the perpetual galling irritation of Butler's presence and influence removed, the survey made rapid and very satisfactory progress, the party arriving at Cerro de Pasco in a trifle under six weeks from the date of Butler's death, thus completing the second section of the survey. The third section was very much longer and more difficult in every respect than either of the two completed, since it extended from Nanucaca--already connected by rail with Cerro de Pasco--along the shore of Lake Chinchaycocha to Ayacucho and Cuzco, and thence on to Santa Rosa, the distance being some four hundred and seventy miles as the crow flies, while the difficulties of the route might possibly increase that distance by nearly one-third. But Escombe was by no means dismayed by the formidable character of the obstacles that lay before him; he had come to realise that, to the man who would achieve success, obstacles exist only that they may be overcome, and he was gaining experience daily in the overcoming of obstacles. He therefore attacked this third and very formidable section, not only without any anxiety or fear, but with a keen zest that instantly communicated itself to his little band of followers, welding them together into a perfectly harmonious, smooth-working whole. It must not be thought, however, that Escombe allowed himself to become so completely absorbed in his work that he could think of nothing else. On the contrary, he understood perfectly the meaning of the word "recreation" and the value of the thing itself. He knew that no man can work for ever without wearing himself out, and he looked upon recreation as--what its name implied--a re-creation or rebuilding of those forces, mental and physical, which labour wears away, and valued it accordingly, taking it whenever he felt that he really needed it, even as he took food or medicine. Now it chanced that fishing was one of Escombe's favourite recreations; and no sooner had he started the third section of the survey--which began by skirting the eastern shore of Lake Chinchaycocha--than he made a practice of indulging in an hour or two's fishing whenever the opportunity offered. It was this practice that led to an occurrence which was destined to culminate in an adventure so startling and extraordinary as to be scarcely credible in these prosaic twentieth- century days. It happened on a Saturday afternoon. On the day in question, the survey party being then encamped on the shore of Lake Chinchaycocha, as soon as he had squared up his week's work, and snatched a hasty luncheon, the young Englishman brought forth his fishing tackle, and, getting aboard a balsa, or light raft, which Arima had constructed for him, proceeded to paddle some distance out from the shore to a spot which he had already ascertained afforded him a fair prospect of sport. Arrived there he dropped his keeleg--a large stone serving the purpose of an anchor--overboard and settled down comfortably to enjoy his favourite pastime, and also provide an exceedingly welcome addition to the somewhat monotonous fare of camp life. The sport that afternoon was not so good as Harry had expected, and it was drawing well on toward evening before the fish began to bite at all freely--he was trying especially for a certain particularly delicious kind of fish, something between a trout and a mullet, which was only to be captured by allowing the hook to rest at the very bottom of the lake. Suddenly he felt a smart tug at his line and at once began to haul it in, but he had scarcely got it fairly taut when the tremulous jerk which denoted the presence of a fish at the other end was exchanged for a steady strain, and it soon became perfectly evident that the hook had become entangled in something at the bottom. Now Escombe's stock of fishing tackle was of exceedingly modest proportions, so much so, indeed, that the loss of even a solitary hook was a matter not to be contemplated with indifference, therefore he brought all his skill to bear upon the delicate task of releasing the hook from its entanglement. But at the end of half an hour he was no nearer to success than at the beginning of his endeavours, while the sun was within a hand's breadth of the horizon, and he had no fancy for being caught by the darkness while on the lake, therefore he adopted other tactics, and strove to bring the object, whatever it might be, to the surface by means of a steady yet not dangerously powerful strain. Ah, that was better! At the very first tug Escombe felt the resistance yield by the merest hairs-breadth, and presently a faint jerk told him that he had gained another fraction of an inch, which success was repeated every few seconds until he was able to lift and drop the line a clear foot. Then the sun's lower limb touched and rested for an instant upon the ridge of the Western Cordilleras before it began to sink behind them, and Harry realised that the moment for energetic measures had arrived; for he was a good two miles from the shore, and it would take him the best part of an hour to paddle his clumsy craft that distance. Therefore he steadily increased the strain upon his line, determined to release himself one way or another, even though at the cost of a hook. But it proved unnecessary for him to make so great a sacrifice, it was the unknown object that yielded, with little momentary jerks and an ever decreasing resistance until it finally let go its hold of the bottom altogether and came to the surface securely entangled with the hook. Upon its emergence from the water Harry gazed at his catch in astonishment; he had expected to see the water-logged branch of a tree, a bunch of weed, or something of that sort, but as it dangled, dripping with sandy ooze in the last rays of the setting sun, certain ruddy-yellow gleams that flashed from it told its finder that he had fished up something metallic from the bottom of the lake. The next moment Escombe was busily engaged in disentangling his find from the fish hook, but long ere he had succeeded in doing so the young man had made the interesting discovery that he had been fortunate enough to retrieve a most remarkable jewel, in the form of a gold and emerald collar, from the depths of the lake. Methodical even in the midst of his excitement at having made so valuable a find, the young Englishman carefully disentangled his hook and line from the jewel, neatly wound up the former, and then proceeded patiently to wash away from the latter the ooze with which it was thickly coated, having done which he found himself in possession of an ornament so massive in material and so elaborate and unique in workmanship that he felt certain it must be worth quite a little fortune to any curio collector. It was, or appeared to be, a collar or necklace, a trifle over two feet in length, the ends united by a massive ring supporting a medallion. The links, so to speak, of the necklace consisted of twelve magnificent emeralds, each engraved upon one side with certain cabalistic characters, the meaning of which Escombe could not guess at, and upon the other with a symbol which was easily identifiable as that of the sun; these emeralds were massively set-- framed would be almost the more appropriate word--in most elaborately sculptured gold, and joined together by heavy gold links also very elaborately cut. The pendant was likewise composed of a superb emerald of fully three inches diameter set in a gold frame, chiselled to represent the rays of the sun, the emerald itself being engraved with the representation of a human face, which, oddly enough, Harry recognised, even at the first glance, to be extraordinarily, astoundingly like his own. This was a find worth having, the young man told himself, and might prove worth several hundreds of pounds if judiciously advertised and offered for sale at Christie's upon his return home; for safety's sake, therefore, he put it round his neck, tucking it inside his shirt, snugly out of sight, and, heaving up his keeleg, proceeded to paddle thoughtfully back to the shore. It was some three months after this occurrence--and in the interim young Escombe had pushed forward the survey so rapidly, despite all difficulties, that he had covered more than half the distance between Nanucaca and Ayacucho--when, as he returned to camp at the end of his day's work, he observed two strange mules tethered near his tent; and presently a stranger emerged from the tent and advanced toward him. The stranger, although deeply tanned by the sun, was unmistakably an Englishman, some twenty-eight years of age, rather above middle height, and with a pleasant though resolute expression stamped upon his good-- looking features. Approaching Harry, he held out his hand and smilingly remarked: "Mr Escombe, I presume. My name is Bannister--John Bannister--and I come from Sir Philip Swinburne to act as your colleague in the completion of the survey upon which you are engaged. These,"--producing a packet of papers--"are my credentials. Grand country this,"--casting an admiring glance at the magnificent scenery amid which the camp was pitched--"but, my word, you must have had some tough bits of work, even before reaching this spot." "You are right, we have," answered Harry as he cordially returned Bannister's grasp. "I am right glad to see you, and to bid you welcome to our camp, for I have been pretty badly in want of intelligent help lately. These fellows,"--indicating the native helpers who were now scattered about the camp busily preparing for the evening meal--"are all well enough in their way, and since poor Butler's death I have managed to drill them into something like decent, useful shape; but I have often been badly hampered for the want of another surveyor who could work with me in surmounting some of the especially bad places. Now that you have come we shall be able to get ahead nearly twice as fast. I suppose you came out by the last mail, eh? And how are things going in the dear old country?" Harry led the new arrival into his tent, and proceeded forthwith to discard his working clothes and divest himself of the stains of his day's toil as he chatted animatedly, asking questions for the most part, as is the wont of the old hand--and Escombe had by this time grown to quite regard himself as such--when he foregathers with somebody fresh from "home". Bannister, having arrived at the camp pretty early in the afternoon, had already bathed and changed; he therefore had nothing to do but to sit still and answer Harry's questions, jerking in one or two himself occasionally, until the younger man's toilet was completed, when they sat down to dinner together. By the time that the meal was over each felt perfectly satisfied that he would be able to get on well with the other, and was looking forward to a quite pleasant time up there among the stupendous mountains. Upon first seeing Bannister, and learning that he had come out from Sir Philip, Harry naturally thought that the new arrival had been dispatched to fill the position of chief of the survey party, rendered vacant by the death of the unfortunate Butler; but upon opening the credentials which Bannister had presented, he found that it was actually as the bearer had stated, that he and Harry were to act as colleagues, not as chief and subordinate, in the completion of the survey, thus making the pair jointly responsible for the work, while they would share equally the credit upon its completion. They spent an exceedingly pleasant evening together, chatting mostly over the work that still lay before them, Harry producing his plans and explaining what had already been done, while Bannister sat listening gravely to the recital of sundry hairbreadth escapes from death in the execution of duty, and of the manner in which a few of the more than ordinarily difficult bits of work had been accomplished; and when the pair again sat chatting together, twenty-four hours later, at the end of their first day together, each felt absolutely satisfied with the comrade with which fortune had brought him into touch. Under these agreeable circumstances the survey progressed with greater rapidity than ever, the two Englishmen conquering obstacle after obstacle, and meeting with plenty of thrilling adventures in the process, until in the fullness of time they reached first Ayacucho and then Cuzco, when the worst of their troubles were over. For there was a road--of sorts--between the ancient capital and Santa Rosa, and the two Englishmen, after riding over it in company, agreed that, for a considerable part of the way at least, the best route for a railway would be found contiguous to the highroad, by following which the surveyors would derive many substantial advantages, in addition to finding a comparatively easy route to survey. CHAPTER EIGHT. THE ABDUCTION. The survey party had traversed about half the distance between Cuzco and Santa Rosa when the two Englishmen, following their invariable custom of indulging in a swim as often as opportunity afforded, made their way, at the end of a hard day's work, to a most romantic spot which they had encountered. Here a small stream, flowing through a rocky gorge, fell over a granite ledge on to a large flat slab of rock some nine feet below, from which in turn it poured into a noble basin almost perfectly circular in shape, about twenty feet deep, and nearly or quite a hundred feet in diameter, ere it continued its course down the ravine. To stand on the slab of rock beneath the fall was to enjoy an ideal shower bath; and to dive from that same slab into the deep, pellucid pool and thereafter swim across the pool and back three or four times was a luxury worth riding several miles to enjoy; small wonder, therefore, was it that the two Englishmen resolved to make the most of their opportunity, and continue to use this perfect natural swimming bath so long as their work kept them within reach of it. The camp was situated some two miles back from the pool, the bathers therefore, fatigued with a long day's work, decided to ride to and from the spot, instead of walking, and Arima, the Indian--who had by this time constituted himself Escombe's especial henchman--was directed to accompany them to look after the horses while the riders were enjoying their dip. Arrived at the pool, the two friends dismounted and proceeded to undress on a small space of rich, lush grass in close proximity to the basin, the Indian meanwhile squatting upon his heels and holding the horses' bridles while the animals eagerly grazed. Now, Arima's devotion to Harry, originating at the time when the two had made their memorable journey together to Mama Cachama's cave, and very greatly strengthened during the adventurous hunt for the missing Butler, had steadily developed until it had become almost if not quite as strong as that of a parent for an idolised child. The Indian could not bear his young master to be out of his sight for a moment, and was always most unhappy whenever the exigencies of work necessitated a separation of the two. He had been known to resort to the most extraordinary devices to prevent such an occurrence, and when the two were together Arima never allowed his gaze to wander for a moment from his master's form if he could help it. Yet, singularly enough, it was not until this particular evening that the Indian had become aware of Escombe's possession of the jewel so strangely fished up from the depths of Lake Chinchaycocha, or had ever caught sight of it. But he saw it now, as Escombe undressed at a few yards' distance, the light falling strongly upon the dull red gold and the emeralds, as the lad carefully removed it from his neck and laid it upon the top of his clothes ere he rushed, with a joyous shout, and placed himself immediately beneath the foaming water of the fall. The sight appeared to arouse a feeling of very powerful curiosity in the breast of the Indian, for it was only with the utmost difficulty that he contrived to retain his attitude of passivity until the more deliberately moving Bannister had joined his friend upon the slab beneath the fall; but no sooner had this happened than, abandoning the horses to their own devices, Arima crept cautiously forward until he reached Escombe's heap of clothing, and, availing himself of the preoccupation of the bathers, took the jewel in his hand and examined it with the most rapt attention and care. For a space of nearly five minutes he continued his examination, after which he slowly and thoughtfully made his way back to the horses, which were too busily feeding upon the luscious grass to stray far. For the remainder of the evening the Indian seemed to be plunged in a state of meditation so profound as to be quite oblivious of all outward things save his young master, his conduct toward whom was marked by a new and yet subtle attitude of almost worshipping reverence. But when the hands were mustered for work on the following morning, Arima was nowhere to be found; he had vanished some time during the night, saying nothing to anyone, and leaving no trace behind. Harry was very much upset at this sudden and inexplicable disappearance of the servant who, in a thousand little unobtrusive ways, had ministered so effectually to his comfort that his loss was at once felt as a serious misfortune, and he devoted two whole days to a search for the missing man, fearing that the fellow had strayed away from the camp and that something untoward had befallen him. But the search was quite unavailing, and on the third day it was abandoned, the only conclusion at which Escombe could arrive being that the Indian had deserted under the influence of pique at some unintentional affront and gone back to his own people. It was some two months later--by which time the party was drawing near to Santa Rosa, and the great railway survey was approaching completion-- that in the dead of a dark and starless night three Indians stealthily approached the surveyors' camp and, having first reconnoitred the ground as carefully as the pitch darkness would permit, made their way, noiseless as shadows, to the tent occupied by young Escombe. The leading Indian was Arima, the two who followed were very old men, their scanty locks, white as snow, hanging to their shoulders, their ascetic, clean-cut features sharp and shrunken, yet they carried themselves as upright as though they had been in the heyday of youth, and their sunken eyes glowed and sparkled with undiminished fire. They wore sleeveless shirts of pure white, finely woven of vicuna wool, reaching to the knee, the opening at the throat and arms, and also the hem of the garment, being richly ornamented with embroidery in heavy gold thread. This garment was confined at the waist by a massive belt of solid gold composed of square placques hinged together, and each elaborately sculptured with conventional representations of the sun. Over this was worn a long cloak, dyed blue, also woven of vicuna wool, but without ornament of any description. Their heads were bare, and the lobe of each ear was pierced and distended to receive a gold medallion nearly four inches in diameter, also heavily sculptured with a representation of the sun. Their legs were bare, but each wore sandals bound to the feet and ankles by thongs of leather. To judge from the travel-stained appearance of their garments they must have come a considerable distance, and have been exposed to many vicissitudes of weather. Entering Escombe's tent, which was dimly lighted by a hanging lamp turned low, Arima noiselessly moved aside and silently, with outstretched hand, indicated to his two companions the form of the sleeping lad, who lay stretched at length upon his camp bed, breathing the long, deep breath of profound slumber. Nodding silently, one of the two withdrew from a pouch which hung suspended from his belt a soft cloth and a small phial. Extracting the stopper from the latter, he emptied the contents of the phial upon the cloth, which he then very gradually approached to the nostrils of the sleeper until it was within an inch of them. He held the cloth thus for about five minutes, allowing the fumes of the liquid to enter the sleeper's nostrils, while his companion very gently laid his fingers upon the pulse of Escombe's right hand, which happened to be lying outside the coverlet. At length the second Indian--he who held Harry's wrist--nodded to the first, saying, in a low voice, in the ancient Quichua language: "It is enough; nothing will now awaken him,"--whereupon the holder of the cloth returned it and the phial to his pouch and stepped back from the side of the bed. Then, turning to Arima, he said, in the same language: "Say you, Arima, that this youth always wears the collar upon his person, night and day?" "Even so, Lord," answered Arima. "At least," he modified his statement, "so I surmise; for I have never seen the jewel save the once whereof I told you, and again on that same night when I stole into his tent while he slept, and found that he was wearing it then. Whereupon I hastened to you with my momentous news." "You have done well, friend," answered the first speaker. "Should all prove to be as you say, you shall be richly rewarded. And now,"--he caught his breath with sudden excitement--"to settle the question." Then, turning to his companion, he said: "Approach, brother, and look with me. It is meet that we should both gaze upon the sacred emblem--if so it should prove--at the self-same moment." He signed to Arima, who turned up the flame of the lamp, whereupon the two Inca priests--for such the strangers actually were-- bent over Escombe's sleeping figure, one on each side of the bed, and while one drew down the coverlet the other unbuttoned the lad's sleeping jacket, exposing to view the jewel which he had fished up from Lake Chinchaycocha, and which, for safety, he always wore round his neck. Eagerly the two priests bent down and scrutinised the magnificent ornament as it lay upon the gently heaving breast of the sleeper; and as their eyes hungrily took in the several peculiarities of the jewel a thrill of excitement visibly swept over them. Finally, he who appeared to be the elder of the two said to the other: "There can scarcely be a doubt that Arima's surmise is correct; nevertheless, brother, pass your hand beneath the young man's shoulder and raise him slightly that I may remove the collar and examine it." The priest addressed at once obeyed the request of the other, who thereupon gently passed the ornament over the sleeper's head and, taking it immediately beneath the lamp, proceeded to examine every part of it with the closest scrutiny, his companion allowing Escombe's limp body to subside back on the pillow before he, too, joined in the inspection. Every link, almost every mark of the chisel, was subjected to the most careful examination, and apparently certain of the engraved marks were recognised as bearing a definite meaning; for on more than one occasion the elder of the two priests pointed to such a mark, saying, "Behold, Motahuana, here is, unmistakably, the secret sign," while the other would nod his head solemnly and respond, "Even so, Tiahuana; I see it." Finally he who had been addressed by the other as Tiahuana turned the jewel over in his hand and examined the back of it. His gaze instantly fell upon the cabalistic characters engraved upon the backs of the emeralds, which had puzzled Escombe, and, laying the jewel gently down upon the bed, he prostrated himself before it, Motahuana immediately following his example, as also did Arima. For a space of some three or four minutes the trio appeared to be absorbed in some act of silent devotion, then Tiahuana rose to his feet and fixed his gaze on the jewel which lay upon the coverlet of Escombe's bed. Meditatively his eyes rested upon the great emerald pendant with its engraved representation of a human face, and from thence they wandered to the calm features of the sleeping lad. Suddenly he started, and his gaze became alert, almost startled. He bent down and scrutinised the engraved features intently, then quickly diverted his gaze to those on the pillow. Was it some trick of light, he asked himself, or were the two sets of features identical? "Look, Motahuana, look!" he whispered in tense accents; "see you the resemblance? I have but observed it this instant. Nay, man, you can scarcely see it from where you stand, for that side of his face is in shadow. Come to this side of the couch--or, stay, I will move the lamp." He did so, holding the lamp so that its light fell full upon the sleeper's face, while with the other hand he rearranged the collar so that the pendant lay upright upon Escombe's breast. In this position, and in the stronger light, the likeness was even more startlingly striking than before, and for two long minutes the aged pair bent intently over the object of their scrutiny with an ever-growing expression of wonder and awe upon their attenuated features. "Well, brother," at length demanded Tiahuana, somewhat sharply, "see you what I mean, or is it merely my fancy--a figment of my over-heated imagination?" "Nay, Lord," answered Motahuana in an awestruck whisper, "it is no figment, no fancy; the likeness is wonderful, marvellous, perfect; the features are identical, curve for curve and line for line, save that those engraved on the emerald bear the impress of a few more years of life. That, however, is immaterial, and in no wise affects the fact that in this sleeping youth we behold the reincarnation of him who first wore the sacred jewel, the lord and father of our people, Manco Capac!" "Even so; you say truly, Motahuana," agreed Tiahuana in tones of exultation. "The revelation is complete and indisputable past all doubt; the mighty Manco Capac has returned to earth from his home among the stars, and soon now shall Peru resume its former glorious position as the greatest and most powerful nation in the world. It is true that the great Manco returns to us in the guise of a young Englishman, for which circumstance I was scarcely prepared; but what of that? It is better so; for England is to-day the wisest and most mighty nation on the face of the earth, and doubtless the Inca brings with with him a rich store of the knowledge of England. Come, there is no occasion for further delay; let us be going, for we must be far hence and beyond the reach of pursuit ere our father the Sun awakens his children and discloses the fact of our Lord's disappearance. Go thou, Arima, and summon hither the litter bearers and the others." In a perfect ecstasy of pride and delight that it should have fallen to his lot to become the humble instrument whereby had been made known to his people the glorious fact of the great Inca's reincarnation in the person of Escombe--as he never for a moment doubted was the case--Arima hurried out to where the remainder of the party lay patiently in ambush, briefly announced to them that all was well, and bade them follow him in perfect silence to the tent in which Harry still lay plunged in a deathlike yet quite harmless sleep. The litter--a light but strong structure, framed of bamboos and covered with vicuna cloth, so arranged that it could be completely closed--was carried right into the tent, the covering thrown back, and Escombe was lifted, on his mattress and still covered with the bedclothes, off the little iron camp bedstead and carefully placed in the litter, the jewel was replaced about his neck, the pillow under his head was comfortably arranged by Arima, the litter was closed, and then a little procession, consisting of the litter and its four bearers, with the eight other men who acted as reliefs, headed by the two priests, filed silently out into the darkness, leaving Arima, with six men, armed to the teeth with bows and arrows--the latter tipped with copper--lances of hardwood sharpened by fire, and short swords, the copper blades of which were hardened and tempered almost to the consistency of steel by a process known only to the Peruvians themselves. The duty of these men was to collect together and pack, under Arima's supervision, the whole of Escombe's private and personal belongings; and this they did with such expedition that, in less than half an hour from the involuntary departure of its owner, the tent was almost entirely stripped of its contents and left deserted. Under the anaesthetic influence of the vapour which he had unconsciously inhaled, Escombe continued to sleep soundly until close upon midday, by which time the effect had almost entirely passed off, and he began to awake very gradually to the consciousness that something very much out of the ordinary course of things was happening. The first thing to impress itself upon his slowly awakening senses was the fact that the bed upon which he was lying was in motion, a gentle, easy, rhythmic, swaying motion, unlike any movement that he had ever before experienced. Yet the bed seemed to be the same as that upon which he had retired to rest upon the preceding night, so far as he could judge; the mattress had the old familiar feel, and--yes, certainly, he was still under the shelter of the bedclothes, and his head still rested upon the familiar pillow--he could feel the lumps in it where the flock filling had become matted together. But why the mysterious motion? Could it be that he was experiencing for the first time the effects of a Peruvian earthquake? Slowly and reluctantly he opened his eyes, and saw that his bed was indeed the same, yet with a certain difference, the precise nature of which he was at first unable to define. But presently he saw that the bed or couch upon which he was lying was closely encompassed by a soft blanket-like cloth, tightly strained over a light bamboo framework, forming a sort of canopy. And the motion? He was by this time sufficiently awake to understand that it was real; nor was it due to earthquake, as he had at first been inclined to think it might be; no, it was the regular, rhythmic movement of men marching and keeping step; he was being carried! With a rush his senses came fully back to him, and he started up into a sitting posture. It was high time for him to get to the bottom of this mystery, he told himself. He saw that midway in their length the side curtains which enclosed him were divided and overlapped, and, stretching out his hand, he wrenched them apart, at the same time, in his forgetfulness, calling loudly for Arima. In an instant the Indian was by the side of the litter and peering in through the opening between the parted curtains, to his masters intense astonishment. "You called, Senor--my Lord, I mean?" exclaimed the man submissively. "I did!" answered Escombe incisively. "What has happened, Arima? Where have you been? Where am I? Why am I being carried off in this outrageous manner? Answer me quickly." "My Lord," answered the Indian deprecatingly, "I implore you not to be disturbed or alarmed in the least. We are all your slaves, and are prepared to lay down our lives in your service. No harm is intended you; but it is necessary that you accompany us to the place whither we are going. Here is my Lord Tiahuana. He will perhaps explain further." Meanwhile, during this brief colloquy, the cortege had come to a halt, and now the elder of the two priests presented himself as Arima retired, and, with a profound obeisance, said: "Let my Lord pardon his servants, and let not his anger be kindled against them. What we have done has been done of necessity and because there seemed to be no other way. But my Lord need have no fear that evil is meditated against him; on the contrary, a position of great power and glory will be his at the end of his journey; and meanwhile every possible provision has been made for the comfort and wellbeing of my Lord during his passage through the mountains." "But--but--I don't understand," stammered Harry. "Who are you, why do you address me as Lord, and what do you mean by talking about a passage through the mountains? There is a ridiculous mistake." "Nay, Lord, be assured that there is no mistake," answered Tiahuana impressively. "The matter has been most carefully investigated, and the fact has been conclusively established that my Lord is he whom we want. The jewel which my Lord even now wears about his neck proves it. Further than that--" "The jewel that I am wearing about my neck--this thing?" exclaimed Harry, drawing it forth. "Why, man, I fished this up from the bottom of Lake Chinchaycocha, and am simply wearing it because it appeared valuable and I did not wish to lose it." "Even so, Lord," answered Tiahuana soothingly, and with even increased reverence, if that were possible. "The circumstance that my Lord drew the collar of the great Manco Capac from the depths of Chinchaycocha is but an added proof--if such were needed--that my Lord is he whom we have believed him to be, and that no mistake has been made." "But, my good man, I tell you that a mistake _has_ been made--a very stupid mistake--which I must insist that you rectify at once," exclaimed Escombe, who was beginning to grow a trifle exasperated at what he inwardly termed the fellow's stupid persistence. "Look here," he continued, "I don't in the least know whom you suppose me to be, but I will tell you who I am. My name is Escombe--Henry Escombe. I am an Englishman, and I only came to Peru--" "My Lord," interposed Tiahuana with deep humility, yet with a certain inflection of firmness in his voice, "all that you would say is perfectly well known to us your servants; it has been told to us by the man Arima. But nothing can alter the fact that my Lord is the man referred to in the prophecy pronounced by the great High Priest Titucocha on the awful night when the Inca Atahuallpa was strangled by the Spaniards in the great square of Caxamalca. From that moment the ancient Peruvian people have looked for the coming of my lord to free them from the yoke of the foreign oppressor, to give them back their country, and to restore them to the proud position which they occupied ere the coming of the cruel Spaniard; and now that my lord has deigned to appear we should be foolish indeed to permit anything--anything, Lord--to stand in the way of the realisation of our long-deferred hopes." Harry began to realise that the misunderstanding was more serious than he had at first thought. It must be put right without any further delay. But he could not sit there in that ridiculous palankeen affair and argue with a man who stood with his head thrust between the curtains; he must get up and dress. Moreover, he was ravenously hungry, and felt certain that the breakfast hour must have long gone past. So, instead of replying to Tiahuana's last remarks, he simply said: "Send Arima to me." The old priest instantly withdrew, and in his place appeared Arima again, who had been standing within earshot, quite expecting a summons at any moment. "Behold, I am here, Lord," remarked the Indian with a deep obeisance. "What is my Lord's will with the least of his servants?" "My will," answered Harry, "is to dress and have breakfast at once. When you and your friends kidnapped me last night, did you by any chance have the sense to bring my clothes along?" "We have brought everything with us, Lord," answered Arima. "Nothing that I know to be my Lord's property has been left behind." "Um!" thought Harry, "the beggar has been altogether too faithful for my liking. He has brought everything of mine, has he? That means that if I cannot persuade these idiots to take me back to the camp, and it becomes necessary for me to make my escape, I shall have to go off with just what I stand up in, leaving the rest of my belongings in their hands!" Aloud he said: "Very well, then please bring me the clothes that I wore while at work yesterday." With breathless haste the clothes required were brought forth from a bundle into which they had been hastily thrust, and presented to their owner; the litter was gently deposited upon the ground, and Harry, lightly clad in his pyjama suit, scrambled out, to find himself in the midst of an extensive pine wood, with his escort, consisting of twenty- one persons all told, prostrate on their faces around him! Evidently, he told himself, he was a personage of such dignity and consequence that he must not be looked at by profane eyes while dressing. Smiling to himself at the absurdity of the whole adventure, he quickly proceeded with his toilet, obsequiously assisted by the faithful Arima; and when at length he was dressed, a word from Arima caused the escort to rise to their feet. Then, while some of them proceeded to gather branches and light a fire, others set to work to open certain bundles from which they rapidly extracted bread, chocolate, sugar, and, in short, all the ingredients required to furnish forth an appetising and satisfying breakfast. Finally, about half an hour later, the young Englishman, in a frame of mind about equally divided between annoyance at his abduction and amazement at the unaccountable behaviour of his abductors, found himself partaking of the said breakfast, presented to him in a service of solid gold of curious but most elaborate design and workmanship, and waited upon by his entire suite with as much ceremony and obsequiousness as though he were a king. CHAPTER NINE. TIAHUANA TELLS A STRANGE STORY. Escombe's appetite was good, the food delicious, the cooking perfection, the service irreproachable, if somewhat elaborate. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that the young man made an excellent meal, and that at its conclusion he should feel himself in admirable form for tackling his captors upon the subject of their outrageous abduction of him. Therefore, after performing his post-prandial ablutions in a basin of solid gold, held before him by a kneeling man, and drying himself upon an immaculate towel woven of cotton which was a perfect miracle of absorbent softness, tendered to him by another kneeling man, he resolutely seated himself upon a moss-grown rock which happened to conveniently protrude itself from the soil close at hand, and proceeded to deal with the matter. He had no difficulty in recognising that Tiahuana and Motahuana were the two wielders of authority in his escort--which, by the way, he noticed had a persistent trick of arranging itself about him in a tolerably close circle of which he was the centre--he therefore opened the proceedings by remarking: "Now, before I go another step I insist upon having a full and explicit explanation of your unwarrantable behaviour in entering my camp last night and abducting me, to the serious detriment of the exceedingly important work upon which I am engaged. You have assured me that I have nothing to fear at your hands, and you appear to be quite satisfied that in abducting me you have got the man you want; but I am as far as ever from understanding what your motive can be. Which of you two men is responsible for the outrage?" "I am the responsible one, Lord," answered Tiahuana. "I, the high priest of the remnant of the ancient Peruvian race, now and for many long years established in the city of the Sun which, unknown to any but ourselves, lies hidden far away among the mountains. You demand an explanation of what you have termed my unwarrantable action in taking possession of your august person. It is a just and reasonable demand, Lord; moreover, it is necessary that you should have it. Therefore, let my Lord deign to listen to what to him may seem a wild and incredible story, but which is strictly true in every particular. "When in the dim and remote past our Lord and Father the Sun took compassion upon us his people, he sent two of his children--Manco Capac and Mama Oello Huaco--to earth in order that they might form us into a united and consolidated nation. These two established themselves in a certain spot, the locality of which had been divinely revealed to them by a certain sign--even as your identity, Lord, has been revealed to us; and our forefathers gathering about them, the ancient and royal city of Cuzco was built, wherein Manco Capac took up his abode as our first Inca. Now, Manco Capac, being of divine origin, was endowed with marvellous wisdom and knowledge, even to the foreseeing of future events; and among the events which he foretold was that of the conquest of our country by the Spaniard. He also formulated many wise and righteous laws for the government of the people, which laws were further added to by his successors. "Now, with the building of the city of Cuzco and his establishment therein as Inca, Manco assumed royal dignity, and inaugurated a code of stately ceremonial for all those who formed his court and might have occasion to come to it. He also arrayed himself in regal garments and adorned his person with certain regal ornaments, of which the collar now worn by you, Lord, was the most important next to the imperial borla, or tasselled fringe of scarlet, adorned with coraquenque feathers, which was the distinguishing insignia of royalty. "When in the fullness of time Manco was called home to the mansions of his father the Sun, he gave minute instructions, before his departure, as to the disposal of everything belonging to him, including his royal jewels. Some of these he ordained were to be deposited with his body in the great temple of the Sun at Cuzco. But the jewel which you are now wearing, Lord, he decreed was to be handed down from Inca to Inca, even unto the last of the race; and it was so. Atahuallpa wore it as he entered the city of Caxamalca at the head of his vassals and retinue on the afternoon of that fatal day when he fell into the hands of the treacherous Spaniards and, helpless to prevent it, beheld thousands of his unarmed followers slaughtered like sheep in the great square. But he did not wear it on the night when, at the command of the false and treacherous Pizarro, he was haled forth himself to die in the great square where so many of his followers had previously perished. Nor did it fall into the hands of his captors, thus much was ascertained beyond all possibility of doubt. What became of it nobody could--or would-- say; but on the night of Atahuallpa's murder the High Priest Titucocha suddenly emerged from the great temple of the Sun in Cuzco and, standing before the entrance, summoned the inhabitants of the city to assemble before him. Then he told them that Atahuallpa was dead, that the Inca dynasty was at an end, and that the great Peruvian nation was doomed to pass under the rule of the _Conquistadors_, and be swallowed up by them and their descendants. `But not for all time, my children,' he cried. `We have sinned in that we have permitted the Spaniards to overrun our country without opposition, instead of utterly destroying them as we might have done; and this is our punishment for not defending the land which our Father the Sun gave us for our sustenance and enjoyment. But be not dismayed; a remnant of you shall survive, and under my leadership shall retire to a certain place the locality of which has been revealed to me, and there will we build a new City of the Sun, the glory of which shall exceed that of Cuzco, even as the glory of our Lord and Father the Sun exceeds that of his consort the Moon. And in the fullness of time it shall come to pass that Manco Capac, the founder of our nation, shall be reincarnated and shall appear among us, and he will become our Inca, to reign over us as aforetime, and restore the Peruvian nation to its pristine power and glory by virtue of his own wisdom and the power of the wealth which we will accumulate for his use. And when he appears ye shall know him from the fact that he will wear about his neck the great emerald collar worn first by himself and afterward by all the Incas.' "And behold, Lord, as Titucocha spake, so hath it all happened. A remnant of the ancient Peruvian race survives to this day, untainted by any admixture with the blood of aliens; and while many of them are scattered abroad over the face of the country watching ever for the reappearance of Manco Capac, the lesser part are gathered together in the City of the Sun, founded by Titucocha, and now in the very zenith of its magnificence, awaiting the coming of my Lord." "So that is the yarn, is it?" exclaimed Harry, as Tiahuana came to a halt in his narrative. "And a very extraordinary story it is; never heard anything like it in all my life! And I suppose, friend Tiahuana, that because I happen to have fished up this collar out of Lake Chinchaycocha, and am wearing it round my neck because I do not wish to lose it, you identify me as the reincarnated Manco Capac, eh?" "Assuredly, Lord," answered Tiahuana. "He would indeed be a sceptic who should venture to entertain the shadow of a doubt in the face of proof so complete in all respects as that which has been vouchsafed to us." "Ah!" ejaculated Harry, bracing himself to demolish this absurd fable, and secure his release at a stroke. "Now, I don't understand very much about the doctrine of reincarnation, but I suppose, if I were really Manco Capac come to earth again, I should have some recollection of my former state of existence, shouldn't I? Well, will it surprise you to learn that I have nothing of the sort--not the feeblest glimmer?" "Nay, Lord," answered Tiahuana, "that is not in the least surprising. It often happens that the reincarnated one has no recollection of his former existence until he finds himself amid surroundings similar to those with which he was familiar in his past state; and even then remembrance often comes but slowly. Your lack of recollection does not in the least alter facts; and of those facts we have all the proof that can possibly be required. And now, Lord, will it please you that we resume our journey? There are many difficulties to be surmounted before we reach the spot at which we must encamp to-night, and it is high time that our march should be resumed." "No," answered Harry, "it does not please me that we resume our journey. On the contrary, I refuse to accompany you another step unless you will undertake to convey me back to the camp whence you brought me. If you will do this I am willing to overlook the outrage which you have perpetrated in abducting me, and promise that you shall hear nothing more about it. But if you persist in keeping me a prisoner, I warn you that the British Consul will be speedily made acquainted with the facts, and he will never rest until I have been released and every one of you severely punished; and that punishment, let me tell you, will be no joke; for he will take care that it is adequate to the offence. You will be made to understand that even a solitary young Englishman like myself cannot be kidnapped with impunity!" "Pardon, Lord," answered Tiahuana with a deprecatory gesture. "I am overwhelmed with distress at having incurred my Lord's displeasure; but I must not permit even that to interfere with the discharge of my duty. It is imperative that my Lord should accompany us. Were we to fail to convey him to the hidden City of the Sun we should all be justly put to death; my Lord will therefore see that we have no choice in the matter. The only one who has a choice is my Lord himself, who can choose whether he will accompany us willingly, or whether we must resort to something in the nature of coercion." As Tiahuana spoke the last words he made a sign with his hand, upon which the little band of attendants contracted themselves into a circle of considerably smaller diameter than before, yet still preserving an attitude of the most profound respect. Escombe saw at once that the moment was by no means favourable for an attempt to escape; he therefore quickly decided to make the best of things and to submit _pro tem_, with a good grace to what was unavoidable. He accordingly said: "Very well; since you are absolutely determined to carry me off, I prefer to accompany you voluntarily. But I warn you that you will all suffer severely for this outrage." It is most regrettable to be obliged to record it, but Escombe's threatened invocation of Britain's might and majesty seemed to discompose those obstinate Indians not at all; to use his own expression when talking of it afterwards, his threats glanced off them as harmlessly as water off a duck's back, and all that they seemed in the least concerned about was his welfare and comfort during the journey. With much solicitude Tiahuana enquired whether it would please him to walk or to be carried in the litter. "We would have brought your horse with us for your use, Lord," the High Priest explained apologetically, "but much of the road before us is impassable for horses or mules--nay, even a llama might scarcely pass it." "Oh, that's all right!" answered Harry cheerily; "I dare say I can walk as fast and as far as you people can." Nevertheless he deeply regretted that they had not thought fit to bring his horse, for he felt that, mounted, he would have had a much better chance of escape than on foot; and this conviction was greatly strengthened when, as the day wore on toward evening and the stiff ascents which they were frequently obliged to negotiate began to tell upon him, he observed how the Indians, with their short, quick step, covered mile after mile of the uneven, rocky road, without the slightest apparent effort or any visible sign of distress. Then it began to dawn upon him gradually that, even should he find a suitable opportunity to give his custodians the slip, they could easily run him down and recapture him. Besides, he was by no means certain that he could now find his way back to the camp. He had not the remotest notion of the direction in which the camp lay, for during many hours of his journey he had been asleep, and the Indians were not only continually changing the direction of their travel, but were apparently taking a constant succession of short cuts across country, now winding their way for a mile or two along the face of some dizzy precipice by means of a ledge only a foot or two in width, anon clambering some hundreds of feet up or down an almost vertical rock face, where a slip or a false step meant instant death; now crossing some ghastly chasm by means of a frail and dilapidated suspension bridge constructed of cables of maguey fibres and floored with rotten planking, which swung to the tread until the oscillation threatened to precipitate the entire party into the terrible abyss that yawned beneath them, and perhaps half an hour later forcing their way, slowly and with infinite labour and difficulty, up the boulder-strewn bed of some half-dry mountain stream that was liable at any moment--if there happened to be rain higher up among the hills--to become swollen into a raging, foaming, irresistible torrent, against the impetuous fury of which no man could stand for an instant. To do the Indians no more than the barest justice, they were to the last degree solicitous to spare their prisoner the least fatigue, and repeatedly assured him that there was not the slightest necessity for him to walk a single step of the way, while whenever there was the barest possibility of danger there was always a sufficient number of them within arm's reach to render him every required assistance, and to ensure that no harm should possibly befall him. But although continuous travelling hour after hour over such very difficult ground became at last most horribly fatiguing. Harry set his teeth and plodded grimly on. He was not going to let "those copper-coloured chaps" suppose that they could tire an Englishman out, not he! Besides, he wished to become accustomed to the work against the time when the opportunity should come for him to break away successfully and effect his escape. For that he would escape he was resolutely determined. The prospect of being an Inca--an absolute monarch whose lightest word was law--had, at that precise moment, no attraction for him. He had not a particle of ambition to become the regenerator of a nation; or, if a scarce-heard whisper reached his mental ear that to become such would be an exceedingly grand thing, he promptly replied that his genius did not lie in that direction, and that any attempt on his part to regenerate anybody must inevitably result in dismal and utter failure. No, he had been sent out to Peru by Sir Philip Swinburne to execute certain work, and he would carry out his contract with Sir Philip in spite of all the Indians in the South American continent. As to that story about his being the reincarnated Inca, Manco Capac, Harry Escombe was one of those estimable persons whose most valued asset is their sound, sterling common sense. He flattered himself that he had not an ounce of romance in his entire composition; and it did not take him a moment to make up his mind that the yarn, from end to end, was the veriest nonsense imaginable. He laughed aloud--a laugh of mingled scorn and pity for the stupendous ignorance of these poor savages, isolated from all the rest of the world, and evidently priding themselves, as such isolated communities are apt to do, upon their immeasurable superiority to everybody else. Then he happened to think of the exquisitely wrought service of gold plate off which he had fed that day, and the wonderfully fine quality of the material of the priests' clothing; and he began to modify his opinion somewhat. A people with the taste and skill needed to produce such superb goldsmith's work and such beautiful cloth--soft and smooth as silk, yet as warm as and very much finer than any woollen material that he had ever seen--could scarcely be classed as mere savages; they must certainly possess some at least of the elements of civilisation. And then those "second thoughts", which are proverbially best, or more just, gradually usurped in young Escombe's mind his first crude ideas relative to the ignorance and benighted condition generally of the inhabitants of the unknown City of the Sun. And as they did so, a feeling of curiosity to see for himself that wonderful city gradually took root, and began to spring up and strengthen within him. Why should he not? he asked himself. The only obstacle which stood in the way was his duty to Sir Philip Swinburne to complete the work which he had been sent out to do. But after all, when he came to consider the matter dispassionately, his absence--his enforced absence--was not likely to prejudice appreciably Sir Philip's interests; for the railway survey was very nearly completed, and what remained to be done was simple in the extreme compared with what had already been accomplished, and there was Bannister--a thoroughly capable man--to do it. And as to the soundings on Lake Titicaca, they were simply child's play--anybody could take them! No, it was only his own conceit that had caused him to think that his absence, especially at the existing state of the survey, would be in the least inimical to Sir Philip's interests; it would be nothing of the kind. Bannister could finish the work as satisfactorily as he-- Escombe--could, probably much more so! It will be seen, from these arguments--which were in the main perfectly sound--that Mr Henry Escombe, having conceived the idea that he would like to have a peep at the mysterious City of the Sun, was now endeavouring to reconcile himself as thoroughly as might be to what was rapidly assuming to him the appearance of the inevitable; for with every step that the party took, it was being borne with increasing clearness upon his inner consciousness that to escape was already impossible. For, first of all, their route had been over such trackless wastes that, despite the keenness with which he had noted the appearance of every conspicuous object passed, they were all so very much alike that he had the gravest doubts as to his ability to find his way back to the camp without a guide. And if he were to attempt it and should lose his way, there could be very little doubt that he would perish miserably of exposure and starvation in that wilderness, where not even so much as a solitary hut had been sighted throughout the day. But, apart from this, and granting for the moment that his memory might be trusted to guided him aright, there were places to be passed and obstacles to be overcome which he admitted to himself he would not care to attempt unaided unless he were in actual peril of his life, and the assurances of Tiahuana had completely set his mind at rest on that score. The thought of invoking Arima's assistance came to him for a moment, only to be dismissed the next, however; for, faithful and devoted as the Indian had proved himself in the past, Harry remembered that it was through his instrumentality and direct intervention that all the pother had arisen. Arima seemed to be as completely convinced as any of the others that Harry was the person foreordained to restore the ancient Peruvian nation to its former power and splendour, and Escombe knew enough of the fellow's character to feel certain that he would not permit personal feeling to interfere with so glorious a consummation. It seemed, then, as though fate, or destiny, or whatever one pleased to call it, willed that he--Harry Escombe--should see the mysterious city; and he finally concluded that, taking everything into consideration, perhaps the wisest thing would be to go quietly and with as much semblance of goodwill as possible, since it appeared that no other course was open to him. This thought naturally suggested others, each more wild and extravagant than the last, until by the time that the party at length reached the camping ground that had been their objective all through the day, the young Englishman discovered, to his unqualified amazement, that not only did there exist within him a strong vein of hitherto entirely unsuspected romance--awakened and brought to light by the extraordinary nature of the adventure of which he was the hero--but also that, quite unconsciously to himself, his views relative to the exigency and binding character of his engagement to Sir Philip Swinburne had become so far modified that it no longer appeared imperatively necessary for him to jeopardise his life in a practically hopeless endeavour to escape. The journey had been an up-and-down one all day, that is to say, the party had been either climbing or descending almost the whole of the time; the general tendency, however, had been distinctly upward, and when at length a bare, rocky plateau was reached about sunset, affording ample space upon which to camp, the greatly increased keenness of the atmosphere indicated a net rise of probably some two or three thousand feet. The scene was one of almost indescribable but dreary grandeur, titanic peaks crowned with snow and ice towering high on every hand, divided by gorges of immeasurable depth, their sides for the most part shaggy with pine forests, and never a sign of human habitation to be seen, nor indeed any sign of life in any form, save where, here and there, a small moving blotch on the distant landscape indicated the presence of a flock of huanacos or vicunas; but even these were but few, for the travellers had not yet reached the lofty frozen wastes where alone the ychu grass is found, which is therefore the favoured habitat of those animals. Escombe now had fresh evidence of the foresight exercised by his escort in providing for his comfort and welfare; for no sooner had the precise spot been selected upon which to camp than from among the baggage borne by the attendants a small tent made of cloth woven from vicuna wool was produced and erected upon jointed bamboo poles; and in a few minutes, with his litter placed inside it to serve as a bed, and a lighted talc lantern suspended from the ridge pole, the young man was able to enter and make himself quite at home. Nor was he at all sorry; for although he had now been accustomed for several months to be on his feet all day long, day after day, and up to that moment had regarded himself as in the very pink of condition as to toughness and wiriness, the past day's journey had been a revelation to him in the matter of endurance. He had never before in his life experienced anything like the intense fatigue which now racked every joint in his body; and, ravenously hungry as he was, he felt that it would scarcely be possible for him to remain awake long enough to get a meal. But those wonderful Indians appeared to have foreseen everything. Loaded as most of them were with heavy burdens in addition, to their weapons, they had each gradually accumulated a very respectable bundle of firewood during the progress of their march; and while one party had been erecting the tent and arranging its interior for Harry's occupation, a second had been busily engaged in lighting a roaring fire, while a third had been still more busily occupied in preparing the wherewithal to furnish forth a most appetising and acceptable evening meal, which, when placed before the prospective Inca, was found to consist of broiled vicuna chops, delicious bread, mountain honey, fruit, and chocolate. By the time that the meal was ready night had completely fallen, a bitterly keen and piercing wind from the eastward had arisen and came swooping down from the frozen wastes above in savage gusts that momentarily threatened to whirl the frail tent and its occupant into space, and hurl them into one of the many unfathomable abysses that yawned around the party, while, to add to the general discomfort, the wind brought with it a dank, chilling fog, thick as a blanket, that penetrated everywhere and left on everything great beads of icy moisture like copious dew. But Escombe was too unutterably weary to let any of these things trouble him. Sleep was what every fibre of his body was crying aloud for; and he had no sooner finished his meal than, leaving all responsibility for the safety and welfare of the party in the hands of the two priests, he hurriedly divested himself of his clothing, and snuggling into his warm and comfortable bed-litter, instantly sank into absolute unconsciousness, his last coherent thought being a vague wonder how he would fare in such a place and on such a night if, instead of being under the care and protection of the Indians, he had chanced to be a lonely and houseless fugitive from them. CHAPTER TEN. THE VALLEY OF MYSTERY. When young Escombe next morning awoke from the soundest sleep that he had ever enjoyed in his life he at once became aware, from the motion of the litter, that his Indian friends were already on the move; and when, in obedience to his command, they halted to enable him to dress and partake of breakfast, a single glance, as he stepped forth from the litter into the keen air, sufficed to assure him that they must have been in motion for at least three or four hours, for the sun had already topped the peaks of the Andes, and the aspect of the landscape surrounding him was entirely unfamiliar. Not a trace of the spot where they had camped during the preceding night was to be seen, and there was no indication of the direction in which it lay; which fact tended still further to drive home to the young man a conviction of the folly of attempting to find his way back to the survey party alone and unaided. The journey that day was in all essential respects a counterpart of that of the day before. Tiahuana, who was evidently the leader of the expedition in a double sense, chose his own route, making use of the regular roads only at very infrequent intervals, and then for comparatively short distances, soon abandoning them again for long stretches across country where no semblance of a path of any description was to be found. As on the preceding day, he skirted, climbed, or descended precipices without hesitation, crossing ravines, ascending gorges, and, in fact, he took the country pretty much as it came, guiding the party apparently by means of landmarks known only to himself, but, on the whole, steadily ascending and steadily forcing his way ever deeper into the heart of the stupendous mountain labyrinth that lay to the eastward. And ever as they went the air grew keener and more biting, the aspect of the country wilder and more desolate, the _quebradas_ more appalling in their fathomless depth. The precipices became more lofty and difficult to scale, the mountain torrents more impetuous and dangerous to cross, the primitive suspension bridges more dilapidated and precarious, the patches of timber and vegetation more tenuous, the flocks of huanaco and vicuna larger and more frequent, the way more savage and forbidding, the storms more frequent and terrible, until at length it began to appear to Escombe as though the party had become entangled in a wilderness from which escape in any direction was impossible, and wherein they must all quickly perish in consequence of the unendurable rigours of the climate. Yet Tiahuana still pushed indomitably forward, overcoming obstacle after obstacle that, to anyone less experienced than himself in the peculiarities of the country and the mode of travel in it, must have seemed unconquerable. For ten more days--which to the Indians must have seemed endless by reason of the awful toil, the frightful suffering, and the intense misery that were concentrated in them, although, thanks to the sublime self sacrifice of his escort, Escombe was permitted to feel very little of them--the priest led the way over vast glaciers, across unfathomable crevasses, and up apparently unscalable heights, battling all the time with whirling snow storms that darkened the air, blinded the eyes, and obliterated every landmark, and buffeted by furious winds that came roaring and shrieking along the mountain side and momentarily threatened to snatch the party from their precarious hold and hurl them to destruction on the great gaunt rocks far below, while the cold was at times so terrible that to continue to live in it seemed impossible. About the middle of the afternoon of the twelfth day after leaving the survey camp, the party topped a ridge and saw before them a long, steep, smooth slope of snow, frozen hard by a night of almost deadly frost; and a sigh of intense relief and thankfulness broke from the breasts of the utterly exhausted Indians. Without wasting a moment, they proceeded to open and unpack a certain bale which formed part of the baggage which they had brought with them, and drew from it a number of llama skins. These they spread out flat on the crest of the snow slope, with the hair side upward, and then the entire party carefully seated themselves upon them--two men to each skin, one behind the other--when, with a little assistance from the hands of the occupants, the skins started to glide smoothly over the surface of the snow, slowly at first, but with swiftly increasing velocity, until the descent of the party became a sweeping, breathless, exhilarating flight, speedy as that of a falcon swooping upon its prey. The riders sat cross-legged upon the skins, and to Escombe--who was piloted by Tiahuana--it seemed that the slightest inclination, right or left as the case might be, throwing a trifle more weight on one knee than the other, and thus causing one part of the skin to press more hardly than another upon the snow, was all that was needed for steering purposes; for the toboggan-like skins swept downward straight as the flight of an arrow, save when some black fang of rock protruded through the snow fair in the track, when a slight slope of the body sufficed to cause a swerve that carried the adventurous riders safely clear of the obstacle. To Escombe this headlong, breathless swoop down the slope seemed to last but a few seconds, yet during those few seconds the party had travelled nearly three miles and descended some three thousand feet. The slide terminated at last upon the very edge of the snow-line, where it met a mile-wide meadow thickly clothed with lush grass and bountifully spangled with lovely flowers, many of which were quite new to the young Englishman. For some minutes the entire party, as with one consent, remained sitting motionless just where their impromptu toboggans had come to a halt; for they felt that they needed a certain amount of time in which to become accustomed to the glorious change that had been wrought by that three- mile glissade. Above and behind them were furious tempest, deadly cold, and never-ceasing danger; while here was perfect safety, cloudless sunshine, grateful warmth, and surroundings of surpassing beauty. The meadow upon which they rested sloped gently away before them for about a mile, where it appeared to plunge abruptly down into a thickly wooded ravine, beyond which shot up a long, rocky ridge, the slopes of which appeared to be absolutely inaccessible; for, search as Escombe might with the aid of his telescope, nowhere could he detect so much as a single speck of snow to indicate the presence of even the smallest ledge or inequality in the face of the rock. This ridge, or range, stretched away to right and left of the spot where the party had come to a halt, retiring to the eastward, as it went, in a tolerably regular curve, until the cusps, if such there were, swept out of sight behind the nearer ridge. At length Escombe rose from his llama skin and, with an ejaculation of inexpressible relief, began to slap his still benumbed hands together, and vigorously rub his stiffened limbs, in order to restore feeling and warmth to them; whereupon Tiahuana also rose and gave the order to re- pack the skins prior to resuming the journey. A few minutes later the entire party were once more on the march, moving rapidly athwart the meadow toward the ravine, and within a quarter of an hour they were in the ravine itself, clambering down the steep slope of its hither side toward where the sound of rushing water began to make itself heard with increasing distinctness. Another ten minutes, after a wild and breathless downward scramble among the trunks of thick-growing pine trees, brought them to the margin of a wide and turbulent mountain torrent that in the course of ages had scored a deep channel for itself right down the centre of the ravine. The bed of the stream was thickly strewed with enormous boulders, moss-grown upon their upper surfaces where drenched with the everlasting spray, and between these the turbid waters from the melting snow on the heights above leapt and foamed with a clamour and fury that rendered conversation impossible, and threatened instant death to the foolhardy adventurer who should attempt to cross them. Yet those indomitable Indians somehow contrived to win a passage across; and half an hour later the entire party stood safely on the opposite side. Then followed a long and toilsome scramble up the other side of the ravine, the top of which was not reached until the sun had set and darkness had fallen upon the scene. But, at the top of the ravine and clear of the trees, they found themselves on a grassy slope very similar in character to that which they had encountered on the other side of the stream, and there, fatigued to the point of exhaustion by their long and arduous day's travel, they went into camp, prepared and partook of their evening meal, and at once resigned themselves to a long night of repose under conditions of infinitely greater comfort than they had enjoyed for many days past. Escombe's sleep that night was unusually sound, even after making every allowance for the excessive fatigue of the past day; in fact he had not slept so soundly and so long since the night of his abduction from the survey camp. When at length he awoke he found himself labouring under the same feeling of puzzlement that had oppressed him on that eventful morning; for when consciousness again returned to him and, opening his eyes, he looked about him, he at once became aware that his surroundings were very different from what he had expected. It is true that he still occupied the litter in which he had retired to rest on the previous evening, but a single glance was sufficient to show him that the litter was no longer in the little tent which had then sheltered it; the tent was gone, and the litter, or couch, upon which he lay comfortably stretched now stood in a room lighted by a single window in the wall, facing the foot of the couch. The window was unglazed, and apparently had no window frame; it seemed in fact to be no more than a mere rectangular aperture in a thick stone wall through which the sun, already some hours high in the sky, was pouring his genial rays into the room. The couch stood so low on the floor that from it nothing could be seen of the landscape outside save a glimpse of a range of serrated peaks, touched here and there with snow that gleamed dazzlingly white in the brilliant sunshine. Urged therefore by surprise at the mysterious change that had been wrought in his surroundings while he slept, and curious to ascertain where he now was, Harry sprang from his couch and went to the open window, out of which he gazed in an ecstasy of astonishment and admiration. For his eyes rested upon the most glorious landscape that he had ever beheld. He discovered that the building in which he so strangely found himself stood at one extremity of an enormous, basin-like valley, roughly oval in shape, some thirty miles long by twenty miles in width, completely hemmed in on every side by a range of lofty hills averaging, according to his estimate, from three to four thousand feet in height. The centre of the valley was occupied by a most lovely lake about fifteen miles long by perhaps ten miles wide, dotted here and there with fairy-like islets, some of which were crowned by little clumps of trees, while others appeared to be covered with handsome buildings. But that was only a part of the wonder! At the far end of the lake he could distinctly see--so exquisitely clear and transparent was that crystalline atmosphere--the general outline and formation of a large and doubtless populous town built on the margin of the lake, his attention being at once attracted to it by the strong flash and gleam of the sun upon several of the roofs of the buildings, which had all the appearance of being covered with sheets of gold! From this city broad white roads shaded by handsome trees ran right round the margin of the lake, and for a mile or two on either side of the city, glimpses could be had of detached buildings embosomed in spacious gardens, forming a kind of suburb of the city; while the entire remainder of the valley, and the sides of the hills for a distance of about one-third of their height, were entirely laid out as orchards, pasture, and cultivated land, the appearance of the whole strongly suggesting that the utmost had been made of every inch of available space. As Escombe stood gazing, enraptured at the surpassing beauty of the panorama thus spread out before him, the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ear, and, turning round, he beheld Arima entering the room. The Indian made the profound obeisance usual with him upon entering Harry's presence, and enquired: "Is it the will of my Lord that he now bathe, dress, and partake of breakfast?" "Yes, by all means," answered Harry, "for I have somehow managed to oversleep myself again, and am ravenously hungry. But, Arima, what means this? How do I come to be here? And what town is that which I see yonder at the far end of the lake?" "As my Lord has truly said, he slept long this morning, being doubtless greatly fatigued with the toilsome journey of yesterday," answered Arima smoothly, with another profound bow. "Therefore, when the hour arrived to break camp and resume our march it was Tiahuana's order that my Lord should not be disturbed, but should be allowed to sleep on and take a full measure of rest; and therefore was my Lord brought hither to this house, there to sojourn and recruit himself after the fatigues and hardships of his long journey, while Tiahuana went forward to the City of the Sun--which my Lord sees yonder at the head of the valley--to acquaint the Council with the success of our expedition, and to make the necessary arrangements for my Lord's reception by the inhabitants of the city. If it be my Lord's will, I will now conduct him to the bath, which I have made ready for him." "So that is the City of the Sun, is it?" remarked Harry, still gazing admiringly at the enchanting view from the window. "I guessed as much; and it appears to be fully worthy of its name. All right, Arima," he continued, tearing himself reluctantly away; "yes, I will have my bath now. Where is it?" "If my Lord will be pleased to follow I will show it him," answered the Indian, with the inevitable bow, as he led the way out of the room. They passed into a long stone corridor, lighted at each end by an unglazed window, and, traversing the length of it, entered another room, much larger than the first, stone paved, and having a large plunge-bath full of crystal-clear water, sunk into the floor at one end. The room was unfurnished, save for a plain wooden bench, or seat, a soft woollen mat for the bather to stand on when emerging from the bath, and a few pegs along the wall, from which Harry's own clothes and three or four very large bath towels depended. This room also was illuminated by a large, unglazed window through which the sun-rays streamed, warming the atmosphere of the apartment to a most delightful temperature. Harry therefore made no delay, but forthwith discarded his pyjama suit and at once plunged headlong into the cool, refreshing water. To dress and take breakfast were the next things in order; and half an hour later Escombe rose from the table like a giant refreshed, amid the obsequious bows of his attendants. Then Motahuana stepped forward and, prefacing his speech with another bow, said: "Lord, I have been commanded by Tiahuana to say that, knowing well how anxious the inhabitants of the City of the Sun will be to learn the issue of this expedition, he has presumed to hasten forward to apprise them that all is well, without waiting until my Lord awoke to mention his intention and crave my Lord's permission to absent himself; for the way is long, and my Lord slept late this morning. The High Priest also bade me say that he will probably be absent at least four days, for there are many preparations to be made in connection with my Lord's triumphal entrance into his city, and his reception by his rejoicing people. My Lord will therefore have time to rest and recover his strength after the fatigue of his arduous journey; and it is the prayer of Tiahuana that he will do so, since there will be much to fatigue my Lord in the various ceremonies attendant upon his ascent of the throne of the ancient Incas." "Thanks, Motahuana," answered Harry; "but I am not in the least fatigued by what I have gone through during the last twelve days. If anyone were suffering from fatigue it should be yourself and Tiahuana, for you are both well advanced in years, while I am young and strong, and, so far from being fatigued, I feel quite fresh after my long and refreshing night's sleep; so much so, indeed, that I was just thinking how much I should enjoy a walk down into that lovely valley. I suppose there is no objection to my doing so?" "My Lord is monarch of the valley and all within it," answered Motahuana with another bow and an expressive throwing apart of the hands. "All is his; his will is absolute in all things; he has but to express a wish, and we his slaves will gladly do our best to gratify it. If my Lord desires to go forth into the open, either on foot or in his litter, he has but to say so, and we his slaves will make the path smooth for him or bear him upon our shoulders, as may seem best to him. But it will be well that my Lord should not venture too far into the valley, for he is a stranger; and it is undesirable, on many accounts, that he should be seen by the inhabitants of the valley until all preparations have been made for his public reception." "Oh, very well!" returned Escombe. "I have no desire to go very far; a walk of a mile or two from the house, and back, with Arima as my only attendant, to show me the way and answer questions, will satisfy me." Whereupon Motahuana, with another bow, turned away and addressed a few quick words to Arima in a tongue which was strange to Escombe, after which the Indian fetched the young Englishman's hat and signified his readiness to attend the latter whithersoever he might be pleased to go. Harry's first act, upon getting outside the house, was to walk away from it some fifty feet, and then turn round and stare at the building to which he had been so mysteriously conveyed while asleep. He saw before him simply a solid, rectangular, stone--built structure, plain almost to the point of ugliness, for it had not a single projection of any kind to mitigate the severity of its simplicity, not even so much as a window sill; and it was thatched!--not with the trim neatness characteristic of some of our charmingly picturesque country cottages in England, but in a slovenly, happy-go-lucky style, that seemed to convey the idea that, so long as a roof was weather-proof, it did not in the least matter what it looked like. The windows were simply rectangular holes in the thick stone walls, unglazed, and without even a frame; but now that Escombe was outside he was able to see that each window was provided with a shutter, something like the jalousies fitted to the houses in most tropical and sub-tropical countries, to keep out the rain. The only thing remarkable about the house, apart from its extreme plainness, was the fact that it appeared to be cut out of a single enormous block of stone; and it was not until he went close up to it, and examined it minutely, that he discovered it to be built of blocks of stone dressed to fit each other with such marvellous precision that the joints were practically invisible. Having satisfied his curiosity thus far, Escombe looked about him at his surroundings generally. He found that the house to which he had been brought stood at the extreme end of the extraordinary basin-like valley, immediately opposite to the City of the Sun, which occupied the other end, and he naturally concluded that the entrance to the valley must be somewhere not very far distant from the spot on which he stood. But, look as he would, he could see nothing in the remotest degree resembling a pass through those encircling sierras, the upper portion of the sides of which appeared to be everywhere practically vertical, without even as much projection or ledge anywhere as would afford foothold to a goat. Nor was there the least semblance of a road or path of any description leading to the house, save a narrow and scarcely perceptible footpath leading down to the great road which encompassed the lake. Harry turned to the Indian. "Those hills appear to be everywhere quite impassable, Arima," he said. "Where is the road by which we came over them?" "It is not permitted to me to say, Lord," answered Arima with a deprecatory bow. "There is but one known way of passing to and from the outside world, and that way is a jealously guarded secret, communicated to but few, who are solemnly sworn to secrecy. It is regarded by the Council as of the first importance that the secret should be preserved intact, as it is known that rumours of the existence of the City of the Sun have reached the outer world, and more than one attempt has been made to find it. But we are all pure-blooded Peruvians of the ancient race here, and it is a tradition with us to keep ourselves uncontaminated by any admixture of alien blood, therefore every possible precaution is taken to maintain the most absolute secrecy as to the way by which the Valley of the Sun is entered and left." "But if that is so, why has Tiahuana brought me here?" demanded Harry. "I am an alien, you know; yet, as I understand it, I have been brought here to rule over you all!" "Yes, it is even so, Lord," answered Arima. "But my Lord is an alien only by an accident of birth, which must not be allowed to interfere with the fact that my Lord is in very truth the reincarnation of Manco Capac, our first Inca and the founder of the Peruvian nation." "In that case," said Harry, "it is but meet and right that I should know the secret way into the outer world. Surely what is known to several of my subjects should also be known to me?" "Undoubtedly, Lord," answered the Indian; "and the information will certainly be imparted to my Lord in due time, when he has been accepted and proclaimed Inca by the Council of Seven. But I have no authority to impart that information, and I implore my Lord that he will not urge me to do so and thus break the solemn oath of secrecy which I have sworn." "Very well, Arima, let it be so," answered Harry. "Doubtless, as you say, I shall be informed in due time; and meanwhile you are perfectly right to remain true to the oath which you have sworn. Now, let us get down into the valley. After scrambling up and down mountain sides for so many days, I have a longing to walk on a smooth and level road once more." The footpath from the house to the main road sloped obliquely along the face of the hill, descending by a tolerably easy gradient for a distance of about a mile before it joined the road at a depth of some three hundred feet below the level of the house. Upon reaching the road, which, be it remembered, completely encircled the lake, Escombe had yet another opportunity to note the thoroughness with which the Peruvians did their work, and the inexhaustible patience which they brought to bear upon it. For this road, approximating to one hundred miles in length, was constructed of a uniform width of about one hundred feet, apparently also of uniform gradient--for in some parts it was raised on a low embankment, while in others it passed through more or less shallow cuttings--and with just the right amount of camber to quickly throw off the rainwater into the broad gutters or watercourses that were built on either side of it. The most remarkable feature of the road, however, was that it was paved throughout with broad flags of stone, which, like the blocks of which the house was built, were so accurately fitted together that the joints could only be found with difficulty. The young Englishman spent some three hours sauntering along that magnificent road, enjoying the pure air, the genial temperature, and the sight of the superb panorama that hemmed him in on every side, pausing often to note the clever system of irrigation adopted by the inhabitants, whereby every square inch of cultivable soil could at any moment receive precisely the right quantity of water to satisfy its requirements; admiring, with the eye of an engineer, the workmanship displayed in the construction of the ample culverts whereby all excess of water was promptly discharged into the lake; and marvelling at the varied nature of the agricultural products of the valley; for it seemed to him that, in the comparatively circumscribed space between the margin of the lake and the highest point on the mountain slope to which the barest handful of soil could be induced to cling, there were to be found examples of every vegetable product known to the sub-tropical and temperate zones, while it was a never-ceasing source of astonishment to him that such enormous numbers of cattle and sheep were apparently able to find ample sustenance on the proportionately small quantity of land allotted to pasture. What seemed to him somewhat remarkable was that, while cattle, sheep, and even horses were apparently plentiful in the valley, he saw no llamas; but it was afterwards explained to him that the climate there was altogether too mild for them, and that the enormous herds owned by the inhabitants were kept in the highlands on the other side of the encircling mountains. CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE CITY OF THE SUN. On the afternoon of the fourth day following Tiahuana's departure, about an hour before sunset, as Escombe was about to enter the house after a somewhat longer walk than usual in the valley, he paused for a moment at the head of the footpath to take a last, long look at the lovely landscape, with the leading features of which he was now becoming tolerably familiar, when his wandering gaze was arrested by the glint of the sunlight upon what had the appearance of a number of rapidly moving objects indistinctly seen about a mile distant among the low spreading branches of the trees which lined the great road leading from the City of the Sun. "Hillo, Arima," he said to the Indian who was his sole attendant, "who comes here? Are they soldiers? Do you see that flash and glitter yonder among the trees? To me it has the appearance of sun-glint upon spear points and military accoutrements." Arima looked for a moment, and then replied: "Without question it is so, Lord. Doubtless it is Tiahuana returning with the bodyguard which is to escort my Lord the Inca on the occasion of his triumphal entry into the City of the Sun." "But those fellows are surely mounted, Arima!" said Escombe. "The movement is that of cavalry; and--listen!--unless I am greatly mistaken, I can hear the clatter of hoofs on the stone pavement of the road." "It is even so, Lord," answered the Indian. "The bodyguard of my Lord the Inca consists of a thousand picked men, mounted on the finest horses that it is possible to breed in the valley." "But I have always understood," said Harry, "that you Peruvians did not believe in mounted men, and that it was, in fact, as much due to your terror of the mounted Spaniards as anything else that you were vanquished in the old days. But I am forgetting; you knew nothing of horses then, did you?" "My Lord says truth," answered Arima. "We had no horses in Peru until the Spaniards brought them. But since then we have learned the value of horses, and I understand that the inhabitants of the valley have devoted especial attention to the breeding of them, even from the date of the foundation of the city." "And with a marvellous success, I should say, if one may judge from the appearance of the animals yonder," remarked Harry enthusiastically, as he watched the approaching horsemen. The cavalcade had by this time reached the junction of the footpath with the road, and, debouching on to the former, or rather on to the hillside which it traversed, breasted the slope at a gallop, presenting as it did so a superb and inspiriting picture of eager, prancing, satin-skinned, gaily caparisoned, foam-flecked horses, bestridden by lithe, sinewy forms gorgeous in their blue and gold uniforms, and a-glitter with their burnished copper shields, swords, maces, and lance-heads. At their head rode Tiahuana in his long, white, gold-embroidered robe and mitre-like head--dress as Chief Priest, gallantly holding his own with the magnificently attired commander of the regiment; and in the centre of the cortege there appeared an open litter--somewhat similar to a sedan chair with the top part removed--entirely covered with burnished plates of gold and silver, hammered into a bold but very intricate pattern, while the interior was lined with richly coloured feathers also arranged in a very elaborate design. This structure was supported before and behind by a pair of long, springy poles or shafts, to which were harnessed six white horses, three abreast, the harness and trappings of the animals being blue, elaborately embroidered with gold, while the headstall of each horse was decorated with a plume of half a dozen long blue feathers. The middle horse of each trio--that which ran between the shafts--was ridden by a postilion, who guided and controlled all three of the horses under his charge. While the gorgeous cavalcade was still some distance away, Motahuana came running out of the house, babbling the most earnest and urgent entreaties that Harry would be graciously pleased to enter the house forthwith, as it was not meet that the members of the Inca's bodyguard should set eyes upon their sovereign lord until the latter should be attired in the robes of his regal rank; and Harry, already painfully aware of the dilapidated condition of the jacket and knickers in which he had accomplished the march from the survey camp, fully agreeing with him, hastily retreated to the interior of the building and, standing well back from the window, where he was concealed in the deep shadow, interestedly watched the movements of his regiment as it went into camp on a little plateau at the rear of the house. But the troopers had scarcely begun to unsaddle before Tiahuana, still hot and dusty from his long ride, entered the house, followed by a servant bearing a large bundle. And a few minutes later the old fellow entered the room where Harry was standing and, having first made his obeisances, respectfully invited the young Englishman to retire to his sleeping room, there to don certain garments more suitable to his rank and state than those which he was wearing, in order that he might be ready to receive the Lord Umu, commander of the royal bodyguard, who was represented to be dying of impatience to do homage to his Sovereign Lord. With another glance at his ragged and disreputable garments, Harry smilingly admitted the desirability of the change, and followed Tiahuana into the chamber where Arima, now formally confirmed in his rank and position of chief valet and body servant of the new Inca, awaited his master. Ten minutes later, attired in white skin-tight pantaloons which were also stockings; a shirt of white wool, of so marvellously fine a texture that it was thin, soft, and light as silk; a fine white wool sleeveless tunic, the material of which was stiff and almost completely hidden by an elaborately embroidered pattern in heavy gold thread, and which was confined to the waist by a broad white leather belt, also heavily embroidered in gold and fastened by a massive and exquisitely chased gold clasp; with soft, white, gold-embroidered boots on his feet, reaching halfway up to the knee; with the royal borla, or tasselled fringe of scarlet adorned with two feathers from the coraquenque bound round his temples, and the emerald collar of Manco Capac--which he had fished up from the mud of Lake Chinchaycocha--round his neck and hanging down over the breast of his tunic, young Escombe was led by Tiahuana into the largest room in the house. Here, seated upon an extemporised throne, and with his feet resting upon a footstool of solid gold, massively chiselled in an elaborate and particularly graceful scroll-work pattern, hastily brought in from the imperial litter, he presently received not only Umu, the captain of the royal bodyguard, but also some half-dozen other nobles who had come from the City of the Sun to pay their homage to their re-incarnated Lord and Sovereign, Manco Capac. These individuals were introduced, one by one, by Tiahuana, who, as each person presented himself in the doorway, loudly proclaimed the rank and titles of the visitor, who then, barefooted, and carrying a light burden upon his shoulders as an act of humility in the presence of his sovereign, slowly advanced, with head and body humbly bent, until he reached the footstool, when he knelt down on the bare stone floor and kissed, first the hands and then the feet of the young Inca; after which, still kneeling, he murmured a few words expressive of joy, gratitude, and devotion at the condescension of the great Manco in deigning to return to earth for the purpose of regenerating the ancient Peruvian nation. Then he rose to his feet and, with more bows, retired to make way for the next. The whole ceremony was exceedingly brief, not occupying much more than a quarter of an hour altogether; but, brief as it was, it constituted in itself an education for Harry, who, as he witnessed the almost slavish humility of the demeanour of these proud and haughty nobles toward him, now began to realise, for the first time, the tremendous power to which he had been raised by a most unique and extravagant freak of fortune. And it did him good; for it set him to think seriously of the enormous responsibility which he had almost unwittingly incurred when he so light-heartedly allowed himself to become enmeshed in the toils of the adventure, and caused him to make many very excellent resolutions as to the manner in which he would discharge that responsibility. With the coming of dawn on the following morning the camp of the royal bodyguard suddenly awoke to strenuous life and activity. The troopers, attired only in thin shirts, riding their barebacked horses down to the lake, where the animals were watered and bathed in preparation for the return journey to the City of the Sun. Then, having returned to the camp, the horses were carefully groomed and fed, after which the troopers spent a busy hour in examining and burnishing their arms and accoutrements. For this was the great day upon which the re-incarnated Inca was to make his triumphal entry into his capital, the new holy and royal city which, during a period of over three hundred and fifty years, his people had been patiently building and extending and decorating and enriching in order that it might be worthy the reception of the monarch when it should please him to return to earth. It was to be the day of days, the first day in the history of a great, glorious, regenerated nation, in which much was to be done, and that in a manner which would becomingly adorn the first page of that history. Then everybody, including Harry--who, meanwhile had bathed and dressed--partook of breakfast; after which the final preparations for the journey were completed. Then Tiahuana and Umu, having first craved audience of their Lord, presented themselves before Harry to intimate respectfully that there were two alternative methods of travel open to him, namely by horse litter or on horseback, and to crave humbly that he would be pleased to indicate which of the two he would choose. To which Harry, who was by this time beginning to enter thoroughly into the spirit of the adventure, replied that, since the task had been laid upon him of restoring the ancient Peruvian race to its former power and splendour, and that, before this could be accomplished it would be necessary for him to lead his troops many times to battle, it was his will to make his first appearance among his subjects on horseback, as a warrior, at the head of his own bodyguard; a reply which created a perfect furore of enthusiasm among the other nobles, and the troopers of the royal bodyguard, when it was communicated to them by Tiahuana and Umu. That the possibility of such a choice on the part of their new Inca had not been altogether unanticipated was soon apparent; for Umu presently returned to the house, bearing on a cushion of azure blue--which it appeared was the royal colour--trimmed with a heavy cord of bullion and with a bullion tassel at each corner, a sword of hardened and burnished copper, with a hilt of solid gold elaborately chased, and encased in a scabbard of solid gold, also most magnificently chased. This he presented on bended knees to Tiahuana, who, in his capacity of High Priest, then knelt before Harry and girded the weapon to his side, after which Arima came forward with a long roll of extraordinarily fine silk- like cloth woven in bands of many different colours in which, however, scarlet and azure predominated. This was the llautu, or turban, which the Indian at once proceeded with deft fingers to bind about his royal master's head in such a manner as to afford complete protection from the ardent rays of the sun while leaving the borla, or tasselled fringe of scarlet, which was really the royal diadem, fully exposed to view. A woollen mantle of almost silken texture, azure blue in colour, with a very broad border of gold embroidery, and with more gold embroidery on the shoulders and halfway down the back, was next laid upon his shoulders and secured at the throat by a pair of massive gold clasps and chain, and Escombe was fully equipped for the road. And a very handsome and gallant figure he looked as, tall, lithe, and slim, and clad in all his barbaric finery, he stepped out of the house into the dazzling sunshine, to be greeted with a deafening shout of welcome from the officers and troopers of his bodyguard, who were already mounted and drawn up in a double line for his inspection. So obviously was this expected of him that Harry needed no hint to that effect, but, vaulting lightly into the saddle of the magnificent white stallion that, gorgeously caparisoned, chafed and fretted under the restraint of his bridle, held by two of the nobles, while two more held the heavy gold stirrups for the royal rider's feet, wheeled his steed and cantered gaily off to where Umu, sitting bolt upright in his saddle with drawn sword, waited in the centre, and some few paces in front of the regiment, to receive him. That the military usages of the more civilised nations had not been permitted to pass altogether unnoticed now became apparent; for as Harry approached Umu uttered a loud shout of command, and at the word every sword flashed up in salute in the most approved fashion, while a band of mounted musicians blared forth certain weird strains which, the young Inca subsequently learned, was the national anthem of the ancient Peruvians. Accompanied by Umu, Harry now rode to the right flank of the regiment, from whence he proceeded slowly along the front rank and finally the rear, noting critically the appearance and bearing of the men, and gauging the breed and quality of the horses as he went. The horses were, without exception, splendid animals, while the men were, for the most part, fine, stalwart fellows, well set up; but, accustomed as Escombe had been to the sight of the Life Guards and other crack cavalry regiments in London, he could not avoid seeing that there was plenty of room for improvement in the appearance and discipline generally of his own bodyguard. Yet it was glaringly apparent to him that Umu, their captain, was inordinately proud of his regiment; and the new Inca was by no means untactful. Wherefore, having completed his inspection, Harry spoke a few well-considered words of praise that rang sufficiently true to make Umu his devoted slave henceforward, while the faint suggestion conveyed that the praise was not quite unqualified impressed the Indian noble with a sense of the high standard of perfection that must exist in the young monarch's mind, and caused him there and then to register a silent vow that the regiment should be brought up to that standard, even though he should be obliged to kill every man of it in the process. By the time that the inspection was completed the priests and nobles had climbed into their saddles, and everything was ready for the commencement of the march. Harry therefore gave the word to Umu, who in turn uttered a few sharp orders to the men, whereupon the ranks closed up. The horses pranced and tossed their heads as they wheeled into line, and the cavalcade proceeded, the band leading the way, followed by a solitary horseman in gorgeous array who bore proudly aloft the Inca's banner--a blue silk flag embroidered in gold and coloured thread with an image of the rainbow, which was the symbol sacred to the Inca, and trimmed with heavy gold fringe round the three free edges. Harry rode immediately behind, surrounded by a little group consisting of the two priests and the nobles who had come out to meet him, and followed by Umu, who led his glittering and imposing regiment. It was rather a trying ride in some respects for the young Inca, at least at the outset, for Escombe's knowledge of the Quichua, or ancient Peruvian, language was extremely restricted, while the nobles, with the exception of Tiahuana and Umu, were apparently ignorant of Spanish. Anything in the nature of conversation was therefore extremely difficult, quite apart from the fact that everybody excepting Tiahuana seemed altogether too shy to address the Inca, unless first spoken to by him. Harry very quickly realised that his ignorance of the Quichua was likely to handicap him most seriously, and he there and then ordered Tiahuana to make the necessary arrangements to have himself taught without delay. But although for the first few miles of the journey the young Inca suffered from a certain feeling of constraint, he did not allow it to trouble him long, for if conversation lagged there was plenty apart from it to interest and delight him. There was his horse, for instance. Harry had alway been particularly fond of horses, and was an excellent rider; as a boy, indeed, he had often followed the staghounds over Dartmoor. He therefore had a very fair idea of what a horse ought to be; but he had not been in the saddle more than five minutes, on this particular morning, before he realised that at length he had come into possession of that rarest of all good things, a perfect horse; perfect in temper, shape, and action, full of fire and courage, yet with a mouth so sensitive that it would be quite possible to control him with a thread for a bridle, while one had but to glance at the great; hard muscles sliding so smoothly beneath the satin skin to be assured of his indomitable endurance and insensibility to fatigue. Then there was plenty to interest and occupy his attention as they swept along the great, smooth road at a hand gallop. First of all, there was the road itself, which was, in its way, a masterpiece of engineering; but, apart from that, Harry could not but marvel at the perfect cleanliness of it, until he learned that it had been traversed throughout the entire length of the route by a whole army of sweepers during the early hours of the morning, since when no living thing had been allowed upon it. Then there was the noble and endless avenue of shade trees which bordered the road on either hand, dividing it from the wide footpaths, which in their turn were shaded by less lofty trees, fruit-bearing for the most part, the fruit being intended for the refreshment of the wayfarer. Then there were neat, orderly, and perfectly cultivated fields of sugar cane, maize, tobacco, indigo, cotton, rice, coca trees, cacao, and other tropical products on the flats immediately adjoining the road, while farther back, toward the hills, were grain of all sorts, interspersed with vast orchards and, at intervals, a stretch of pasture land, with low, squat farmhouses and outbuildings dotted about in the midst. The farmers and their helpers were all busily engaged upon various kinds of labour in their fields, but those who were near enough to the roads to do so no sooner heard the distant hoof-beats of the approaching cavalcade, and beheld the royal banner flaunting its blue and gold in the wind, than they flung down their implements and rushed helter- skelter to the roadside to watch the Inca go by, and acclaim him as he passed. But with every mile of that exhilarating ride towards the City of the Sun the aspect of the landscape became subtly modified; the farms became more extensive, the farmhouses larger and more elaborate in their style of architecture, ornamental and decorative features became increasingly conspicuous in every building encountered, until finally the aspect became distinctly suburban, the farmhouses gave place to country residences, the farms gradually merged into pleasure gardens, gay with flowers and rich in carefully-cultivated fruit trees; the houses drew closer together, and little groups of people in gala attire were encountered, gradually increasing in numbers until the footpaths on either hand were lined with joyous crowds of cheering people. Then the white buildings of the city itself swung into view, gleaming like alabaster between the boles of the bordering trees, with here and there a flash of sunlight from the golden roofs of the principal buildings; and finally a great archway, pierced through the lofty and massive wall that enclosed the city, came into view, spanning the road, and at the same moment a great blare of horns stifled the sound of trampling hoof-beats, the jingle of accoutrements, and the frantic shouts of the cheering multitude. Then Umu flung his flashing sword- blade aloft and shouted a word of command, whereupon the panting, sweating horses were pulled into a walking pace, the riders straightened themselves in their saddles, the band of musicians which led the way struck up a weird, barbaric air, the great bronze gates, which had been closed, were flung open, and the cavalcade passed through into the principal street of the City of the Sun. If Escombe had been questioned ten minutes earlier he would, in reply, have expressed the confident opinion that every man, woman, and child had left the city in order to line the road outside the gates by which it was known that he must pass; but he had no sooner traversed the echoing archway in the immensely thick city wall than he saw how greatly mistaken such an opinion would have been. For, starting from the very wall itself, the pavement on either hand, all along the line of route, was simply packed with people--the children in front, the women next, and the men in the rear-- frantic with enthusiasm, and shouting themselves hoarse in their eagerness to afford an adequate welcome to the Inca whose coming had been looked forward to by them and their ancestors for more than three hundred years. But they did not confine their demonstrations of welcome to mere acclamations. At frequent intervals triumphal arches of an elaborate character and of great beauty, decorated with banners and flags, and profusely wreathed with flowers, were thrown across the roadway, each being connected with the next by a line of poles, painted blue, surmounted by a banner or flag, twined with flowers, and supporting a heavy festoon of flowers which formed an unbroken floral chain from one triumphal arch to the next. The houses on either hand were also decorated with flowers, banners, and long streamers of many- tinted cloths hung from the eaves and windows, the whole scene strongly reminding the young Englishman of the aspect of London's streets on the occasion of our own gracious King's coronation. But what impressed Escombe more than anything else was the fact that all along the line of route children and young girls, provided with large baskets of flowers, were stationed, and, as the procession approached, these young people stepped forward and strewed the road with the contents of their baskets, thus carpeting the hard pavement with freshly gathered flowers, which exhaled a delightful fragrance as they were trampled under foot by the horses. The young monarch, bowing right and left in response to the enthusiastic greetings of his subjects, now had an opportunity to observe a few of the more striking characteristics of the people among whom he had been thrown in so extraordinary a fashion, and he was considerably surprised to see how widely the different types varied. The lower orders--or what he deemed to be such, from the fact that they were compelled to take as their viewpoint the pavement of the open street--were, as a rule, of merely medium stature, sturdily built, and not particularly intellectual in expression, while the colour of their skin was something very nearly approaching to ruddy copper, very few even of their womenkind having any pretentions to comeliness, to say nothing of beauty. The occupants of the buildings, however, who viewed the procession from their windows or the flat roofs of their houses, and who might be taken to represent a somewhat better class, were not only lighter in colour and more intelligent in expression, but some of them were distinctly good- looking. And, as a general rule, the larger and more important the building--and presumably, therefore, the higher the rank of the owner-- the more strongly marked was the difference, which at length, in the case of the nobles, became so accentuated that they might very easily have been taken to be members of a distinct race, the men being much fairer of complexion, of greater stature, and more finely proportioned, as well as much more intellectual in appearance than their humbler brethren; while the women of the higher classes and nobility were in many cases as fair and as lovely as, say, Spanish or Italian women. Winding its way slowly through some two miles of wide and handsome streets, the buildings in which became ever more imposing as it advanced, the cavalcade at length arrived before a very large building of two stories in height--as against the single story which appeared to be the vogue in the City of the Sun--planned to form three sides of a square, and standing in the midst of a magnificent garden of some thirty acres in extent, which Escombe rightly judged to be the royal palace. It was not a particularly handsome structure--indeed, the builders of the city seemed to be singularly devoid of architectural taste as it is understood elsewhere--but it was imposing on account of its size and solidity, and the bold and massive character of such ornamentation as it displayed. Contrary to the usual custom, which appeared to favour white marble as a building material, the palace was built throughout of massive blocks of greyish-green granite, so accurately joined together that the joints were almost indistinguishable. It stood upon a solid base of much darker granite, some six feet high, and access to its interior was gained by means of a very wide flight of eighteen steps, each about four inches high and some eighteen inches wide from back to front. The door and window openings were surrounded by broad bands or frames of granite projecting some six inches beyond the general face of the walls, and in these bands were set several large, elaborately sculptured medallions, which had all the appearance of--and, as a matter of fact, actually were--solid gold. And all round the building, between the upper and lower tier of windows, ran a flat band, or string course, of solid gold, about two feet in depth, upon which a graceful pattern of scroll-work was boldly chased. Finally, above the upper row of windows, in the place usually occupied by a cornice in European buildings, there was a massive bull-nose moulding, quite three feet deep, also of solid gold, surmounted by the parapet which guarded the flat roof of the building. The facade of the building was the middle of the three sides, and faced toward the road, while the two wings ran from it at right angles back toward the lake. So much Escombe was able to note with regard to his new home, as the cavalcade swung in through the magnificent gates of wrought copper which gave access to the grounds, and made its way up a wide path or drive to the main entrance, before which it halted. In an instant the two nobles who had held his horse for him while he mounted some hours earlier were again at the animal's head, and Harry swung himself somewhat stiffly out of the saddle; for the ride had been a long and hot one, and it was now a full fortnight since he had last been on horseback. As his foot touched the ground the band of his bodyguard again struck up the national anthem, and every officer and man raised his sword in salute, after which, as Harry ascended the steps and passed through the wide doorway of the palace, Umu shouted a command, the swords flashed in the glaring afternoon sunshine as they were returned to their scabbards, and the weary horses and their riders trotted soberly off to the cavalry stables. The nobles who had accompanied Harry on his ride, and also Tiahuana, entered the palace with the young Inca, doing the honours of the building, and indicating the character of the various apartments which they passed as they conducted him to a superb bathroom, where they assisted him to disrobe, and where he enjoyed a most welcome "tub" in tepid water, made additionally refreshing by the mingling with it of a certain liquid which imparted to it a most exquisite fragrance. Then, attired in a fresh costume, they conducted him to a small but very handsome room, the chairs and tables in which were made of solid silver, where, waited on by a small army of servants in the royal livery, he partook of a light meal. Tiahuana, who, at Harry's special invitation, joined him at the repast, explaining that there was still much to be done that day, since in little more than an hour a solemn service of thanksgiving was to be held in the great Temple of the Sun to commemorate the return of the great Manco to his long-expectant people, and to inaugurate suitably the commencement of a new and glorious era in that people's history. CHAPTER TWELVE. HUANACOCHA IS UNCONVINCED. The meal over, it became necessary for Escombe to effect another change of attire, the simple garb that he had assumed upon emerging from the bath being discarded in favour of certain gorgeous garments that had been especially prepared for the solemn service in the great Temple of the Sun. There was only one item in this costume which Harry had worn before, and that was the borla or tasselled fringe of scarlet round the temples, which proclaimed his royal rank. On this occasion also, the ceremony in which he was about to take part being a strictly religious one, he wore no weapons. The great Temple of the Sun being the most important building in the city, not even excepting the royal palace, was built on the crest of a hill which dominated the entire city, and was situated about a mile from the palace; the journey thither, therefore, afforded opportunity for another royal procession, in which Harry was to figure in a sort of litter borne aloft on the shoulders of eight men. This litter consisted of a platform covered with a magnificent carpet woven in a pattern composed of many rich colours, and supported by two pairs of shafts made of some tough, springy wood, the end of each shaft being attached to a kind of yoke which rested upon the shoulders of two of the bearers. Upon the platform, which was carried shoulder-high, was mounted a throne, the woodwork of which was entirely enclosed in gold plates, richly wrought and thickly studded with emeralds; and, seated on this throne and surrounded by an escort of some five hundred foot soldiers gorgeously attired and armed with bows, spears, and maces with heavy spiked heads, the young Inca presently found himself being borne at a rapid trot through another wide and handsome street, which, judging from the character of the buildings bordering it, evidently formed the aristocratic quarter of the town. This street, like those which he had already passed through, was lined on both sides by gaily attired people of both sexes and all ages, who rent the air with their enthusiastic acclamations as the cortege swept past them, the only difference being that the majority at least of these folk were, like himself, hurrying in the direction of the temple. It was with a somewhat abstracted air that Harry acknowledged the salutations of these people, for, truth to tell, his mind and his conscience were being rather severely exercised upon the subject of the function in which he was about to take part. The one great outstanding fact in relation to it was that it was a pagan rite; and he felt that, regarded from an abstract point of view, it was distinctly wrong for him, a professed Christian, to countenance or abet idolatry in any form. Yet he had not been all those months in Peru without having acquired a certain elementary knowledge of the early history of the country, much of which, by the way, had been gained through his conversations with Arima long before that individual had so much as dreamed of the brilliant destiny that awaited his pleasant-mannered young English master. Thus, for instance, he knew that the Peruvian Indians recognised the existence of a Supreme Being, the Creator and Ruler of the Universe, whom they sometimes named Pachacamac, and at others Viracocha; and he also knew that the attributes of this Being were believed to be of so superlatively divine a character that the simple Indians had never dared to rear more than one temple in his honour, which had long since been destroyed. He was aware also that the Inca was not only an absolute monarch, an autocrat invested with greater powers than any other earthly monarch, but that he was implicitly believed to be of divine origin, and that some of the attributes of divinity still clung to him; he was therefore not only a monarch who wielded absolute power, and whose will was law, but he was also the head of the priesthood. Taking these two facts in conjunction, Escombe, with the extreme assurance of youth, and perhaps not attaching quite enough importance to the fact that the sun was the deity whose worship had been especially inculcated and carefully handed down from generation to generation, thought, as he considered the matter, that he could see his way first to divert the adoration of his subjects from the sun to Pachacamac, and afterwards to explain that Pachacamac and the God of the Christians were one and the same, thus insensibly leading them from the paths of paganism into those of Christianity. And he resolved to do it. It was a grand ambition, and it spoke well for him that this should be the first definite resolution that he had taken in connection with the tremendous powers with which he had become so strangely invested; for, singularly enough, it had never occurred to him until within the last hour that he would be called upon to take any part in the functions and ceremonies of pagan worship. Moreover, it swept away every one of the scruples that had been worrying him as to whether or not he was justified in being present at the impending function; for he felt that, having come to the above resolution, he was justified in being present, otherwise how could he offer any suggestions as to a change in the ceremonial? By the time that he had thought the matter out thus far, and had arrived at the conclusion that he believed he could see his way pretty clearly before him, he had reached the great open space, in the centre of which stood the temple, and he had time only to run his eye hastily over the enormous building and gather in a general idea of its aspect before his litter was deposited at the foot of the magnificent flight of forty-five broad, shallow steps which ran all round the building, and which gave access to the spacious platform upon which the edifice was raised. As Harry leisurely dismounted from the litter his escort ran nimbly up the steps and arranged itself--four deep on each step, and the remainder on the platform above--into a wide avenue of spearmen to keep back the crowds that thronged the steps, and thus afford the young Inca a clear space in which to accomplish the ascent to the great main doorway of the building. At the same moment Tiahuana, gorgeously attired in a long flowing robe of white that was stiff with the heavy gold embroidery which almost covered it, with a mitre-like headdress, similarly embroidered, on his head, and a gold wand surmounted by a golden image of the sun in his right hand, emerged from the doorway, followed by apparently the entire staff of the priesthood, and stood at the head of the long flight of steps to receive the Inca. Contrary to his expectation, instead of being conducted directly into the main body of the building, Escombe, surrounded by fully a hundred priests, was led by Tiahuana into an anteroom, where he found assembled the Council of Seven, under the leadership of one Huanacocha--who, Tiahuana whisperingly mentioned, was the chief and most powerful noble of the entire nation--and some five hundred other nobles, to whom he was now to be presented, and who were thus to be afforded an opportunity of thoroughly satisfying themselves before matters were allowed to proceed any further, that the young man was indeed the re-incarnated Manco, for whose return to earth the nation had been looking forward for over three hundred years. Upon entering this anteroom Escombe found himself upon a dais occupying one end of, and reaching across the entire width of the apartment. In the centre of the dais, but close up to the front of it, was a throne of solid silver, with a footstool before it, and upon this throne Harry was directed by Tiahuana to seat himself, the body of priests immediately arranging themselves behind and on either side of it. Before him, and on the main floor of the room, which was some eighteen inches below the level of the dais, were arranged several rows of benches upon which the nobles were seated, the Council of Seven, which had governed in the absence of an Inca, with Huanacocha occupying the middle place, being seated on the front bench, or that nearest the dais. The little stir which had been occasioned by the entrance of Harry and the priests having subsided, Arima--to Escombe's amazement--was mysteriously produced by Tiahuana and led forward to the front of the dais, from which standpoint he was ordered to relate the circumstances under which he first came into contact with the young Englishman; how his suspicions as to the identity of his employer with the expected Inca were first aroused; what steps he took to verify those suspicions, and how he proceeded after those suspicions were confirmed; all of which he told in the Quichua language, not only with a total absence of embarrassment, but with a certain undertone of pride and exultation running through his narrative; for he felt that, as the first discoverer of the returned Manco, he was a person of very great consequence. Then Harry was requested to state where and in what manner he came into possession of the long-lost emerald collar of Manco Capac, which he did in Spanish, Tiahuana afterwards interpreting his brief statement into Quichua. Then came Tiahuana's own turn. He began by reminding his hearers of the terrible happenings of that dreadful day when Atahuallpa, deceived by the treacherous Spaniards, unsuspectingly entered the city of Caxamalca, only to see his followers ruthlessly slaughtered, and to find himself a captive in the hands of the _Conquistadors_. Then he drew a graphic word picture of that still more awful night when Atahuallpa, chained hand and foot, was led out into the great square of the city and ignominiously strangled by his unscrupulous and bloodthirsty betrayers. Warming to his subject, he next very briefly sketched the untoward fate of the Inca Manco, son of Huayna Capac, whom the Spaniards had installed, as their tool and puppet, on the throne vacated by the murder of Atahuallpa; and he concluded this portion of his address by briefly reminding his hearers of the sudden and dramatic appearance of the prophet-priest Titucocha on the night of Atahuallpa's murder, and of the prophecy then uttered by him, which Tiahuana repeated word for word. Then, gathering fresh energy and fire as he proceeded, the High Priest told how, after waiting impatiently all his life long for the reappearance of the great Manco, foretold by Titucocha, until he had begun to despair of living to see that happy day, he had been suddenly startled into new life and hope by the arrival of Arima in the city with the glad news that the divine Manco had actually returned to earth and was even then among the mountains of his beloved Peru. He reminded them of how he, Tiahuana, had conducted Arima into the presence of the Council of Seven and caused him to relate his story to them; of the scepticism with which that story had been received, of the difficulty which he had encountered in persuading the Council that it was their duty to permit him, as High Priest, to sift the story and ascertain how far it was true; and how, having at length secured their somewhat reluctant consent, he had triumphantly accomplished his mission and now had the duty and pleasure to present them to the divine Manco, promised of Heaven as the deliverer and restorer of the Peruvian nation. "But how are we to be assured beyond all possibility of doubt that this young man is in very deed the reincarnated Manco, whose return was foretold by the prophet Titucocha, and for whom the nation has looked these three hundred years and more?" demanded Huanacocha, the head of the Council of Seven. "He is a white man to begin with; and for my part it has always been in my mind that when the divine Manco should deign to return to us, he would come in the form of a full-blooded Peruvian Indian, even as we are." A low murmur of concurrence and approval filled the room at these bold words of Huanacocha, and every eye was at once turned upon Tiahuana to see what reply he would give to this apparently unanswerable objection. "Why should you suppose any such thing?" demanded Tiahuana in a cold, level voice. "There is no word in Titucocha's prophecy, as handed down to us in our records, to justify any such belief. I am prepared to admit, if you like, that such an expectation was natural, but further than that I cannot go. Nay, rather let me say that, taking into consideration the careful minuteness with which Titucocha particularised the several means of identification--every one of which has been literally fulfilled in him whom you now see before you--I am convinced that if our Lord the Sun had intended that his child should return to us as an Indian, born of us and among us, Titucocha would have specifically said so. But, as I have already reminded you, he did not. What he said was that the re-incarnated Manco was to be the deliverer and restorer of the ancient Peruvian nation; and who so fit to undertake and successfully carry through this stupendous task as one born, and who has lived all his life in England, that great nation of which we have all heard, whose empire extends north and south, east and west, to the uttermost parts of the earth, so that it has been said of her that she is the empire upon which the sun never sets. My Lords, I, who am full of years and of the wisdom that comes with many years, tell you that if ever we are to free ourselves from the yoke of the oppressor, and to restore Peru to its ancient position of power and glory, we must be helped and guided in that great, that almost impossible task, by one who unites within himself superlative wisdom and superlative courage; and the crowning proof, to my mind, that heaven has now at last fulfilled its glorious promise is to be found in the fact that it has ordained our new Inca to be born an Englishman, possessed of all that courage, that wisdom, and that knowledge for which Englishmen are famed throughout the world. I have spoken! And now, I pray you, come forward every one of you, from the first unto the last, and see with your own eyes the final proof that the great Manco has indeed returned to us. Thus far you have merely been called upon to believe the testimony of Arima and myself; but now it is for you to look with your own eyes upon the collar which this young man wears, and to say whether in very truth it is or is not the emerald collar of the divine Manco, of which we have so perfect and complete a description, and by the wearing of which he was to be recognised in his re-incarnated form." As Tiahuana ceased speaking, another low murmur ran round the assembly, but whether of approval or of dissent it was not easy to judge. Then Huanacocha, as chief of the Council of Seven, arose, and, stepping forward to the dais, took in his hand the emerald collar that Tiahuana handed to him--having removed it from Harry's neck for the purposes of inspection--and examined it with the most scrupulous care. He was about to return it to Tiahuana when the latter said: "Has my Lord Huanacocha compared the features delineated on the pendant with those of him whom I am offering to the nation as its long-looked- for deliverer?" Huanacocha had not, it seemed, for, taking the pendant in his hand, he studied it intently, and then gazed long and steadily at Harry's features. "I admit that there certainly is some resemblance," he said coldly, as he handed back the jewel. Then, one after the other, the remaining members of the assembly came forward one by one, scrutinised the jewel with more or less deliberation, and returned to their seats, until every one in the room had obeyed Tiahuana's summons. Then the High Priest stepped forward to the edge of the dais, and said: "Nobles of the ancient Peruvian blood-royal, I have now submitted to you the last piece of evidence upon which I base my contention that the young man whom I have brought into your midst--and of whose existence we became aware through a sequence of events that can only be described as miraculous--is in very truth he for whose appearance we and our forefathers have been anxiously looking during a period of more than three hundred years. You are all perfectly acquainted with the words of the prophecy which foretold his appearance; for so important, so vital to the interests of the nation, were those words regarded that it has been our rule throughout the ages to teach them to every child until that child can repeat them by heart. You are therefore perfectly cognisant of all the signs and tokens of identification by which the re- incarnated Manco was to be recognised when in the fulness of time he should again come to us, to execute his great mission of our regeneration. It now rests with you to decide whether those signs and tokens have been fulfilled in the case of this young man so clearly and unmistakably as to justify our acceptance of him as the being whom I claim him to be. Although it is perhaps hardly necessary for me to do so, it is my duty to remind you that never in the history of our nation have the Peruvian nobility been called upon to decide a more momentous question. I now ask you to rise in your places, one by one, beginning with my Lord Huanacocha, and say whether or not you are satisfied that this young man is in very truth the divine Manco returned to earth." A very perceptible pause followed this appeal, and then Huanacocha rose to his feet. "Before replying to your question, my Lord Tiahuana," said he, "I should like the young man to tell us what he can remember of his former existence. The history of Manco Capac, our first Inca and the founder of our nation, is well known to all of us, and if your claim be indeed justified there must be many incidents in his career, well known to us but quite unknown to the outer world, which the claimant can recall. Let him mention a few of those incidents, and the most doubting among us will be satisfied." This speech was delivered in the Quichua language, and it was necessary for Tiahuana to translate to Harry, who at once replied: "I have already told you, I believe, that I have no recollection whatever of any former state of existence." "My Lords," said Tiahuana, "the young man asserts, with perfect candour, that he has no recollection whatever of any former state of existence; therefore he is unable to furnish those further proofs demanded by the Lord Huanacocha. But what of that? Does this absence of recollection invalidate all the other proofs that have been given? How many of us remember any of our former states of existence distinctly enough to recall any of their happenings? I confess that I do not. Does my Lord Huanacocha, or do any of you?" A long and profound silence followed this pointed question. So prolonged, indeed, was it that it at length became evident that no one in that assembly had a reply to it; whereupon Tiahuana, his eyes gleaming with triumph, once more stepped forward and said: "My Lords, your silence is a complete and sufficient answer to my question, and proves that the objection raised by my Lord Huanacocha was an unreasonable one. I must therefore again call upon him to say whether he is or is not satisfied with the other proofs advanced." There was no pause or hesitation this time; Huanacocha at once rose and said: "I have no fault to find with the other proofs; but I contend that they do not go far enough. I am still strongly of opinion that when the divine Manco returns to us he will come in the guise of one of ourselves, an Indian of the blood-royal; and therefore I must refuse to accept the dictum of my Lord Tiahuana that the young white man is the re-incarnation of the first Manco, the founder of our nation." And he resumed his seat. This bold and defiant speech created, as might be expected, a most tremendous sensation among the other occupants of the hall; but Tiahuana, with a slight gesture of impatience, at once threw up his hand to demand silence, and said: "You have all heard the objections raised by my Lord Huanacocha, and are as well able as I am to weigh and judge their value. Let now the other lords arise, each in his turn, and express his opinion." The man on Huanacocha's right at once arose, and said: "I am quite satisfied with the proofs adduced by the High Priest. To me they are complete and perfectly convincing." The man on the left of Huanacocha then sprang to his feet and said: "I find it quite impossible to come to a definite decision, one way or the other. On the one hand, I regard the proofs adduced by my Lord Tiahuana as perfectly satisfactory; but on the other I think there is reason in the objection raised by my Lord Huanacocha that the aspirant is a white man. Notwithstanding what has been said by the High Priest, my conviction is that the true Manco, when he appears, will be born among us and be one of ourselves. I am unconvinced." Thus the expression of opinion went on until all had given one, when it appeared that Huanacocha had four adherents to his views, the remainder of the nobles being quite unanimous in their conviction that Harry was in very deed the re-incarnation of the first Manco. He was therefore accepted by an overwhelming majority, as Tiahuana had confidently anticipated; and the discomfited Huanacocha and his friends were compelled to waive their objections, which, after recording them, they did with a somewhat better grace than might have been expected. Then came the ceremony of swearing allegiance to the new sovereign, which was done by every individual present, beginning with Tiahuana, who was followed by Motahuana and the entire body of the priests, who, in their turn, were succeeded by the nobles, beginning with Huanacocha. By the time that this ceremony was concluded the afternoon was well advanced and it was time to repair to the main body of the temple, where the service of thanksgiving was to be held; and in consideration of the fact that Harry was a stranger, and of course completely ignorant of the religious ritual followed by the worshippers of the Sun, Motahuana was told off to accompany and prompt him. Accordingly, led by the deputy High Priest, the young monarch, followed by the nobles, passed down a long corridor and, wheeling to the left, passed through an enormous archway veiled by great gold-embroidered curtains which, upon being drawn aside at their approach, revealed the whole of the vast interior of the temple proper in which the ceremony was to be held. When, an hour or two earlier, the young Inca--whose official name was now Manco Capac--had approached the enormous building in which he now found himself, he had promptly come to the conclusion that the edifice owed little or nothing of its imposing character to the skill of the architect; for, so far as architectural beauty was concerned, it was almost as plain and unpretentious as his own palace: it was imposing merely because of its immense dimensions. It consisted of a huge rectangular block of pure white marble, the walls of which were from eight to ten feet thick, without columns, or pediment, or even so much as a few pilasters to break up the monotonous smoothness and regularity of its exterior surface, the only aids in this direction being the great east doorway, or main entrance, which was some thirty feet wide by about sixty feet high, with an immense window opening on either side of it, through which and the doorway entered all the light which illuminated the interior. True, the doorway and window openings were each surrounded by heavy marble borders, or frames, encrusted with great plates of gold elaborately ornamented with a boldly sculptured design. There was also a heavy gold string course and bull-nose moulding similar to that on the palace; but, apart from that and the gold-tiled roof, there was no attempt at exterior decorative effect. Whatever might have been deemed lacking in this direction, however, was more than compensated for by the barbaric splendour and profusion of the interior decorations. The entire west wall of the building was covered with a solid plate of burnished gold emblazoned with a gigantic face from which emanated rays innumerable, representing the sun, the great eyes being reproduced in a perfect blaze of gems; precious stones of all kinds being thickly powdered also all over the plate, which was primarily intended to receive the rays of the rising sun through the great east door in the early morning--at which hour the most impressive ceremony of the day was celebrated--and reflect the light back upon the people. The two side walls were also decorated with great gold plates, about two feet square, richly engraved, and arranged in a chequer pattern, a square of gold alternating with a square of the white marble wall of the building from top to bottom and from end to end, each of the white marble squares having in its centre a gold ornament about the size of one's hand which formed a mount for a precious stone, rubies and emeralds being the most numerous, although diamonds of considerable size gleamed here and there. Had the stones been cut and polished, instead of being set in the rough, the effect would have been gorgeous beyond description. Perhaps the most wonderful part of the whole building, however, was the ceiling. This was composed entirely of white marble slabs supported and divided into panels by great beams of solid marble made up of enormous blocks of the stone the ends of which were so cunningly "scarphed", or fitted together, that the joints were invisible and gripped each other so tightly that neither cement nor bolts were needed to complete the union. And in the centre of each panel of the ceiling, and at each crossing of the beams, was a great golden ornament bearing some resemblance to a full-blown rose. The western wall of the building was decorated like the two side walls, save that in place of the bare marble a silver square alternated with a gold one. And, finally, the great doors in the western wall were of solid silver wrought to represent timber, the grain and knots of the wood being imitated with marvellous fidelity, while the nails were represented in gold. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. THE DAUGHTER OF UMU. Piloted by Motahuana, Harry presently found himself installed in a marble throne raised on a dais at the western extremity of the building, behind the altars--of which there were three--and facing them and the vast assembly. Immediately on the other side of the altars, and facing them, were the nobles, also occupying marble seats; and a brave show they made in their gala attire, Umu, the captain of the royal bodyguard, in his gorgeous uniform, being a very conspicuous figure among them. And behind the nobles, seated on wooden benches, was the people ranged row after row, until, so vast was the building, the features of those seated near the eastern wall were quite indistinguishable to the young Inca. The slight stir in that immense assemblage caused by the entrance of the monarch and his train of nobles had scarcely subsided when the strains of distant music were heard, rapidly increasing in power and volume as the musicians drew near; and presently, through an archway immediately opposite that by which Escombe had entered, there filed a small army of priests led by Tiahuana, still in his robes and bearing his wand. Some sixty of these were performing on a variety of wind and string instruments more or less remotely suggestive of those known to civilised nations, while the remainder chanted to their accompaniment a quaint but by no means unpleasing melody, the air of which was quite distinctly suggestive of rejoicing. The words of the song--or hymn, rather--were Quichua, and Escombe was therefore unable to gather the sense of them. In the midst of the priests walked a band of some twenty youths attired in richly embroidered white tunics of soft woollen material, girt about the waist with a gold-embroidered belt; and each youth bore in his arms a mass of beautiful flowers, the delicate perfume of which quickly diffused itself throughout the building. Priests and youths were alike barefooted; and a more careful scrutiny soon revealed to Harry the fact that he was the only individual in the building--so far as he could see--who remained shod. Led by the instrumentalists, the procession wheeled to the right and passed slowly down the first aisle of the building to its eastern extremity, then right across it, past the great eastern door, up the fourth aisle, down the third, and up the second, which brought them finally to the altar which stood on the right of the main or high altar, as looked at from Escombe's point of view. Then, while the priests continued their chanting, the flower-laden youths piled their fragrant burdens upon the right-hand altar and twined them about it until it was completely hidden from view by the vari-coloured blooms and their delicate foliage. This done, the youths retired, and the High Priest-- or Villac Vmu, as he was called--standing before the flower-draped altar, with his back to the people, uttered what appeared to be a short invocation or prayer, during which the worshippers all knelt upon the beautifully tessellated marble pavement. This prayer lasted three or four minutes, and upon its conclusion the people rose and resumed their seats; while Tiahuana, turning and facing them, delivered an address of some twenty minutes' length, after which another hymn was sung by both priests and people, the former slowly filing out of the building during the singing, and so timing their movements that as the last note was sung the last priest disappeared through the arch, and the curtain fell behind him. Harry not unnaturally concluded that this ended the ceremonial; but he was quickly undeceived by Motahuana, who informed him that one, if not two, burnt sacrifices yet remained to be offered. And indeed, scarcely had this piece of information been conveyed when the music and singing again made themselves heard, and the priests filed into the building once more. But, instead of the band of flower-bearing youths, there appeared a llama, decked with garlands and wreaths of flowers, and led by two young priests. This time the order of procedure was reversed, the procession crossing over to the fourth aisle, passing down it and up the first, down the second, and up the third, which finally brought them opposite the second subsidiary altar, to a golden ring in which the llama was now tethered, the processional hymn lasting long enough to allow this operation to be completed. Then followed another prayer, succeeded by another address, during which the unfortunate llama was bound and trussed up so ingeniously that the unhappy creature was rendered incapable of making the least struggle. Then a number of priests seized the helpless animal and laid it upon the top of the altar, upon which meanwhile a great pile of cedar boughs and other scented wood had been carefully piled. This done, two priests strode forward, one bearing a very formidable-looking copper knife, while the other carried a large and most beautifully wrought basin of solid gold. Seizing the llama by the ears and dragging its head back, the first of these two priests raised his knife on high. There was a yellow flash as the keen and heavy blade descended upon the animal's throat, and the next instant the llama's lifeblood was pouring and smoking into the basin which the second priest held to receive it. And so dexterously was the whole thing done that not a single drop of blood stained the white garment of either priest; had it been otherwise, it would have been regarded as an unfavourable omen. The moment that the blood ceased to flow, the thongs which confined the poor beast's limbs to its body were released, the carcass was turned upon its back, the belly was ripped open, and the Villac Vmu stepped forward and carefully examined the entrails, during which the people appeared to be held in a state of the most painfully breathless suspense. This, however, was happily not prolonged, for it lasted only a few seconds when Tiahuana, stepping forward and facing the assembly, threw up his hands and shouted: "Blessed be our Father the Sun, the omens are all exceptionally, marvellously, favourable, and our sovereign Lord the Inca is assured of a long and prosperous reign, during which he will be permitted to accomplish all that was prophesied concerning him." Instantly the priests burst into a loud paean of praise, which was promptly taken up by the entire people, standing, during the singing of which a priest appeared, bearing a torch kindled at the sacred fire, which was kept alight throughout the year. This torch he presented to Harry, who, at Motahuana's prompting, and with several qualms of conscience, rose to his feet and thrust it in among the pile of wood on the top of the altar, beneath the body of the llama. The crackling of the dry twigs that formed the substructure of the cunningly arranged pile, and the curling wreaths of fragrant smoke, soon showed that the wood was fairly alight; and as the little tongues of yellow flame leapt from twig to twig and gathered power, and the smoke shot upward from the altar in a thin perfectly straight column to the ceiling, the great building fairly resounded with the shouts of jubilation of the enormous congregation, for this was the last and most important omen of all. If the smoke column had bent or wavered in the least it would have foretold trouble--ay, or even disaster, had the wavering been sufficiently pronounced. But, on the contrary, every omen, from first to last, had been of so exceptionally favourable a character that the special sacrifice of thank-offering that was always tentatively arranged for upon such occasions as the present became a foregone conclusion, and the assembly, instead of dispersing, as they would have done had the omens been less eminently favourable, settled again into their seats with a great sigh and shudder of tense expectancy; for this would be the first time that many of them had ever been present at a ceremony of the kind that was now pending. Escombe, who was by this time beginning to feel very tired, as well as distinctly dissatisfied with himself for taking part in all this mummery, noticed vaguely that something out of the common was evidently toward, but he was too thoroughly distrait to even seek an explanation from Motahuana, and he watched, as in a dream, the long procession of priests file out of the building to the accompaniment of an unmistakable song of triumph. Presently, with more singing and music, they came filing back again; but in the comparatively brief interval of their absence they had contrived to effect a complete change in their appearance, for, instead of the white garments which they had previously worn, they were now robed in crimson, heavily bordered with gold embroidery, while Tiahuana's robe was so completely covered with gold embroidery, encrusted with gems, that it was as stiff as a board, the crimson colour of the material scarcely showing through it. He still bore his wand in his hands, and the mitre which he now wore blazed with gold and precious stones. On this occasion, instead of leading the procession, he was preceded by a priest, scarcely less gorgeously robed than himself, who held aloft a beautiful banner of crimson cloth emblazoned with the figure of the Sun. Other banners, equally rich and beautiful, about twenty in all, were borne by the main body of the priests. But no sooner was the procession--singing a peculiarly sweet and plaintive air--fairly inside the body of the temple than Escombe aroused himself with a violent start, for walking in the midst of the priests, attired in a simple white robe, from the hem of which her little bare feet peeped as she walked with downcast eyes, and wreathed and garlanded about with a long chain of magnificent crimson roses, and with her hands bound behind her, there walked the most lovely maiden that the young man had ever seen. Although there was little doubt that she was of pure Indian blood, she was as fair as a Spaniard, but without a vestige of colour--as might well be expected under the circumstances. Her long, dark hair, unbound, clustered in wavy ringlets upon her shoulders and far enough below her waist to completely veil her tied hands. Every eye in the building was instantly turned upon this fair vision as the congregation rose _en masse_, and a loud gasp of what sounded very much like dismay drew Escombe's attention to Umu, who distinctly staggered as he rose to his feet, while his face went a sickly, yellowish-white, and the perspiration poured from his forehead like rain. The poor fellow stared at the girl as though he could scarcely believe his eyes; yet that he did believe them was perfectly evident, while the anguished expression of his countenance made it equally evident that he was very deeply interested in the young lady and her fate. As to what that fate was to be there could be no shadow of doubt, even in the mind of one so ignorant of the details of the religious ceremonial of the Peruvians as was its new monarch. The girl's awful pallor, her very presence in the procession, and the fact of her being garlanded with flowers, each had its own significance, and pointed indubitably to the fact that she was the destined victim in a human sacrifice! Turning to Motahuana, Harry demanded, in a fierce whisper: "Who is that girl, and why is she taking part in the procession?" To which Motahuana replied: "She is Maia, the daughter of Umu, captain of my Lord's bodyguard; and, as the most beautiful maiden in the city, she has been chosen by the Villac Vmu as worthy the great honour of being offered in sacrifice upon the altar of thanksgiving on this most memorable and auspicious occasion. It is a great surprise to Umu, of course, to see his only daughter occupying her present proud position, for by the order of Tiahuana she was taken from her father's house within an hour of his departure to meet my Lord and escort him to the city; and his duties have probably not permitted him to visit his home since his return, hence the sight of his daughter in the procession is the first intimation which he has received of the honour conferred upon her--and him." The utter indifference to the anguish of those chiefly concerned which Motahuana betrayed in this speech made Escombe fairly writhe with disgust and abhorrence, which feelings were increased a hundredfold by the knowledge that this young maiden was to be forced to lay down her life, and her parent's home was to be made desolate, in order that his-- Harry Escombe's--accession to the throne of the Incas might be fitly celebrated! He ground his teeth in impotent fury, and unrestrainedly execrated the stupendous folly which had induced him to enter so light- heartedly into an adventure fraught with elements of such unimaginable horror. True, he had done so with the very best intentions; yes, but how often, even in his comparatively brief experience of life, had he known of actions instigated by "the very best intentions" that had culminated in grim disaster! And now he was adding yet another to the long list! But stay; was this thing inevitable? He suddenly remembered that many of the good intentions that had determined him to acquiesce passively in the events that had placed him where he now was were based upon the fact that, as Inca, he would be the possessor of absolute power, and would be able to mould events to his will; that, as Inca, he would be superior to everybody, even the priesthood, for the Inca was not only the head of the priesthood but was actually credited with the possession of a certain measure of divinity in his own person. If all this were really true, now was the time to assert his authority and test his power. He would forbid the sacrifice, and see what came of it. As he arrived at this determination he glanced up, to find Umu's gaze fixed fully upon him, and there was such intensity of unmistakable anguish and entreaty in the gaze that Harry unhesitatingly answered it with a nod and an encouraging smile, which evoked a gasp of almost incredulous joy and relief from its recipient. The procession had by this time passed down the first aisle and was coming up the second, the paean of triumph and thanksgiving pealing louder and more thrillingly on the ear with every step of its progress. At length it reached the head of the aisle and wheeled to the right with the evident intention of turning into the third aisle, which would have caused it to brush close past the row of benches by which Umu was standing. But a moment before the banner bearer who was leading the procession arrived at the wheeling point, Harry rose from his throne and, standing on his footstool, so that every person in that vast building might see and hear him, flung up his right hand and imperiously called a halt in the proceedings, in response to which the procession came to an abrupt standstill, and the singers and musicians almost as abruptly became silent. Then Harry beckoned Tiahuana to his side, and said: "Interpret for me; I have a message for the people." Then, as Tiahuana gazed aghast and speechless at the young man who had resorted to so unheard of a proceeding as to interrupt a ceremony of thanksgiving at its most intensely interesting and dramatic moment, Harry proceeded: "Children of the ancient Peruvian nation, hearken unto me; for Pachacamac, the Supreme, the Creator and Ruler of the Universe, who made all things, yea even unto the Sun, Moon, and Stars which you adore, each in their several seasons, has this moment put a message into my mouth and bid me deliver it unto you. "Thus saith Pachacamac, the Great and Only One. `In the days of old, when the Peruvians were but a few scattered tribes plunged in the depths of ignorance and barbarism, I took pity upon them and sent to them Manco Capac and Mama Oello Huaco, two of my children, to gather together those scattered tribes and form them into communities, to instruct them in the mysteries of my worship, and to teach them the arts whereby they might become a great and civilised nation. And for a time all things went well with the Peruvians, for they listened to the voice of my messengers, and obeyed it, worshipping me and acting in accordance with my commands. Therefore I blessed and prospered them exceedingly, and made of them a glorious and powerful nation, wise in the art of government, and invincible in the field of battle, so that as the years rolled on they conquered all the surrounding tribes and nations and absorbed them into themselves. "`But with the progress of time my people fell into error. They ceased to worship and honour me, and transferred their adoration to the Sun, which I had made and given unto them as the beneficent source of all their material benefits, from which they derived light and warmth, which caused their streams to flow and their soil to bring forth abundant crops for the sustenance of man and beast, which caused their flocks to increase and multiply greatly, and which is the source of all life, health, and beauty. They gave their gratitude and devotion to that which I had created, and forgot me, the Creator of all things; they built hundreds of temples in honour of the Sun--and one only did they dedicate to me! Therefore was I displeased with them and withdrew from them the light of my countenance. I permitted the _Conquistadors_ to land upon their shores and gave them power to triumph over the Peruvians in battle, to destroy Atahuallpa, and to wrest their land from them until, behold, all that is left of that once great nation is this valley and the city that ye have built in it. "`But my anger burns not for ever, nor will I hide my face from you for all time. Behold, I have given you another Inca, who shall guide your straying feet back into the right path, who shall point out to you the mistakes which you have made and teach you how to correct them. And if ye will obey him it may be that in process of time I will again make you a great and powerful nation, even as you were in the old days ere I hid my face from you and permitted calamity to overtake you. "`And now, listen, my people, unto this. I have no pleasure in sorrow or suffering; the shedding of blood in sacrifice is an abomination unto me. Therefore do I forbid now and henceforth the sacrifice in burnt offering of any creature that doth breathe the breath of life; for death is a curse that I have sent upon the earth, and not a blessing, as ye shall be taught in due time. Ye may deck my altars with flowers, and make beautiful the houses in which ye worship me, if ye will; but obedience to my laws and precepts is more precious to me than any other thing, and if ye render that unto me ye shall do well.'" As Harry uttered the last words, and sank back into his seat, it is safe to say that no individual in that great building was more astonished at his behaviour than himself; for he had sprung to his feet without the ghost of a notion of what he meant to say, animated only by the one great and overmastering impulse to save the life of Umu's daughter and rescue a household from a great and terrible grief. But the words had leapt to his lips, and he had spoken as one under the influence of inspiration, without thought, or pause, or hesitation. In the very building devoted to the worship of that object which, ever since Peru became a nation, had been the especial veneration of its inhabitants, he had stood up and boldly denounced the worship of the Sun as idolatry; had told them that their religious beliefs were all wrong, and had unceremoniously broken in upon and put a stop to the most impressive ceremony in their ritual, and had forbidden certain practices hallowed by ages of religious teaching! And now, what was to be the result? Would the priests and the congregation rise up as one man and tear the audacious young innovator limb from limb, or offer him up as a sacrifice on the altar from which he had essayed to snatch its destined victim, to propitiate their outraged deity? The sensation produced on all sides as Tiahuana had translated Escombe's denunciation, sentence by sentence, was tremendous, and grew in intensity as the denunciation proceeded. But whether the emotion excited was that of anger, or of blank astonishment, the young man could not determine; nor, to speak the truth, did he very greatly care, for he felt that he was doing his duty regardless of the possibility of the most ghastly peril to himself. Indeed there are few possibilities more dreadful than those attendant upon the bearding of a multitude of fanatical idolators and the denouncing of the objects of their idolatry. Everything, or almost everything, would depend entirely upon the view which Tiahuana and the priests took of Harry's conduct. If, after that uncompromisingly outspoken attack upon the worship of the Sun--the fundamental principle of their religion--Tiahuana's belief in the theory that Escombe was indeed the re-incarnation of the first Manco, foretold by the prophet Titucocha, remained unshaken, all might yet be well; but if not--! For some minutes excitement and consternation reigned supreme over that vast assembly, yet there was nothing approaching tumult or disorder in the behaviour of the people; the points raised by the young Inca's message were evidently of such tremendous import that they felt themselves quite unable to deal with them. They recognised, almost from the first moment, that these were matters which must be left in the hands of the priests, and presently the excitement began to die down, and everybody waited to see what would next happen. As for Tiahuana, the denunciation had fallen upon him with such paralysing effect that he had simply translated Escombe's message as nearly word for word as the Quichua language would permit, with the air and aspect of a man speaking under the influence of some fantastically horrible dream. But by the time that the excitement had subsided, and silence again reigned in the great building, he had pulled himself together and, turning to Harry, said: "Is my Lord quite certain, beyond all possibility of doubt, that the message which he has just delivered has been put into his mouth by Pachacamac, and not by some evil and malignant spirit?" "Yes," answered Escombe with conviction; "I am. What evil spirit would instruct the Peruvians to worship and adore the Great Pachacamac Himself instead of one of the works of His hands? The very import of the message ought to be convincing testimony of the source from which it comes." "It may be; it may be; I cannot tell," answered Tiahuana wearily. "If the message comes in very truth from Pachacamac, then have we indeed strayed far from the right path, and much that has troubled and puzzled the wisest heads among us can be accounted for. It would also explain why our forefathers were so blind as to permit the _Conquistadors_ to enter their country, and so weak as to be conquered by them! Yes, methinks there are matters of vast moment contained in that message; but they cannot be discussed here and now. Is it my Lord's will that the people be dismissed?" "Yes," answered Harry, almost breathless with astonishment at the complete success of his intervention. "Tell the people that my appearance among them is the signal for many great and momentous changes decreed by Pachacamac for their advantage, one of the most important of which will be that, henceforth, Pachacamac Himself--the Supreme, the Creator of the Heavens and Earth, and all that are therein, and only He, is to be worshipped in this building. Ye have wandered far astray; but be of good comfort, I--and, later on, others whom Pachacamac will send to you--will point the way of return, and all shall be well with you." "And the maiden, Lord, who was to have been offered as a thank- offering--what is to be done with her?" demanded Tiahuana. "Let her be returned with all honour to her home and parent," answered Harry. "Henceforth there are to be no burnt sacrifices, whether human or otherwise." Then Tiahuana, standing before the central altar, where he could be seen by all, and heard by perhaps about half of the congregation, raising his hand to command the attention of his audience, interpreted Escombe's second message to them, adding the words "Go in peace!" and raising both hands in a gesture of blessing, which he maintained until the last person had passed out through the great eastern door. Meanwhile Maia, the daughter of Umu and the destined victim of the thank-offering, having not only heard but also understood everything that had transpired, had fainted from excess of emotion produced by the revulsion of feeling from that of lofty exaltation to relief and joy at her reprieve from death--even though that death had come, through long usage, to be regarded as more honourable and glorious than anything that this life had to offer--and had been delivered to her father, who had lost not a moment in conveying her back to the shelter of his roof. "And now, Lord," said Tiahuana, "tell me, I pray you, what is to be done in the matter of conducting the ceremonies in the temple, henceforth; for Pachacamac's message seems to strike at the very root of our religion, and until I am more fully instructed I know not what to do, or how to proceed." "Nay," said Harry reassuringly, for he saw that the old man was intensely worried and distressed, "the matter is surely very simple. All that you have to do is to transfer your adoration from the Sun to Pachacamac, offering to him your prayers and praises instead of addressing them to the Sun. Surely it is wiser and more reasonable to worship Him who made all things, than it is to worship one of the things that He has made? Do this, and ye shall do well. And if any doubts should arise in your minds, come to me and I will resolve them. Also I will instruct you from time to time in the truth concerning Pachacamac, until his messengers shall arrive. And now, go in peace; for ye have but to be obedient, and to instruct the people in the truth, even as you yourselves shall be instructed, and all will be well." Then Harry rose, and, escorted by the nobles, made his way out of the building to the place where his litter and his guard awaited him, whence, mounting into his seat, he was rapidly borne back to the palace amid the enthusiastic acclamations of the populace which lined the streets. But as the bearers trotted smoothly and evenly along the road Escombe detected--or thought that he did--a new note in those acclamations; a note which he could not for the life of him interpret. It was not that the acclamations were less hearty than before. On the contrary, they seemed to be more enthusiastic than ever; yet, mingled with their enthusiasm and joy there seemed to be a certain subtle undertone that thrilled him curiously and caused him to vaguely wonder whether that "message" of his, delivered without forethought on the spur of the moment, would prove to have been a master-stroke of genius--or an irreparable mistake. Anyhow, he had delivered it, and that was the main thing. He had quite determined that he would deliver it at the first fitting and convenient opportunity; he had, therefore, no regrets on that score, and the only thing that worried him was the question whether it had been delivered prematurely; whether, in fact, it would have been more powerful and effective if he had deferred its deliverance until he had taken time to prepare the minds of the people for its reception. But, be the issue what it might, he had accomplished at least one good deed; he had saved a life and given joy to one household in the city, and that was certainly a matter upon which he might unreservedly congratulate himself. Meditating thus, Harry found himself, he scarcely knew how, back at the palace, where his chamberlain informed him, first, that a grand banquet had been arranged for that same evening, to be given by him to the nobles to celebrate his accession to the throne; and, secondly, that the Lord Umu was in waiting, and craved an audience. Whereupon the young man requested to be conducted to some room in which he could suitably receive the captain of his bodyguard, and directed that functionary to be brought to him. Flinging himself wearily into the only chair in the room to which he had been conducted, Escombe awaited the arrival of Umu, who was presently ushered into the apartment barefooted, and carrying upon his shoulders a small burden as a badge of his immeasurable inferiority--great and powerful noble though he was--to the Inca. So intense was his emotion upon finding himself in his Lord's presence that, for the moment, he seemed quite incapable of speech; and, to help him out of his difficulty, whatever it might be, Harry extended his hand to him and said: "Well, Umu, my friend, what is it? Are you in trouble, and can I help you?" Whereupon Umu, the great and powerful noble, and captain of a thousand picked warriors, flung himself upon his knees before the young Inca, and, clasping the outstretched hand in both of his, pressed it convulsively to his lips, while the tears streamed like rain from his eyes. But he quickly pulled himself together, and, gazing up into Harry's face, answered: "Gracious Lord, pardon this unseemly emotion, I pray you, and attribute it to the awful ordeal through which I have this day passed. I have presumed to hasten hither, Lord, to express, as well as may be, the heartfelt gratitude of myself and my daughter for your gracious intervention to-day in the temple, but for which my Maia would now be dead and my home desolate. Lord, you are as yet strange among us, and may therefore not know that for a maiden to be chosen to be offered as a thank-offering on the altar of the temple upon such an occasion as that of to-day is regarded by the Peruvian Indians as the highest honour that can be conferred upon her and all who are connected with her; and doubtless it would be so regarded by many. But, Lord, natural affection is not always to be so easily stifled. I am a widower, and Maia my daughter is my only child; the love that exists between us is therefore perhaps unusually strong, and the honour of having given my daughter as a thank-offering would never have compensated me for, or reconciled me to, her loss. The shock which I experienced to-day when I recognised her, bound and decked with flowers for the sacrifice, in the midst of the priests, I shall never forget, for I had not then been to my house, and knew not that she had been chosen. And though, having been chosen, she had wrought herself up to the point of passive submission, she had no wish to die, for she is young, and the best part of her life is still before her; moreover she loves me, and knows that without her my heart and my house would be empty and desolate. Therefore, Lord, I pray you to accept our heartfelt thanks for her deliverance, and to believe my assurance that henceforth, let what will betide, we two are your faithful and devoted slaves unto our lives' end." "Thanks, Umu, for your assurance of devotion, which, I am convinced, comes from your heart," said Harry, raising the soldier to his feet. "But, Umu, I wish to regard you henceforth not as my `slave', but as a faithful and devoted friend. Servants who will unhesitatingly do my will I shall doubtless be able to command in plenty; but sincere friends are less easily won, especially by a monarch, and a wise, faithful, devoted friend who will help and advise me in the difficult task that lies before me will be of greater value than many slaves. I shall always remember with especial pleasure that my first official act was to save an innocent life, and that the life of your daughter, whom heaven long spare to be a joy and comfort to you. Go in peace, Umu, and serve me faithfully." "I will, Lord; I swear it by the great Pachacamac Himself!" answered Umu, raising his right hand as though to register his oath. Then, turning, he went forth from the palace the proudest, and probably the happiest, man in the Valley of the Sun that day. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. THE INCA'S TREASURE CHAMBERS. The fatigue and excitement of the momentous day were by this time beginning to tell upon Escombe. If he could have followed his own inclination he would certainly have called for a light meal, and, having partaken of it, retired forthwith to rest; but he was already beginning to learn the lesson that even an absolute monarch has sometimes to put aside his own inclinations and do that which is politic rather than that which is most pleasing in his own eyes. Here was this banquet, for instance. He would much rather not have been present at it; but it was an official affair, and to absent himself from it would simply be to inflict a gratuitous slight upon every guest present, and sow a seed of unpopularity that might quite possibly, like the fabled dragon's teeth, spring up into a harvest of armed men to hurl him from his throne. With a sigh of resignation, therefore, he summoned Arima, and, resigning himself into that functionary's hands, submitted to be conducted to the bath, and afterwards attired in the festal garments prepared for the occasion. The bath of warm, delicately perfumed water he found to be so wonderfully refreshing that upon emerging from it all sensation of fatigue had vanished; and by the time that he was completely arrayed for the banquet he felt perfectly prepared to do both himself and the occasion full justice. He was only just ready in the nick of time, for as Arima was completing the adjustment of the imperial borla upon the young monarch's temples, the lord high chamberlain appeared with the intimation that the guests were all assembled, and that nothing now was needed, save the Inca's presence, to enable the banquet to be begun. Whereupon Harry arose, and, preceded by the chamberlain and his satellites, made his way to the banqueting hall, which was an enormous chamber on the upstairs floor of the palace, occupying the entire length and width of that part of the building in which was situated the main entrance. One row of windows overlooked that part of the garden which gave upon the main road, while the windows on the opposite side of the apartment commanded a view of the piece of garden which lay between the two wings and extended down to the shore of the lake. The decorations of this room, if they could not be accurately described as "artistic", from a European's point of view, were at least impressive on account of the wanton lavishness with which gems and the precious metals were used; for, look where one would, the eye encountered nothing but gold, silver, and precious stones; indeed the impression conveyed was that the architect had exhausted his ingenuity in devices for the employment of the greatest possible quantity of these costly minerals. The huge beams which supported the ceiling were encased in thick plates of gold, the ceiling itself, or at least those portions of it which showed between the beams, consisted of plates of silver, thickly studded with precious stones arranged--as Tiahuana explained--to represent the stars in the night sky over the city. The walls, of enormous thickness, with deep niches or recesses alternating with the windows, were covered with thick gold plates heavily chased into a variety of curious patterns; and each niche contained either a life-size image of an animal--the llama figuring most frequently--in solid gold, wrought with the most marvellous patience and skill, or was a miniature garden in which various native trees and plants, wrought with the same lifelike skill, and of the same precious materials, seemed to flourish luxuriantly. The floor was the only portion of the apartment that had escaped this barbarously magnificent system of treatment, but even that was composed of thick planks of costly, richly tinted native timber of beautiful grain, polished to the brilliancy of a mirror; and, as though this were not sufficient to meet the insatiable craving for extravagance everywhere displayed, the beauties of the highly polished wood were almost completely concealed by thick, richly coloured, woollen rugs of marvellously fine texture, made of the wool of the vicuna. Nor was the furniture of the apartment permitted to fall short of its surroundings in point of extravagance. For the tables and chairs occupied by the guests were of solid silver, while that occupied by the Inca and such of his guests as he chose to especially honour by an invitation to sit with him were of solid gold; and all the table utensils throughout the room were of the same precious metal, most exquisitely and elaborately wrought. As for the guests, as might be expected, they had taken especial care that their personal appearance should be in keeping with the general scheme of wantonly lavish display that characterised the adornment of the banqueting room. Every one of them, men and women alike, were apparelled in the richest and most brilliantly coloured stuffs procurable, stiffened with great masses of embroidery in heavy gold thread, while they were literally loaded with ornaments of massive gold, encrusted with gems, upon the hair, neck, and arms. And now, for the first time, Harry had leisure to note--and to strongly disapprove of-- the characteristic ornament which was adopted to distinguish the Peruvian noble from his plebeian brother. This consisted of a massive circular disc of gold, wrought into the semblance of a wheel, and measuring in some cases three or four inches in diameter, which was inserted into the cartilage of each ear, which, of course, had previously been pierced and gradually distended to receive it. To Harry's unsophisticated eye these so-called ornaments constituted a hideous disfigurement, and he was glad to see that they were worn by men only, the ears of the women being for the most part innocent of artificial adornment, although a few of the ladies wore ear-rings of somewhat similar character to those of their more civilised sisters. The Inca's table was placed at one end of the room, and raised upon a dais some three feet high, from which elevation he could of course be seen of all, and also command a view of the entire apartment, easily distinguishing the whereabouts of any particular guest whom he desired to honour especially with a summons to his own table; and to this he was conducted by the chamberlain and ushers, the guests rising upon his entrance and remaining standing until he had seated himself. There was at this moment but one guest at the royal table, and that was Tiahuana, whom Harry had commanded to sit beside him to act as a sort of "coach", and generally explain things. And the first communication which the Villac Vmu made to his young monarch was not precisely of a reassuring character. It was to the effect that Huanacocha, and the four friends who had sided with him that afternoon in the expression of a doubt as to the genuine character of Harry's claims to be accepted as Inca, had absented themselves from the feast. "Yes," said Tiahuana, again casting his eyes carefully over the room, "they are all five absent, Lord; and I like it not. They are men of great power and influence, and they can easily stir up very serious trouble in the city if they choose to do so. We must keep a wary eye upon them; and upon the first sign of a disposition to be troublesome they must be summarily dealt with." "Yes," said Harry; "I have been raised to the position of Inca by a very remarkable combination of circumstances, in the bringing about of which I have had no part; but, being where I am, I intend to govern firmly and justly, to the best of my ability; and I will certainly not tolerate the presence in the city of turbulent spirits bent upon the stirring up of discord and strife. I have already seen, elsewhere, too much of the evil results of mistaken leniency to permit anything of the kind here. But this is not the moment to discuss politics: you hinted, a short time ago, Tiahuana, that at functions of this kind it is usual for the Inca to show honour to certain individuals by inviting them to his table. Now, of course I know none of those present--except Umu, the captain of my bodyguard, whom I see yonder--so I must look to you for guidance in the matter of making a judicious choice. There is room for ten at this table, beside ourselves; therefore, if it be the proper thing for me to do, choose ten persons, and I will summon them to come to us." Whereupon Tiahuana, who to the sanctity of the Villac Vmu added the shrewdness and sagacity of a Prime Minister, named those members of the late Council of Seven who had accepted Escombe as Inca, and certain other powerful nobles, completing the list by naming Umu, whom, he rather satirically suggested, was perhaps entitled to some especial consideration in recompense for the distinction which he had that day missed in consequence of the rescue of his daughter from the sacrificial altar. "And, remember, Lord," concluded Tiahuana, "that it is not necessary to keep any of those people at your table during the entire progress of the banquet; let them stay here long enough to taste a single dish, or to drink with you out of your cup, and then dispatch them with instructions to send up someone else in their stead." Upon this principle, accordingly, Harry acted, arranging matters so judiciously that, under Tiahuana's able guidance, he was able, during the course of the evening, to compliment every guest whom that astute old diplomatist considered it desirable especially to honour, and thus avoid all occasion for jealousy. It is not necessary to describe the banquet in detail; let it suffice to say that for fully three hours there was placed before the Inca and his guests a constant succession of dishes representing all that was esteemed most choice and dainty in Peruvian culinary art, washed down by copious libations of the wine of the country, prepared from the fermented juice of the maguey, for which, it is deplorable to add, the Peruvians exhibited an inordinate fondness. By the exercise of extreme circumspection, taking merely a taste here and there of such food as especially appealed to him, and merely suffering the wine to moisten his lips when pledging his nobles, the young Inca contrived to emerge from the ordeal of the banquet not a penny the worse. The next morning Escombe spent in the company of a sort of committee of the chief _amautas_ or "wise men", who represented the concentrated essence--so to speak--of all Peruvian wisdom and learning, and who had been embodied for the express purpose of instructing the young Inca in the intricacies--such as they were--of the code of Tavantinsuyu--or "four quarters of the world"--as it then stood. This code was simple, but exceedingly severe, the laws, properly so called, relating almost exclusively to criminal matters and their punishment. The regulations governing the daily life of the Peruvian Indian--where he should live, what should be the character of his work, what should be the distinctive character of his clothing, when and whom he should marry, how much land he should hold and cultivate, and so on, were the result of ages of tentative experiment, and were so numerous and intricate that probably none but the _amautas_ themselves thoroughly understood them. The committee, however, which had for nearly a month been preparing itself for the task of initiating the young Inca into the secrets of good government, had arranged a procedure of such a character that even in the course of that one morning's instruction they contrived to give Escombe a sufficiently clear general insight of the subject to enable him to see that, taken altogether, the system of government was admirably designed to secure the prosperity of the nation. Then, in the afternoon, at the instigation of the Council of Seven, who had now become a sort of cabinet, to control the machinery of government, under the supervision of the Inca, Harry was conducted, by an official who performed the functions of Chief of the Treasury, through the enormous vaults beneath the palace, in order that he might view the treasure, industriously accumulated during more than three hundred years, to form the sinews of war for the regeneration of the race which was Escombe's great predestined task. If, before visiting these vaults, Harry had been invited to express an opinion upon the subject, he would have confidently asserted the conviction that such treasure as the inhabitants of the Valley of the Sun had been able to accumulate must all, or very nearly all, have been expended in the adornment of the great temple and the royal palace. But that such a conviction would have been absolutely erroneous was speedily demonstrated when the great bronze doors guarding the entrance of the vaults were thrown open. For the first room into which he was conducted--an apartment measuring some twenty feet wide by thirty feet long, and about fourteen feet high--was full of great stacks of silver bars, each bar being about twenty pounds in weight; the stacks, of varying height, being arranged in tiers of three running lengthwise along the room, with two narrow longitudinal passages between them. Escombe, after staring in dumb amazement at this enormous accumulation of dull white metal, drew from his pocket a small memorandum book and pencil which he had found in one of the pockets of his old clothes, and, with the instinct of the engineer rising for a moment to the surface, made a rapid calculation by which he arrived at the astounding result that there must be very nearly eight hundred tons of bar silver in the stacks before him! From this room he was conducted into another of about the same size, and similarly arranged; but in this case the metal in the stacks was virgin gold, instead of silver, while the bulk of the stacks was, if anything, rather greater than those in the outer rooms. But, for the purposes of a rough estimate, Escombe assumed them to be of only equal bulk, upon the strength of which assumption his figures informed him that the gold in this vault amounted to the not altogether insignificant weight of close upon fourteen hundred tons. The sight of such incredible quantities of the precious metals had so paralysing an effect upon the young Englishman that he could scarcely stammer an enquiry as to where it all came from. The custodian of this fabulous wealth replied, with a smile, that the mountains which hemmed the valley about were enormously rich in both gold and silver, and that some hundreds of men had been kept industriously employed in working the mines almost from the moment when the city had been first founded. "But, Lord," he continued, flinging open a third door, "what you have already seen is by no means all our wealth; the most valuable part of it is to be found in this small room." Passing through the doorway, which, like the other two, was fitted with massive doors of solid bronze secured by an enormously strong lock of the same metal, the young Inca--who, as one of the results of his having been placed upon the throne, had become the absolute owner of all this wealth, with power to use it in such manner as might seem to him good-- found himself in a much smaller room, its dimensions being about ten feet long by the same width, and some twelve feet high. To the sides of the room were fitted large chests of very heavy wood, three chests on each side occupying the entire length of the room, with a passage way about six feet wide between the two rows of chests. Each chest was fitted with a massive wooden cover secured to it by strong bronze hinges, and fastened by a ponderous bronze lock. The custodian unlocked these chests one at a time, and, raising the heavy cover with difficulty, held the lamp which he carried over the yawning interior, disclosing its contents. The first chest opened was nearly full of what to Escombe appeared to be dull black stones, most of them with at least one smooth surface, ranging in size from that of a walnut to lumps as large as a man's two fists. One of these lumps Harry's conductor took out and handed to the young man for his inspection. "Well, what do you call this?" demanded Harry, turning the stone about in his hands, and inspecting it curiously. "That, Lord, is an amethyst," answered the other; "and, as you see, the chest is nearly full of them. But, unless we should happen to discover a new mine, I am afraid we shall get no more of them, for the mine from which those were extracted appears to be exhausted; and it was never very productive even at its best. We did not know what the stones were when they were first discovered, but, as it was suspected that they might possess a certain value, steps were taken to determine the question, with the result that we were told they are amethysts. They are not especially valuable, I believe, but we make a point of never wasting anything, so it was decided to store these until wanted. Now here,"--opening the next chest--"we have another mineral about which we were a bit puzzled at first; but we were in less doubt in this case than we were with regard to the amethysts, as the appearance of the stone seemed to indicate that it possessed a value. We dealt with this as we did with the amethysts, and found that we had chanced upon a particularly rich opal deposit." The chest of opals was, like the one previously opened, almost full, and Harry took admiringly into his hand the great piece of rock representing the half of a mass of stone that had been accidentally broken in two, and found to contain a considerable quantity of iridescent, many-hued crystal. The next chest contained some very fine specimens of sapphire; but it was little more than half-full, the mine having only been discovered within the last decade, and even then not very industriously worked; but there were in the chest a few specimens that Escombe shrewdly suspected to be practically priceless. Having completed the inspection of the contents of the coffers on one side of the room, the custodian crossed over to the other side, and threw up the lid of a chest, the interior of which at once began to glow as though each of the stones--looking very much like lumps of ordinary washing soda--contained within it a morsel of phosphorus. "Aha!" exclaimed Escombe, plunging his hand delightedly into the chest and fishing up two or three of the stones; "no need to ask what these are; there's no possibility of mistaking them. Yes, there's the genuine soapy feel about them all right," as he ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the crystals. "But I didn't know that you had diamonds in Peru." "There is at all events one mine in the country, Lord, namely that from which these stones came," answered the Indian. "But the existence and locality are known only to the few who work it and who guard the approach to it; for we believe it to be the richest mine in the whole world, and we are naturally anxious to retain possession of it for ourselves exclusively. It is not in this valley; it lies a long three- days' journey from here, in a particularly wild and desolate part of the country which is practically inaccessible, save to the boldest and hardiest mountaineers among us. It has only been known for about twenty years, and the contents of this coffer represent the labour of only six men during that time. But the mine is enormously rich, and, as you may see, the size and quality of the stones improve as the miners penetrate deeper, the largest and finest stones, which are those most recently extracted, being at the top of the others in the chest." Harry stooped over and picked up a particularly fine specimen, larger than one of his clenched fists, which glowed and scintillated in the light of the lamp as though it were on fire. "Why," he said, gazing admiringly at the stone as he turned it about in his hand, "The contents of this chest must be of absolutely incalculable value! This stone alone would constitute a very handsome fortune to its lucky possessor, if I am any judge of diamonds." "True, Lord," answered his companion. "But there are several finer stones than that--this one, and this, for example," as he fished up a couple of superb specimens. "There are probably no diamonds in the world equal to these two in size and purity of colour. And all belong to my Lord." "Ay," said Harry; "with such enormous and inexhaustible wealth as this at one's command it should not be very difficult to provide the means of reconquering the country and restoring it to its former state of power and glory. What have you in the other two chests?" "My Lord shall see," answered the Indian, as he unlocked and threw back the lid of the next chest, which proved to be three parts full of rubies, every one of which constituted a little fortune in itself, while many were of such exceptional size and superb colour that the young Englishman could only gasp in speechless amazement and admiration. "Why, Huatama," he exclaimed at length, "I am at a loss to express my astonishment. Aladdin's cave was nothing to this, nothing at all!" "Aladdin, did my Lord say?" murmured the Indian, looking enquiringly at Harry. "I do not seem to remember him. Surely he was not a Peruvian? The name does not--" "No," answered Harry with a laugh. "Aladdin knew nothing of Peru; he was an Eastern--a Chinese fellow, or something like that, if I remember rightly." "Ah, yes!" remarked Huatama reflectively; "I have seen a few Chinese, down at Lima and Callao, when I had occasion to go there a year ago on business for the Council of Seven. I do not like them; and I hope that when my Lord has subjugated the country he will drive them all out of it." "Well, we shall see," rejoined Escombe with a laugh. "But it is early days as yet to talk of driving out the Chinese; there is a great deal to be done before we shall find ourselves face to face with that question. And now, what does your last chest contain?" It contained emeralds, and was more than half-full of stones of surpassing size and purity of colour, every one of them being a picked stone especially selected for its exceptional quality. But Escombe's powers of admiration were by this time completely exhausted, and after having rather perfunctorily examined and expressed his approval of a few of the finest specimens, and commended the treasure as a whole to the unflagging care of Huatama, he returned to his apartments in the palace and flung himself into a chair to endeavour to convince himself that what he had seen in those rock-hewn chambers below was all prosaically real and not the fantasy of a disordered imagination. As he pictured to himself the great chambers with their heaped-up stacks of silver and gold bars, and the smaller room with its six coffers of uncut gems, his thoughts insensibly floated away across the ocean to the modest little Sydenham home, and he tried to imagine the raptures of his mother and sister, could they but behold the incredible accumulation of priceless gems that his eyes had rested upon that day. Then he remembered that in consequence of this extraordinary adventure of his a mail boat had been permitted to leave for England with no letter on board from him to his mother, and he began to wonder anxiously what would happen at The Limes when its occupants fully realised that the Peruvian mail had arrived, and that there was no letter for them. It was the first time that such a thing had ever been permitted to occur; and, although he had been quite helpless to prevent the accident, Escombe somehow felt that it ought not to have been allowed to happen; that he ought to have remembered in time, and taken steps to ensure that a letter had been despatched by some means or other. What was the use of being an Inca if he could not manage a simple little thing like that? To summon Arima and enquire of that trusty henchman whether, in the hurry of departure from the survey camp, he had remembered to pack up and bring away his master's writing desk was naturally the next thing in order. Upon learning that the desk had not been forgotten, Escombe at once had it brought to him, and sat down and wrote a long letter, addressed jointly to his mother and sister. This letter contained a full account of his abduction and all that had followed thereupon, together with an assurance that not only would he contrive henceforward to communicate with them regularly, but also that if, after the lapse of a certain length of time to allow the process of "settling down" to become complete, it should appear that his scheme of government was likely to prove a success, he would send for them to come out to him. He added that, meanwhile, the enormous wealth represented by the accumulations of more than three hundred years was at his absolute disposal, and that he felt quite justified in awarding himself a salary of one gold bar per calendar month for his services to the state; also, that since under present circumstances he had no use for a private purse, he should dispatch to them the monthly bar of gold for their own personal use and enjoyment, and that he should expect them to employ it for the purpose named. This somewhat lengthy epistle concluded by giving instructions for the conversion of the gold bar into coin of the realm. Harry also wrote to Sir Philip Swinburne, stating that he had fallen into the hands of the Indians, but was being well-treated by them, and believed he was in no immediate danger, also that at the moment he saw no prospect of being permitted to return to civilisation; he was therefore writing for the purpose of allaying any apprehension that might be experienced on his account. Finally, he wrote to Bannister in somewhat similar terms. Then he sent for Huatama, and gave that functionary instructions to withdraw one gold bar from the treasury vaults and have it securely packed in a suitable box for transmission to Europe. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. THE MONSTERS THAT HAUNTED THE LAKE. These matters attended to, Escombe summoned the Council of Seven to the palace, and held what might be considered his first official conference. He began by laying before them his views as to the steps necessary to be taken in order to carry out successfully the desire of the people to become a regenerated nation, instructing them to cause several different kinds of information to be obtained for him, and finally pointing out to them the necessity for free communication with the outside world, and the consequent establishment of something in the nature of a regular postal and transport service between the valley and two or three points on the railway system. Long before he had finished all that he had to say it was perfectly evident to the young Inca that the members of the Council--or at least some of them--were entirely out of sympathy with many of his views and ideas, and that he would have to contend with a vast amount of ignorance and prejudice. To indicate a few out of many points where this lack of sympathy most strongly manifested itself, Harry had commented upon the necessity for establishing an army and providing it with the most modern and efficient weapons and equipment. To this Huanacocha and his supporters strongly objected, arguing that the State already possessed an army in the shape of the Inca's bodyguard, horse and foot, which, in their opinion, ought to be amply sufficient to reconquer the country in view of the fact that Pizarro's army numbered less than two hundred men when he captured Atahuallpa and thus achieved the conquest of Peru. And, as to the importation of modern weapons, they were altogether opposed to the proposal for many reasons, the chief of which were the difficulty and delay attendant upon the procuring of them and of their introduction into the country, and the further delay involved in training the troops to use them. Moreover, the weapons with which the existing troops were armed were such as they had always been accustomed to, and in the use of which they were already thoroughly skilled. Such a radical change as was proposed must of necessity involve an enormous delay, and for their part they were unable to see any advantage in the proposal. They looked with equal disfavour upon the proposal to establish a postal and transport service, arguing that there was no need for anything of the kind, the fundamental idea governing the settlement of their forefathers in the valley and the founding of the City of the Sun being that its inhabitants and the resources of the valley itself would be amply sufficient to achieve the reconquest of the country. It was not until Harry had very nearly lost his temper in arguing with these men that he learned that not one of them had ever been outside the valley, and that their very meagre knowledge of the outside world had been derived from the few individuals who at rare intervals had been obliged to make short and hasty journeys outside the confines of the encircling mountains upon State business. As soon as Harry had thoroughly grasped this fact he gave them to understand, as politely as possible, that none of them knew in the least what they were talking about, and for that reason he would feel himself compelled to dispense with their advice for the future, forming his own plans in accordance with the knowledge which he had acquired during a residence of several years in the biggest, busiest, and best-informed city in the world; and that henceforth he would ask of them nothing more than loyal wholehearted obedience to his commands. He finally dismissed them with instructions to establish immediately a service of postal runners between the valley and the town of Juliaca on the Santa Rosa, Puno, Arequipa, and Mollendo railway; with further instructions to arrange for the establishment of a thoroughly trustworthy agent at Juliaca, whose sole business it should be to see that all letters for Europe and other parts of the world were duly stamped and posted upon receipt by him; and to the care of whom all letters for the valley might be addressed. This done, Escombe summoned Arima to his presence and, handing him all the coin that he happened to have in his possession, delivered to him the letters which he had written, together with the gold bar--by this time securely packed and ready for posting--and directed him to proceed with all possible speed to Islay--using the railway as far as possible in order to save time--and there post the letters and the box containing the bar. Then he suddenly bethought himself and, before dismissing Arima upon his journey, sat down and wrote a long letter to Mr John Firmin, of Lima, he who had been a fellow-passenger from England with Harry on board the _Rimac_, In this letter he told Firmin as much of his story as he thought it necessary for him to know, and made certain arrangements whereby Firmin was to undertake certain business transactions from time to time, and to supply immediately certain necessaries, for the due delivery of which Harry gave his friend the most minute instructions. This completed what the Inca was pleased to regard as a very excellent and satisfactory day's work. And now the young Englishman began to find his time very fully occupied, so much so, indeed, that the days seemed not nearly long enough to enable him to accomplish the half of what he wished to do. There was, for instance, the learning of the Quichua language. Harry had not been domiciled in his palace twenty-four hours before it had become patent to him that this was the first task which he must undertake; for very few of the nobles had any knowledge whatever of Spanish, and the inconvenience and loss of time involved in conversing through an interpreter were far too great to be passively endured. And, since he could do very little else as satisfactorily as he would wish until he had mastered this rich and expressive language, he devoted four hours of every day--two in the morning and two in the evening--to its study. Then he soon learned that, exclusive of the inhabitants of the Valley of the Sun, there were some three hundred and fifty thousand Indians scattered up and down the country, at least one in every ten of whom might be counted as a fighting man. These people had to be brought into the valley, housed, fed, disciplined, in preparation for the time when arms should be put into their hands; also--what was more difficult still--matters had to be so arranged that the families of these men, and all dependent upon them, should suffer neither loss nor inconvenience from the drafting of the able-bodied into the valley. Then the arrangements and preparations for the importation of arms and ammunition into the country--everything connected with which had, of course, to be done entirely without the knowledge of the authorities--involved a tremendous amount of hard and intricate work. It is therefore not to be wondered at that during the first six months of his reign the young Inca was unable to spare a single hour for amusement. But the moment was at hand when Harry was to enjoy some sport of a quite unique character; and the way in which it came about was thus. As he stood one morning in the palace garden, gazing out over the lake, with his faithful henchman Arima close at hand, an idea suddenly occurred to him, and, turning, he remarked: "The lake looks particularly enticing this morning, Arima. Are there any balsas near at hand? Because, if so, you shall fetch me one, and we will go out together to deep water and indulge in a glorious swim." "A swim, Lord, in the deep water of the lake?" ejaculated Arima in horror-stricken accents. "Nay, that is impossible." "Impossible!" repeated Harry. "And why, pray?" "Because of the monsters, Lord," answered Arima. "Were we to venture to plunge into the lake we should almost certainly be devoured." "Indeed!" answered Harry. "So there are monsters in the lake, are there? I was not aware of that. And what are those `monsters'? Are they alligators, or voracious fish, or what are they? I should hardly have supposed that the water of the lake was warm enough for alligators to flourish in it." "Nay, Lord," answered Arima, "they are not alligators. I have seen alligators in some of the northern rivers, and know them well enough to be able to distinguish between them and the monsters which haunt our lake. Nor are they fish; or if they be, they are quite unlike any other fish that these eyes of mine have ever beheld. We call them `monsters' because our forefathers did so, and because we have no other name for them; also because of their exceeding size and malevolence." "Ah!" commented Harry. "Well, what are these creatures--these monsters--like, and how big are they? Have you ever seen them?" "Yes, Lord," was the answer. "I have seen them no less than three times at close quarters, and always with the same disastrous results. The first time was when, during my passage of the lake on a balsa, one of my companions had the misfortune to fall into the water. Ere the balsa could be stopped and paddled back to where the man was struggling, two of the monsters appeared and tore him limb from limb. The resemblance to an alligator lies chiefly in the shape of the head, which, however, is longer in proportion and more pointed than that of the alligator. Also, our monsters have smooth skins, nearly black in colour, and instead of feet and legs they have fins. The tail also is differently shaped from that of an alligator, being wide and flat at the end." "By Jove!" exclaimed Harry in astonishment, "they must be queer and formidable-looking creatures indeed; and fins in place of legs and feet! I'll be shot if I can place them at all. Are there many of them?" "We do not generally see more than two, or three at most, although it is on record that on one occasion, many years ago, four were seen, two of them being obviously young ones," answered Arima. "Upon my word, this all sounds exceedingly interesting," commented Harry. "I should dearly like to see the creatures myself. Do they often show themselves?" "Very rarely, Lord, save in the case of such accidents as those of which I have told you," answered Arima. "Yet," he continued, "if my Lord desires to see the monsters it could doubtless be managed. If the carcass of an animal were deposited upon yonder rock,"--the Indian pointed to a rock showing slightly above the water's surface about a mile from the shore--"and another were cast into the water quite near it, the monsters would doubtless be attracted to the place; and if my Lord were close at hand at the time, upon a large and safe balsa, he would see them when they crawl up on the rock to reach the carcass exposed there." "Ah!" ejaculated Harry; "you think so? Then let the matter be arranged for to-morrow, Arima. I confess that your description of the creatures has powerfully excited my curiosity, and made me very anxious to see them." And on the morrow the young Inca's curiosity was fully gratified, and with something to spare. Oh, those monsters! Harry believed he possessed a passably fair general knowledge of natural history, but these creatures--monsters truly--were entirely new to him. In no natural history had he ever seen a representation of anything like them. And yet, when he came to think of it again, singular and terrifying as was their appearance, it was not altogether unfamiliar. He believed he had seen them portrayed somewhere, although he could not for the moment remember where. Fully forty feet long from the snout to the tip of the tail, with a head shaped midway between that of a pike and a crocodile, with enormous protruding eyes, with a smooth somewhat fish-shaped body almost black above and shading off to a dirty whitish-grey beneath, with a long tail broad and flat at its extremity, and with four seal-like flippers instead of legs and feet, the monsters looked more like nightmare creatures, evolved by reading a book on antediluvian animals after a--. Of course, that was it, Escombe decided, as his thoughts took some such turn as above. He now distinctly remembered having read some years ago a most interesting illustrated magazine article upon extinct animals, and one of the pictures portrayed these identical monsters, labelling them "Plesiosaurus"! Yes, the more Harry thought about it the less room did he find for doubt that these so-called monsters haunting the lake in the Valley of the Sun were actually survivors--most probably the only ones--of the antediluvian plesiosaurus. How they got there was a most interesting problem, yet it seemed by no means a difficult one to solve. The conclusion at which Escombe speedily arrived--rightly or wrongly-- was that upon the subsidence of the waters of the Deluge a pair of plesiosauri had found themselves imprisoned in the great basin of the valley, where, the conditions presumably being exceptionally favourable, they had not only survived but had actually contrived to perpetuate their species to a very limited extent. And the reason why the lake was not swarming with them, instead of containing probably only three or four specimens at the utmost, was doubtless that the waters were too circumscribed in extent, and too unproductive in the matter of fish, to support more than that number. The problem of how they came to be where they were was, however, not one of very great importance; the thing that really mattered was, in Escombe's opinion, that their presence in the lake constituted a horrible danger to those who were obliged to traffic upon its waters, and they must be destroyed. They must not be permitted to exist another day longer than was absolutely necessary. Why, when one came to think of it, how many hundreds of lives might not already have fallen victims to the savage voracity of those creatures? What hope for his life would a man have if he chanced to fall off his balsa at a moment when one of those monsters happened to be close at hand? Positively none. Escombe shuddered as he reflected that, ignorant as he had hitherto been of the presence of the plesiosauri in the lake, it had only been by a series of fortuitous circumstances--or was it the intervention of a merciful Providence?--that he had been from time to time prevented from bathing in the lake, ay, and actually swimming out to the distant rock, as he had several times been strongly tempted to do. Yes, those implacably ferocious monsters must be destroyed forthwith; and the only point remaining to be settled was, how was the work of destruction to be accomplished? The plan which first suggested itself to the young Inca was the very obvious one of fishing for them with a baited hook and line, even as sharks were fished for. True, it would need a very big hook and a very strong line to capture a creature of the size and strength of a plesiosaurus; but to manufacture them was surely not beyond the resources of the inhabitants of the valley. Yes; but there was another matter to be considered. What about a craft from which to do the fishing? The largest balsa that Harry had ever seen upon the lake was not nearly big enough for the purpose; a hooked plesiosaurus would drag it under water without an effort, and then what would become of its occupants? The probabilities were too awful for contemplation, and the idea was not to be entertained for a moment. Besides, a balsa was not at all the kind of craft on which to engage in so dangerous a form of sport, even though it were possible to build one big enough; what was needed was a good stanch sturdy boat of, say, twenty tons or so. And, having arrived at this point in his meditations, Escombe was naturally reminded that he had often wished that he possessed a small yacht wherein to disport himself on the lake. Why should he not have one? His will was law; he had but to speak the word and the best and most skilled workers in the valley would be at his disposal for the construction of the vessel. And as to her design, why, he had always been an enthusiastic yacht sailor, and knew, as well as most amateurs, what the shape of such a craft should be, and was quite capable of putting that shape on paper in a form that could be worked from. Escombe's mind was made up: he would destroy those plesiosauri, and to destroy them a suitable boat was necessary. That boat might be so designed and built as to also afford him a great deal of pleasure, and he would have her. And thereupon he set to work and devoted every minute he could spare to the preparation of her design, which, a week later, was in the hands of a small army of carpenters, eager to show what they could do in a line of work that was entirely new to them. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE SLAYING OF THE MONSTERS. "Many hands make light work"; and in just two months from the day of starting work upon the cutter she was complete, rigged, and ready for launching. She was of the most up-to-date type with which Escombe was acquainted; that is to say, beamy, rather shallow of body, with spoon bow, and a fin keel, and her designer felt particularly proud of her as he walked round her and critically surveyed her lines and general shape the last thing before giving the word to put her into the water. Needless to say she was also the object of great and ever-increasing curiosity to the inhabitants of the valley generally, not more than perhaps a dozen of whom had ever seen anything more handy and shipshape than the unwieldy balsa, or raft constructed of reeds, a not very manageable craft at the best of times, and of course quite incapable of being navigated under sail except before the wind. The cutter was got into the water without accident, and after some slight readjustment of her inside ballast, to bring her accurately to her correct water line, her young owner got on board and, a nice sailing breeze happening to be blowing right down the lake, took her for a trial spin from one end of the lake to the other, running down and beating back. The result was eminently satisfactory in every respect, the little vessel developing a fine turn of speed, not only before the wind but also close-hauled, while she was of course, like all craft of similar form, remarkably weatherly; indeed the smartness with which she worked back against the wind, from the lower end of the lake, was regarded by the unsophisticated inhabitants of the valley as nothing short of miraculous. Meanwhile, Escombe having given instructions for the manufacture of a hardened copper hook, with two fathoms of chain attached, and a stout rope of plaited raw hide, at the same time that he had put the yacht in hand, these articles were now ready. Therefore, after exercising his crew for a week, to get them thoroughly accustomed to the working of the new craft, he made arrangements for a grand plesiosaurus hunt, to which he invited his stanch friend Umu, and three or four other nobles who had manifested a capacity for development into kindred spirits. On a certain glorious morning this novel fishing party embarked on board the yacht, taking with them, of course, their fishing line and the carcasses of two llamas, cut in half, for bait, together with a formidable battery of bows and arrows, spears, heavy maces, and other weapons for the killing of their quarry when captured; to which armament Escombe added his magazine rifle and two packets of cartridges, which the faithful Arima had been careful to bring away from the survey camp, together with everything else belonging to his young master, on the memorable occasion of that individual's abduction. Starting under easy sail, and heading for the bottom of the lake, the great fishing line-- made fast by its inner end to the windlass bitts, and the remainder of it led aft outside and clear of all rigging--was baited and paid out astern as soon as the cutter had run into deep water. It was not very long before the party, intently on the watch for the approach of the plesiosauri, detected a strong, swirling ripple mingling with that of the yacht's wake, which indicated that at least one of the monsters was at hand, and presently the ripple broke, revealing some six feet of smooth, black, glistening back keeping pace with the little vessel, while occasionally, when the light favoured, an indistinct and momentary glimpse might be caught, through the swirling water, of two enormous, glaring eyes. But the beast, in its eagerness to reach its supposed prey, had apparently passed the baited hook as unworthy of its notice, for the bait was a long way astern of the creature, which seemed intent only on overtaking the yacht, for it now made frequent rushes forward until it was within a few fathoms of the little vessel's counter, and then sank out of sight and dropped astern again, as though it knew not what to make of the moving object ahead of it. But, provokingly enough, from the sportsmen's point of view, it never dropped far enough astern to bring it level with the bait, while, on the other hand, when it approached the yacht it was careful to keep far enough below the surface to render anything like an accurate aim impossible; indeed it behaved as though it instinctively knew that danger threatened it. Although Escombe's companions were eager enough to waste their arrows in obviously futile attempts to hit it, the young leader of the expedition rigorously forbade everything of the nature of chance shooting, lest the creature should happen to receive a more or less slight wound, and thus be driven to flight. And, for the same reason, Escombe himself declined to attempt a shot with his rifle. But while they were all intently watching the movements of the creature, and standing with weapons in hand, ready to discharge an effective shot at the first favourable opportunity, a sudden, startled yell from Arima, who was tending the fishing line, caused the whole party to wheel round to see what was the matter, and Harry had only bare time to drop his rifle and grip his faithful henchman by the belt, to thus prevent him from being dragged overboard, as the line suddenly tautened out like a bar, flinging up a great shower of spray as it did so, while a terrific plunge in the water far astern revealed the fact that a second monster, whose presence had hitherto been undetected, had taken the bait and become hooked. "Let go the line, you idiot, let go!" hissed Escombe through his clenched teeth, as he braced his feet against a stanchion and flung himself back, clinging with both hands to Arima's belt, while that individual vainly strove to hold the now frantically struggling reptile--"let go, man, if you don't want to be dragged overboard and eaten alive! Haul down the foresail, there, for'ard!" The stout raw-hide line twanged like a harp-string as the terrified Arima relaxed his convulsive grip on it and was hauled back inboard to safety by his master, and the yacht's forward progress was checked with an abruptness that threatened to drag the bitts out of her as the strain of the line, with the plunging, struggling monster at the end of it, was suddenly thrown upon them, while the shock sent every individual, fore and aft, sprawling upon the deck, to the uproarious and most undignified amusement of the young Inca, and the mortal terror of his faithful subjects. Then, as all hands scrambled to their feet again and instinctively regained possession of their weapons, the hooked saurian started to "run", in the vain hope, possibly, of breaking away from the restraining influence which had so suddenly and unaccountably seized upon it. The yacht was whirled violently round--almost capsizing in the process--and dragged, with her bows nearly buried in the hissing and curling water, back toward the head of the lake, at a steadily increasing pace, as the now thoroughly terrified plesiosaurus surged forward at headlong speed in its frenzied endeavour to escape, with its companion keeping pace by its side. The yacht had only travelled a distance of some three miles down the lake when the monster had taken the bait, and on the backward journey this distance was covered in about a quarter of an hour--a fact which bore eloquent testimony to the tremendous strength of the creature. Harry was beginning to feel exceedingly uneasy lest his vessel should be towed into such shallow water that he would be compelled to cut the line in order to save her from being dragged ashore, when the quarry, which probably also objected to shallow water, wheeled suddenly right round and, rushing close past the cutter, in a perfect maelstrom of foam and spray, headed back for the lower end of the lake, with its companion still bearing it company. To thrust the helm hard over, and to shout to everybody to lie down and hang on for their lives, was, with Harry, the work of but a moment; yet the yacht, handy as she was on her helm, had scarcely swept halfway round when the stout line again jerked itself taut, the terrific strain again came upon the bitts, causing them to ominously creak and groan, and once more the little vessel heeled gunwale under as she was whirled violently round, until she righted again and ploughed up a glassy sheet of foam-laced water on either bow as she tore along in the wake of the monster reptiles. "This cannot possibly last very much longer," remarked Escombe reassuringly to his companions, who had by this time turned a sickly, greenish-yellow with terror at so unaccustomed an adventure--and that, too, on an element to which they were practically strangers--"the brute will soon become exhausted at this rate, and when he does we will haul him alongside and finish him off with our spears and arrows. I don't care how far he runs, so long as he heads as he is now going; it is those sudden twists and turns that are dangerous. If he were to break away we should probably never have a chance to hook him again." Nevertheless, despite Harry's confident prognostication, they had traversed quite half the length of the lake ere there was the slightest perceptible sign of the creature weakening; and they accomplished another quarter of the distance ere the reptile slackened speed sufficiently to admit of their attempting to haul the yacht up alongside it. Then, when they at length proceeded to make the attempt, the additional strain thrown on the rope, as it was hauled in and coiled down, seemed to exhaust the last remnant of the brute's strength, and, stopping suddenly, it rose to the surface and, throwing its head out of the water, shook it savagely from side to side in a futile endeavour to shake itself free of the hook, emitting a curious grunting kind of roar as it did so. Yet, even now, the creature was not conquered; for when it found itself being hauled alongside the yacht it suddenly sank, and nearly the whole of the length of rope that had been hauled in was allowed to run out again ere Harry, by taking a quick turn round the bitts, was able to stay its downward progress. And then it became a matter of sheer, downright drag by all hands ere the huge bulk could be brought near enough to the surface to permit of the use of their weapons on it, when it was found that its companion still clung faithfully to its side. At length, after some fifteen minutes of exhausting labour on the one hand, opposed to stolid dogged resistance on the other, the monster reptile was dragged so close to the surface that the point of its snout was actually raised above the level or the water, and the whole of the gigantic body, right down to the extremity of the broad-ended tail, could be clearly seen hanging suspended vertically in the pellucid depths beneath the yacht, while swimming agitatedly round and round the suspended body could occasionally be seen the creature's mate, now plunging deep, as though, thoroughly terrified, it had at length determined to abandon so dangerous a neighbourhood, and anon returning with a swift rush to the surface, and furious dartings to and fro, as though meditating an attempt at the rescue of its companion. And now, for the first time, the hunters were able to obtain a thoroughly clear and satisfactory view, at close quarters, of the gruesome-looking brutes, and a truly hideous and nightmare-inspiring sight it was; a sight which, as Escombe gazed at the ponderous, powerful, thick-skinned bodies, the enormous, protruding, balefully glaring eyes, and the long, cavernous, gaping jaws, armed with great serrated teeth--those of the upper jaw fitting in between those of the lower--caused him to feel, more strongly than ever, the conviction that in destroying the creatures he was a public benefactor. The captured brute now hung so nearly motionless, with the point of the great barbed hook protruding through its upper jaw, that it was evident its strength must be practically exhausted; and Escombe, standing by to open fire with his magazine rifle in case of an emergency, gave the word to his companions to deal the death stroke, advising some to endeavour to reach the creature's brain by means of a spear-thrust through the eye, while others were to attempt to pierce the heart. But, with the arrival of the crucial moment, the nerves of the natives seemed to suddenly fail them; they became flurried and frightened in the very act of raising their weapons to strike, and every man of them missed his mark, inflicting many serious and doubtless painful wounds, but not one that seemed in the least degree likely to prove mortal. The result was the immediate resumption of a struggle so violent that for a breathless minute or two it really seemed as though the cutter, stout little craft as she was, would be dragged under water and sunk. And in the very height of the confusion one of the hunters must needs fall overboard into the midst of the boiling flurry of bloodstained foam raised by the struggles of the frantic brute, and was only dragged aboard again by Harry in the very nick of time to save him from the terrific rush of the second plesiosaurus. Then the young leader of the party, seeing that his companions were too completely unnerved to be of any use, and that the violent struggles of the wounded brute threatened to seriously injure, if they did not actually destroy, the cutter, stepped forward, and, raising his rifle, seized the opportunity afforded by a pause of a fraction of a second in the violent movements of the creature, and sent a bullet crashing through its right eye into its brain. That settled the matter. The struggles ceased for a moment or two with startling suddenness; a convulsive, writhing movement followed; then came a terrible shudder, and with a final gasping groan the monster yielded up its life and hung motionless, its body supported, still in an upright position, by the great hook through its jaw. With the crack of Escombe's rifle the second monster had suddenly vanished. The question now was, what was to be done with the carcass of the dead plesiosaurus. As Harry stood there, contemplatively regarding it, it was perfectly obvious to him that if the great fish hook were cut out of the creature's jaw with an axe, the body would at once sink to the bottom of the lake, and there would be an end of it, so far as he was concerned, and the party would at once be free to resume their fishing, although he had his doubts as to whether, after what had already happened, another of the monsters could be tempted to take the baited hook. But it suddenly occurred to him that, the plesiosaurus being to all intents and purposes an extinct and antediluvian animal, the only remains of it in existence must necessarily consist of such fossilised fragments as had been accidentally discovered in the course of excavation, and that the complete skeleton of such a gigantic specimen as that before him would be regarded as a priceless acquisition by the curator of the Natural History Museum at South Kensington; so he at once resolved to take the necessary steps for its preservation. He gave orders for the line to which the hook was bent to be led aft, for convenience of towage, and then commanded his crew to set the cutter's sails, his purpose being to tow the carcass to a lonely part of the shore, and there have the body hauled up out of water, the flesh carefully removed from the bones, and the skeleton as carefully disarticulated, prior to packing it for dispatch to England. But the cutter was scarcely under way, and heading for the spot that had been selected as suitable for the above operations, when a disturbance of the water near at hand indicated the presence of some bulky moving body, most probably the companion of the dead creature, which had been terrified into temporary flight by the report of Harry's rifle. The animal, however, or whatever it might be, remained invisible, the little swirling eddies and ripples on the surface of the water alone betraying its whereabouts. But while Harry and his friends were discussing this appearance, and wondering what it might portend, one of them happened to glance around him in another direction, and his startled exclamation caused the rest of the party to look in the direction toward which he pointed. And there, somewhat to their consternation, the party saw, not half a dozen yards away, on the cutter's weather beam, the indications that two more of the monsters were present, keeping way with the cutter, and, as was presently pretty evident, edging in toward her; indeed, so close were they to her that an occasional momentary flicker of the black back of the nearer of the two could already be caught through the gleaming water. Two or three of the nobles who had by this time succeeded in pulling themselves together and getting a grip upon their courage, proposed an instant attack upon the monsters; but Escombe felt that, for the moment, he had as much upon his hands as he could manage. For with that huge dead bulk in tow the cutter was scarcely under command, and he had no desire to scare the creatures away by commencing an attack upon them which he could not follow up. The choice, however, was not left to him for long; for within five minutes of the discovery of the last arrivals all three of the plesiosauri, as with one consent and at a signal, closed in upon the carcass of their comrade, and, flinging themselves upon it with the utmost fury, gave themselves up to the task of tearing it to pieces, the work being accomplished in the midst of a foaming, splashing turmoil of water that was absolutely terrifying to witness, which caused the little cutter to pitch and roll to such an extent that it was almost impossible to retain a footing upon her heaving deck. Whether the creatures made any attempt to devour the great lumps of flesh that they tore from the violently swaying carcass it was quite impossible to determine, but in any case the process of disintegration was a speedy one, for in less than ten minutes from the moment of attack all that was left attached to the hook was the head of the defunct saurian. Justly vexed at this malicious interference with his plans, and determined to save at least this last relic as a trophy of his prowess, the young Inca gave orders for the head to be hauled inboard; but upon the first attempt to do this, one of the monsters made a savage rush and seized the head in its great jaws, worrying it as a dog worries a rat, giving utterance as it did so to a succession of horrid grunting kind of growls that caused most of the hearers to break into a cold perspiration. So tenaciously did the brute retain its grip that for a few minutes the onlookers were almost persuaded that it was hooked; but ultimately it released the mangled fragment--which its powerful jaws had by this time crushed and splintered almost out of recognition--and, retreating some thirty yards, suddenly wheeled and came foaming back to the yacht, at which it made a furious dash, with the apparent determination to climb on board and sweep her deck clear of its human freight. So resolute, indeed, was it in driving home its attack that it actually succeeded in getting its two fore flippers in on the boat's deck, scattering its occupants right and left, and almost driving two or three over the side, while so heavily was the boat listed by the weight of the monster, that Harry, sliding upon the steeply inclined deck, had the narrowest possible escape of being precipitated headlong into the creature's gaping jaws, and indeed only saved himself by stretching out his hand and thrusting the snout violently aside, the violence of the thrust luckily enabling him to recover his equilibrium. Then Umu--who appeared to be the only native of the party blessed with any real courage or presence of mind--seeing his beloved master in imminent danger, as he believed, of being seized and devoured before their eyes, raised his bow, and hastily fitting an arrow to the string, drew the shaft to its very head and let it fly into the reptile's throat, where it stuck fast, inflicting so much pain that the beast at once flung itself back into the water, roaring and choking, coughing up blood, and throwing itself into the most indescribable contortions. Then a very extraordinary thing happened. No sooner did the wounded plesiosaurus begin to vomit blood than the other two, which had meanwhile been swimming excitedly to and fro, hurled themselves upon it in what seemed to be a perfect frenzy of fury, and a most ferocious and sanguinary battle ensued, the swirling, flying, foam-flecked water being almost instantly deeply dyed with blood, while the air fairly vibrated with the terrifying sounds emitted by the combatants. The cutter, meanwhile, relieved of the heavy drag upon her of the carcass of the dead plesiosaurus, began to slide rapidly away from the vicinity of the fighting monsters, and would soon have left them far behind. But this did not at all suit Harry, who, having undertaken to destroy the ferocious reptiles, was by no means inclined to leave his task less than half done. He therefore put the cutter about and, to the mingled astonishment and dismay of his companions, headed her back toward the scene of the combat, steering in such a manner as to pass just to leeward of the spot where the violent commotion in the water showed that the battle was still raging with unabated fury. Then, as the boat ranged up alongside, with her foresheet hauled to windward, the great bodies of the monsters could be seen rushing and plunging and leaping hither and thither, whereupon the whole party of sportsmen opened a vigorous and well-directed fire of arrows and javelins upon them, Harry chiming in with his deadly rifle whenever a good chance for a shot offered itself. The result of this determined attack was that the young leader was lucky enough to get in a splendid shot close behind the left shoulder of one of the struggling brutes, which must have reached its heart, for upon receiving the bullet the great reptile flung itself more than half out of the water, uttering a dreadful cry as it did so, and then, falling back, turned slowly over, and with one last writhing, convulsive shudder, sank slowly to the bottom of the lake. Meanwhile the remaining two, both severely wounded, flung themselves upon each other with such a maniacal intensity of fury as was truly awful to see. Finally, one of the monsters succeeded in getting a firm grip upon the throat of the other, and hung on, despite the frantic struggles of the other to get clear. For perhaps two full minutes the commotion in the water was positively terrific; then it rapidly decreased until, probably quite exhausted by the intensity of their prolonged efforts, they lay practically still upon the surface of the water, their only signs of life being an occasional slight twist of the body on the part of one or the other of them. Such an opportunity was much too good to be missed, and, raising his rifle, Escombe was lucky enough to shoot both the monsters dead by a couple of rapid, well-directed shots through the head. The two carcasses immediately began to sink; but before they vanished completely out of sight, one of the cutter's crew, by means of a lucky cast, succeeded in hooking one of the defunct saurians with the great fish hook; and by this means the monster was eventually landed, with some difficulty, at the spot originally chosen for the purpose. Thus terminated the great plesiosaurus hunt, after nearly three hours of the most exciting work that Escombe had ever enjoyed. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. HUANACOCHA THE PLOTTER. About a fortnight after Escombe's destruction of the plesiosauri, it pleased Huanacocha, the late chief of the Council of Seven, to entertain a small but select party of his especial friends at a banquet, which he gave in his house, situate on the borders of the lake, the grounds of which adjoined those of the Virgins of the Sun, which, in turn, were contiguous to those of the royal palace. Huanacocha was probably the most wealthy man in the City of the Sun, next to the Inca himself; for he had held the position of chief of the Council of Seven for nearly a quarter of a century, and previous to the appearance of Escombe upon the scene the portion of the national revenue that would otherwise have gone into the coffers of the sovereign had always been awarded to the Council of Seven; while, Huanacocha being not only an astute but also an utterly unscrupulous man, of exceptionally strong and overbearing character, the larger portion of this award had regularly found its way, by various devious channels, into his own private treasure chest. He was consequently well able to offer his guests an entertainment of almost regal magnificence. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that when the Lord Huanacocha issued invitations to a banquet--which was not very often--the full number of the invited generally made a point of accepting, and being present at the function. Upon the occasion in question the guests consisted of our old friends Tiahuana, the Villac Vmu, and Motahuana, together with the Lords Licuchima and Chalihuama, late of the Council of Seven, and the Lords Chinchacocheta and Lehuava--six in all. It is not necessary to describe the banquet in detail; let it suffice to say that, for reasons of his own, the host had given special instructions that neither trouble nor expense was to be spared to make the function a complete success; and that therefore, so well had his instructions been carried out, the entertainment as a whole fell not very far short of that which had marked the occasion of Escombe's accession to the throne of the Incas. There is no need to record in detail the conversation that followed upon the dismissal of the servants. It is sufficient to say that Huanacocha had arranged this banquet with the express object of eliciting the views of his guests upon a certain project that had been gradually taking shape in his mind, which he believed was now ripe for execution. But, to his astonishment and consternation, he now discovered that he had to a very important extent entirely misapprehended the situation; and after a long and somewhat heated discussion the meeting had broken up without result, save that the guests had departed from his house in a mutually distrustful and uneasy frame of mind. When Huanacocha at length retired to rest that night not only did he feel somewhat uneasy, but he was also distinctly angry with himself; for although he had achieved the purpose with which the banquet had been given--which was to elicit a frank expression of opinion from certain individuals relative to the Inca and his schemes of reformation--he felt that he had blundered badly. He had used neither tact nor discretion in his manner of conducting the conversation; he had been reckless even to the point of suggesting opposition to the decrees of the sovereign; and when it was too late, when he had fatally committed himself, he had seen, to his discomfiture, that two of his companions--and those two the most powerful persons in the community, next to the Inca himself, namely the Villac Vmu and his deputy, Motahuana--were distinctly out of sympathy with him. True, the Villac Vmu had expressed himself as puzzled, disturbed, anxious at the attitude of the Inca towards the religious question; but it was perfectly clear that the frame of mind of the High Priest was not nearly acute enough to induce him to regard with favour, or even with patience, any suggestion at all savouring of sedition. And he, Huanacocha, in his heat and impatience, had been foolish enough to throw out such a suggestion. The question that now disturbed him was: what would be Tiahuana's attitude toward him henceforward in view of what he had said; nay more, what would be the attitude of the High Priest toward his friends in view of what they had said? Would the Villac Vmu and his deputy accept a suggestion which he had thrown out, that this momentous and imprudent conversation should be regarded as private and confidential, and treat it as such, or would they consider it their duty to report the affair to the Inca? If they did, then Huanacocha knew that he and his friends would have good cause to regret their imprudence; for, despite all his cavilling, the late Chief of the Council of Seven had already seen enough of Escombe's methods to feel certain that the young monarch would stand no nonsense, particularly of the seditious kind, and that, at the first hint of anything of that sort, if the culprits did not lose their heads, they would at least find themselves bestowed where their seditious views could work no mischief. As these reflections passed through the mind of Huanacocha, that somewhat impulsive and overbearing individual grew increasingly uneasy, and he now began to fear that he had been altogether too outspoken. For, be it known, this man Huanacocha had conceived nothing less than the audacious idea of overthrowing the Inca, and securing his own election in his stead. In his capacity of Chief of the Council of Seven he had for a long term of years enjoyed a measure of power scarcely less than that invested in the Inca himself; for, being by nature of an unusually arrogant and domineering disposition, while the other members of the Council had been exceedingly pliant and easy-going, he had never experienced any difficulty in browbeating them into tolerably quick compliance with his wishes, however extravagant they might happen to have been. As for the people, they had rendered the same implicit, unquestioning obedience to the Council that they would have rendered to the Inca, had there been one on the throne. Having enjoyed this power, together with all the privileges and emoluments attaching thereto, for so long a time, Huanacocha had found it particularly hard and unpleasant to be called upon to resign them all, practically at a moment's notice, when young Escombe made his appearance upon the scene. Possibly, had Harry chanced to conform to this man's preconceived opinion of what the Inca would be like whenever it should please him to revisit the earth, he might have accepted the situation with a reasonably good grace; but to be ousted by "a mere boy"--for as such he always thought of the young Inca--was altogether too much to be submitted to tamely. At the first his mental revolt had been vague, indefinite, and formless; perhaps he had thought that in course of time it would pass away and he would grow reconciled to the new order of things, particularly if the young Inca should show himself properly willing to submit to the guiding hand of the Council of Seven, as represented by its late chief. But Escombe lost no time in making it perfectly clear to everybody that he had his own ideas upon the subject of government, and meant to act upon them. Upon more than one occasion--upon several, in fact--the young Inca had turned a deaf ear to the counsels of Huanacocha, and had carried out his own ideas because he had honestly believed them to be better and more advantageous to the community. He had put his foot down heavily upon many abuses of power on the part of certain of the highest nobles, and in this way Huanacocha had suffered perhaps more severely than anyone else. For this reason his condition of mental revolt, instead of passing away, gathered new force and gradually began to assume a definite form which ultimately resolved itself into the determination to cause Harry's "removal" by some means--he did not particularly care what they were--and procure his own election to the vacant throne, if that might be; or, if not that, at least the re- instatement of the Council of Seven, with himself, of course, as its chief. With this object in view he had commenced operations by proceeding to manufacture sedulously a number of imaginary grievances from which he asserted that the people were suffering, and these he industriously spread abroad among his own friends, hoping that in course of time they would filter through to the people themselves, and be eagerly adopted by them; which delectable plan certainly met with some measure of success. But as he lay tossing sleeplessly upon his bed he realised that he had that evening been both foolish and precipitate: he had seriously mistaken the nature of the views held by the two priests, and had betrayed himself and his friends in their presence. How would the Villac Vmu and his deputy act, or would they act at all, was the question which he now repeatedly asked himself? Could he by any means ascertain their intentions? He must, by fair means or foul: it would never do for him to remain in ignorance upon such a vital point after the reckless manner in which he and his friends had spoken. Ay, and more than that, he must make quite sure that they maintained silence upon the subject of that most imprudent conversation, otherwise--! He flung himself over restlessly upon his bed: the longer he thought upon the matter the more glaring did his folly appear. He must guard himself and his friends from the consequences of that folly at all costs. But how? Who was there to advise him? Suddenly he bethought himself of Xaxaguana, the priest who ranked next below Motahuana. Of course, he was the very man of all others; for, first of all, he was Huanacocha's very particular friend, and a man, moreover, who was deeply indebted to him for many past favours of a somewhat exceptional kind; also he was young, comparatively speaking, very ambitious, and not over scrupulous. Yes, Xaxaguana was undoubtedly the man for his purpose, and Huanacocha told himself, with a smile of relief, that he had been a fool for not thinking of the priest before. But although Huanacocha believed that he saw in Xaxaguana the "friend in need" for whom he had been so anxiously casting about, he was still much too uneasy to sleep, and he was up and about with the appearance of the first faint suggestion of dawn, too anxious to remain inactive any longer, yet fully conscious of the fact that the hour was altogether too early for him to seek his friend without running a very grave risk of attracting unwelcome attention by so unusual a proceeding. He therefore decided to take a long walk, and think the whole affair over again while his brain and his pulses were being steadied by the cool, fresh air of the morning. Was it fate or was it mere chance that caused him to select a route which led him past that part of the temple which constituted the quarters of the priests? Huanacocha told himself that it was his lucky star that was in the ascendant; for as he was passing the building the door gently opened and the very man that he was so anxious to see stepped into the roadway and quietly closed the door behind him. Then he looked round and beheld Huanacocha, and a little ejaculation of astonishment escaped him. "This is a fortunate meeting indeed," he exclaimed as he stepped forward to greet his friend; "most fortunate; for perhaps you will be astonished to hear that I am thus early astir with the express object of seeking you." "Ah!" thought Huanacocha; "unless I am greatly mistaken that means that I must prepare for the worst." But, having by this time shaken off his panic to a considerable extent, and once more pulled himself together, he decided to allow his friend to speak first, as by so doing he would probably be better able to judge what he should himself say. He therefore responded to Xaxaguana's greeting by remarking: "Then it is lucky that I chose this direction for my morning ramble, otherwise we should have missed each other. You look somewhat astonished at seeing me astir so early; but the fact is, my friend, that I was sleepless; I have therefore left my bed early, to take a walk in the early morning air. But I understood you to say that you wished to see me. Which way shall we go?" "Let us go up the road toward the hills," answered Xaxaguana. "There will be the less chance of our being seen; and it may be well for me to mention, at the outset, that there may be several good reasons why you and I should not be seen together at this juncture, my Lord Huanacocha." "Ah! and wherefore so, my good friend?" demanded Huanacocha. "Because," answered Xaxaguana, "last night you betrayed yourself into the committal of a serious imprudence, namely that of presuming to criticise unfavourably certain acts of our Lord the Inca, which, as you are surely aware, is a crime punishable with death. Do you ask how I happen to know this? I will tell you. It chanced that I was kept late from my bed last night by certain business connected with the approaching Feast of Raymi, and I was therefore astir when the Villac Vmu and Motahuana returned from your banquet. You may possibly be aware that it is a rule among us that nothing which transpires within the precincts of the temple is ever to be referred to, or even so much as hinted at, outside the temple walls. It is therefore our habit, when within those walls, to speak before each other with the most perfect freedom; and, friend Huanacocha, I am breaking one of our most stringent vows in telling you even this much. I hope, therefore, that should the time ever arrive when you can do me a service, you will remember this fact, and allow it to weigh in my favour." "Rest assured that I will do so, my good friend," answered Huanacocha; "although methinks that there are one or two services rendered to you for which I have as yet received no adequate return. But let that pass; I am interrupting you; pray proceed with your story." "I will," returned Xaxaguana. "As I have already mentioned, I was astir when Tiahuana and Motahuana returned from your house last night. They entered the common room, in which I was at work--possibly because it was the only room in which any lights were burning--and, flinging themselves upon a couch quite near to me, began to talk. It was easy to see that they were much agitated and excited; but, being busy, I paid little heed to their conversation at the outset, and only pricked up my ears when I heard your name mentioned. Then I confess that I listened, and soon heard sufficient to convince me that you, Huanacocha, and your friends Lehuava, Chinchacocheta, Licuchima, and Chilihuama were, last night, guilty of such imprudence as may well cost you all your lives, unless you have the wit and readiness of action to prevent it!" "But," ejaculated Huanacocha, all his former alarms returning to him with tenfold force, "how mean you, friend? Surely, neither the Villac Vmu nor Motahuana will dream of reporting what was said within the privacy of my house, will they?" "What was said in the privacy of your house, last night, amounted to blasphemy," remarked Xaxaguana dryly; "and it is the bounden duty of every loyal subject of the Inca to report blasphemy, wherever it may be spoken. From what was said last night I gathered the impression that neither of the persons mentioned are likely to shrink from the performance of their duty, however unpleasant it may be; so for this reason I set out to warn you this morning. And it was for reasons connected with this that I ventured to indicate the exceeding undesirability of our being seen together just now." "But--but--" stammered Huanacocha, completely thrown off his balance by what he had just learned--"if I understand you aright, my good Xaxaguana, all this means that the lives of my friends and myself have been put into the utmost jeopardy by my crass folly of last night, I knew--yes, I knew, when it was too late, that I had been a fool," he concluded bitterly. "To be absolutely candid with you, friend Huanacocha, I think you were," rejoined Xaxaguana somewhat cynically. "Why did you do it?" Huanacocha stopped short in the middle of the road and looked his friend square in the eye. "Xaxaguana," said he, "when I was Chief of the Council of Seven it was in my power to do you several good turns--and I did them. Under certain conceivable circumstances it might be in my power to do you several others; and if you can indicate to me a way by which I can extricate myself from my present peril, rest assured that I will not prove ungrateful. I believe you are my friend; and I believe also that you are astute enough to recognise that I can serve you better living than dead. I will therefore be perfectly frank with you and will tell you all that has been in my mind of late. But see, there is the sun, and the good folk of the town will soon be astir, and we may be seen together; let us go over yonder and sit in the shadow of that pile of rocks; we can talk freely there without risk of being seen, or interrupted." Without another word Xaxaguana turned and led the way across the upland meadow to a somewhat remarkable pile of rocks that cropped out of the soil about a hundred yards from the road, and, passing round to the shady side, which was also the side hidden from the road, seated himself on a bed of soft moss, signing to his companion to do the same. For nearly an hour the pair conversed most earnestly together; then Xaxaguana rose to his feet and, reconnoitring the road carefully to see that there was no likelihood of his being observed, stepped forth from his place of concealment. Then he hurried across the intervening stretch of grass, and on reaching the road, once more glanced keenly about him, and briskly turned his steps homeward. Half an hour later Huanacocha did pretty much the same thing; and it was noticeable--or would have been, had there been anyone there to see--that his countenance had lost much of the expression of anxiety that it had worn when he set out for his walk early that morning. He had scarcely bathed and finished his morning meal after his unwonted exertions when his favourite servant rushed into his presence and in agitated accents informed him that one of the underlings of the temple, on his passage into the town, had given forth the startling intelligence that the Villac Vmu and Motahuana, both of whom had been his lord's honoured guests at the banquet of the previous night, had just been found dead upon their beds! CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. TRAPPED! The emotion of Huanacocha at this surprising piece of news was almost painful to see. As he listened to the hurriedly told story, poured forth by his man, his features took on a sickly yellow tinge, his eyes seemed to be on the point of starting out of his head, and his breath came in labouring gasps from his wide-open mouth; finally, when at length he seemed to have fully grasped the purport of the story, he hid his face in his hands, rested his elbows upon his knees, and sat there quivering like an aspen leaf. In the course of a few minutes, however, he regained his self-control, and with a sigh of such depth that anyone unaware of its melancholy cause might have almost mistaken it for one of relief, he rose to his feet and, muttering to himself something about the difficulty of believing so incredible a story, and the necessity for personally ascertaining the truth, he gave orders for his litter to be brought to the door, and presently sallied forth on his way to the temple, with this intention. The distance to be covered was not great, and by the time that Huanacocha reached the temple he had almost completely recovered his composure. Alighting from his litter, and bidding his bearers to wait, he climbed the long flight of steps leading up to the building and, accosting the first person he met, demanded, in an authoritative tone of voice to see Xaxaguana. It was perfectly evident, even to one less experienced than Huanacocha in matters pertaining to the temple routine and its discipline, that some very unusual occurrence had happened, for everybody about the place seemed excited, agitated, distraught; but Huanacocha was, of course, well known to every inhabitant of the City of the Sun, and presently someone was found possessing enough authority to deal with the great man's request, or command, rather, and in the course of a few minutes he was conducted along a passage and shown into an empty room, there to await the arrival of the man he sought. Apparently Xaxaguana was busy at the moment, for it was nearly a quarter of an hour ere he appeared, and when he did so his countenance was heavy with concern. "Pardon me for having kept you so long waiting, my Lord," he said in a loud voice, "but this terrible occurrence, of which I presume you have heard, has thrown us all into a shocking state of confusion, and when your message reached me I was, in my capacity of senior priest, with the physicians whom we summoned, and who have been endeavouring to discover the cause of the death of our lamented friends the Villac Vmu and Motahuana." And, as he spoke, he closed the door carefully behind him. "And have they succeeded?" demanded Huanacocha. "Oh yes!" answered Xaxaguana. "They are in complete agreement that the cause of death in each case was senile decay. They were both very old men, you know." "Senile decay!" exclaimed Huanacocha, in astonishment. "Surely you are not serious, Xaxaguana. Why, they were at my house last night, as you know, and nobody who then saw them will ever believe that they died of old age. They were almost as active and vigorous as the youngest of us, and neither of them exhibited the slightest symptoms of senile decay." "Possibly not," assented Xaxaguana; "nevertheless that is the verdict of the physicians. And, after all, you know, these exceedingly old men often pass away with the suddenness of a burnt-out lamp; a single flicker and they are gone. I must confess that, personally, I am not altogether surprised; for when they returned from your house last night it occurred to me that they seemed to have suddenly grown very old and feeble; indeed I said as much when the news of their death was brought to me." "You did, did you?" retorted Huanacocha. "By our Lord the Sun, you are a wonder, Xaxaguana; nothing less! How did you manage it, man, and so promptly too? Why it must all have happened within half an hour of your return home this morning." "It did," said Xaxaguana. "I was still in my bath--for you must know that, being somewhat fatigued with my protracted labours of yesterday, I overslept myself this morning--when the intelligence was brought to me that our two friends had been discovered lying dead in their beds. And they could only have died very recently, for they were neither stiff nor cold." "And--I suppose there were no signs--no marks of violence on the bodies; nothing to suggest the possibility of--of--foul play?" stammered Huanacocha. "No," answered Xaxaguana; "the physicians found nothing whatever of that kind. How should they? It is certain that both men died in their beds, within the precincts of the temple. And who is there within these precincts who would dare to commit an act of sacrilege, to say nothing of the fact that, so far as is known, there is no one who would be in the slightest degree benefited by their death, or could possibly desire it." Huanacocha looked at his friend admiringly. "As I said just now, you are a wonder, Xaxaguana," he remarked. "But you have not yet told me how you managed it, and I am anxious to know. So set aside all further pretence, my friend; be frank with me, and satisfy my curiosity." "No," said Xaxaguana firmly. "The man who has a secret and fails to keep it to himself is a fool, friend Huanacocha, and I am not a fool; therefore if I happen to have a secret I prefer to retain it within my own breast. But the matter stands thus. You told me certain things this morning, and among them was this. You said that if perchance anything were to happen to Tiahuana and Motahuana, that they died before it was possible for them to take certain action which you had reason to fear, you would use your powerful influence with our Lord the Inca to see that I obtained promotion to the position of Villac Vmu, as is, indeed, my right, together with certain other advantages. Is not that so? Very well. Singularly enough, that which you desired has happened--most fortunately for you; and now it seems to me that all that remains is for you to fulfil your promise. Do not you agree with me?" "Yes," answered Huanacocha frankly, "I do; and I will proceed hence to the palace and officially inform the Inca of the sudden and lamented death of the Villac Vmu and his deputy, and will urge the immediate appointment of yourself to the vacant post of High Priest. There is no doubt that you will get the appointment, for in the first place you are entitled to it as senior priest; in the next, you will get the full advantage of my recommendation; and, in the third, the Inca has no personal friend to whom he would wish to give the appointment in preference to yourself. That matter may therefore be regarded as settled. "But there is another, and an equally important, matter which I now wish to discuss with you, Xaxaguana, and in which I desire your advice and help. Tiahuana and Motahuana being dead, there is nobody, so far as I know, who has any particular interest in retaining the present Inca upon the throne. To that remark you may of course object that he is the re- incarnated Manco whose coming, as the regenerator of the ancient Peruvian nation, was prophesied by Titucocha, and that, in the event of anything happening to him, the regenerating process would be deferred indefinitely. But, I ask you, my dear friend, what if it were? In what way should we suffer? It is true that we have accustomed ourselves to look forward to our regeneration as the one thing to be desired above and before all others; but is it? We are perfectly happy here in this valley as we are. Do we in very truth desire to exchange our present happy and peaceful existence for an indefinite and doubtless long period of toil, and warfare, and suffering? And in what respects should we be the better at the end, even if we should be successful--of which, permit me to say, I have my doubts? And do we really desire that change in the character of our religion, and the so-called amendment of our morals upon which this young man insists? I doubt it, my friend, not only as regards you and myself, but also as regards the people generally. Now, I have spoken to you quite frankly; be equally frank with me, and give your view of the matter." "I will, my friend, and in a very few words," answered Xaxaguana. "My view of the matter is identical with your own. And it is possibly identical also with that of many others. But how is that going to help us? Also, with all your frankness you have not yet given utterance to the idea that I see you have in your mind. You are far too cautious, friend Huanacocha, ever to become a successful conspirator." "One must needs be cautious in broaching such a conspiracy as I have in my mind," answered Huanacocha. "Nevertheless," he continued, "boldness and caution are sometimes the same thing, therefore will I be bold with you, Xaxaguana, since I think it will not be difficult for me to prove to you that not only our views, but also our interests, are identical. In a word, then, I believe that it would be advantageous to you and to me--and possibly also to the rest of the inhabitants of this valley--if the present Inca were deposed, and I were made Inca in his place. The question is, how is the matter to be accomplished? If he were to die now, even as the Villac--" "It would be the most unfortunate thing that could possibly happen," cut in Xaxaguana. "The Villac Vmu and Motahuana were both old men, and therefore that they should die is not at all remarkable. But that they should both die at the same moment is, to say the least of it, somewhat singular, and, despite all our precautions, is not unlikely to arouse more or less suspicion in many minds. Now, if the Inca also were to die, that suspicion would undoubtedly be converted into certainty and an investigation would assuredly be set on foot which could not fail to end disastrously for those found responsible for the three deaths, and especially for that of the Inca; for, as of course you are fully aware, practically the whole of the inhabitants of the valley are still old- fashioned enough to cling to the superstition that to murder the Inca is the blackest of black sacrilege. "But on the day when the Inca was presented to us in the temple, you spoke certain words which, if they were now repeated, might find an echo in the mind of many an inhabitant of this city. You boldly expressed your doubts as to the identity of the youth with him whose appearance was foretold by the prophet Titucocha, and whom we of the ancient Peruvian nation have been expecting for the last three hundred years and more. Now, we know that many of the Inca's ordinances are regarded with disfavour by the people generally; and I believe that, as a consequence of this, it would not be very difficult to implant in the minds of the discontented a suggestion that the late Villac Vmu made a very serious mistake--if, indeed, he did not commit an unpardonable crime--in introducing this young man to us as the re-incarnated Manco Capac. That suspicion once instilled into them, it should be a comparatively easy matter to incite them to demand that the Inca shall establish his identity by submitting to the ordeal by fire, after which your election to the vacant throne should be a foregone conclusion; for, of course, neither you nor I believe for a moment that the young Englishman can possibly survive the fire ordeal." Huanacocha gazed at his companion for several moments in silent admiration; then he exclaimed enthusiastically: "I have already told you twice this morning that you are a wonder, and I now say it for the third time--you are a wonder, Xaxaguana, the possessor of the most astute and clever brain in the valley; and I foresee that, working together, you and I may achieve such dazzling results as we have scarcely yet dared to dream of. But how do you propose to bring about the result of which you have just spoken? It will be a slow and tedious process at best, and while it is being achieved many things may happen." "Nay," answered Xaxaguana, "it will not be nearly so lengthy a process as you seem to think. This is my plan." And, placing his mouth to his companion's ear, Xaxaguana proceeded to whisper a few sentences which appeared to fill Huanacocha with wonder and admiration. "Do you think it will succeed?" Xaxaguana demanded, as he concluded his communication. "It cannot possibly fail, if carried out with promptitude and discretion," answered Huanacocha in tones of conviction. "And its perfect simplicity is its greatest recommendation. When do you propose to commence operations?" "At once," answered Xaxaguana, "now, this very day. Nothing will be talked of during the next few days save the sudden death of the Villac Vmu and Motahuana, and such a topic of conversation will afford me the precise opportunity which I require. And now, friend Huanacocha, you and I have been together quite as long as is either prudent or desirable. Go, therefore, hence to the palace, acquaint the Inca with the sad news of which you are the official bearer; inform him, if you will, that in the zealous discharge of your duty you have visited me for the purpose of obtaining the fullest information relative to the deplored event, and direct his attention to the extreme desirability of creating me Villac Vmu at once." "Fear not, friend," answered Huanacocha, as he rose to take his leave, "you shall receive the notification of your appointment in the course of the day." And, followed by Xaxaguana, who accompanied him as far as the outer door, he left the apartment and proceeded on his way to the palace. Huanacocha was as good as his word; for he not only secured from Harry the appointment of Xaxaguana to the dignity of Villac Vmu, but actually took the trouble to hurry back from the palace to the temple with the information of his success, and the royal warrant duly signed. As Xaxaguana had anticipated, almost the sole topic of conversation during the ensuing fortnight was the death of the late Villac Vmu, and that of his deputy, at practically the same instant of time, as was determined by the physicians. For the first few days this circumstance was spoken of simply as a somewhat remarkable coincidence, but not very long after the obsequies--which were celebrated with unprecedented pomp in the temple--were over, it began to be noticed that, when the subject happened to be referred to, people were acquiring a trick of putting their heads together and whispering mysteriously to each other. The trick rapidly developed into something nearly approaching a habit; and as it did so, the whispers as rapidly changed into plain, open speech, and the words which were interchanged lost their original air of confidential mysteriousness, until, finally, people told each other without very much circumlocution that there was, in their opinion, more in the strange deaths of Tiahuana and Motahuana than met the eye. And if they were asked to express themselves more plainly they reminded each other that the two priests, who had died under such really remarkable circumstances, were the men who were responsible for the finding of the white Inca, and the introduction of him into the community, and this reminder was quite frequently followed by a somewhat pointed question as to whether, after all, they--the priests--could by any chance have made a mistake in their method of identifying the Inca, some people even going to the length of expressing the opinion that it was no question of mistake, but rather a case of deliberate deception of the people, with some mysterious purpose which would probably now be never brought to light, inasmuch as that our Lord the Sun, angry at the change in the form of the national religion, has cut off the offenders in the midst of their sins, as a sign of His displeasure. The transition from such talk as this to openly expressed doubts concerning the genuineness of the Inca's claim to be the re-incarnation of the divine Manco Capac was an easy one, made all the more easy by the unpopular character of many--one might indeed almost say all--of Escombe's decrees. Yet so consummate was the cunning and subtlety with which the campaign was conducted that scarcely a whisper of it was allowed to reach the ears of those who were suspected of being favourably inclined toward the Inca, and not the faintest inkling of it ever penetrated to Escombe himself. Such extreme care indeed was exercised by those who were pulling the strings that no sign whatever of the Inca's fast-waning popularity was for a moment permitted to manifest itself. The process of corrupting the palace officials and staff generally was found to be exceptionally tedious and difficult, for Escombe's genial disposition and straightforward character enabled him to endear himself without effort to everybody with whom he was brought into intimate contact. But it was accomplished at length by the exercise of almost superhuman ingenuity, with a solitary exception in the case of Arima, who, it was at once recognised, was so faithfully and devotedly attached to his royal master that it would be worse than folly to attempt to corrupt him; he was therefore left severely alone; the most stringent precautions being taken to keep the whole thing secret from him. Matters had reached the stage above indicated when Escombe, having grappled with an exceptionally arduous day's work, retired to rest close upon midnight, and soon afterward sank into a heavy sleep, only to be, as it seemed, almost instantly awakened by the light of torches flashing upon his closed eyelids, and the scuffle of sandalled feet about his couch. Springing up into a sitting posture in his bed, he opened his eyes, still heavy with sleep, to find his chamber full of men--many of whom were armed--conspicuous among whom were Huanacocha and Xaxaguana, the new Villac Vmu. "Why, my Lord Huanacocha," he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes to assure himself that he was awake, "what does this mean? How did you get in here? And what is the matter?" "The matter, Lord," answered Huanacocha, "is one of the utmost gravity and importance, as the Villac Vmu, here, will inform you. It is nothing less than a revolt among the priests generally, most of whom have declared against the modifications in the form of the worship and service in the temple, instituted by my Lord, and have risen against the Villac Vmu and those others who have pronounced themselves in favour of my Lord's modifications. Some of those who were in favour of the modifications have been slain; but the larger number, amounting to between twenty and thirty, are even now being subjected to the fire ordeal, as would have been the Villac Vmu, had he not happily escaped and made his way to my house for shelter and help. That, in brief, is how the matter stands; is it not, Villac Vmu?" "'Tis even so, Lord," answered Xaxaguana. "And when I had stated the facts to my Lord Huanacocha, he regarded them as of import serious enough to justify us even to the extent of disturbing the rest of my Lord the Inca, and--" "By Jove, yes, I should think so," exclaimed Harry, interrupting the High Priest unceremoniously, and springing from his couch to the floor. "Where is Arima? Pass the word for Arima, somebody, please--or, stay, hand me my clothes; I'll get into them myself without waiting for Arima. How many of these revolting priests are there, do you say?" "They number about a thousand, Lord," answered Xaxaguana. "We have already taken it upon ourselves to send to Umu, asking him to come to our assistance; but it will be some time ere our messenger can reach him, and he in turn can reach and order out the guard. We therefore thought it well to come to my Lord and ask him to hasten with us to the temple, there to use his authority to save the lives of those who must otherwise undergo the fire ordeal." "Of course," assented Harry, as he scrambled into his clothes. "But what will happen if those mutinous beggars refuse to obey me, eh?" "Refuse to obey you, Lord?" repeated the Villac Vmu in shocked tones. "Nay, they will certainly not do that. They have revolted now merely because they cannot be brought to believe that the innovations against which they rebel are in accordance with the orders of our Lord the Inca. You have but to personally assure them that such is the case, and they will instantly return to their allegiance." "Very well," answered Harry, as he threw a heavy cloak over his shoulders to protect himself from the keen night air. "Now I am ready. Lead the way, somebody, and let us be going." Emerging from the palace, and hurrying along the almost pitch--dark garden paths, the party swept through the palace gates into the main road, and made a dash for the temple by the nearest possible route, which happened to be through several dark, narrow, deserted side streets, in which not a soul was stirring; the little crowd of hurrying figures consequently passed on its way and soon reached the temple without having been observed by so much as a single person. Somewhat to Escombe's surprise the temple proved to be in absolute darkness, when the party arrived before the walls; but Xaxaguana explained this by informing the young monarch that the revolted priests were all assembled in the opposite wing of the building, and that he had deemed it a wise precaution not to attempt to enter on that side, lest they should meet with resistance before the Inca could find an opportunity to make his presence known. As they drew in under the temple walls Xaxaguana called a halt, expressing some anxiety as to the possibility of the door being closed by means of which he proposed to effect an entrance, and he sent forward a scout to reconnoitre. His anxiety, however, proved to be unfounded, for the scout presently returned with the information that the door was unfastened and everything quiet on that side of the building. The party therefore moved forward once more, and presently Escombe found himself being conducted along a corridor, unlighted save by the smoky flare of the torches carried by his escort. Contrary to the young ruler's expectations, the building, even now that he was inside it, remained dark and silent as the grave; but this was explained by the statement of Xaxaguana that the revolting priests were all gathered together in the rock-hewn basement of the building, where they were at that moment engaged in putting their more faithful brethren to the dreadful "ordeal by fire". Accordingly, when Xaxaguana unlocked a massive bronze gate let into a wall, and invited Harry to descend with him to the chamber where the horrid rite was in progress, the young man followed unhesitatingly, as he also did through a door which the priest unlocked when they had reached the foot of the flight of stone steps and traversed some yards of corridor apparently hewn out of the living rock. The room was comfortably enough furnished, and looked almost as though it might have been prepared for his reception, for it was lighted by a handsome lamp suspended from the roof. "If my Lord will condescend to wait here a moment and rest, I, his servant, will go and see exactly what is happening, and return to report," remarked Xaxaguana as he stood aside to allow Harry to pass him. "But why wait?" demanded Harry, facing round to the High Priest. "Surely we have not a moment of time to waste. Would it not be--" But, even as he was speaking, the Villac Vmu slid rapidly back into the passage, closing the door behind him with a slam, through the thunderous reverberation of which in the hollow vault Harry thought he caught the sound of a sharp click. With a muttered ejaculation, expressive of annoyance, he sprang to the door and endeavoured to open it; but it was fast, and, as he listened, he heard the sounds of hastily retreating footsteps in the passage outside. And in that same moment the truth flashed upon him that, for some inscrutable reason, he was trapped and a prisoner! CHAPTER NINETEEN. UMU TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME. The first rays of the next morning's sun had scarcely flashed over the ridge of the sierra which hemmed in the eastern side of the valley, when Arima, awaking with a most atrocious headache, and the feeling generally of a man who has just passed through an unusually prolonged bout of dissipation--or, alternatively, has been drugged--arose from his bed and, staggering across the room, plunged his throbbing and buzzing head into a large basin of cold water, preparatory to dressing. Once, twice, thrice did he plunge head, neck, and hands into the cooling liquid, with but little satisfactory result, for the relief which he sought, and confidently expected to derive, from the process, refused to come; and he groaned as he sank upon a seat and tightly gripped his throbbing temples in his hands. Never before in his life had he felt so ill, so utterly cheap and used-up, as he did at that moment. In addition to the violent headache from which he was suffering, his blood felt like fire in his veins, his skin was dry and rough; he was so giddy that he could scarcely stand. The truth was that he had been drugged with such brutal severity on the preceding night, by Xaxaguana's emissaries, to make sure of his being out of the way at the moment of his master's seizure, that it had been due more to chance than anything else that he had ever again awakened. After a few minutes' rest he felt so much better that he was able to dress, and afterwards make his way to his master's room. For, ever since the slaying of the monsters in the lake, it had been Escombe's habit to rise early in the morning, and, making his way to the bottom of the garden, embark on a balsa, from which, after Arima had paddled it a few hundred yards from the shore, master and man had been wont to bathe together. And now, according to custom, the faithful Indian hurried away to awaken his master, as usual, for indulgence in the regular morning dip. But upon entering the sleeping chamber he of course found it untenanted, and for a moment the thought occurred to him that possibly he was late, and that his master, having awakened at his usual hour, had risen and gone down into the garden alone. A single glance out of the window, however, at the length of the shadows cast by the various objects lighted by the sun outside, sufficed to satisfy him that habit had triumphed over even the influence of the narcotic which had been administered to him, and that he was certainly not more than a few minutes late. Then, with the instinct of the semi-savage, he flung his glances quickly about the room, and instantly detected signs that it had been invaded during the night by a number of people, and that his master had arisen and dressed in haste. Quick to take the alarm where Escombe was concerned, he at once hurried out, and, without waiting to find any of the palace officials to whom to report his discovery, proceeded forthwith to question as many of the servants as he met. But here again he only found matter for further alarm and apprehension; for not only did the whole service of the building appear to be in a state of complete disorganisation, but it at once became evident to him that every man he met was confused, agitated, and more or less anxious of manner; and, although each and all professed themselves unable to throw any light upon the mystery of the Inca's inexplicable disappearance, he felt instinctively that they were all lying to him. Realising at length that no information was to be obtained from these people, Arima passed from the palace into the grounds, making his way, in the first instance, down to the shore of the lake, for the purpose of satisfying himself beyond all possibility of question whether or not there was any foundation for his first surmise, that Escombe had risen early and left the palace without waiting for him. But no; there was no sign of his young master in that direction; moreover, the balsa was lying moored in its proper place; also the cutter was at her usual moorings. There was therefore no possibility that the Inca had taken it into his head to go for a solitary early morning sail. Satisfied upon this point, the Indian next made his way round to the front of the palace, and here at once the evidences of a visit of a large party of people to the palace, some time during the preceding night, once more presented themselves, the latest--that is to say the topmost--set of footprints showing that quite a crowd of people had hurried from the main entrance of the building down the broad path leading to the entrance gates of the garden and thence into the main road. Moreover, the "spoor" remained undisturbed in the road for a distance sufficient to indicate the general direction in which the party had gone, although it was lost in the ordinary signs of traffic within a few yards of the gates. Having ascertained thus much, Arima returned to the spot where the footprints first showed outside the palace doors, and, going down upon his hands and knees, patiently set himself to the task of endeavouring to discover his young master's among them. But before he had had time to achieve any result in this direction one of the palace officials appeared and, angrily demanding to know what he was doing there, ordered him back into the palace to attend to his duty; explaining, by way of reply to Arima's agitated representations, that the Inca had left the palace during the early hours of the morning, with a party of companions, to hunt the vicuna. The Indian at once knew this to be a falsehood, for the hunting grounds lay many miles down the valley, and hunting parties never dreamed of proceeding thither otherwise than on horseback, and Arima was prepared to swear that none of the party had been mounted. Moreover he was convinced that his master would never have dreamed of leaving his favourite servant behind had he been bound upon a hunting expedition. The official, however, was curt and peremptory in his manner, and Arima soon understood that he must obey his orders or suffer arrest. He therefore returned to the Inca's rooms and proceeded to put them in order, as was his duty. But the very curtness and peremptoriness of the official's manner to him, as well as the improbable story which he had told, only had the effect of strengthening and confirming the suspicions in the faithful fellow's mind; for the attachment of the young Inca to this man was well known, and even the highest officials of the palace had thus far not disdained to be extremely civil to him. But the question in Arima's mind now was: what precisely was it that had happened to his young master, and whither and why had he gone? For even thus far no glimmering of the hideous truth had reached the Indian's mind. His suspicions and apprehensions were all as yet chaotic and formless, and he was very far from fearing that Escombe's life was in danger. But as he proceeded with his business, seeking from time to time to get some relief from his splitting headache and the other extremely disagreeable symptoms from which he was still suffering acutely, it gradually began to dawn upon him, as his mental faculties slowly shook off their stupor, that every one of those symptoms were synonymous with those following upon the administration of an overdose of a decoction made from a certain poisonous plant growing here and there in the valley, and which was sometimes used as an anaesthetic by the local physicians. He was fully aware of the tremendous potency of the extracted juices of this plant, as also of its tastelessness, and the consequent ease with which it could be administered, and he recognised clearly that if anyone had wished to administer such a draught to him on the previous night it could easily have been done. The question which next arose in his mind naturally was: why should anyone desire to administer such a draught to him? But his mental powers had by this time sufficiently recovered from the effects of the drug to enable him quickly to trace a connection--however obscure as yet--between this act and the extraordinary fact of his master being missing. When once the faithful fellow had reached the length of connecting the two circumstances together he was not long in realising the terrible possibilities that lurked in such a sinister combination of circumstances. And with this realisation he suddenly took fright, for at the same moment the significance of certain apparently trivial remarks and occurrences that had lately come to his knowledge suddenly dawned upon him. Could it be that these matters, scarcely noticed at the moment, really bore the significance which he now attached to them, or was it all the result of some bodily disorder reacting upon his mental processes and causing him to take a distorted and unnatural view of things that were actually of no moment whatever? He could not tell; his brain was still in too muddled a condition for him to feel that he could trust it. But there was one sensible thing that he could do, he told himself. He could go to Umu and lay the whole matter before him. Umu was a shrewd sensible man, who would soon say whether or not there was anything in those mad fantasies that were now beginning to chase each other through his bewildered brain. Besides, Umu was the Inca's most devoted friend--next to himself, perhaps. So, slipping out of the palace by the garden entrance--lest perchance he should be seen and stopped if he attempted to pass out by way of the other--he plunged at once into the most unfrequented paths, and so betook himself, by a circuitous route, to the lake shore, where he at once got aboard the balsa, and, paddling the primitive craft some half a mile beyond the royal demesne, beached her in a secluded spot, and thence made the best of his way to Umu's house. The morning was by this time so well advanced that the hour for the first meal of the day was past, and it became a moot point with Arima whether to seek Umu at his house or at the barracks of the Inca's bodyguard. He decided, however, upon trying the house first, and it was well that he did; for, although Umu was not at home, neither, it seemed, was he at the barracks. But Maia, his daughter, had an impression that she knew where he might be found, and Arima had not poured into the girl's ear half a dozen sentences of his somewhat disjointed tale before she cut him short by explaining that she was about to seek her father, and that he (Arima) must on no account whatever attempt to stir from the house until her return, unless, of course, her father should make his appearance in the interim. Having bestowed that injunction, Maia, wild- eyed and white-lipped, rushed into the street and hurried on her way; for she, too, had heard words said, to which at the moment she had given scant heed, but which in the light of what was hinted at by Arima now bore to the quick-witted girl an awful significance. As it happened, she had not to go very far, for she had not left the house more than five minutes at the utmost when she caught sight of her father, mounted, on his way to the barracks, a good mile distant. Fortunately for her he reined up to exchange a few passing words with an acquaintance, and that afforded her the opportunity to overtake and stop him. She did not dare, however, to mention the errand which had brought her out in search of her father until the two friends had parted, when she briefly explained that Arima was seeking him, and urged him to hasten back to the house without delay, at the same time telling him sufficient of what had passed between herself and the Inca's henchman to cause Umu to realise something of the gravity of the situation; for he dug his heels into his charger's ribs and dashed off at a gallop. When Maia arrived back at the house, she found Arima in the midst of the relation of his story to her father, and, quite as a matter of course, sat down to listen. The Indian had, in the interim between her departure and Umu's arrival, found time to pull himself together and properly arrange his thoughts, and he related his narrative with due regard to sequence of events, beginning with such apparently casual words and trivial occurrences as had come under his notice, and had only assumed a significance in the light of more recent happenings. Then going on to describe his sensations upon awaking that morning, he completed his story by relating in detail everything he had done, and the thoughts and suspicions that had occurred to him subsequent to his discovery of his master's absence. "Yes," agreed Umu, when Arima had brought his story to a conclusion, "the whole thing seems reasonably clear, up to a certain point. I have not a shadow of doubt that certain disaffected persons have adopted the extreme, and altogether unprecedented, step of seizing the person of our Lord the Inca; and they caused you, my friend, to be drugged in order that you might not interfere with their plans. The question which we now have to decide is: who are those persons, and what is their object in seizing the Inca? They must be individuals of very great power and influence, otherwise they would never dare--" At this point Maia, who had been betraying rapidly increasing signs of anxiety and impatience, cut in with: "My father, to me it seems of the utmost importance that not a moment should be lost in discovering what has become of the Inca, whose life may at this moment be in the utmost jeopardy; for those who were desperate enough to carry him off would probably not hesitate to kill him, if need were: indeed that may be their purpose. Your task, therefore, must be to rescue him without an instant's unnecessary delay, which you should be easily able to do with the aid of your troops. Probably if the officials of the palace were carefully questioned they could be persuaded to tell you what has become of the Inca, for doubtless they know, since he could not have been carried off without their knowledge and acquiescence." "Yes, you are right, Maia. I see exactly what you mean, and I have no doubt that I can devise a method of making the palace people tell what they know," answered Umu. "I will ride to the barracks at once, and order the guard to turn out in readiness to proceed wherever required; after which I will proceed to the palace with a squadron, and it will be strange if I do not find means to make somebody tell me what I require to know. You, Arima, had better go to the barracks and await my return there from the palace, when you can ride with us. And now I will go; for, as Maia has said, even moments may now be of importance." Some twenty minutes later a troop of the Inca's mounted bodyguard, led by Umu, dashed at a gallop in through the gates of the palace gardens, and, at a word from their commander, surrounded the building, a party of a dozen of them following their leader into the palace, to the consternation of all who encountered them. This dozen constituted a search party, which, with drawn swords, systematically swept the building from basement to roof-tree, gathering together every official and individual of the palace staff that could be found, until the whole, with the exception of some dozen or so underlings, had been captured. Then all were marched out into the vast palace garden and surrounded by the now dismounted troopers, who meanwhile had made prisoners of four of the chief officials as they were endeavouring to slink out of the palace and make good their escape. Marching the whole of the captives off to a secluded part of the gardens, where nothing which might happen could be seen save by those immediately concerned, Umu ordered the chamberlain and his three immediate subordinates to be brought to him, and said to them: "Now, sirs, my business here is to ascertain from you what has become of our Lord the Inca. I have not the slightest doubt that you can tell me; but whether you will tell me the truth or not is quite another matter. I intend to arrive at the truth, however, either by persuasion or force, and I will try the former first: let me very earnestly advise you not to compel me to resort to the latter. And to make as certain as I can that the information with which you are about to furnish me is true, you will each withdraw from your comrades to a distance at which it will be impossible for you to communicate with each other, and where you will each inform the officer--who, with a file of men, will accompany you--of everything that you know concerning the mysterious disappearance of the Inca--where he has been taken, by whom, and for what purpose. If your stories, when compared with each other, are found to agree at all points, I shall consider that I am justified in believing them to be true; if they do not--" He turned to the other captives and said: "Go to work at once, collect timber, and build a large fire in this open space." Then, turning to the officers who had been deputed to examine the four prisoners, Umu concluded: "Take them away; hear their story; and then bring them back to me, that each man's tale may be compared with those of the others." Umu knew his fellow countrymen well. He was fully aware that while the South American Indian, like his brother of the northern continent, will endure the most frightfully excruciating tortures with stoical fortitude if the occasion happens to demand it, he will not willingly subject himself to even a very minor degree of suffering for the sake of shielding those whom he has no particular object in serving. He felt pretty well convinced that these craven wretches who had allowed themselves to be corrupted into betraying their monarch would have very little hesitation in also betraying their corrupters, especially as they might feel assured that, Umu having taken the matter in hand, those corrupters would henceforth have scant power or opportunity either to reward or to punish. The hint conveyed by the building of a large fire therefore proved quite sufficiently persuasive. In little more than ten minutes the commander of the bodyguard found himself in possession of all the information which the palace officials had it in their power to communicate. This information, in brief, was to the effect that they had, one and all, from the highest to the lowest, been heavily bribed by the emissaries of Huanacocha and Xaxaguana to allow those two powerful nobles, with a strong party of followers, to enter the palace in the dead of night and abduct the person of the Inca, and to hold their peace upon the matter until either Huanacocha or Xaxaguana should personally give them leave to speak and tell them what to say. As the stories of all four of the officials happened to agree, even down to the smallest detail, Umu decided that he might venture to accept them as true; whereupon the whole of the prisoners were hustled back into the palace by way of the back entrance, driven down into one of the basement chambers, and there securely locked up, with a corporal's guard in the passage outside. The palace then being locked up, the troop mounted and departed at a gallop for the house of Huanacocha. This house, or palace as it might be more appropriately termed, was, like most of the residences of the great Peruvian lords, a large and sumptuous edifice, standing in its own spacious grounds. Umu's tactics upon approaching it were similar to those which he had employed upon approaching the palace; that is to say, upon entering the grounds he caused his men to dismount and surround the building, which he then entered, accompanied by a sergeant in charge of a squad of troopers. As he unceremoniously made his way into the great entrance hall he found himself confronted by the chief steward of the establishment, who, followed by the entire staff of terrified servants, was hurrying to the garden, anxious to ascertain the meaning of this unwonted invasion of his master's privacy. "Where is your lord, sirrah?" thundered Umu, as a file of soldiers promptly arrested the quaking functionary. "I know not, Lord Umu," answered the unfortunate man, as well as his chattering teeth would allow; "indeed I was about to send out the servants to seek news of him, for I am beginning to fear that evil has befallen him. He left the house alone last night, less than an hour before midnight, saying that he knew not when he should return; and he has not since been seen." "Then, if he told you that he knew not when he would return, why do you fear that evil has befallen him?" demanded Umu. "Because, Lord--nay, I know not, except that--that--well, it is a most unusual--for my Lord Huanacocha to absent himself for so many hours without saying whither he intended to go," stammered the steward. "Say you so?" sneered Umu. "That seems to me strange indeed; for it is not the usual custom of a noble to acquaint his steward with his business. Nay, friend, I cannot believe your story: you must have some better reason than the one which you have given me for your anxiety as to your lord's safety, and it will be to your great advantage to acquaint me with it forthwith." "Lord, I have told you the truth; indeed I have," protested the unfortunate man, making as though he would throw himself upon his knees before Umu. "So much the worse for you," growled Umu savagely, for the delay was beginning to tell upon his patience. "Is there any man here," he continued, "who can tell me where my Lord Huanacocha is to be found?" He glared round upon the assembled servants, the whole of whom had by this time been quietly herded together by the soldiers. There was no answer. "Very well," continued Umu, addressing his men. "Take these people down to the cellars below; lock them in securely; and then set fire to the house and burn it over their heads! I can waste no more time here." As the troopers, in obedience to this order, closed round the prisoners, and with coarse jests began to hustle them unceremoniously toward the head of the flight of steps leading down to the basement of the building, the steward, suddenly realising the desperate nature of his own and his fellow servants' predicament, turned to Umu and cried: "Stay, Lord, I pray you, and visit not upon us the misdeeds of our lord. When I said just now that I knew not the whereabouts of my Lord Huanacocha, I spoke only the truth, for indeed I cannot tell for certain where he is--nay, Lord, have patience, and hear what I have to say ere you condemn me to a frightful death for a fault which is not mine. It is indeed true that I know not where my Lord Huanacocha is to be found, for he did not deign to tell me his business when he went out last night; but I believe I can form a very good guess as to where he now is." "You can?" ejaculated Umu. "Then say on, and that right quickly. For within the next five minutes this house will be ablaze, and you within it, if you have not by then told me what I want to know." Then, turning to a sergeant, he said: "Take with you a dozen men; bring everything in the house that will burn, pile it in this hall, and pour on it all the oil you can find. Now, sirrah, proceed with your tale." "Then, Lord, in brief, it is this," answered the wretched steward, speaking as well as his chattering teeth would allow. "From words which I have overheard from time to time of late passing between my Lord Huanacocha and others, especially the new Villac Vmu, I believe that when my master left this house last night he did so with the purpose of accompanying the High Priest and an armed party to the palace in order to seize the person of our Lord the Inca and convey him to the temple, that he might be subjected to the fire ordeal, to prove whether or no--" "The fire ordeal, say you?" roared Umu in a paroxysm of fury, as the full horror of the situation at last dawned upon him. "Even so, Lord," answered the quaking steward. "I heard my--" "You had reason to believe that your master had conspired with the Villac Vmu to seize the Inca and subject him to the fire ordeal, yet you never took the trouble to come and report the matter to me?" roared Umu. "I--I--Lord, I knew not that--it was no part of my duty to--" stammered the wretched steward, as too late he began to realise the terrible nature of the predicament in which he had placed himself by his too great fidelity to his master. "It is enough," interrupted Umu. "Bind him hand and foot; lay him upon that pile yonder; and set fire to it. Sergeant Huarima, you will remain here with six men to ensure the utter destruction of this house, after which you will follow the rest of the corps to the temple. As for you," he continued, turning to the staff of servants, who were huddling together, paralysed with terror at the tragic turn which affairs were taking, "you would only be receiving your just deserts if I were to order you to be consumed, with your chief, upon that pile. I am merciful, however; you are therefore at liberty to go. But let the fate of the steward be a lesson to you all henceforth, that fidelity to the Inca comes before fidelity to your master. And now, men, pass out and mount. Our next place of call is the temple." CHAPTER TWENTY. IN THE NICK OF TIME! "Well," soliloquised Harry, as he glanced about him upon realising that he was indeed a prisoner, "what does this mean? Is it mutiny, or treason, or what is it? And as to there being a revolt of the priests, I don't believe a word of it. Had there been any such thing it would not have been possible for me to have entered this building without encountering some sign--either sight or sound--of it. No; that was just a yarn, a ruse to get me to come here willingly. Now, I wonder what the dickens they want with me, and what they intend to do with me now that they have me. Nothing very serious, I expect; for I am the Inca, and they would never dare to lay violent hands upon the Inca; that amounts to sacrilege of the very worst kind. Yes; no doubt. And yet I am by no means certain that that fact would exercise any very powerful restraining influence upon our friends Huanacocha and Xaxaguana. They are both ambitious men, and I am very much inclined to question whether the religious convictions of either man are powerful enough to hold him back from sacrilege, if his ambition urged him in that direction. Ah, well! time will show, I have no doubt; meanwhile I have not had half my night's rest, so I will do what I can to recover arrears." And, thus thinking, he quietly stretched himself upon a couch which stood against one wall of the room, and composed himself to sleep. With the light-hearted carelessness of extreme youth he actually did sleep--slept so soundly that he was not even disturbed when, some hours later, the door was quietly opened and two attendants entered bearing food and drink, which, seeing that the prisoner still slumbered, they placed upon the table and departed, securing the door again as they passed out. It was past ten o'clock in the forenoon when the young man, having completely rested, opened his eyes and looked about him in wonderment at finding himself in strange quarters. The next moment, however, memory returned to him: he recalled the proceedings of the past night, and once more began to speculate upon the purpose which could have been powerful enough to induce Huanacocha and Xaxaguana to resort to so extreme a measure as that of his abduction from the palace. And now, with the more sober reflections following upon a sound night's rest, he began to take a somewhat more serious view of the situation. He began to realise that what these two powerful nobles had done was no hasty, ill-considered act, undertaken upon the spur of the moment, without thought of the probable consequences, but was doubtless the result of long and anxious premeditation; and, if so, they would surely have taken every possible precaution to guard themselves against evil consequences. And--a slight shudder thrilled through him as the thought obtruded itself upon his mind--for aught that he could tell to the contrary one of those precautions might take the form of providing that he should never return to the light of day, and that no one should ever know what had become of him! But here again the optimism of youth came to support him, and he dismissed the grim reflection with a smile; the matter, of course, could not be anything like so serious as that, he told himself, and without doubt in an hour or two hence he would be back in the palace, heartily laughing at the whole adventure. He drew forth his watch and looked at it. To his astonishment he found that it was a quarter after ten o'clock--for, his place of confinement being below the ground level, and hewn out of the heart of the rock, there were no windows to it, and the only source of light was the lamp suspended from the roof, which still burned brightly. For an instant he was under the impression that his watch had stopped overnight at the hour indicated, but upon putting it to his ear he found that it was still running. Then his eye felt upon the viands on the table, and he suddenly discovered that he was hungry. Without further ado, therefore, he seated himself at the table, and, dismissing for the moment all further considerations of the future, fell to and made a most excellent breakfast. Escombe had finished his meal a full hour and more, and had found time once more to become distinctly apprehensive as to the intentions of Huanacocha and Xaxaguana toward him, when the sound of footsteps approaching along the passage outside his door warned him that the crisis was at hand, and the next moment the door was flung open and a priest entered. "My Lord," he said, "it is the command of the Villac Vmu that you accompany me into his presence." "The command, did you say?" retorted Harry. "Surely the Villac Vmu strangely forgets himself and his position when he presumes to send commands to the Inca. However," seeing that the passage outside was full of armed men who were evidently quite prepared to enforce obedience to the orders of the High Priest, he continued, "I will not stand upon ceremony, or carp at a mere form of words, but will obey the summons of the Villac Vmu. Yet, let him and all who hear me remember that I am the Inca, and that my power to reward obedience is as great as it is to punish presumption. Now, lead on." The priest led the way into the passage, Harry following, and the moment that the latter emerged from the room in which he had been confined an armed guard of a dozen men closed in around him, rendering escape on his part impossible. In this order the procession passed along the passage, up the steps which Harry had descended upon his arrival, and thence along a corridor into a room crowded with priests and civilians, where, raised upon a dais, sat the Villac Vmu enthroned. Still surrounded by the guard, Harry was halted in front of this dais, and directed to seat himself in a handsome chair that had been placed there for his reception. This done, the proceedings at once commenced, and Harry immediately perceived that he was about to be subjected to some sort of a trial, for no sooner was he seated than the Villac Vmu cried: "Let my Lord Huanacocha stand forth." There was a moment's bustle and confusion, and then from the midst of the assembled crowd Huanacocha shouldered his way through, and placed himself near Harry, but outside the encircling guards. "My Lord Huanacocha," said the Villac Vmu, "at your instigation, and because of certain representations made by you, I have taken the unprecedented course of causing our Lord the Inca to be brought hither, that he may answer, before those here assembled, to the charges which I understand you desire to bring against him. State, therefore, those charges; but before doing so ye shall swear by the Light of our Lord the Sun that your motive in instigating these proceedings is free from all bias or personal ill will; that you are animated therein solely by anxiety for the public welfare, and that you will say no word save what you, personally, know to be the truth." "All this I swear!" answered Huanacocha, raising his right hand aloft. "It is well," commented the High Priest. "Proceed now with your charges." "My Lord," answered Huanacocha, "my first and most serious charge against the young man who sits there, and whom we have for these many months past honoured and served as the re-incarnated Manco Capac, the father and founder of our nation, is that he is an impostor, with no right or title whatsoever to the service and reverence which we have given him. "My second charge," continued Huanacocha, "which, however, should be preferred by you rather than by me, O Villac Vmu, is that this youth has blasphemously forbidden us any longer to worship our Lord the Sun, our Father and Benefactor, and the Giver of all good gifts, and has commanded that we shall worship instead Pachacamac, whom he calls God, of whom we know little or nothing, and whom we have never until now been bidden to worship. I am strongly opposed to this change of religion-- for it amounts to nothing less--as is everybody else with whom I have spoken on the subject. We all fear that such change will certainly bring disaster and ruin upon the nation. There are other charges which could be preferred against the prisoner," concluded Huanacocha; "but I am content that the case against him shall rest upon those which I have already enumerated." "It is well," commented Xaxaguana. "My Lord Huanacocha, the gratitude of the community is due to you for the public spirit which has prompted you to come forward and perform what we all recognise to be an exceedingly disagreeable task, and doubtless the public generally will be careful to see that your disinterestedness is suitably rewarded. Is there anyone present who desires to support the charges preferred against the prisoner by my lord?" There was. The ball of high treason once set rolling, everybody seemed anxious to add to its momentum, and man after man came forward, either to support the charges made by Huanacocha, or to ventilate some petty grievance, real or imaginary, of his own, until at length so much time had been consumed that Xaxaguana, growing impatient, refused to listen to any further evidence. He then turned to Escombe and said: "Prisoner, you have heard the charges that have been brought against you. What answer have you to them?" "I might well answer," said Escombe, "that I am the Inca, and that no one has the right to question my actions, and no one--not even the Villac Vmu--has the right to bring me to trial, as you have dared to do; for I am supreme and infinitely above and beyond you all. But I have no desire to take refuge behind my dignity. If anyone considers that he has a grievance against me, as appears to be the case, I prefer to answer it. "And first as to the charge which Huanacocha brings against me of being an impostor. Let me remind you who were present of what took place in the temple upon the memorable occasion when I was first brought here by Tiahuana and Motahuana. Tiahuana was the man responsible for my presence in this valley, and my elevation to the position of Inca. It was he who, having heard certain particulars concerning me, sought me out, satisfied himself and his colleague that I fulfilled in my person all the conditions referred to in a certain prophecy, and brought me hither without even going through the preliminary formality of asking my consent. It was he who, when he presented me before you all here in the temple, convinced you all, with two or three exceptions, of whom Huanacocha was one, that I was the re-incarnated Manco Capac, the Inca destined to restore the ancient Peruvian nation to its former power and grandeur; and it was you who, convinced by his arguments, placed me on the throne. I had nothing whatever to do with that; I made no claims or pretensions of any kind; I was simply passive throughout. But when, convinced by Tiahuana's arguments and proofs, you had placed me on the throne, and I learned what was expected of me, I devoted all my energies to the performance of the task which I felt had been laid upon me; and you know how far I have succeeded. You know that those of pure Peruvian blood are being daily gathered into this valley from every part of the kingdom; you know that they are being trained to play their part as fighting men; and you know also--at least Huanacocha does--that I am even now engaged in making plans and arrangements for the secret introduction into the country of an adequate supply of the most modern weapons, in order that, when the proper moment comes, you may be able to fight upon equal terms with your enemies. "As to my having decreed an alteration in your religion, I did so because when I came among you I found you to be idolaters, worshippers of the Sun, which is but one of the many beneficent gifts which Pachacamac--whom I call God--has given to His children. The sun can only give you his light and heat according to God's will and pleasure; and therefore it is God, and not the sun, whom you should worship. And I tell you that until you transfer your adoration from the sun to Him who made it, you will never be a prosperous and happy people; nor will I consent to rule over you, or help to restore you as a nation to your ancient power and glory. Choose, therefore, now, whether you will worship God, or continue in idolatry; whether you will achieve the great destiny which Titucocha, your prophet, foretold for you, or whether you will remain the mere remnant of a once powerful and splendid nation, lurking here in obscurity in this valley from which you dare not venture forth lest those who now hold the land that once was yours fall upon and destroy you. If you choose the latter fate, as you seem inclined to do, then must I go forth from this valley, and leave you to your own devices; for, as I have said, I will not rule a nation of idolaters. But if you choose to obey me, and submit unquestioningly to such ordinances as I shall promulgate from time to time for your advantage, then will I undertake to make you all that Titucocha foretold you should become." It was evident that Harry's address had produced an exceedingly powerful impression upon the bulk of his audience, for the moment that he ceased to speak there arose a great hubbub among those who composed it, the assembly almost instantly breaking up into little knots and groups, the members of which at once proceeded to discuss eagerly the several points of the speech. It was a result as unwelcome as unlooked for by the prime movers of the conspiracy, and the glance which Huanacocha shot at the Villac Vmu was full of dismay and apprehension. The latter, however, who had noted something of the effect which Harry was producing, saw also how to avail himself of that effect and at the same time achieve his own and his friend's purpose. He therefore allowed the commotion to continue unchecked for full ten minutes, before he rose and held up his hand for silence. Then, when the disturbance had subsided sufficiently to allow his voice to be heard, he said: "My friends, I perceive that, like myself, you are in a difficulty, and know not what to believe. You feel, as I do, that if this youth is in very truth the re-incarnated Manco whose return to earth was promised by the prophet Titucocha, it would not only be rankest folly but absolute sacrilege to reject him. But how are we to know; how is this most important, this vital point to be determined? There is but one way--a way which I have already provided for: we must subject him to the ordeal by fire! If he survives that ordeal, well and good; we shall then know for certain who he is, and we will serve and obey him in all things. But, if not--" He got no further; for at the mention of the ordeal by fire Harry saw at once, as in a lightning flash, the villainous trap into which he had been betrayed, and the hideous fate to which it was intended to consign him. Leaping to his feet, he snatched the drawn sword from the hand of one of the astonished guards who surrounded him and, before any of them could interpose to prevent him, had leapt upon the dais and seized the terrified Xaxaguana by the throat with one hand, while with the sword which he held in the other he threatened to run the quaking wretch through the heart. "Oh no, you don't," he cried, as he tightened his grip upon the struggling priest's throat; "no fire ordeal for me, thank you! Sit still and give over struggling, you villain, or I'll pin you to the back of the chair you sit in. Do you hear me? Ah, that's better; put your hands down by your sides and keep them there. And you other fellows stand still where you are, and don't attempt to lift so much as a hand against me, unless you wish to see me slay this man before your eyes! Now, Villac Vmu, grasp the seat of your chair with both hands--just to keep them out of mischief, you know--and do as I tell you. First order those men of yours to lay down their arms and march out of the building--see, I release your throat that you may draw breath to give the order--ah! would you, you treacherous scoundrel? Then take that!" For as Harry released his grip upon the priest's throat the latter sprang to his feet and endeavoured to clasp the young Englishman round the arms and body, at the same time shouting to the others to come to his help. But Harry was too quick for his would-be captor; he sprang back a single pace, thus just eluding the grip of the priest, and at the same time lunged at him with the copper sword which he held, driving it straight through the man's scheming, treacherous heart. Then, as a great roar of dismay and execration arose from the assemblage, he quickly withdrew his reeking weapon from the quivering body and, hastily wrapping his cloak about his left arm, leaped to the wall, placed his back to it, and prepared to sell his life as dearly as might be. He gave himself about half a minute more to live; for what could he single-handed do against the swordsmen, to say nothing of the rest of that howling, bloodthirsty crowd who now came surging toward him. They could overwhelm him in a moment, by sheer force of numbers! But as the swordsmen sprang upon the dais, with gleaming eyes and threatening points, the voice of Huanacocha rang through the chamber as he shouted: "Take the young fool alive, and harm him not, as you value your lives! He has slain the Villac Vmu; and for that reason, if for no other, he must pass through the fire. Hem him in, take his weapon from him, and then bind him hand and foot!" It was, however, very much easier to give that order than to obey it; for Escombe had always been passionately fond of sword-play--to such an extent, indeed, that he had placed himself in the hands of a certain well-known _maitre d'armes_ in Westminster, and had been pronounced by that gentleman to be his most promising pupil--so now, with a tolerably good weapon in his hand, and his back to a solid, substantial wall, he felt quite in the mood and form to put up an excellent fight. The swordsmen closed in round him and, as by tacit consent, flung themselves upon him in a huddled mob, with the evident intention of bearing him to the ground by sheer preponderance of numbers. But the next instant three of them recoiled, shrieking, with their faces slashed open, as Harry met their charge with a sweeping circular cut from left to right. Then a fourth man staggered and fell with a ghastly wound in his throat, while the rest drew back in dismay and wonder at a feat of swordsmanship that to their comparatively untrained minds seemed to savour strongly of either magic or the supernatural. As to Escombe, he took a long breath, and told himself that perhaps, with luck, he might be able to hold out for as much as five minutes; for that first encounter, brief though it was, showed him that these men had not the remotest idea of how to handle a sword, while as for himself, he had no sooner gripped the hilt of his weapon than he felt all the keen delight of the practised fencer thrill through him at the prospect of an encounter. Oh yes! he would put up a good fight, such a fight as these people should remember to their dying day; though of course one of them would get him, sooner or later, when his weapon happened to be plunged in the body of an enemy. These thoughts flashed through the young Englishman's mind in the drawing of a breath. Then he braced himself afresh against the wall to meet a second and much more wary attack--his enemies had learned caution already, for instead of flinging themselves upon him pell-mell, as at the first rush, they attacked him three at a time, one in front, and one on either hand, thus allowing plenty of room for the play of their blades. Also they strove, by every stratagem they could think of, to entice him away from the wall, so that they might be able to slip round and take him in the rear; but to keep one's back to the wall was one of the fundamental rules of self defence that had been dinned into him until it had become impossible to forget it, and Harry was not to be tempted. Close to the wall he kept, allowing himself only just sufficient room for the free play of his blade; and when at length the attacking trio, losing patience, attempted to rush in upon him, his point seemed to threaten all three at once, and the next moment two of the three were _hors de combat_, one with his sword hand half severed at the wrist, and the other with his right arm laid open from wrist to elbow. The ineffectiveness of the attack proved too much for Huanacocha, who had thus far been looking on at the fray with a sardonic grin upon his countenance. Now, as he saw the swordsmen hanging back, obviously afraid to approach that charmed semicircle, the whole of which Escombe's blade seemed to cover at the same moment, he lost patience, and, with an angry roar, dashed forward, snatched a weapon from one of the disabled fighters, and called upon all present to help him to capture the audacious young foreigner who seemed determined to make fools of them all. Then, as the others sprang at his call, an idea suddenly seized him. Tearing the cloak off his shoulders, he flung the heavy garment straight at Harry, whose blade became entangled in the folds for just the fraction of a second. But it was enough; the others, seeing in an instant what had happened, tossed away their weapons and, flinging themselves upon Escombe before he could clear his sword, tore his weapon from his grasp and bore him, still fighting savagely with his fists, to the ground. In another minute it was all over; with men grasping each of his limbs, and two or three more piled upon his prostrate body, poor Harry was soon overcome and reduced to a condition of comparative quiescence, after which it was not a very difficult matter to enwrap his body with so many turns of a thin, tough, raw-hide rope that further movement became an impossibility. Immediately the whole place rang with howls and shouts of fiendish rejoicing at the brilliance of the feat which had culminated in the capture of this pestilent young foreigner, whose gallant resistance, so far from exciting admiration in the breasts of his captors, seemed to have filled them with the ferocity of wild beasts. As he was raised to his feet preparatory to bearing him away to the place where a fiery death even now awaited him, first one and then another fought and struggled through the yelling crowd to glare into his face with ferocious glee, and to hiss into his ear bloodcurdling hints of the doom prepared for him. The uproar was at its height when Escombe's preternaturally sharpened ear detected a new note in it, a note of astonishment, consternation, and terror that quickly overbore and drowned the tones of savage exultation. The next instant the air was vibrant with shrieks and cries for mercy as the crowd, scattering right and left, made way before the levelled spears and whirling blades of the Inca's bodyguard; while the voice of Umu, harsh and tense with concentrated fury, was heard high above the din, exhorting his followers to let not one of those present escape. Within a moment Umu himself, whirling a heavy battle mace about him with savage freedom, had forced his way to Harry's side, and had either beaten down or driven off those who had constituted themselves his custodians. "Are you hurt, Lord; have these sacrilegious beasts dared to harm a hair of your head?" he panted, as he flung a supporting arm about Escombe's bound and helpless body. "No," answered Harry, smiling rather wanly upon him; "I am as sound as ever I was, thank God! But you have only arrived in the very nick of time, Umu. In another five minutes you would have been too late, my good and trusty friend. How did you know where I was, and what was happening?" "The tale is too long to tell just now, Lord," answered Umu, as he busied himself in freeing Harry from his bonds; "it shall be told later, when I have disposed of these vile wretches. It was Arima who brought me the first hint of what was afoot. Pachacamac be praised that I was able to get here in time! What were they about to do with you, Lord?" "They talked of putting me to the fire ordeal," answered Harry; "but I had a word to say against that, as you may see. Xaxaguana, one of the chief conspirators, has already paid the penalty of his perfidy, and lies there dead." "Truly, Lord, you fought well," exclaimed Umu admiringly, as he glanced about him at the dead and wounded. "And Huanacocha--is he among this rabble?" "He is--unless he has escaped," answered Harry. "If he has, every tenth man of your bodyguard shall lose his hands and feet," snarled Umu savagely. And then his brow cleared as, glancing at the mob of prisoners which the troopers were now forming up, he detected Huanacocha alive, and apparently unhurt, among them. "Ah, no! he is there, I see," he continued. "Very well; this plot was of his hatching. He shall undergo the fire ordeal himself." "Nay, not that, good Umu; not that," protested Harry. "Such a fate is too horrible to be thought of. Punish him by all means, if you will, for indeed he deserves punishment; but not in that way." "Very well, Lord," answered Umu; "it shall be as you wish. Meanwhile, I pray you to return to the palace, escorted by your bodyguard; while I, with a few men, attend to the safe disposal of these fellows." Five minutes later, Escombe found himself, he scarcely knew how, mounted on a trooper's horse, wending his way back to the palace, surrounded by his devoted bodyguard, while the populace, quick to detect how matters were going, rent the air with their acclamations. An hour later Umu bowed himself into Escombe's presence to report progress. "The prisoners, Lord," he said, "are, with the exception of Huanacocha, safely confined, and now await such punishment as you may be pleased to inflict upon them. In the presence of a great multitude I have caused the head of Huanacocha to be struck from his body in the grounds of his own palace, and have thrown head and body together upon the smoking ruins of the place. I have likewise posted a notice upon the entrance gates forbidding anyone to interfere with the body or give it burial. It is to be left where it lies, for the dogs of the city to devour, as a warning and example to others of the fate of those who conspire sacrilegiously against the authority or person of the sovereign. And I have left two armed troopers to mount sentry at the gates, to ensure that my orders are obeyed." "Two only," ejaculated Harry in horrified tones. "My dear Umu, if I may judge of the temper of the people at large by those with whom I had to deal in the temple to-day, those two unfortunate men have been torn to pieces before now. You must send supports at once to them. I want no more bloodshed over this unfortunate business." "There will be no more, Lord," answered Umu grimly. "The sentries are as safe as if they were in barracks. The people know me. They know that at the first sign of disorder I would sack the city from end to end, and put every one of its inhabitants to the sword; and there will be no more crime of any sort for many a day to come, after what has befallen Huanacocha, who was the most powerful noble in all the land." "I am sure I hope not," answered Harry. "And if you should prove to be right in your estimate of the salutary influence exercised by the example which you have made of that turbulent fellow, his death will not have been in vain. And now, Umu, what about the palace servants? I see that an entirely new staff has been installed here, by your orders, Arima tells me; and he also tells me that the others are safely lodged in prison. Surely they had nothing to do with the conspiracy?" Whereupon Umu, by way of reply, proceeded to recount to his royal master the whole history of the affair, so far as he had learned it. And that included pretty nearly everything that was worth repeating; for in the course of his investigations during that eventful morning the soldier had come upon thread after thread, until, taking into account what he then learned, and adding to it such stray hints as had previously reached him, and to which he had, up to that morning, attached no significance, there was very little left to be learned relative to the conspiracy. The result of it all was that, after thinking the matter over very carefully, Escombe was driven to the conclusion that this curious people, into whose midst he had been so strangely brought, were not ripe for those reforms which he, as their ruler, would have felt it his duty to introduce; that they did not want them, and would never willingly accept them; and that, consequently, he must either govern them as they desired to be governed, at the expense of his own conscience, or else abandon the idea of ruling them at all: Having come to this conclusion, he summoned all the nobles to a conference, at which he put the case frankly before them, inviting them as frankly to express their opinion upon it, with the result that he was fully confirmed in the opinion which he had formed. The day after the close of the conference he definitely announced to Umu his intention to abdicate and quit the valley; at the same time asking that officer's advice as to the best and most desirable mode of procedure in so exceedingly delicate a business. "The affair can be arranged quite easily, Lord," answered Umu. "There is not the slightest need for you to abandon us. After what has happened to the Villac Vmu and Huanacocha, who were the two chief conspirators, and the example which I shall make of all those who were foolish enough to listen to them, you will be troubled by no more conspiracies; and I will see that whatever laws you may choose to make are obeyed, whether they happen to be to the taste of the people or not. There are a few, who, like myself, are able to recognise that such laws as you have thus far made are for our advantage, and you will always be able to reckon upon their support; while, for the others, who have not sense enough to understand what is good for them, they must be compelled to bow to the decrees of those who are wiser than themselves. "But if, as you have intimated, you are quite resolved not to enforce your wishes upon the people against their will, I will issue a proclamation declaring that, since the inhabitants of the valley have rejected the enormous benefits and advantages which you had desired to bestow upon them, you have decided to leave the valley and abandon them to their fate, and that I have assumed the reins of government and will henceforth rule them in your stead. It is for you, Lord, to say which of these two alternatives shall be adopted." "Very well, Umu," said Escombe, "I have already quite made up my mind. I will not remain here to force upon the people laws and ordinances which are unacceptable to them; therefore issue your proclamation as soon as you please, and I will make arrangements to leave forthwith. I presume I may depend upon you to furnish me with guides and an escort as far as Santa Rosa, from which I will take the train to Islay. Also, as I shall require money to defray my expenses back to England, I shall take the liberty of withdrawing one bar of gold from the palace treasure chamber for that purpose." "Assuredly, Lord," answered Umu. "You shall be furnished with a reliable guide--you can have none better than Arima--and also such an escort as will enable you to perform your journey in perfect safety and comfort. As to the gold, it must of course be for you to determine how much you will need to defray your expenses back to your own country; but what of the remainder of the treasure? You will scarcely be able to take the whole of it with you; for to transport it across the mountains would need the services of every man in the valley, and so large a following as that would be apt to attract undue and unwelcome attention." "Ay, that it would," laughed Harry. "But I have no intention of robbing you of all your treasure, Umu; very far from it. A single bar of gold will suffice for all my needs, thanks!" "But the whole of the treasure is yours, Lord, to do what you will with it," answered Umu. "It was given to you on the day when you were proclaimed Inca; and--" "Oh, yes, I know!" interrupted Harry; "it was given me for a certain purpose, to wit, the reconquest of the country and its restoration to its former owners. But since the people are too indolent and too self- indulgent to allow me to do this for them, of course I have no claim upon the treasure, and could not possibly dream of appropriating it to my own uses." "So let it be then, Lord," answered Umu. "Take what you require; and, for the rest, I will deal with the matter." A week later witnessed Escombe's departure from the Valley of the Sun, with Arima as his guide, and a troop of the Inca's bodyguard as his escort. As Umu had promised, every possible arrangement had been made for his safety and comfort on the journey; and that portion of it which lay between the valley and Santa Rosa was accomplished far more agreeably than was that which lay between Santa Rosa and the sea. The bodyguard escorted him to within twenty miles of Santa Rosa, which was as close to the city as it was prudent for them to approach, and then left him to complete the journey in the company of Arima and the porters who bore his baggage for him. There was not very much of the latter now remaining; nevertheless his following amounted to some twenty-five men; for in addition to Escombe's personal belongings, tent, etcetera, there were three stout wooden cases measuring about eighteen inches each way, containing, as Umu, at parting, informed Harry, the smallest possible share of the treasure which he could be permitted to leave with. When these were ultimately opened, they proved to contain gems--diamonds, rubies, and emeralds--of such enormous value as to constitute their owner a multi-millionaire. It is not to be supposed that Escombe succeeded in conveying all this treasure down to the coast and getting it safely embarked upon the mail boat for England without tremendous difficulty and trouble. But by the exercise of immense ingenuity and tact, and the expenditure of a very considerable amount of time, he ultimately managed it. Harry is now safe at home, and settled down very comfortably, with his mother and sister, in the most lovely part of Devonshire, where he divides his time pretty evenly between enjoying himself, converting his store of gems into coin of the realm, and seeking opportunities to employ his enormous wealth for the benefit and advantage of his less- fortunate fellow men. Let it not be thought, however, that Harry's adventures in the City of the Sun had banished from his mind the fact that he still owed a very important duty to Sir Philip Swinburne. On the contrary, it was the subject which became the most important one in his thoughts after he had finally completed his arrangements for the safe transport of his treasure to England. Indeed it claimed his attention immediately upon his arrival at the coast, and one of his first acts was to write to Sir Philip, acquainting that gentleman with the fact of his escape from the Indians--for so he put it--and his impending departure for England, adding that he would afford himself the pleasure of calling at the office in Westminster at the earliest possible moment after his arrival home. He had already ascertained that the survey party had completed its operations, and that Bannister had left for England some two months prior to the date of his own arrival upon the coast. He knew that there were many points in connection with that portion of the survey which had been executed prior to Bannister's arrival upon the scene which nobody but himself could make clear, and accordingly he had no sooner started upon the long homeward voyage than he betook himself to the task of preparing voluminous explanatory notes on those points, so far as his memory served him, in order that he might have all his information cut and dried for submission upon his arrival home. In conformity with his promise, he duly presented himself in Westminster within twenty-four hours of his return to English soil, receiving an enthusiastic welcome from his former confreres, and especially from Bannister, whom he found busily engaged in plotting the result of the soundings taken at Lake Titicaca. He was also effusively welcomed by Mr Richards, who had already wrought himself into a state of distraction in his futile endeavours to clear up those very obscurities which formed the subject of Harry's notes. But with the return of Escombe to the office the troubles of the chief draughtsman on that account ceased, and he found himself once more able to sleep at night; for Harry promptly made it clear that he held himself absolutely at Sir Philip's disposal until the whole of the plans relating to the survey should be completed. He presented himself at the office punctually at ten o'clock every morning, and worked diligently throughout the day for the succeeding two months until the entire work had been brought to a satisfactory conclusion, and Sir Philip had written his report and dispatched it with his proposals to the Chairman of the Peruvian Corporation. Whether those proposals will be carried into effect the future only can tell, for they involve the expenditure of a formidable number of millions. But it is safe to say that, if they are, Harry will take no part in the work, his view being that, since he has no need to earn his living, it would be wrong of him to accept a post and thus shut out someone who has that need. Still, he has the satisfaction of knowing that, although his future is independent of the goodwill of any man, he so conducted himself during the trying time of his service under Butler, and afterwards, while working singlehanded, as to win the warmest approval and esteem of Sir Philip Swinburne and the worthy Richards, the latter of whom is now wont to quote Harry Escombe as the pattern and model of all engineering pupils. It is also due to Harry to mention that he made an early opportunity to call upon Butler's widow for the purpose of personally acquainting her with the details of the surveyor's unhappy end. But in doing this he contrived so to modify the particulars of the story that, by judicious omissions here and there, without any sacrifice of truth, he succeeded in conveying an impression that was very comforting and consoling to the unfortunate lady in the midst of her grief. As he found that the poor soul had been left in very straitened circumstances, he made it his business promptly to arrange with his lawyers that she should be paid anonymously a sufficient sum quarterly to place her beyond the reach of want. 
5149	----	THE GOLD OF THE GODS BY ARTHUR B. REEVE FRONTISPIECE BY WILL FOSTER CONTENTS I THE PERUVIAN DAGGER II THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE III THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL DETECTIVE IV THE TREASURE HUNTERS V THE WALL STREET PROMOTER VI THE CURSE OF MANSICHE VII THE ARROW POISON VIII THE ANONYMOUS LETTER IX THE PAPER FIBRES X THE X-RAY READER XI THE SHOE-PRINTS XII THE EVIL EYE XIII THE POISONED CIGARETTE XIV THE INTERFEROMETER XV THE WEED OF MADNESS XVI THE EAR IN THE WALL XVII THE VOICE FROM THE AIR XVIII THE ANTIDOTE XIX THE BURGLAR POWDER XX THE PULMOTOR XXI THE TELESCRIBE XXII THE VANISHER XXIII THE ACETYLENE TORCH XXIV THE POLICE DOG XXV THE GOLD OF THE GODS I THE PERUVIAN DAGGER "There's something weird and mysterious about the robbery, Kennedy. They took the very thing I treasure most of all, an ancient Peruvian dagger." Professor Allan Norton was very much excited as he dropped into Craig's laboratory early that forenoon. Norton, I may say, was one of the younger members of the faculty, like Kennedy. Already, however, he had made for himself a place as one of the foremost of South American explorers and archaeologists. "How they got into the South American section of the Museum, though, I don't understand," he hurried on. "But, once in, that they should take the most valuable relic I brought back with me on this last expedition, I think certainly shows that it was a robbery with a deep-laid, premeditated purpose." "Nothing else is gone?" queried Kennedy. "Nothing," returned the professor. "That's the strangest part of it--to me. It was a peculiar dagger, too," he continued reminiscently. "I say that it was valuable, for on the blade were engraved some curious Inca characters. I wasn't able to take the time to decipher them, down there, for the age of the metal made them almost illegible. But now that I have all my stuff unpacked and arranged after my trip, I was just about to try--when along comes a thief and robs me. We can't have the University Museum broken into that way, you know, Kennedy." "I should say not," readily assented Craig. "I'd like to look the place over." "Just what I wanted," exclaimed Norton, heartily delighted, and leading the way. We walked across the campus with him to the Museum, still chatting. Norton was a tall, spare man, wiry, precisely the type one would pick to make an explorer in a tropical climate. His features were sharp, suggesting a clear and penetrating mind and a disposition to make the most of everything, no matter how slight. Indeed that had been his history, I knew. He had come to college a couple of years before Kennedy and myself, almost penniless, and had worked his way through by doing everything from waiting on table to tutoring. To-day he stood forth as a shining example of self-made intellectual man, as cultured as if he had sprung from a race of scholars, as practical as if he had taken to mills rather than museums. We entered a handsome white-marble building in the shape of a rectangle, facing the University Library, a building, by the way, which Norton had persuaded several wealthy trustees and other donors to erect. Kennedy at once began examining the section devoted to Latin America, going over everything very carefully. I looked about, too. There were treasures from Mexico and Peru, from every romantic bit of the wonderful countries south of us--blocks of porphyry with quaint grecques and hieroglyphic painting from Mitla, copper axes and pottery from Cuzco, sculptured stones and mosaics, jugs, cups, vases, little gods and great, sacrificial stones, a treasure house of Aztec and Inca lore--enough to keep one occupied for hours merely to look at. Yet, I reflected, following Norton, in all this mass of material, the thief seemed to have selected one, apparently insignificant, dagger, the thing which Norton prized because, somehow, it bore on its blade something which he had not, as yet, been able to fathom. Though Kennedy looked thoroughly and patiently, it seemed as though there was nothing there to tell any story of the robbery, and he turned his attention at last to other parts of the Museum. As he made his way about slowly, I noted that he was looking particularly into corners, behind cabinets, around angles. What he expected to find I could not even guess. Further along and on the same side of the building we came to the section devoted to Egyptology. Kennedy paused. Standing there, upright against the wall, was a mummy case. To me, even now, the thing had a creepy look. Craig pushed aside the stone lid irreverently and gazed keenly into the uncanny depths of the stone sarcophagus. An instant later he was down on his hands and knees, carefully examining the interior by means of a pocket lens. "I think I have made a start," he remarked, rising to his feet and facing us with an air of satisfaction. We said nothing, and he pointed to some almost undiscernible marks in a thin layer of dust that had collected in the sarcophagus. "If I'm not mistaken," he went on, "your thief got into the Museum during the daytime, and, when no one was looking, hid here. He must have stayed until the place was locked up at night. Then he could rob at his leisure, only taking care to confine his operations to the time between the rather infrequent rounds of the night watchman." Kennedy bent down again. "Look," he indicated. "There are the marks of shoes in the dust, shoes with nails in the heels, of course. I shall have to compare the marks that I have found here with those I have collected, following out the method of the immortal Bertillon. Every make of shoes has its own peculiarities, both in the number and the arrangement of the nails. Offhand, however, I should say that these shoes were American-made--though that, of course, does not necessarily mean that an American wore them. I may even be able to determine which of a number of individual pairs of shoes made the marks. I cannot tell that yet, until I study them. Walter, I wish you'd go over to my laboratory. In the second right-hand drawer of my desk you'll find a package of paper. I'd like to have it." "Don't you think you ought to preserve the marks?" I heard Norton hint, as I left. He had been watching Kennedy in open-eyed amazement and interest. "Exactly what I am sending Walter to do," he returned. "I have some specially prepared paper that will take those dust marks up and give me a perfect replica." I hurried back as fast as I could, and Kennedy bent to the task of preserving the marks. "Have you any idea who might have an object in stealing the dagger?" Kennedy asked, when he had finished. Norton shrugged his shoulders. "I believe some weird superstitions were connected with it," he replied. "It had a three-sided blade, and, as I told you, both the blade and the hilt were covered with peculiar markings." There seemed to be nothing more that could be discovered from a further examination of the Museum. It was plain enough that the thief must have let himself out of a side door which had a spring lock on it and closed itself. Not a mark or scratch was to be found on any of the window or door locks; nothing else seemed to have been disturbed. Evidently the thief had been after that one, to him priceless, object. Having got it, he was content to get away, leaving untouched the other treasures, some of which were even intrinsically valuable for the metal and precious stones in them. The whole affair seemed so strange to me, however, that, somehow, I could not help wondering whether Norton had told us the whole or only half the story as he knew it about the dagger and its history. Still talking with the archaeologist, Kennedy and I returned to his laboratory. We had scarcely reached the door when we heard the telephone ringing insistently. I answered, and it happened to be a call for me. It was the editor of the Star endeavouring to catch me, before I started downtown to the office, in order to give me an assignment. "That's strange," I exclaimed, hanging up the receiver and turning to Craig. "I've got to go out on a murder case--" "An interesting case?" asked Craig, interrupting his own train of investigation with a flash of professional interest. "Why, a man has been murdered in his apartment on Central Park, West, I believe. Luis de Mendoza is the name, and it seems--" "Don Luis de Mendoza?" repeated Norton, with a startled exclamation. "Why, he was an influential Peruvian, a man of affairs in his country, and an accomplished scholar. I--I--if you don't mind, I'd like to go over with you. I know the Mendozas." Kennedy was watching Norton's face keenly. "I think I'll go, too, Walter," he decided. "You won't lack assistants on this story, apparently." "Perhaps you can be of some assistance to them, also," put in Norton to Kennedy, as we left. It was only a short ride downtown, and our cab soon pulled up before a rather ornate entrance of a large apartment in one of the most exclusive sections of the city. We jumped out and entered, succeeding in making our way to the sixth floor, where Mendoza lived, without interference from the hallboy, who had been completely swamped by the rush that followed the excitement of finding one of the tenants murdered. There was no missing the place. The hall had been taken over by the reporters, who had established themselves there, terrible as an army with concealed pads and pencils. From one of the morning men already there I learned that our old friend Dr. Leslie, the coroner, was already in charge. Somehow, whether it was through Kennedy's acquaintance with Dr. Leslie or Norton's acquaintance with the Mendozas and the Spanish tongue, we found ourselves beyond the barrier of the door which shut out my rivals. As we stood for a moment in a handsome and tastefully furnished living room a young lady passed through hurriedly. She paused in the middle of the room as she saw us and eyed us tremulously, as though to ask us why we had intruded. It was a rather awkward situation. Quickly Norton came to the rescue. "I hope you will pardon me, Senorita," he bowed in perfect Spanish, "but--" "Oh, Professor Norton, it is you!" she cried in English, recognizing him. "I'm so nervous that I didn't see you at first." She glanced from him to us, inquiringly. I recollected that my editor had mentioned a daughter who might prove to be an interesting and important figure in the mystery. She spoke in an overwrought, agitated tone. I studied her furtively. Inez de Mendoza was unmistakably beautiful, of the dark Spanish type, with soft brown eyes that appealed to one when she talked, and a figure which at any less tragic moment one might have been pardoned for admiring. Her soft olive skin, masses of dark hair, and lustrous, almost voluptuous, eyes contrasted wonderfully with the finely chiselled lines of her nose, the firm chin, and graceful throat and neck. Here one recognized a girl of character and family in the depths of whose soul smouldered all the passion of a fiery race. "I hope you will pardon me for intruding," Norton repeated. "Believe me, it is not with mere idle curiosity. Let me introduce my friend, Professor Kennedy, the scientific detective, of whom you have heard, no doubt. This is his assistant, Mr. Jameson, of the Star. I thought perhaps they might stand between you and that crowd in the hall," he added, motioning toward the reporters on the other side of the door. "You can trust them absolutely. I'm sure that if there is anything any of us can do to aid you in--in your trouble, you may be sure that we are at your service." She looked about a moment in the presence of three strangers who had invaded the quietness of what had been, at least temporarily, home. She seemed to be seeking some one on whom to lean, as though some support had suddenly been knocked from under her, leaving her dazed at the change. "Oh, madre de Dios!" she cried. "What shall I do? Oh, my father--my poor father!" Inez Mendoza was really a pathetic and appealing figure as she stood there in the room, alone. Quickly she looked us over, as if, by some sort of occult intuition of woman, she were reading our souls. Then, instinctively almost, she turned to Kennedy. Kennedy seemed to recognize her need. Norton and I retired, somewhat more than figuratively. "You--you are a detective?" she queried. "You can read mystery--like a book?" Kennedy smiled encouragingly. "Hardly as my friend Walter here often paints me," he returned. "Still, now and then, we are able to use the vast knowledge of wise men the world over to help those in trouble. Tell me--everything," he soothed, as though knowing that to talk would prove a safety-valve for her pent-up emotions. "Perhaps I can help you." For a moment she did not know what to do. Then, almost before she knew it, apparently, she began to talk to him, forgetting that we were in the room. "Tell me how the thing happened, all that you know, how you found it out," prompted Craig. "Oh, it was midnight, last night; yes, late," she returned wildly. "I was sleeping when my maid, Juanita, wakened me and told me that Mr. Lockwood was in the living room and wanted to see me, must see me. I dressed hurriedly, for it came to me that something must be the matter. I think I must have come out sooner than they expected, for before they knew it I had run across the living room and looked through the door into the den, you call it, over there." She pointed at a heavy door, but did not, evidently could not, let her eyes rest on it. "There was my father, huddled in a chair, and blood had run out from an ugly wound in his side. I screamed and fell on my knees beside him. But," she shuddered, "it was too late. He was cold. He did not answer." Kennedy said nothing, but let her weep into her dainty lace handkerchief, though the impulse was strong to do anything to calm her grief. "Mr. Lockwood had come in to visit him on business, had found the door into the hall open, and entered. No one seemed to be about; but the lights were burning. He went on into the den. There was my father--" She stopped, and could not go on at all for several minutes. "And Mr. Lockwood, who is he?" asked Craig gently. "My father and I, we have been in this country only a short time," she replied, trying to speak in good English in spite of her emotion, "with his partner in a--a mining venture--Mr. Lockwood." She paused again and hesitated, as though in this strange land of the north she had no idea of which way to turn for help. But once started, now, she did not stop again. "Oh," she went on passionately, "I don't know what it was that came over my father. But lately he had been a changed man. Sometimes I thought he was--what you call--mad. I should have gone to see a doctor about him," she added wildly, her feelings getting the better of her. "But it is no longer a case for a doctor. It is a case for a detective--for some one who is more than a detective. You cannot bring him back, but--" She could not go on. Yet her broken sentence spoke volumes, in her pleading, soft, musical voice, which was far more pleasing to the ear than that of the usual Latin-American. I had heard that the women of Lima were famed for their beauty and melodious voices. Senorita Inez surely upheld their reputation. There was an appealing look now in her soft deep-brown eyes, and her thin, delicate lips trembled as she hurried on with her strange story. "I never saw my father in such a state before," she murmured. "For days all he had talked about was the 'big fish,' the peje grande, whatever that might mean--and the curse of Mansiche." The recollection of the past few days seemed to be too much for her. Almost before we knew it, before Norton, who had started to ask her a question, could speak, she excused herself and fled from the room, leaving only the indelible impression of loveliness and the appeal for help that was irresistible. Kennedy turned to Norton. But just then the door to the den opened and we saw our friend Dr. Leslie. He saw us, too, and took a few steps in our direction. "What--you here, Kennedy?" he greeted in surprise as Craig shook hands and introduced Norton. "And Jameson, too? Well, I think you've found a case at last that will baffle you." As we talked he led the way across the living room and into the den from which he had just come. "It is very strange," he said, telling at once all that he had been able to discover. "Senor Mendoza was discovered here about midnight last night by his partner, Mr. Lockwood. There seem to be no clues to how or by whom he was murdered. No locks had been broken. I have examined the hall-boy who was here last night. He seems to be off his post a good deal when it is late. He saw Mr. Lockwood come in, and took him in the elevator up to the sixth floor. After that we can find nothing but the open door into the apartment. It is not at all impossible that some one might have come in when the boy was off his post, have walked up, even have walked down, the stairs again. In fact, it must have been that way. No windows, not even on the fire-escape, have been tampered with. In fact, the murder must have been done by some one admitted to the apartment late by Mendoza himself." We walked over to the couch on which lay the body covered by a sheet. Dr. Leslie drew down the sheet. On the face was a most awful look, a terrible stare and contortion of the features, and a deep, almost purple, discoloration. The muscles were all tense and rigid. I shall never forget that face and its look, half of pain, half of fear, as if of something nameless. Mendoza had been a heavy-set man, whose piercing black eyes beetled forth, in life, from under bushy brows. Even in death, barring that horrible look, he was rather distinguished-looking, and his close-cropped hair and moustache set him off as a man of affairs and consequence in his own country. "Most peculiar, Kennedy," reiterated Dr. Leslie, pointing to the breast. "You see that wound? I can't quite determine whether that was the real cause of death or not. Of course, it's a bad wound, it's true. But there seems to be something else here, too. Look at the pupils of his eyes, how contracted they are. The lungs seem congested, too. He has all the marks of having been asphyxiated. Yet there are no indications on his throat of violence such as would be necessary if that were the case. There could have been no such thing as illuminating gas, nor have we found any trace of any receptacles which might have held poison. I can't seem to make it out." Kennedy bent over the body and looked at it attentively for several minutes, while we stood back of him, scarcely uttering a word in the presence of this terrible thing. Deftly Kennedy managed to extract a few drops of blood from about the wound and transfer them to a very small test-tube which he carried in a little emergency pocket-case in order to preserve material for future study. "You say the dagger was triangular, Norton?" he asked finally, without looking up from his minute examination. "Yes, with another blade that shot out automatically when you knew the secret of pressing the hilt in a certain way. The outside triangular blade separated into three to allow an inner blade to shoot out." Kennedy had risen and, as Norton described the Inca dagger, looked from one to the other of us keenly. "That blade was poisoned," he concluded quietly. "We have a clue to your missing dagger. Mendoza was murdered by it!" II THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE "I should like to have another talk with Senorita Inez," remarked Kennedy, a few minutes later, as with Dr. Leslie and Professor Norton we turned into the living room and closed the door to the den. While Norton volunteered to send one of the servants in to see whether the young lady was able to stand the strain of another interview, Dr. Leslie received a hurry call to another case. "You'll let me know, Kennedy, if you discover anything?" he asked, shaking hands with us. "I shall keep you informed, also, from my end. That poison completely baffles me--so far. You know, we might as well work together." "Assuredly," agreed Craig, as the coroner left. "That," he added to me, as the door closed, "was one word for me and two for himself. I can do the work; he wants to save his official face. He never will know what that poison was--until I tell him." Inez had by this time so far recovered her composure that she was able to meet us again in the living room. "I'm very sorry to have to trouble you again," apologized Kennedy, "but if I am to get anywhere in this case I must have the facts." She looked at him, half-puzzled, and, I fancied, half-frightened, too. "Anything I can tell you--of course, ask me," she said. "Had your father any enemies who might desire his death?" shot out Kennedy, almost without warning. "No," she answered slowly, still watching him carefully, then adding hastily: "Of course, you know, no one who tries to do anything is absolutely without enemies, though." "I mean," repeated Craig, carefully noting a certain hesitation in her tone, "was there any one who, for reasons best known to himself, might have murdered him in a way peculiarly likely under the circumstances, say, with a dagger?" Inez flashed a quick glance at Kennedy, as if to inquire just how much or how little he really knew. I got the impression from it, at least, that she was holding back some suspicion for a reason that perhaps she would not even have admitted to herself. I saw that Norton was also following the line of Kennedy's questioning keenly, though he said nothing. Before Kennedy could take up the lead again, her maid, Juanita, a very pretty girl of Spanish and Indian descent, entered softly. "Mr. Lockwood," she whispered, but not so low that we could not hear. "Won't you ask him to come in, Nita?" she replied. A moment later a young man pushed open the door--a tall, clean-cut young fellow, whose face bore the tan of a sun much stronger than any about New York. As I took his appraisal, I found him unmistakably of the type of American soldier of fortune who has been carried by the wander-spirit down among the romantic republics to the south of our own. "Professor Kennedy," began Senorita Mendoza, presenting us all in turn, "let me introduce Mr. Lockwood, my father's partner in several ventures which brought us to New York." As we shook hands I could not help feeling that the young mining engineer, for such he proved to be by ostensible profession, was something more to her than a mere partner in her father's schemes. "I believe I've met Professor Norton," he remarked, as they shook hands. "Perhaps he remembers when we were in Lima." "Perfectly," replied Norton, returning the penetrating glance in kind. "Also in New York," he added. Lockwood turned abruptly. "Are you quite sure you are able to stand the strain of this interview?" he asked Inez in a low tone. Norton glanced at Kennedy and raised his eyebrows just the fraction of an inch, as if to call attention to the neat manner in which Lockwood had turned the subject. Inez smiled sadly. "I must," she said, in a forced tone. I fancied that Lockwood noted and did not relish an air of restraint in her words. "It was you, I believe, Mr. Lockwood, who found Senor Mendoza last night?" queried Kennedy, as if to read the answer into the record, although he already knew it. "Yes," replied Lockwood, without hesitation, though with a glance at the averted head of Inez, and choosing his words very carefully, as if trying hard not to say more than she could bear. "Yes. I came up here to report on some financial matters which interested both of us, very late, perhaps after midnight. I was about to press the buzzer on the door when I saw that the door was slightly ajar. I opened it and found lights still burning. The rest I think you must already know." Even that tactful reference to the tragedy was too much for Inez. She suppressed a little convulsive sob, but did not, this time, try to flee from the room. "You saw nothing about the den that aroused any suspicions?" pursued Kennedy. "No bottle, no glass? There wasn't the odour of any gas or drug?" Lockwood shook his head slowly, fixing his eyes on Kennedy's face, but not looking at him. "No," he answered; "I have told Dr. Leslie just what I found. If there had been anything else I'm sure I would have noticed it while I was waiting for Miss Inez to come in." His answers seemed perfectly frank and straight-forward. Yet somehow I could not get over the feeling that he, as well as Inez, was not telling quite all he knew--perhaps not about the murder, but about matters that might be related to it. Norton evidently felt the same way. "You saw no weapon--a dagger?" he interrupted suddenly. The young man faced Norton squarely. To me it seemed as if he had been expecting the question. "Not a thing," he said deliberately. "I looked about carefully, too. Whatever weapon was used must have been taken away by the murderer," he added. Juanita entered again, and Inez excused herself to answer the telephone, while we stood in the living room chatting for a few minutes. "What is this 'curse of Mansiche' which the Senorita has mentioned?" asked Kennedy, seeing a chance to open a new line of inquiry with Lockwood. "Oh, I don't know," he returned, impatiently flicking the ashes of a cigarette which he had lighted the moment Inez left the room, as though such stories had no interest for the practical mind of an engineer. "Some old superstition, I suppose." Lockwood seemed to regard Norton with a sort of aversion, if not hostility, and I fancied that Norton, on his part, neglected no opportunity to let the other know that he was watching him. "I don't know much about the story," resumed Lockwood a moment later as no one said anything. "But I do know that there is treasure in that great old Chimu mound near Truxillo. Don Luis has the government concession to bore into the mound, too, and we are raising the capital to carry the scheme through to success." He had come to the end of a sentence. Yet the inflection of his voice showed plainly that it was not the end of the idea that had been in his mind. "If you knew where to dig," suddenly supplied Norton, gazing keenly into the eyes of the soldier of fortune. Lockwood did not answer, though it was evident that that had been the thought unexpressed in his remarks. The return of the Senorita to the room seemed to break the tension. "It was the house telephone," she said, in a quiet voice. "The hall-boy didn't know whether to admit a visitor who comes with his sympathy." Then she turned from us to Lockwood. "You must know him," she said, somewhat embarrassed. "Senor Alfonso de Moche." Lockwood suppressed a frown, but said nothing, for, a moment later, a young man came in. Almost in silence he advanced to Inez and took her hand in a manner that plainly showed his sympathy in her bereavement. "I have just heard," he said simply, "and I hastened around to tell you how much I feel your loss. If there is anything I can do--" He stopped, and did not finish the sentence. It was unnecessary. His eyes finished it for him. Alfonso de Moche was, I thought, a very handsome fellow, though not of the Spanish type at all. His forehead was high, with a shock of straight black hair, his skin rather copper-coloured, nose slightly aquiline, chin and mouth firm; in fact, the whole face was refined and intellectual, though tinged with melancholy. "Thank you," she murmured, then turned to us. "I believe you are acquainted with Mr. de Moche, Professor Norton?" she asked. "You know he is taking post-graduate work at the University." "Slightly," returned Norton, gazing at the young man in a manner that plainly disconcerted him. "I believe I have met his mother in Peru." Senorita Mendoza seemed to colour at the mention of Senora de Moche. It flashed over me that, in his greeting Alfonso had said nothing of his mother. I wondered if there might be a reason for it. Could it be that Senorita Mendoza had some antipathy which did not include the son? Though we did not seem to be making much progress in this way in solving the mystery, still I felt that before we could go ahead we must know the little group about which it centred. There seemed to be currents and cross-currents here which we did not understand, but which must be charted if we were to steer a straight course. "And Professor Kennedy?" she added, turning to us. "I think I have seen Mr. de Moche about the campus," said Craig, as I, too, shook hands with him, "although you are not in any of my classes." "No, Professor," concurred the young man, who was, however, considerably older than the average student taking courses like his. I found it quite enough to watch the faces of those about me just then. Between Lockwood and de Moche it seemed that there existed a latent hostility. The two eyed each other with decided disfavour. As for Norton, he seemed to be alternately watching each of them. An awkward silence followed, and de Moche seemed to take the cue, for after a few more remarks to Inez he withdrew as gracefully as he could, with a parting interchange of frigid formalities with Lockwood. It did not take much of a detective to deduce that both of the young men might have agreed on one thing, though that caused the most serious of differences between them--their estimation of Inez de Mendoza. Inez, on her part, seemed also to be visibly relieved at his departure, though she had been cordial enough to him. I wondered what it all meant. Lockwood, too, seemed to be ill at ease still. But it was a different uneasiness, rather directed at Norton than at us. Once before I had thought he was on the point of excusing himself, but the entrance of de Moche seemed to have decided him to stay at least as long as his rival. "I beg your pardon, Senorita," he now apologized, "but I really must go. There are still some affairs which I must attend to in order to protect the interests we represent." He turned to us. "You will excuse me, I know," he added, "but I have a very important appointment. You know Don Luis and I were assisting in organizing the campaign of Stuart Whitney to interest American manufacturers, and particularly bankers, in the chances in South America which lie at hand, if we are only awake to take advantage of them. I shall be at your service, Senorita, as soon as the meeting is over. I presume I shall see you again?" he nodded to Kennedy. "Quite likely," returned Kennedy drily. "If there is any assistance I can render in clearing up this dreadful thing," went on Lockwood, in a lower tone to us, "you may count on me absolutely." "Thank you," returned Craig, with a significant glance. "I may have to take up that offer." "Do so, by all means," he reiterated, bowing to Norton and backing out of the door. Alone again with Inez Mendoza, Kennedy turned suddenly. "Who is this Senor de Moche?" he asked. "I gather that you must have known him in Peru." "Yes," she agreed. "I knew him in Lima"; then adding, as if by way of confession, "when he was a student at the University." There was something in both her tone and manner that would lead one to believe that she had only the kindliest feelings toward de Moche, whatever might be the case, as it seemed, with his mother. For a moment Kennedy now advanced and took Senorita Inez by the hand. "I must go now," he said simply. "If there is anything which you have not told me, I should like to know." "No--nothing," she answered. He did not take his eyes from hers. "If you should recall anything else," he persisted, "don't hesitate to tell me. I will come here, or you may come to the laboratory, whichever is more convenient." "I shall do so," she replied. "And thank you a thousand times for the trouble you are going to in my behalf. You may be sure that I appreciate it." Norton also bade her farewell, and she thanked him for having brought us over. I noticed also that Norton, though considerably older than any of us, had apparently succumbed to the spell of her wonderful eyes and face. "I also would be glad to help you," he promised. "You can usually find me at the Museum." "Thank you all," she murmured. "You are all so kind to me. An hour ago I felt that I had not a friend in all this big city--except Mr. Lockwood. Now I feel that I am not quite all alone." She said it to Norton, but it was really meant for Kennedy. I know Craig shared my own feelings. It was a rare pleasure to work for her. She seemed most appreciative of anything that was done for her in her defenceless position. As we passed out of the apartment house and sought our cab again, Kennedy was the first to speak, and to Norton. "Do you know anything more about these men, Lockwood and de Moche?" he queried, as we sped uptown. "I don't know a thing," he replied cautiously. "I--I'd much prefer not to talk of suspicions." "But the dagger," insisted Kennedy. "Have you no suspicions of what became of it and who took it?" "I'd prefer not to talk of mere suspicions," he repeated. Little was said as we turned in at the campus and at last drew up before Norton's wing of the Museum. "You will let me know of any development, no matter how trivial?" asked Kennedy, as we parted. "Your dagger seems to have stirred up more trouble than there was any reason to suppose when you came to me first." "I should say so," he agreed. "I don't know how to repay the interest you have shown in its recovery. If anything else materializes, I shall surely get word to you immediately." As we turned to leave, I could not help thinking of the manner of Lockwood and Norton toward each other. The name Stuart Whitney ran through my head. Stuart Whitney was a trustee of the University who had contributed heavily, among other things, to Norton's various expeditions to South America. Was it that Norton felt a peculiar loyalty to Whitney, or was he jealous that any one else should succeed in interesting his patron in things South American? The actions of the two young men, Lockwood and de Moche, recurred to me. "Well," I remarked, as we walked along, "what do you think it is--a romance or a simple crime-hunt?" "Both, I suspect," replied Craig abstractedly. "Only not simple." III THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL DETECTIVE "I think I'll go into the University Library," Craig remarked, as we left Norton before his building. "I want to refresh my mind on some of those old Peruvian antiquities and traditions. What the Senorita hinted at may prove to be very important. I suppose you will have to turn in a story to the Star soon?" "Yes," I agreed, "I'll have to turn in something, although I'd prefer to wait." "Try to get an assignment to follow the case to the end," suggested Craig. "I think you'll find it worth while. Anyhow, this will give you a chance for a breathing space, and, if I have this thing doped out right, you won't get another for some time. I'll meet you over in the laboratory in a couple of hours." Craig hurried up the long flight of white-marble steps to the library and disappeared, while I jumped on the subway and ran downtown to the office. It took me, as I knew it would, considerably over a couple of hours to clear things up at the Star, so that I could take advantage of a special arrangement which I had made, so that I could, when a case warranted it, co-operate with Kennedy. My story was necessarily brief, but that was what I wanted just now. I did not propose to have the whole field of special-feature writers camping on my preserve. Uptown I hurried again, afraid that Kennedy had finished and might have been called away. But when I reached the laboratory he was not there, and I found that he had not been. Up and down I paced restlessly. There was nothing else to do but wait. If he was unable to keep his appointment here with me, I knew that he would soon telephone. What was it, I wondered, that kept him delving into the archaeological lore of the library? I had about given him up, when he hurried into the laboratory in a high state of excitement. "What did you find?" I queried. "Has anything happened?" "Let me tell you first what I found in the library," he replied, tilting his hat back on his head and alternately thrusting and withdrawing his fingers in his waistcoat pockets, as if in some way that might help him to piece together some scattered fragments of a story which he had just picked up. "I've been looking up that hint that the Senorita dropped when she used those words peje grande, which mean, literally, 'big fish,'" he resumed. "Walter, it fires the imagination. You have read of the wealth that Pizarro found in Peru, of course." Visions of Prescott flashed through my mind as he spoke. "Well, where are the gold and silver of the conquistadores? Gone to the melting-pot, centuries ago. But is there none left? The Indians in Peru believe so, at any rate. And, Walter, there are persons who would stop at nothing to get at the secret. "It is a matter of history that soon after the conquest a vast fortune was unearthed of which the King of Spain's fifth amounted to five million dollars. That treasure was known as the peje chica--the little fish. One version of the story tells that an Inca ruler, the great Cacique Mansiche, had observed with particular attention the kindness of a young Spaniard toward the people of the conquered race. Also, he had observed that the man was comparatively poor. At any rate, he revealed the secret of the hiding-place of the peje chica, on condition that a part of the wealth should be used to advance the interests of the Indians. "The most valuable article discovered was in the form of a fish of solid gold and so large that the Spaniards considered it a rare prize. But the Cacique assured his young friend that it was only the little fish, that a much greater treasure existed, worth many times the value of this one. "The sequel of the story is that the Spaniard forgot his promise, went off to Spain, and spent all his gold. He was returning for the peje grande, of which he had made great boasts, but before he could get it he was killed. Prescott, I believe, gives another version, in which he says that the Spaniard devoted a large part of his wealth to the relief of the Indians and gave large sums to the Peruvian churches. Other stories deny that it was Mansiche who told the first secret, but that it was another Indian. One may, I suppose, pay his money and take his choice. But the point, as far as we are concerned in this case, is that there is still believed to be the great fish, which no one has found. Who knows? Perhaps, somehow, Mendoza had the secret of the peje grande?" Kennedy paused, and I could feel the tense interest with which his delving into the crumbling past had now endowed this already fascinating case. "And the curse?" I put in. "About that we do not know," he replied. "Except that we do know that Mansiche was the great Cacique or ruler of northern Peru. The natives are believed to have buried a far greater treasure than even that which the Spaniards carried off. Mansiche is said to have left a curse on any native who ever divulged the whereabouts of the treasure, and the curse was also to fall on any Spaniard who might discover it. That is all we know--yet. Gold was used lavishly in the temples. That great hoard is really the Gold of the Gods. Surely, as we have seen it so far in this case, it must be cursed." There was a knock on the laboratory door, and I sprang to open it, expecting to find that it was something for Kennedy. Instead there stood one of the office boys of the Star. "Why, hello, Tommy," I greeted him. "What seems to be the matter now?" "A letter for you, Mr. Jameson," he replied, handing over a plain envelope. "It came just after you left. The Boss thought it might be important--something about that story, I guess. Anyhow, he told me to take it up to you on my way home, sir." I looked at it again. It bore simply my name and the address of the Star, not written, but, strange to say, printed in ungainly, rough characters, as though some one were either not familiar with writing English or desired to conceal his handwriting. "Where did it come from--and how?" I asked, as I tore the envelope open. "I don't know where, sir," replied Tommy. "A boy brought it. Said a man uptown gave him a quarter to deliver it to you." I looked at the contents in blank amazement. There was nothing in the letter except a quarter sheet of ordinary size note paper such as that used in typewritten correspondence. Printed on it, in characters exactly like those on the outside of the envelope, were the startling words: "BEWARE THE CURSE OF MANSICHE ON THE GOLD OF THE GODS." Underneath this inscription appeared the rude drawing of a dagger in which some effort had evidently been made to make it appear three-sided. "Well, of all things, what do you think of that?" I cried, tossing the thing over to Kennedy. He took it and read it; his face puckered deeply. "I'm not surprised," he said, a moment later, looking up. "Do you know, I was just about to tell you what happened at the library. I had a feeling all the time I was there of being watched. I don't know why or how, but, somehow, I felt that some one was interested in the books I was reading. It made me uncomfortable. I was late, anyhow, and I decided not to give them the satisfaction of seeing me any more--at least in the library. So I have had a number of the books on Peru which I wanted reserved, and they'll be sent over later, here. No, I'm not surprised that you received this. Would you remember the boy?" he asked of Tommy. "I think so," replied Tommy. "He didn't have on a uniform, though. It wasn't a messenger." There was no use to question him further. He had evidently told all that he knew, and finally we had to let him go, with a parting injunction to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut. Kennedy continued to study the note on the quarter sheet of paper long after the boy had gone. "You know," he remarked thoughtfully, after a while, "as nearly as I can make the thing out with the slender information that we have so far, the weirdest superstitions seem to cluster about that dagger which Norton lost. I wouldn't be surprised if it took us far back into the dim past of the barbaric splendour of the lost Inca civilization of Peru." He waved the sheet of paper for emphasis. "You see, some one has used it here as a sign of terror. Perhaps somehow it bore the secret of the big fish--who knows? None of the writers and explorers have ever found it. The most they can say is that it may be handed down from father to son through a long line. At any rate, the secret of the hiding-place seems to have been safely kept. No one has ever found the treasure. It would be strange, wouldn't it, if it remained for some twentieth-century civilized man to unearth the thing and start again the curse that historians say was uttered and seems always to have followed the thing?" "Kennedy, this affair is getting on my nerves already." While Craig was speaking the door of the laboratory had opened without our hearing it, and there stood Norton again. He had waited until Craig had finished before he had spoken. We looked at him, startled, ourselves. "I had some work to do after I left you," went on Norton, without stopping. "In my letter-box were several letters, but I forgot to look at them until just now, when I was leaving. Then I picked them up--and--look at this thing that was among them." Norton laid down on the laboratory table a plain envelope and a quarter sheet of paper on which were printed, except for his own name instead of mine, an almost exact replica of the note which I had received. "BEWARE THE CURSE OF MANSICHE ON THE GOLD OF THE GODS." Kennedy and I looked at him. Already, evidently, he had seen that Kennedy held in his hand the note that had come to me. "I can't make anything out of it," went on Norton, evidently much worried. "First I lose the dagger. Next you say it was used to murder Mendoza. Then I get this. Now, if any one can get into the Museum to steal the dagger, they could get in to carry out any threat of revenge, real or fancied." Looked at in that respect, I felt that it was indeed a real cause of worry for Norton. But, then, it flashed over me, was not my own case worse? I was to be responsible for telling the story. Might not some unseen hand strike at me, perhaps sooner than at him? Kennedy had taken the two notes and was scanning them eagerly. Just then an automobile drew up outside, and a moment later we heard a tap at the door which Kennedy had closed after the entrance of Norton. I opened it. "Is Professor Kennedy here?" I heard a voice inquire. "I'm one of the orderlies at the City Hospital, next to the Morgue, where Dr. Leslie has his laboratory. I've a message for Professor Kennedy, if he's in." Kennedy took the envelope, which bore the stamp of Dr. Leslie's department, and tore it open. "My dear Kennedy," he read, in an undertone. "I've been engaged in investigating that poison which probably surrounds the wound in the Mendoza case, but as yet have nothing to report. It is certainly none of the things which we ordinarily run up against. Enclosed you will find a slip of paper and the envelope which it came in--something, I take it, that has been sent me by a crank. Would you treat it seriously or disregard it? Leslie." As Kennedy had unfolded Leslie's own letter a piece of paper had fluttered to the floor. I picked it up mechanically, and only now looked at it, as Craig finished reading. On it was another copy of the threat that had been sent to both Norton and myself! The hospital orderly had scarcely gone when another tap came at the door. "Your books from the library, Professor," announced a student who was employed in the library as part payment of his tuition. "I've signed the slip for them, sir." He deposited the books on a desk, a huge pile of them, which reached from his outstretched arms to his chin. As he did so the pressure of his arms released the pile of books and the column collapsed. From a book entitled "New and Old Peru," which fell with the pile, slipped a plain white envelope. Kennedy saw it before either of us, and seized it. "Here's one for me," he said, tearing it open. Sure enough, in the same rude printing on a quarter sheet were the words: "BEWARE THE CURSE OF MANSICHE ON THE GOLD OF THE GODS." We could only stare at each other and at that tell-tale sign of the Inca dagger underneath. What did it mean? Who had sent the warnings? Kennedy alone seemed to regard the affair as if with purely scientific interest. He took the four pieces of paper and laid them down before him on the table. Then he looked up suddenly. "They match perfectly," he said quietly, gathering them up and placing them in a wallet which he carried. "All the indentures of the tearing correspond. Four warnings seem to have been sent to those who are likely to find out something of the secret." Norton seemed to have gained somewhat of his composure now that he had been able to talk to some one. "What are you going to do--give it up?" he asked tensely. "Nothing could have insured my sticking to it harder," answered Craig grimly. "Then we'll all have to stick together," said Norton slowly. "We all seem to be in the same boat." As he rose to go he extended a hand to each of us. "I'll stick," repeated Kennedy, with that peculiar bulldog look of intensity on his face which I had come to know so well. IV THE TREASURE HUNTERS Norton had scarcely gone, and Kennedy was still studying the four pieces of paper on which the warning had been given, when our laboratory door was softly pushed open again. It was Senorita Mendoza, looking more beautiful than ever in her plain black mourning dress, the unnatural pallor of her face heightening the wonderful lustrous eyes that looked about as though half frightened at what she was doing. "I hope nothing has happened," greeted Kennedy, placing an easy-chair for her. "But I'm glad to see that you have confidence enough to trust me." She looked about doubtfully at the vast amount of paraphernalia which Craig had collected in his scientific warfare on crime. Though she did not understand it, it seemed to impress her. "No," she murmured, "nothing new has happened. You told me to call on you if I should think of anything else." She said it with an air as if confessing something. It was apparent that, whatever it was, she had known it all the time and only after a struggle had brought herself to telling it. "Then you have thought of something?" prompted Craig. "Yes," she replied in a low tone. Then with an effort she went on: "I don't know whether you know it or not, but my family is an old one, one of the oldest in Peru." Kennedy nodded encouragingly. "Back in the old days, after Pizarro," she hurried on, no longer able to choose her words, but blurting the thing out directly, "an ancestor of mine was murdered by an Inca dagger." She stopped again and looked about, actually frightened at her own temerity, evidently. Kennedy and his twentieth-century surroundings seemed again to reassure her. "I can't tell you the story," she resumed. "I don't know it. My father knew it. But it was some kind of family secret, for he never told me. Once when I asked him he put me off; told me to wait until I was a little older." "And you think that may have something to do with the case?" asked Kennedy, trying to draw out anything more that she knew. "I don't know," she answered frankly. "But don't you think that it is strange--an ancestor of mine murdered and now, hundreds of years afterward, my father, the last of his line in direct descent, murdered in the same way, by an Inca dagger that has disappeared?" "Then you were listening while I was talking to Professor Norton?" shot out Kennedy, not unkindly, but rather as a surprise test to see what she would say. "You cannot blame me for that," she returned simply. "Hardly," smiled Kennedy. "And I appreciate your reticence--as well as your coming here finally to tell me. Indeed, it is strange. Surely you must have some other suspicions," he persisted, "something that you feel, even though you do not know?" Kennedy was leaning forward, looking deeply into her eyes, as if he would read what was passing in her mind. She met his gaze for a moment, then looked away. "You heard Mr. Lockwood say that he had become associated with a Mr. Whitney, Mr. Stuart Whitney, down in Wall Street?" she ventured. Kennedy did not take his eyes from her face as he sought to extract the reluctant words from her. "Mr. Whitney has been largely interested in Peru, in business and in mining," she went on slowly. "He has given large sums to scholars down there, to Professor Norton's expeditions from New York. I--I'm afraid of that Mr. Whitney!" Her quiet tone had risen to a pitch of tremulous excitement. Her face, which had been pale from the strain of the tragedy, was now full of colour, and her breast rose and fell with suppressed emotion. "Afraid of him--why?" asked Kennedy. There was no more reticence. Once having said so much, she seemed to feel that she must go on and tell her fears. "Because," she went on, "he--he knows a woman--whom my father knew." A sudden flash of fire seemed to light up her dark eyes. "A woman of Truxillo," she continued, "Senora de Moche." "De Moche," repeated Kennedy, recalling the name and a still unexplained incident of our first interview. "Who is this Senora de Moche?" he asked, studying her as if she had been under a lens. "A Peruvian of an old Indian family," she replied, in a low tone, as if the words were forced from her. "She has come to New York with her son, Alfonso. You remember--you met him. He is studying here at the University." Again I noted the different manner in which she spoke the two names of mother and son. Evidently there was some feud, some barrier between her and the elder woman, which did not extend to Alfonso. Kennedy reached for the University catalogue and found the name, "Alfonso de Moche." He was, as he had told us, a post-graduate student in the engineering school and, therefore, not in any of Kennedy's own classes. "You say your father knew the Senora?" asked Kennedy. "Yes," she replied, in a low voice, "he had had some dealings with her. I cannot say just what they were; I do not know. Socially, of course, it was different. They did not belong to the same circle as ours in Lima." From her tone I gathered that there existed a race prejudice between those of old Spanish descent and the descendants of the Indians. That, however, could not account for her attitude. At least with her the prejudice did not extend to Alfonso. "Senora de Moche is a friend of Mr. Whitney?" queried Kennedy. "Yes, I believe she has placed some of her affairs in his hands. The de Moches live at the Prince Edward Albert Hotel, and Mr. Whitney lives there, too. I suppose they see more or less of each other." "H-m," mused Kennedy. "You know Mr. Whitney, I suppose?" "Not very well," she answered. "Of course, I have met him. He has been to visit my father, and my father has been down at his office, with Mr. Lockwood. But I do not know much about him, except that he is what you Americans call a promoter." Apparently, Inez was endeavouring to be frank in telling her suspicions, much more so even than Norton had been. But I could not help feeling that she was trying to shield some one, though not to the extent of consciously putting us on a wrong scent. "I shall try to see Mr. Whitney as soon as possible," said Kennedy, as she rose to go. "And Senora de Moche, too." I fancied that Senorita Inez, although she had not told us much, felt relieved. Again she murmured her thanks as she left and again Kennedy repeated his injunction to tell everything that happened that could possibly have any bearing on the case. "That's a rather peculiar phase," he considered, when we were alone, "this de Moche affair." "Yes," I agreed. "Do you suppose that woman could be using Whitney for some purpose?" "Or Whitney using her," suggested Kennedy. "There's so much to be done at once that I hardly know where to begin. We must see both of them as soon as possible. Meanwhile, that message from Dr. Leslie about the poison interests me. I must at least start my tests of the blood samples that I extracted. Walter, may I ask you to leave me here in the laboratory undisturbed?" I had some writing on my news story to do, and went into the room next to the laboratory, where I was soon busily engaged tapping my typewriter. Suddenly I became conscious of that feeling, which Kennedy had hinted at, of being watched. Perhaps I had heard a footstep outside and was not consciously aware of it. But, at any rate, I had the feeling. I stopped tapping the keys and wheeled unexpectedly about in my chair. I am sure that I caught just a fleeting glimpse of a face dodging back from the window, which was on the first floor. Whose face it was I am not prepared to assert exactly. But there was a face, and the fleeting glimpse of the eyes and forehead was just enough to give me the impression that they were familiar, without enabling me to identify them. At any rate, the occurrence made me feel decidedly uncomfortable, especially after the warning letters that we had all received. I sprang to my feet and ran to the door. But it was too late. The intruder had disappeared. Still, the more I thought about it, the more determined I was to try to verify an indistinct suspicion, if possible. I put on my hat and walked hurriedly over to the office of the registrar. Sure enough, I found that Alfonso de Moche had been at the University that day, must have attended a lecture an hour or so before. Having nothing else to do, I hunted up some of his professors and tried to quiz them about him. As I had expected, they told me that he was an excellent student, though very quiet and reserved. His mind seemed to run along the line of engineering, and particularly mining. I could not help coming to the conclusion that undoubtedly he, too, was infected by the furore for treasure hunting, in spite of his Indian ancestry. Yet there seemed to be surprisingly little known about him outside of the lecture room and laboratory. The professors knew that he lived with his mother at a hotel downtown. He seemed to have little or nothing to do with the other students outside of class work. Altogether he was an enigma, as far as the social life of the University went. It looked very much as though he had come to New York quietly to prepare himself for the search for the buried treasure. Had the Gold of the Gods lured him into its net, too? Reflecting on the tangle of events, the strange actions of Lockwood and the ambitions of Whitney, I retraced my steps in the direction of the laboratory, convinced that de Moche had employed at least a part of his time lately in spying on us. Perhaps he had seen Inez going in and out. Suddenly it flashed over me that the interchange of glances between de Moche and Lockwood indicated that she was more to him than a mere acquaintance. Perhaps it had been jealousy as well as treasure hunting that had prompted his eavesdropping. Still reflecting, I decided to turn in at the Museum and have a chat with Norton. I found him nervously pacing up and down the little office that had been accorded him in his section of the building. "I can't rid my mind of that warning," he remarked anxiously, pausing in his measured tread. "It seems inconceivable to me that any one would take the trouble to send four such warnings unless he meant it." "Quite so," I agreed, relating to him what had just happened. "I thought of something like that," he acquiesced, "and I have already taken some precautions." Norton waved his hand at the windows, which I had not noticed before. Though they were some distance above the ground, I saw now that he had closed and barred them at the expense of ventilation. The warnings seemed to have made more of an impression on him than on any of the rest of us. "One never can tell where or when a blow will fall with these people," he explained. "You see, I've lived among them. They are a hot-blooded race. Besides, as you perhaps have read, they have some queer poisons down in South America. I mean to run no unnecessary chances." "I suppose you suspected all along that the dagger had something to do with the Gold of the Gods, did you not?" I hinted. Norton paused before answering, as though to weigh his words. "Suspected--yes," he replied. "But, as I told you, I have had no chance to read the inscription on it. I can't say that I took it very seriously--until now." "It's not possible that Stuart Whitney, who, I understand, is deeply interested in South America, may have had some inkling of the value of the dagger, is it?" I asked thoughtfully. For a full minute Norton gazed at me. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted at length. "That's a new idea to me." Yet somehow I knew that Norton had thought of it, though he had not yet spoken about it. Was it through loyalty to the man who had contributed to financing his expeditions to South America? "Do you know Senora de Moche well?" I ventured, a moment later. "Fairly well," he replied. "Why?" "What do you think of her?" "Rather a clever woman," he replied noncommittally. "I suppose all the people in New York who were interested in Peru knew her," I pursued, adding, "Mr. Whitney, Mendoza, Lockwood." Norton hesitated, as though he was afraid of saying too much. While I could not help admiring his caution, I found that it was most exasperating. Still, I was determined to get at his point of view, if possible. "Alfonso seems to be a worthy son, then," I remarked. "I can't quite make out, though, why the Senorita should have such an obvious prejudice against her. It doesn't seem to extend to him." "I believe," replied Norton reluctantly, "that Mendoza had been on rather intimate terms with her. At least, I think you'll find the woman very ambitious for her son. I don't think she would have stopped at much to advance his interests. You must have noticed how much Alfonso thinks of the Senorita. But I don't think there was anything that could have overcome the old Castilian's prejudice. You know they pride themselves on never intermarrying. With Lockwood it would have been different." I thought I began to get some glimmering of how things were. "Whitney knows her pretty well now, doesn't he?" I shot out. Norton shrugged his shoulders. But he could not have acquiesced better than by his very manner. "Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Whitney know best what they are doing," he remarked, at length. "Why don't you and Kennedy try to see Senora de Moche? I'm a scientist, you know. I dislike talking about speculations. I'd prefer only to express opinions about things that are certainties." Perhaps Norton wished to convey the impression that the subjects I had broached were worth looking into. At least it was the impression I derived. "Still," he continued slowly, "I think I am justified in saying this much: I myself have been interested in watching both Alfonso de Moche and Lockwood when it comes to the case of the Senorita. All's fair, they say, in love and war. If I am any judge, there are both in this case, somewhere. I think you had better see the Senora and judge for yourself. She's a clever woman, I know. But I'm sure that Kennedy could make her out, even if the rest of us can't." I thanked Norton for the hint that he had given, and after chatting a few moments more left him alone in his office. In my room again, I went back to finish my writing. Nothing further occurred, however, to excite my suspicions, and at last I managed to finish it. I was correcting what I had written when the door opened from the laboratory and Craig entered. He had thrown off his old, acid-stained laboratory smock and was now dressed to venture forth. "Have you found out anything about the poison?" I asked. "Nothing definite yet," he replied. "That will take some time now. It's a strange poison--an alkaloid, I'm sure, but not one that one ordinarily encounters. Still, I've made a good beginning. It won't take long to determine it now." Craig listened with deep interest, though without comment, when I related what had happened, both Norton's conversation and about the strange visitor whom we had had peering into our windows. "Some one seems to be very much interested in what we are doing, Walter," he concluded simply. "I think we'd better do a little more outside work now, while we have a chance. If you are ready, so am I. I want to see what sort of treasure hunter this Stuart Whitney is. I'd like to know whether he is in on this secret of the Gold of the Gods, too." V THE WALL STREET PROMOTER Lockwood, as we now knew, had become allied in some way with a group of Wall Street capitalists, headed by Stuart Whitney. Already I had heard something of Whitney. In the Street he was well known as an intensely practical man, though far above the average exploiter both in cleverness and education. As a matter of fact, Whitney had been far-sighted enough to see that scholarship could be capitalized, not only as an advertisement, but in more direct manners. Just at present one of his pet schemes was promoting trade through the canal between the east coast of North America and the west coast of South America. He had spent a good deal of money promoting friendship between men of affairs and wealth in both New York and Lima. It was a good chance, he figured, for his investments down in Peru were large, and anything that popularized the country in New York could not but make them more valuable. "Norton seemed rather averse to talking about Whitney," I ventured to Craig, as we rode downtown. "That may be part of Whitney's cleverness," he returned thoughtfully. "As a patron of art and letters, you know, a man can carry through a good many things that otherwise would be more critically examined." Kennedy did not say it in a way that implied that he knew anything very bad about Whitney. Still, I reflected, it was astute in the man to insure the cooperation of such people as Norton. A few thousand dollars judiciously spent on archaeology might cover up a multitude of sins of high finance. Nothing more was said by either of us, and at last we reached the financial district. We entered a tall skyscraper on Wall Street just around the corner from Broadway and shot up in the elevator to the floor where Whitney and his associates had a really palatial suite of offices. As we opened the door we saw that Lockwood was still there. He greeted us with a rather stiff bow. "Professor Kennedy and Mr. Jameson," he said simply, introducing us to Whitney, "friends of Professor Norton, I believe. I met them to-day up at Mendoza's." "That is a most incomprehensible affair," returned Whitney, shaking hands with us. "What do you make out of it?" Kennedy shrugged his shoulders and turned the remark aside without committing himself. Stuart Whitney was a typical promoter, a large, full-blooded man, with a face red and inclined to be puffy from the congested veins. His voice alone commanded respect, whether he said anything worth while or not. In fact, he had but to say that it was a warm day and you felt that he had scored a telling point in the conversation. "Professor Norton has asked me to look into the loss of an old Peruvian dagger which he brought back from his last expedition," explained Kennedy, endeavouring to lead the conversation in channels which might arrive somewhere. "Yes, yes," remarked Whitney, with a nod of interest. "He has told me of it. Very strange, very strange. When he came back he told me that he had it, along with a lot of other important finds. But I had no idea he set such a value on it--or, rather, that any one else might do so. It would have been easy to have safeguarded it here, if we had known," he added, with a wave of his hand in the direction of a huge chrome steel safe of latest design in the outer office. Lockwood, I noted, was listening intently, quite in contrast with his former cavalier manner of dismissing all consideration of ancient Inca lore as academic or unpractical. Did he know something of the dagger? "I'm very much interested in old Peruvian antiquities myself," remarked Kennedy, a few minutes later, "though not, of course, a scholar like our friend Norton." "Indeed?" returned Whitney; and I noticed for the first time that his eyes seemed fairly to glitter with excitement. They were prominent eyes, a trifle staring, and I could not help studying them. "Then," he exclaimed, rising, "you must know of the ruins of Chan-Chan, of Chima--those wonderful places?" Kennedy nodded. "And of Truxillo and the legend of the great fish and the little fish," he put in. Whitney seemed extraordinarily pleased that any one should be willing to discuss his hobby with him. His eyes by this time were apparently starting from their sockets, and I noticed that the pupils were dilated almost to the size of the iris. "We must sit down and talk about Peru," he continued, reaching for a large box of cigarettes in the top drawer of his big desk. Lockwood seemed to sense a long discussion of archaeology. He rose and mumbled an excuse about having something to do in the outer office. "Oh, it is a wonderful country, Professor Kennedy," went on Whitney, throwing himself back in his chair. "I am deeply interested in it--its mines, its railroads, as well as its history. Let me show you a map of our interests down there." He rose and passed into the next room to get the map. The moment his back was turned, Kennedy reached over to a typewriter desk that stood in a corner of the office, left open by the stenographer, who had gone. He took two thin second sheets of paper and a new carbon sheet. A hasty dab or two of the library paste completed his work. Carefully Craig laid the prepared paper on the floor just a few inches from the door into the outer office and scattered a few other sheets about, as though the wind had blown them off the desk. As Whitney returned, a big map unrolled in his hands, I saw his foot fall on the double sheet that Craig had laid by the door. Kennedy bent down and began picking up the papers. "Oh, that's all right," remarked Whitney brusquely. "Never mind that. Here's where some of our interests lie, in the north." I don't think I paid much more attention to the map than did Kennedy as we three bent over it. His real attention was on the paper which he had placed on the floor, as though fixing in his mind the exact spot on which Whitney had stepped. As Whitney talked rapidly about the country, we lighted the cigarettes. They seemed to be of a special brand. I puffed mine for a moment. There was a peculiar taste about it, however, which I did not exactly like. In fact, I think that the Latin-American cigarettes do not seem to appeal to most Americans very much, anyhow. While we talked, I noticed that Kennedy evidently shared my own tastes, for he allowed his cigarette to go out, and, after a puff or two, I did the same. For the sake of my own comfort, I drew one of my own from my case as soon as I could do so politely, and laid the stub of the other in an ash-tray on Whitney's desk. "Mr. Lockwood and Senor Mendoza had some joint interests in the country, too, didn't they?" queried Kennedy, his eye still on the pieces of paper near the door. "Yes," returned Whitney. "Lockwood!" "What is it?" came Lockwood's voice from outside. "Show Professor Kennedy where you and Mendoza have those concessions." The young engineer strode into the room, and I saw a smile of gratification cross Kennedy's face as his foot, also, fell on the paper by the door. Unlike Whitney, however, Lockwood bent over to gather up the sheets. But before he could actually do so Kennedy reached down and swept them just out of his reach. "Quite breezy," Kennedy covered up his action, turning to restore the paper to the desk. Craig had his back to them, but not to me, and I saw him fumble for an instant with the papers. Quickly he pressed his thumb-nail on one side, as though making a rough "W," while on the other side he made what might be an "L." Then he shoved the two sheets and the carbon into his pocket. I glanced up hastily. Fortunately, neither Whitney nor Lockwood had noted his action. For the first time, now, I noticed as I watched him that Lockwood's eyes, too, were a trifle stary, though not so noticeable as Whitney's. "Let me see," continued Whitney, "your concessions are all about here, in the north, aren't they?" Lockwood drew a pencil from his pocket and made several cross-marks over the names of some towns on the large map. "Those are the points that we had proposed to work," he said simply, "before this terrible tragedy to Mendoza." "Mining, you understand," explained Whitney. Then, after a pause, he resumed quickly. "Of course, you know that much has been said about the chances for mining investments and about the opportunities for fortunes for persons in South America. Peru has been the Mecca for fortune hunters since the days of Pizarro. But where one person has been successful thousands have failed because they don't know the game. Why, I know of one investment of hundreds of thousands that hasn't yielded a cent of profit just because of that." Lockwood said nothing, evidently not caring to waste time or breath on any one who was not a possible investor. But Whitney had the true promoter's instinct of booming his scheme on the chance that the interest inspired might be carried to some third party. "American financiers, it is true," he went on excitedly, taking out a beautifully chased gold cigarette case, "have lost millions in mining in Peru. But that is not the scheme that our group, including Mr. Lockwood now, has. We are going to make more millions than they ever dreamed of--because we are simply going to mine for the products of centuries of labour already done--for the great treasure of Truxillo." One could not help becoming infected by Whitney's enthusiasm. Kennedy was following him closely, while a frown of disapproval spread over Lockwood's face. "Then you know the secret of the hiding-place of the treasure?" queried Kennedy abruptly. Whitney shook his head in the negative. "It is my idea that we don't have to know it," he answered. "With the hints that we have collected from the natives, I think we can locate it with the expenditure of comparatively little time and money. Senor Mendoza has obtained the concession from the government to hunt for it on a large scale in the big mounds about Truxillo. We know it is there. Is not that enough?" If it had been any one less than Whitney, we should probably have said it was not. But it took more than that to deny anything he asserted. Lockwood's face was a study. I cannot say that it betrayed anything except disapproval of the mere discussion of the subject. In fact, it left me in doubt as to whether Whitney himself might not have been bluffing, in the certainty of finding the treasure--perhaps had already the secret he denied having and was preparing to cover it up by stumbling on it, apparently, in some other way. I recognized in Stuart Whitney as smooth an individual as ever we had encountered. His was all the sincerity of a crook. Yet he contrived to leave the whole matter in doubt. Perhaps in this case he actually knew what he was talking about. The telephone rang and Lockwood answered it. Though he did not mention her name, I knew from his very tone and manner that it was Senorita de Mendoza who was calling up. Evidently his continued absence had worried her. "There's absolutely nothing to worry about," we heard him say. "Nothing has changed. I shall be up to see you as soon as I can get away from the office." There was an air of restraint about Lockwood's remarks, not as though he were keeping anything from the Senorita, but as though he were reluctant for us to overhear anything about his affairs. Lockwood had been smoking, too, and he added the stubs of his cigarettes to the pile in the ash-tray on Whitney's desk. Once I saw Craig cast a quick glance at the tray, and I understood that in some way he was anxious to have a chance to investigate those cigarettes. "You saw the dagger which Norton brought back, did you not?" asked Kennedy of Whitney. "Only as I saw the rest of the stuff after it was unpacked," he replied easily. "He brought back a great many interesting objects on this last trip." It was apparent that whether he actually knew anything about the secret of the Inca dagger or not, Whitney was not to be trapped into betraying it. I had an idea that Lockwood was interested in knowing that fact, too. At any rate, one could not be sure whether these two were perfectly frank with each other, or were playing a game for high stakes between themselves. Lockwood seemed eager to get away and, with a hasty glance at his watch, rose. "If you wish to find me, I shall be with Senorita de Mendoza," he said, taking his hat and stick, and bowing to us. Whitney rose and accompanied him to the door in the outer office, his arm on his shoulder, conversing in a low tone that was inaudible to us. No sooner, however, had the two passed through the door, with their backs toward us, than Kennedy reached over quickly and swept the contents of the ash-tray, cigarette stubs, ashes, and all, into an empty envelope which was lying with some papers. Then he sealed it and shoved it into his pocket, with a sidelong glance of satisfaction at me. "Evidently Mr. Lockwood and the Senorita are on intimate terms," hazarded Kennedy, as Whitney rejoined us. "Poor little girl," soliloquized the promoter. "Yes, indeed. And Lockwood is a lucky dog, too. Such eyes, such a figure--did you ever see a more beautiful woman?" One could not help recognizing that whatever else Whitney might have said that did not ring true his admiration for the unfortunate girl was genuine. That was not so remarkable, however. It could hardly have been otherwise. "You are acquainted, I suppose, with a Senora de Moche?" ventured Kennedy again, taking a chance shot. Whitney looked at him keenly. "Yes," he agreed, "I have had some dealings with her. She was an acquaintance of old Mendoza's--a woman of the world, clever, shrewd. I think she has but one ambition--her son. You have met her?" "Not the Senora," admitted Craig, "but her son is a student at the University." "Oh, yes, to be sure," said Whitney. "A fine fellow--but not of the type of Lockwood." Why he should have coupled the names was not clear for the moment. But he had risen, and was moving deliberately up and down the office, his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, as though he were thinking of something very perplexing. "If I were younger," he remarked finally, of a sudden, "I would give both of them a race for that girl. She is the greatest treasure that has ever come out of the country. Ah, well--as it is, I would not place my money on young de Moche!" Kennedy had risen to go. "I trust you will be able to unearth some clue regarding that dagger," said Whitney, as we moved toward the door. "It seems to have worried Norton considerably, especially since you told him that Mendoza was undoubtedly murdered with it." Evidently Norton kept in close touch with his patron, but Kennedy did not appear to be surprised at it. "I am doing my best," he returned. "I suppose I may count on your help as the case develops?" "Absolutely," replied Whitney, accompanying us out into the hall to the elevator. "I shall back Norton in anything he wants to keep the Peruvian collection intact and protected." Our questions were as yet unanswered. Not only had we no inkling as to the whereabouts of the dagger, but the source of the four warnings that had been sent us was still as much shrouded in mystery. Kennedy beckoned to a passing taxicab. "The Prince Edward Albert," he directed briefly. VI THE CURSE OF MANSICHE We entered the Prince Edward Albert a few minutes later, one of the new and beautiful family hotels uptown. Before making any inquiries, Craig gave a hasty look about the lobby. Suddenly I felt him take my arm and draw me over to a little alcove on one side. I followed the direction of his eyes. There I could see young Alfonso de Moche talking to a woman much older than himself. "That must be his mother," whispered Craig. "You can see the resemblance. Let's sit here awhile behind these palms and watch." They seemed to be engaged in an earnest conversation about something. Even as they talked, though we could not guess what it was about, it was evident that Alfonso was dearer than life to the woman and that the young man was a model son. Though I felt that I must admire them each for it, still, I reflected, that was no reason why we should not suspect them--perhaps rather a reason for suspecting. Senora de Moche was a woman of well-preserved middle age, a large woman, with dark hair and contrasting full, red lips. Her face, in marked contradiction to her Parisian costume and refined manners, had a slight copper swarthiness about it which spoke eloquently of her ancestry. But it was her eyes that arrested and held one's attention most. Whether it was in the eyes themselves or in the way that she used them, there could be no mistake about the almost hypnotic power that their owner possessed. I could not help wondering whether she might not have exercised it on Don Luis, perhaps was using it in some way to influence Whitney. Was that the reason why the Senorita so evidently feared her? Fortunately, from our vantage point, we could see without being in any danger of being seen. "There's Whitney," I heard Craig mutter under his breath. I looked up and saw the promoter enter from his car. At almost the same instant the roving eyes of the Senora seemed to catch sight of him. He came over and spoke to the de Moches, standing with them several minutes. I fancied that not for an instant did she allow the gaze of any one else to distract her in the projection of whatever weird ocular power nature had endowed her with. If it were a battle of eyes, I recollected the strange look that I had noted about those of both Whitney and Lockwood. That, however, was different from the impression one got of the Senora's. I felt that she would have to be pretty clever to match the subtlety of Whitney. Whatever it was they were talking about, one could see that Whitney and Senora de Moche were on very familiar terms. At the same time, young de Moche appeared to be ill at ease. Perhaps he did not approve of the intimacy with Whitney. At any rate, he seemed visibly relieved when the promoter excused himself and walked over to the desk to get his mail and then out into the cafe. "I'd like to get a better view of her," remarked Kennedy, rising. "Let us take a turn or two along the corridor and pass them." We sauntered forth from our alcove and strolled down among the various knots of people chatting and laughing. As we passed the woman and her son, I was conscious again of that strange feeling, which psychologists tell us, however, has no real foundation, of being stared at from behind. At the lower end of the lobby Kennedy turned suddenly and we started to retrace our steps. Alfonso's back was toward us now. Again we passed them, just in time to catch the words, in a low tone, from the young man, "Yes, I have seen him at the University. Every one there knows that he is--" The rest of the sentence was lost. But it was not difficult to reconstruct. It referred undoubtedly to the activities of Kennedy in unravelling mysteries. "It's quite evident," I suggested, "that they know that we are interested in them now." "Yes," he agreed. "There wasn't any use of watching them further from under cover. I wanted them to see me, just to find out what they would do." Kennedy was right. Indeed, even before we turned again, we found that the Senora and Alfonso had risen and were making their way slowly to the elevators, still talking earnestly. The lifts were around an angle, and before we could place ourselves so that we could observe them again they were gone. "I wish there was some way of adding Alfonso's shoe-prints to my collection," observed Craig. "The marks that I found in the dust of the sarcophagus in the Museum were those of a man's shoes. However, I suppose I must wait to get them." He walked over to the desk and made inquiries about the de Moches and Whitney. Each had a suite on the eighth floor, though on opposite sides and at opposite ends of the hall. "There's no use wasting time trying to conceal our identity now," remarked Kennedy finally, drawing a card from his case. "Besides, we came here to see them, anyhow." He handed the card to the clerk. "Senora de Moche, please," he said. The clerk took the card and telephoned up to the de Moche suite. I must say that it was somewhat to my surprise that the Senora telephoned down to say that she would receive us in her own sitting room. "That's very kind," commented Craig, as I followed him into the elevator. "It saves planning some roundabout way of meeting her and comes directly to the point." The elevator whisked us up directly to the eighth floor and we stepped out into the heavily carpeted hallway, passing down to Room 810, which was the number of her suite. Further on, in 825, was Whitney's. Alfonso was not there. Evidently he had not ridden up with his mother, after all, but had gone out through another entrance on the ground floor. The Senora was alone. "I hope that you will pardon me for intruding," began Craig, with as plausible an explanation as he could muster, "but I have become interested in an opportunity to invest in a Peruvian venture, and I have heard that you are a Peruvian. Your son, Alfonso, I have already met, once. I thought that perhaps you might be able to give me some advice." She looked at us keenly, but said nothing. I fancied that she detected the subterfuge. Yet she had not tried, and did not try now to avoid us. Either she had no connection with the case we were investigating or she was an adept actress. On closer view, her eyes were really even more remarkable than I had imagined at a distance. They were those of a woman endowed with an abundance of health and energy, eyes that were full of what the old character readers used to call "amativeness," denoting a nature capable of intense passion, whether of love or hate. Yet I confess that I could not find anything especially abnormal about them, as I had about the eyes of Lockwood and Whitney. It was some time before she replied, and I gave a hasty glance about the apartment. Of course, it had been rented furnished, but she had rearranged it, adding some touches of her own which gave it quite a Peruvian appearance, due perhaps more to the pictures and the ornaments which she had introduced rather than anything else. "I suppose," she replied, at length, slowly, and looking at us as if she would bore right through into our minds, "I suppose you mean the schemes of Mr. Lockwood--and Mr. Whitney." Kennedy was not to be taken by surprise. "I have heard of their schemes, too," he replied noncommittally. "Peru seems to be a veritable storehouse of tales of buried treasure." "Let me tell you about it," she hastened, nodding at the very words "buried treasure." "I suppose you know that the old Chimu tribes in the north were the wealthiest at the time of the coming of the Spaniards?" Craig nodded, and a moment later she resumed, as if trying to marshal her thoughts in a logical order. "They had a custom then of burying with their dead all their movable property. Graves were not dug separately. Therefore, you see, sometimes a common grave, or huaca, as it is called, would be given to many. That huaca would become a cache of treasure in time. It was sacred to the dead, and hence it was wicked to touch it." The Senora's face betrayed the fact that, whatever modern civilization had done for her, it had not yet quite succeeded in eliminating the old ideas. "Back in the early part of the seventeenth century," she continued, leaning forward in her chair eagerly as she talked, "a Spaniard opened a Chimu huaca and found gold that is said to have been worth more than a million dollars. An Indian told him about it. Who the Indian was does not matter. But the Spaniard was an ancestor of Don Luis de Mendoza, who was found murdered to-day." She stopped short, seeming to enjoy the surprised look on our faces at finding that she was willing to discuss the matter so intimately. "After the Indian had shown the Spaniard the treasure in the mound," she pursued, "the Indian told the Spaniard that he had given him only the little fish, the peje chica, but that some day he would give him the big fish, the peje grande. I see that you already know at least a part of the story, anyhow." "Yes," admitted Kennedy, "I do know something of it. But I should rather get it more accurately from your lips than from the hearsay of any one else." She smiled quietly to herself. "I don't believe," she added, "that you know that the _peje grande_ was not ordinary treasure. It was the temple gold. Why, some of the temples were literally plated over heavily with pure gold. That gold, as well as what had been buried in the huacas, was sacred. Mansiche, the supreme ruler, laid a curse on it, on any Indian who would tell of it, on any Spaniard who might learn of it. A curse lies on the finding--yes, even on the searching for the sacred Gold of the Gods. It is one of the most awful curses that have ever been uttered, that curse of Mansiche." Even as she spoke of it she lowered her voice. I felt that no matter how much education she had, there lurked back in her brain some of the primitive impulses, as well as beliefs. Either the curse of Mansiche on the treasure was as real to her as if its mere touch were poisonous, or else she was going out of her way to create that impression with us. "Somehow," she continued, in a low tone, "that Spaniard, the ancestor of Don Luis Mendoza, obtained some idea of the secret. He died," she said solemnly, flashing a glance at Craig from her wonderful eyes to stamp the idea indelibly. "He was stabbed by one of the members of the tribe. On the dagger, so I have heard, was marked the secret of the treasure." I felt that in a bygone age she might have made a great priestess of the heathen gods. Now, was she more than a clever actress? She paused, then added, "That is my tribe--my family." Again she paused. "For centuries the big fish was a secret, is still a secret--or, at least, was until some one got it from my brother down in Peru. The tradition and the dagger had been intrusted to him. I don't know how it happened. Somehow he seemed to grow crazy--until he talked. The dagger was stolen from him. How it happened, how it came into Professor Norton's hands, I do not know. "But, at any rate," she continued, in the same solemn tone, "the curse has followed it. After my brother had told the secret of the dagger and lost it, his mind left him. He threw himself one day into Lake Titicaca." Her voice broke dramatically in her passionate outpouring of the tragedies that had followed the hidden treasure and the Inca dagger. "Now, here in New York, comes this awful death of Senor Mendoza," she cried. "I don't know, no one knows, whether he had obtained the secret of the gold or not. At any rate, he must have thought he had it. He has been killed suddenly, in his own home. That is my answer to your inquiry about the treasure-hunting company you mentioned, whatever it may be. I need say no more of the curse of Mansiche. Is the Gold of the Gods worth it?" There could be no denying that it was real to her, whatever we might think of the story. I recollected the roughly printed warnings that had been sent to Norton, Leslie, Kennedy, and myself. Had they, then, some significance? I had not been able to convince myself that they were the work of a crank, alone. There must be some one to whom the execution of vengeance of the gods was an imperative duty. Unsuperstitious as I was, I saw here a real danger. If some one, either to preserve the secret for himself or else called by divine mandate to revenge, should take a notion to carry out the threats in the four notes, what might not happen? "I cannot tell you much more of fact than you probably already know," she remarked, watching our faces intently and noting the effect of every word. "You know, I suppose, that the treasure has always been believed to be in a large mound, a tumulus I think you call it, visible from our town of Truxillo. Many people have tried to open it, but the mass of sand pours down on them and they have been discouraged." "No one has ever stumbled on the secret?" queried Kennedy. She shook her head. "There have been those who have sought, there are even those who are seeking, the point just where to bore into the mounds. If they could find it, they plan to construct a well-timbered tunnel to keep back the sand and to drive it at the right point to obtain this fabulous wealth." She vouchsafed the last information with a sort of quiet assurance that conveyed the idea, without her saying it directly, that any such venture was somehow doomed to failure, that desecrators were merely toying with fate. All through her story one could see that she felt deeply the downfall and betrayal of her brother, followed by the tragedy to him after the age-old secret had slipped from his grasp. Was there still to be vengeance for his downfall? Surely, I thought to myself, Don Luis de Mendoza could not have been in possession of the secret, unless he had arrived at it, with Lockwood, in some other way than by deciphering the almost illegible marks of the dagger. I thought of Whitney. Had he perhaps had something to do with the nasty business? I happened to glance at a huge pile of works on mining engineering on the table, the property of Alfonso. She saw me looking at them, and her eyes assumed a far-away, dreamy impression as she murmured something. "You must know that we real Peruvians have been so educated that we never explore ruins for hidden treasure, not even if we have the knowledge of engineering to do so. It is a sort of sacrilege to us to do that. The gold was not our gold, you see. Some of it belongs to the spirits of the departed. But the big treasure belonged to the gods themselves. It was the gold which lay in sheets over the temple walls, sacred. No, we would not touch it." I wondered cynically what would happen if some one at that moment had appeared with the authenticated secret. She continued to gaze at the books. "There are plenty of rare chances for a young mining engineer in Peru without that." Apparently she was thinking of her son and his studies at the University as they affected his future career. One could follow her thoughts, even, as they flitted from the treasure, to the books, to her son, and, finally, to the pretty girl for whom both he and Lockwood were struggling. "We are a peculiar race," she ruminated. "We seldom intermarry with other races. We are as proud as Senor Mendoza was of his Castilian descent, as proud of our unmixed lineage as any descendant of a 'belted earl.'" Senora de Moche made the remarks with a quiet dignity which left no doubt in my mind that the race feeling cut deeply. She had risen now, and in place of the awesome fear of the curse and tragedy of the treasure her face was burning and her eyes flashed. "Old Don Luis thought I was good enough to amuse his idle hours," she cried. "But when he saw that Alfonso was in love with his daughter, that she might return that love, then I found out bitterly that he placed us in another class, another caste." Kennedy had been following her closely, and I could see now that the cross-currents of superstition, avarice, and race hatred in the case presented a tangle that challenged him. There was nothing more that we could extract from her just then. She had remained standing, as a gentle reminder that the interview had already been long. Kennedy took the hint. "I wish to thank you for the trouble you have gone to," he bowed, after we, too, had risen. "You have told me quite enough to make me think seriously before I join in any such undertaking." She smiled enigmatically. Whether it was that she had enjoyed penetrating our rather clumsy excuse for seeing her, or that she felt that the horror of the curse had impressed us, she seemed well content. We bowed ourselves out, and, after waiting a few moments about the hotel without seeing Whitney anywhere, Craig called a car. "They were right," was his only comment. "A most baffling woman, indeed." VII THE ARROW POISON Back again in the laboratory, Kennedy threw off his coat and plunged again into his investigation of the blood sample he had taken from the wound in Mendoza's body. We had scarcely been back half an hour before the door opened and Dr. Leslie's perplexed face looked in on us. He was carrying a large jar, in which he had taken away the materials which he wished to examine. "Well," asked Kennedy, pausing with a test-tube poised over a Bunsen burner, "have you found anything yet? I haven't had time to get very far with my own tests yet." "Not a blessed thing," returned the coroner. "I'm desperate. One of the chemists suggested cyanide, another carbon monoxide. But there is no trace of either. Then he suggested nux vomica. It wasn't nux vomica; but my tests show that it must have been something very much like it. I've looked for all the ordinary known poisons and some of the little-known alkaloids, but, Kennedy, I always get back to the same point. There must have been a poison there. He did not die primarily of the wound. It was asphyxia due to a poison that really killed him, though the wound might have done so, but not quite so quickly." I could tell by the look that crossed Kennedy's face that at last a ray of light had pierced the darkness. He reached for a bottle on the shelf labelled spirits of turpentine. Then he poured a little of the blood sample from the jar which the coroner had brought into a clean tube and added a few drops of the spirits of turpentine. A cloudy, dark precipitate formed. He smiled quietly, and said, half to himself, "I thought so." "What is it?" asked the coroner eagerly, "nux vomica?" Craig shook his head as he stared at the black precipitate. "You were perfectly right about the asphyxiation, Doctor," he remarked slowly, "but wrong as to the cause. It was a poison--one you would never dream of." "What is it?" Leslie and I asked simultaneously. "Let me take all these samples and make some further tests," he said. "I am quite sure of it, but it is new to me. By the way, may I trouble you and Leslie to go over to the Museum of Natural History with a letter?" It was evident that he wanted to work uninterrupted, and we agreed readily, especially because by going we might also be of some use in solving the mystery of the poison. He sat down and wrote a hasty note to the director of the Museum, and a few moments later we were speeding over in Leslie's car. At the big building we had no trouble in finding the director and presenting the note. He was a close friend of Kennedy's and more than willing to aid him in any way. "You will excuse me a moment?" he apologized. "I will get from the South American exhibit just what he wants." We waited several minutes in the office until finally he returned carrying a gourd, incrusted on its hollow inside surface with a kind of blackish substance. "That is what he wants, I think," the director remarked, wrapping it up carefully in a box. "I don't need to ask you to tell Professor Kennedy to watch out how he handles the thing. He understands all about it." We thanked the director and hurried out into the car again, carrying the package, after his warning, as though it were so much dynamite. Altogether, I don't suppose that we could have been gone more than an hour. We burst into the laboratory, but, to my surprise, I did not see Kennedy at his table. I stopped short and looked around. There he was over in the corner, sprawled out in a chair, a tank of oxygen beside him, from which he was inhaling laboriously copious draughts. He rose as he saw us and walked unsteadily toward the table. "Why--what's the matter?" I cried, certain that m our absence an attempt had been made on his life, perhaps to carry out the threat of the curse. "N-nothing," he gasped, with an attempt at a smile. "Only I--think I was right--about the poison." I did not like the way he looked. His hand was unsteady and his eyes looked badly. But he seemed quite put out when I suggested that he was working too hard over the case and had better take a turn outdoors with us and have a bite to eat. "You--you got it?" he asked, seizing the package that contained the gourd and unwrapping it nervously. He laid the gourd on the table, on which were also several jars of various liquids and a number of other chemicals. At the end of the table was a large, square package, from which sounds issued, as if it contained something alive. "Tell me," I persisted, "what has happened. Has any one been here since we have been gone?" "Not a soul," he answered, working his arms and shoulders as if to get rid of some heavy weight that oppressed his chest. "Then what has happened that makes you use the oxygen?" I repeated, determined to get some kind of answer from him. He turned to Leslie. "It was no ordinary asphyxiation, Doctor," he said quickly. Leslie nodded. "I could see that," he admitted. "We have to deal in this case," continued Kennedy, his will-power overcoming his weakness, "with a poison which is apparently among the most subtle known. A particle of matter so minute as to be hardly distinguishable by the naked eye, on the point of a lancet or needle, a prick of the skin not anything like that wound of Mendoza's, were necessary. But, fortunately, more of the poison was used, making it just that much easier to trace, though for the time the wound, which might itself easily have been fatal, threw us off the scent. But given these things, not all the power in the world--unless one was fully prepared--could save the life of the person in whose flesh the wound was made." Craig paused a moment, and we listened breathlessly. "This poison, I find, acts on the so-called endplates of the muscles and nerves. It produces complete paralysis, but not loss of consciousness, sensation, circulation, or respiration until the end approaches. It seems to be one of the most powerful agents of which I have ever heard. When introduced in even a minute quantity it produces death finally by asphyxiation--by paralyzing the muscles of respiration. This asphyxia is what puzzled you, Leslie." He reached over and took a white mouse from the huge box on the corner of the table. "Let me show you what I have found," he said. "I am now going to inject a little of the blood serum of the murdered man into this white mouse." He took a needle and injected some of a liquid which he had isolated. The mouse did not even wince, so lightly did he touch it. But as we watched, its life seemed gently to ebb away, without pain, without struggle. Its breath simply seemed to stop. Next he took the gourd which we had brought and with a knife scraped off just the minutest particle of the black, licorice-like stuff that incrusted it. He dissolved the particle in some alcohol, and with a sterilized needle repeated his experiment on a second mouse. The effect was precisely similar to that produced by the blood on the first. I was intent on what Craig was doing when Dr. Leslie broke in with a question. "May I ask," he queried, "whether, admitting that the first mouse died at least apparently in the same manner as the second, you have proved that the poison is the same in both cases? And if it is the same, can you show that it affects human beings in the same way, that enough of it has been discovered in the blood of Mendoza to have caused his death? In other words, I want the last doubt set aside." If ever Craig startled me, it was by his quiet reply: "I've isolated it in his blood, extracted it, sterilized it, and I've tried it on myself." In breathless amazement, with eyes riveted on him, we listened. "Then that was what was the matter?" I blurted out. "You had been trying the poison on YOURSELF?" He nodded unconcernedly. "Altogether," he explained, as Leslie and I listened, speechless, "I was able to recover from both blood samples six centigrams of the poison. It is almost unknown. I could only be sure of what I discovered by testing the physiological effects. I was very careful. What else was there to do? I couldn't ask you fellows to try it, if I was afraid." "Good heavens!" gasped Leslie, "and alone, too." "You wouldn't have let me do it, if I hadn't got rid of you," he smiled quietly. Leslie shook his head. "Tried it on the dog and made himself the dog!" exclaimed Leslie. "I need the credit of a successful case--but I'll not take this one." Kennedy laughed. "Starting with two centigrams of the stuff as a moderate dose," he pursued, while I listened, stunned at his daring, "I injected it into my right arm subcutaneously. Then I slowly worked my way up to three and then four centigrams. You see what I had recovered was far from the real thing. They did not seem at first to produce any very appreciable results other than to cause some dizziness, slight vertigo, a considerable degree of lassitude, and an extremely painful headache of rather unusual duration." "Good night!" I exclaimed. "Didn't that satisfy you?" "Five centigrams considerably improved on it," he continued, paying no attention to me. "It caused a degree of lassitude and vertigo that was most distressing, and six centigrams, the whole amount which I had recovered from the samples of blood, gave me the fright of my life right here in this laboratory a few minutes before you came in." Leslie and I looked at each other and shook our heads. "Perhaps I was not wise in giving myself so large an injection on a day when I was overheated and below par otherwise, because of the strain I have been under in handling this case, as well as other work. However that may be, the added centigram produced so much more on top of the five centigrams I had previously taken that for a time I had reason to fear that that additional centigram was just the amount needed to bring my experiments to a permanent close. "Within three minutes of the time of injection the dizziness and vertigo had become so great as to make walking seem impossible. In another minute the lassitude rapidly crept over me, and the serious disturbance of my breathing made it apparent to me that walking, waving my arms, anything, was imperative. My lungs felt glued up, and the muscles of my chest refused to work. Everything swam before my eyes, and I was soon reduced to walking up and down the laboratory floor with halting steps, only preventing falling on the floor by holding fast to the edge of the table. "I thought of the tank of oxygen, and managed to crawl over and turn it on. I gulped at it. It seemed to me that I spent hours gasping for breath. It reminded me of what I once experienced in the Cave of the Winds of Niagara, where water is more abundant in the atmosphere than air. Yet my watch afterward indicated only about twenty minutes of extreme distress. But that twenty minutes is one period I shall never forget. I advise you, Leslie, if you are ever so foolish as to try the experiment, to remain below the five-centigram limit." "Believe me, I'd rather lose my job," returned Leslie. "How much of the stuff was administered to Mendoza," went on Kennedy, "I cannot say. But it must have been a good deal more than I took. Six centigrams which I recovered from these small samples are only nine-tenths of a grain. You see what effect that much had. I trust that answers your question?" Dr. Leslie was too overwhelmed to reply. "What is this deadly poison that was used on Mendoza?" I managed to ask. "You have been fortunate enough to obtain a sample of it from the Museum of Natural History," returned Craig. "It comes in a little gourd, or often a calabash. This is in a gourd. It is a blackish, brittle stuff, incrusting the sides of the gourd just as if it was poured in in the liquid state and left to dry. Indeed, that is just what has been done by those who manufacture it after a lengthy and somewhat secret process." He placed the gourd on the edge of the table, where we could see it closely. I was almost afraid even to look at it. "The famous traveller, Sir Robert Schomburgk, first brought it into Europe, and Darwin has described it. It is now an article of commerce, and is to be found in the United States Pharmacoepia as a medicine, though, of course, it is used in only very minute quantities, as a heart stimulant." Craig opened a book to a place he had marked. "Here's an account of it," he said. "Two natives were one day hunting. They were armed with blow-pipes and quivers full of poisoned darts made of thin, charred pieces of bamboo, tipped with this stuff. One of them aimed a dart. It missed the object overhead, glanced off the tree, and fell down on the hunter himself. This is how the other native reported the result: "'Quacca takes the dart out of his shoulder. Never a word. Puts it in his quiver and throws it in the stream. Gives me his blow-pipe for his little son. Says to me good-bye for his wife and the village. Then he lies down. His tongue talks no longer. No sight in his eyes. He folds his arms. He rolls over slowly. His mouth moves without sound. I feel his heart. It goes fast and then slow. It stops. Quacca has shot his last woorali dart.'" Leslie and I looked at Kennedy, and the horror of the thing sank deep into our minds. Woorali. What was it? "Woorali, or curare," explained Craig slowly, "is the well-known poison with which the South American Indians of the upper Orinoco tip their arrows. Its principal ingredient is derived from the Strychnos toxifera tree, which yields also the drug nux vomica, which you, Dr. Leslie, have mentioned. On the tip of that Inca dagger must have been a large dose of the dread curare, this fatal South American Indian arrow poison." "Say," ejaculated Leslie, "this thing begins to look eerie to me. How about that piece of paper that I sent to you with the warning about the curse of Mansiche and the Gold of the Gods. What if there should be something in it? I'd rather not be a victim of this curare, if it's all the same to you, Kennedy." Kennedy was thinking deeply. Who could have sent the messages to us all? Who was likely to have known of curare? I confess that I had not even an idea. All of them, any of them, might have known. The deeper we got into it, the more dastardly the crime against Mendoza seemed. Involuntarily, I thought of the beautiful little Senorita, about whom these terrible events centred. Though I had no reason for it, I could not forget the fear that she had for Senora de Moche, and the woman as she had been revealed to us in our late interview. "I suppose a Peruvian of average intelligence might know of the arrow poison of Indians of another country," I ventured to Craig. "Quite possible," he returned, catching immediately the drift of my thoughts. "But the shoe-prints indicated that it was a man who stole the dagger from the Museum. It may be that it was already poisoned, too. In that case the thief would not have had to know anything of curare, would not have needed to stab so deeply if he had known." I must confess that I was little further along in the solution of the mystery than I had been when I first saw Mendoza's body. Kennedy, however, did not seem to be worried. Leslie had long since given up trying to form an opinion and, now that the nature of the poison was finally established, was glad to leave the case in our hands. As for me, I was inclined to agree with Dr. Leslie, and, long after he had left, there kept recurring to my mind those words: BEWARE THE CURSE OF MANSICHE ON THE GOLD OF THE GODS. VIII THE ANONYMOUS LETTER "I think I will drop in to see Senorita Mendoza," considered Kennedy, as he cleared up the materials which he had been using in his investigation of the arrow poison. "She is a study to me--in fact, the reticence of all these people is hard to combat." As we entered the apartment where the Mendozas lived, it was difficult to realize that only a few hours had elapsed since we had first been introduced to this strange affair. In the hall, however, were still some reporters waiting in the vain hope that some fragment of a story might turn up. "Let's have a talk with the boys," suggested Craig, before we entered the Mendoza suite. "After all, the newspaper men are the best detectives I know. If it wasn't for them, half our murder cases wouldn't ever be solved. As a matter of fact, 'yellow journals' are more useful to a city than half the detective force." Most of the newspaper men knew Craig intimately, and liked him, possibly because he was one of the few people to-day who realized the very important part these young men played in modern life. They crowded about, eager to interview him. But Craig was clever. In the rapid fire of conversation it was really he who interviewed them. "Lockwood has been here a long time," volunteered one of the men. "He seems to have constituted himself the guardian of Inez. No one gets a look at her while he's around." "Well, you can hardly blame him for that," smiled Craig. "Jealousy isn't a crime in that case." "Say," put in another, "there'd be an interesting quarter of an hour if he were here now. That other fellow--de Mooch--whatever his name is, is here." "De Moche--with her, now?" queried Kennedy, wheeling suddenly. The reporter smiled. "He's a queer duck. I was coming up to relieve our other man, when I saw him down on the street, hanging about the corner, his eyes riveted on the entrance to the apartment. I suppose that was his way of making love. He's daffy over her, all right. I stopped to watch him. Of course, he didn't know me. Just then Lockwood left. The Spaniard dived into the drug store on the corner as though the devil was after him. You should have seen his eyes. If looks were bullets, I wouldn't give much for Lockwood's life. With two such fellows about, you wouldn't catch me making goo-goo eyes at that chicken--not on your life." Kennedy passed over the flippant manner in view of the importance of the observation. "What do you think of Lockwood?" he asked. "Pretty slick," replied another of the men. "He's the goods, all right." "Why, what has he done?" asked Kennedy. "Nothing in particular. But he came out to see us once. You can't blame him for being a bit sore at us fellows hanging about. But he didn't show it. Instead he almost begged us to be careful of how we asked questions of the girl. Of course, all of us could see how completely broken up she is. We haven't bothered her. In fact, we'd do anything we could for her. But Lockwood talks straight from the shoulder. You can see he's used to handling all kinds of situations." "But did he say anything, has he done anything?" persisted Kennedy. "N-no," admitted the reporter. "I can't say he has." Craig frowned a bit. "I thought not," he remarked. "These people aren't giving away any hints, if they can help it." "It's my idea," ventured another of the men, "that when this case breaks, it will break all of a sudden. I shouldn't wonder if we are in for one of the sensations of the year, when it comes." Kennedy looked at him inquiringly. "Why?" he asked simply. "No particular reason," confessed the man. "Only the regular detectives act so chesty. They haven't got a thing, and they know it, only they won't admit it to us. O'Connor was here." "What did he say?" "Nothing. He went through all the motions--'Now, pens lifted, boys,' and all that--talked a lot--and after it was all over he might have been sure no one would publish a line of his confidences. There wasn't a stick of copy in the whole thing." Kennedy laughed. "O'Connor's all right," he replied. "We may need him sorely before we get through. After all, nothing can take the place of the organization the police have built up. You say de Moche is in there yet?" "Yes. He seemed very anxious to see her. We never get a word out of him. I've been thinking what would happen if we tried to get him mad. Maybe he'd talk." "More likely he'd pull a gun," cautioned another. "Excuse ME." Kennedy said nothing, evidently content to let the newspaper men go their own sweet way. He nodded to them, and pressed the buzzer at the Mendoza door. "Tell Senorita Mendoza that it is Professor Kennedy," he said to Juanita, who opened the door, keeping it on the chain, to be sure it was no unwelcome intruder. Evidently she had had orders to admit us, for a second later we found ourselves again in the little reception room. We sat down, and I saw that Craig's attention had at once been fixed on something. I listened intently, too. On the other side of the heavy portieres that cut us off from the living room I could distinguish low voices. It was de Moche and Inez. Whatever the ethics of it, we could not help listening. Besides there was more at stake than ethics. Evidently the young man was urging her to do something that she did not agree with. "No," we heard her say finally, in a quiet tone, "I cannot believe it, Alfonso. Mr. Whitney is Mr. Lockwood's associate now. My father and Mr. Lockwood approved of him. Why should I do otherwise?" De Moche was talking earnestly but in a very muffled voice. We could not make out anything except a few scattered phrases which told us nothing. Once I fancied he mentioned his mother. Whatever it was that he was urging, Inez was firm. "No, Alfonso," she repeated, her voice a little higher and excited. "It cannot be. You must be mistaken." She had risen, and now moved toward the hall door, evidently forgetting that the folding doors behind the portieres were open. "Professor Kennedy and Mr. Jameson are here," she said. "Would you care to meet them?" He replied in the negative. Yet as he passed the reception room he could not help seeing us. As Inez greeted us, I saw that Alfonso was making a desperate effort to control his expression. He seemed to be concealing a bitter disappointment. Seeing us, he bowed stiffly, and, with just the murmur of a greeting, excused himself. He had no sooner closed the door to run the gauntlet of the sharp eyes in the hall than the Senorita faced us fully. She was pale and nervous. Evidently something that he had said to her had greatly agitated her. Yet with all her woman's skill she managed to hide all outward traces of emotion that might indicate what it was that racked her mind. "You have something to report?" she asked, a trifle anxiously. "Nothing of any great importance," admitted Craig. Was it actually a look of relief that crossed her face? Try as I could, it seemed to me to be an anomalous situation. She wanted the murderer of her father caught, naturally. Yet she did not seem to be offering us the natural assistance that was to be expected. Could it be that she suspected some one perhaps near and dear to her of having some knowledge, which, now that the deed was done, would do more harm than good if revealed? It was the only conclusion to which I could come. I was surprised at Kennedy's next question. Was the same idea in his mind, also? "We have seen Mr. Whitney," he ventured. "Just what are Mr. Lockwood's relations with him--and yours?" "Merely that Mr. Lockwood and my father were partners," she answered hastily. "They had decided that their interests would be more valuable by some arrangement with Mr. Whitney, who controls so much down in Peru." "Do you think that Senora de Moche exercises a very great influence on Mr. Whitney?" asked Craig, purposely introducing the name of the Indian woman to see what effect it might have on her. "Oh," she cried, with a little exclamation of alarm, "I hope not." Yet it was evident that she feared so. "Why is it that you fear it?" insisted Kennedy. "What has she done to make you fear it?" "I don't like her," returned Inez, with a frown. "My father knew her--too well. She is a schemer, an adventuress. Once she has a hold on a man, one cannot say--" She paused, then went on in a different tone. "But I would rather not talk about the woman. I am afraid of her. Never does she talk to me that she does not get something out of me that I do not wish to tell her. She is uncanny." Personally, I could not blame Inez for her opinion. I could understand it. Those often baleful eyes had a penetrating power that one might easily fall a victim to. "But you can trust Mr. Lockwood," he returned. "Surely he is proof against her, against any woman." Inez flushed. It was evident that of all the men who were interested in the little beauty, Lockwood was first in her mind. Yet when Kennedy put the question thus she hesitated. "Yes," she replied, "of course, I trust him. It is not that woman whom I fear with him." She said it with an air almost of defiance. There was some kind of struggle going on in her mind, and she was too proud to let us into the secret. Kennedy rose and bowed. For the present he had come to the conclusion that if she would not let us help her openly the only thing to do was to help her blindly. Half an hour later we were at Norton's apartment, not far from the University campus. He listened intently as Kennedy told such parts of what we had done as he chose. At the mention of the arrow poison, he seemed startled beyond measure. "You are sure of it?" he asked anxiously. "Positive, now," reiterated Kennedy. Norton's face was drawn in deep lines. "If some one has the secret," he cried hastily, "who knows when and on whom next he may employ it?" Coming from him so soon after the same idea had been hinted at by the coroner, I could not but be impressed by it. "The very novelty of the thing is our best protection," asserted Kennedy confidently. "Once having discovered it, if Walter gives the thing its proper value in the Star, I think the criminal will be unlikely to try it again. If you had had as much experience in crime as I have had, you would see that it is not necessarily the unusual that is baffling. That may be the surest way to trace it. Often it is because a thing is so natural that it may be attributed to any person among several, equally well." Norton eyed us keenly, and shook his head. "You may be right," he said doubtfully. "Only I had rather that this person, whoever he may be, had fewer weapons." "Speaking of weapons," broke in Kennedy, "you have had no further idea of why the dagger might have been taken?" "There seems to have been so much about it that I did not know," he returned, "that I am almost afraid to have an opinion. I knew that its three-sided sheath inclosed a sharp blade, yet who would have dreamed that that blade was poisoned?" "You are lucky not to have scratched yourself with it by accident while you were studying it." "Possibly I might have done it, if I had had it in my possession longer. It was only lately that I had leisure to study it." "You knew that it might offer some clue to the hidden treasure of Truxillo?" suggested Kennedy. "Have you any recollection of what the inscriptions on it said?" "Yes," returned Norton, "I had heard the rumours about it. But Peru is a land of tales of buried treasure. No, I can't say that I paid much more attention to it than you might have done if some one asserted that he had another story of the treasure of Captain Kidd. I must confess that only when the thing was stolen did I begin to wonder whether, after all, there might not be something in it. Now it is too late to find out. From the moment when I found that it was missing from my collection I have heard no more about it than you have found out. It is all like a dream to me. I cannot believe even yet that a mere bit of archaeological and ethnological specimen could have played so important a part in the practical events of real life." "It does seem impossible," agreed Kennedy. "But it is even more remarkable than that. It has disappeared without leaving a trace, after having played its part." "If it had been a mere robbery," considered Norton, "one might look for its reappearance, I suppose, in the curio shops. For to-day thieves have a keen appreciation of the value of such objects. But, now that you have unearthed its use against Mendoza--and in such a terrible way--it is not likely that that will be what will happen to it. No, we must look elsewhere." "I thought I would tell you," concluded Kennedy, rising to go. "Perhaps after you have considered it over night some idea may occur to you." "Perhaps," said Norton doubtfully. "But I haven't your brilliant faculty of scientific analysis, Kennedy. No, I shall have to lean on you, in that, not you on me." We left Norton, apparently now more at sea than ever. At the laboratory Kennedy plunged into some microphotographic work that the case had suggested to him, while I dashed off, under his supervision, an account of the discovery of curare, and telephoned it down to the Star in time to catch the first morning edition, in the hope that it might have some effect in apprising the criminal that we were hard on his trail, which he had considered covered. I scanned the other papers eagerly in the morning for Kennedy, hoping to glean at least some hints that others who were working on the case might have gathered. But there was nothing, and, after a hasty bite of breakfast, we hurried back to take up the thread of the investigation where we had laid it down. To our surprise, on the steps of the Chemistry Building, as we approached, we saw Inez Mendoza already waiting for us in a high state of agitation. Her face was pale, and her voice trembled as she greeted us. "Such a dreadful thing has come to me," she cried, even before Kennedy could ask her what the trouble was. From her handbag she drew out a crumpled, dirty piece of paper in an envelope. "It came in the first mail," she explained. "I could not wait to send it to you. I brought it myself. What can it mean?" Kennedy unfolded the paper. Printed in large characters, in every way similar to the four warnings that had been sent to us, was just one ominous line. We read: "Beware the man who professes to be a friend of your father." I glanced from the note to Kennedy, then to Inez. One name was in my mind, and before I knew it I had spoken it. "Lockwood?" I queried inadvertently. Her eyes met mine in sharp defiance. "Impossible," she exclaimed. "It is some one trying to injure him with me. Beware of Mr. Lockwood? How absurd!" Yet it must have meant Lockwood. No one else could have been meant. It was he, most of all, who might be called a friend of her father. She seemed to see the implication without a word from us. I could not help sympathizing with the brave girl in her struggle between the attack against Lockwood and her love and confidence in him. It did not need words to tell me that evidence must be overwhelming to convince her that her lover might be involved in any manner. IX THE PAPER FIBRES Kennedy examined the anonymous letter carefully for several minutes, while we watched him in silence. "Too clever to use a typewriter," he remarked, still regarding the note through the lens of a hand-glass. "Almost any one would have used a machine. That would have been due to the erroneous idea that typewriting cannot be detected. The fact is that the typewriter is perhaps a worse means of concealing identity than is disguised handwriting, especially printing like this. It doesn't afford the effective protection to the criminal that one supposes. On the contrary, the typewriting of such a note may be the direct means by which it can be traced to its source. We can determine what kind of machine it was done with, then what particular machine was used can be identified." He paused and indicated a number of little instruments which he had taken from a drawer and laid on the table, as he tore off a bit of the corner of the sheet of paper and examined it. "There is one thing I can do now, though," he continued. "I can study the quality of the paper in this sheet. If it were only torn like those warnings we have already received, it might perhaps be mated with another piece as accurately as if the act had been performed before our eyes." He picked up a little instrument with a small curved arm and a finely threaded screw that brought the two flat surfaces of the arm and the end of the screw together. "There is no such good fortune in this case, however," he resumed, placing the paper between the two small arms. "But by measurements made by this vernier micrometer caliper I can find the precise thickness of the paper as compared to the other samples." He turned to a microscope and placed the corner of the paper under it. Then he drew from the drawer the four scraps of paper which had already been sent to us, as well as a pile of photographs. "Under ordinary circumstances," he explained, "I should think that what I am doing would be utterly valueless as a clue to anything. But we are reduced to the minutiae in this affair. And to-day science is not ready to let anything pass as valueless." He continued to look at the various pieces of paper under the microscope. "I find under microscopic examination," he went on, addressing Inez, but not looking up from the eye-piece as he shifted the papers, "that the note you have received, Senorita Mendoza, is written on a rather uncommon linen bond paper. Later I shall take a number of microphotographs of it. I have here, also, about a hundred microphotographs of the fibres in other kinds of paper, many of them bonds. These I have accumulated from time to time in my study of the subject. None of them, as you can see, shows fibres resembling this one in question, so that we may conclude that it is of uncommon quality. "Here I have the fibres, also, of four pieces of paper that have already figured in the case. These four correspond, as well as the indentures of the torn edges. As for the fibres, lest you should question the accuracy of the method, I may say that I know of a case where a man in Germany was arrested, charged with stealing a government bond. He was not searched until later. There was no evidence, save that after the arrest a large number of spitballs were found around the courtyard under his cell window. This method of comparing the fibres of the regular government paper was used, and by it the man was convicted of stealing the bond. I think it is unnecessary to add that in the present case I can see definitely that not only the four pieces of paper that bore warnings to us were the same kind, but that this whole sheet, with its anonymous warning to you, is also the same." Inez Mendoza looked at Kennedy as though he possessed some weird power. Her face, which had already been startled into an expression of fear at his mention of Lockwood, now was pale. "Other warnings?" she repeated tremulously. Quickly Kennedy explained what had already happened to us, watching the effect on her as he read of the curse of Mansiche and the Gold of the Gods. "Oh," she cried, mastering her emotion with a heroic effort, "I wish my father had never become mixed up in the business. Ever since I was a little girl I have heard these vague stories of the big fish and the little fish, the treasure, and the curse. But I never thought they were anything but fairy tales. You remember, when I first saw you, I did not even tell them to you." "Yes," returned Kennedy. "I remember. But had you no other reason? Did you, down in your heart, think them really fairy tales?" She shuddered. "Perhaps not," she murmured. "But I have heard enough of you detectives to know that you do not think a woman's fears exactly evidence." "Still they might lead to evidence," suggested Kennedy. She looked at him, more startled than ever, for already he had given her a slight exhibition of his powers. "Mr. Kennedy," she exclaimed, "I am positively afraid of you, afraid that every little thing I do may lead to something I don't intend." There was a frankness about the remark that would have been flattering from a man, but from her excited sympathy. "No," she went on, "I have nothing tangible--only my feelings. I fear I must admit that my father had enemies, though who they are I cannot tell you. No, it is all in my heart--not in my head. There are those whom I dislike--and there are those whom I like and trust. You may call me foolish, but I cannot help trusting--Mr. Lockwood." She had not meant to say his name, and Kennedy and I looked at her in surprise. "You see?" she continued. "Every time I talk I say something, convey some impression that is the opposite of what I wish. Oh--what shall I do? Have I no one to trust?" She was crying. "You may trust me, Senorita," said Kennedy, in a low tone, pausing before her. "At least I have no other interest than finding the truth and helping you. There--there. We have had enough to-day. I cannot ask you to try to forget what has happened. That would be impossible. But I can ask you, Senorita, to have faith--faith that it will all turn out better, if you will only trust me. When you feel stronger--then come to me. Tell me your fears--or not--whichever does you the most good. Only keep your mind from brooding. Face it all as you know your father would have you do." Kennedy's words were soothing. He seemed to know that tears were the safety-valve she needed. "Mr. Jameson will see that you get home safely in a taxicab," he continued. "You can trust him as you would myself." I can imagine circumstances under which I would have enjoyed escorting Inez to her home, but today was not one of the times. Yet she seemed so helpless, so grateful for everything we did for her that I did not need even the pressure of her little hand as she hurried into the apartment from the car with a hasty word of thanks. "You will tell Mr. Kennedy--you will both be--so careful?" she hesitated before leaving me. I assured her that we would, wondering what she might fear for us, as I drove away again. There did not happen to be any of the newspaper men about at the time, and I did not stop. Back in the laboratory, I found Kennedy arranging something under the rug at the door as I came up the hall. "Don't step there, Walter," he cautioned. "Step over the rug. I'm expecting visitors. How was she when she arrived home?" I told him of her parting injunction. "Not bad advice," he remarked. "I think there's a surprise back of those warnings. They weren't sent just for effect." He had closed the door, and we were standing by the table, looking at the letters, when we heard a noise at the door. It was Norton again. "I've been thinking of what you told me last night," he explained, before Kennedy had a chance to tell him to step over the rug. "Has anything else happened?" Kennedy tossed over the anonymous letter, and Norton read it eagerly. "Whom does it mean?" he asked, quickly glancing up, then adding, "It might mean any of us who are trying to help her." "Exactly," returned Kennedy. "Or it might be Lockwood, or even de Moche. By the way, you know the young man pretty well, don't you? I wonder if you could find him anywhere about the University this morning and persuade him to visit me?" "I will try," agreed Norton. "But these people are so very suspicious just now that I can't promise." Norton went out a few minutes later to see what he could do to locate Alfonso, and Kennedy replaced another blank sheet of paper for that under the rug on which Norton had stepped before we could warn him. No sooner had he gone than Kennedy reached for the telephone and called Whitney's office. Lockwood was there, as he had hoped, and, after a short talk, promised to drop in on us later in the morning. It was fully half an hour before Norton returned, having finally found Alfonso. De Moche entered the laboratory with a suspicious glance about, as though he thought something might have been planted there for him. "I had a most interesting talk with your mother yesterday," began Kennedy, endeavouring by frankness to put the young man at ease. "And this morning, already, Senorita Mendoza has called on me." De Moche was all attention at the words. But before he could say anything Kennedy handed him the anonymous letter. He read it, and his face clouded as he handed it back. "You have no idea who could have sent such a note?" queried Craig, "or to whom it might refer?" He glanced at Norton, then at us. It was clear that some sort of suspicion had flashed over him. "No," he said quickly, "I know no one who could have sent it." "But whom does it mean?" asked Kennedy, holding him to the part that he avoided. The young man shrugged his shoulders. "She has many friends," he answered simply. "Yes," persisted Kennedy, "but few against whom she might be warned in this way. You do not think it is Professor Norton, for instance--or myself?" "Oh, no, no--hardly," he replied, then stopped, realizing that he had eliminated all but Lockwood, Whitney, and himself. "It could not be Mr. Lockwood?" demanded Craig. "Who sent it?" he asked, looking up. "No--whom it warns against." De Moche had known what Kennedy meant, but had preferred to postpone the answer. It was native never to come to the point unless he was forced to do so. He met our eyes squarely. He had not the penetrating power that his mother possessed, yet his was a sharp faculty of observation. "Mr. Lockwood is very friendly with her," he admitted, then seemed to think something else necessary to round out the idea. "Mr. Kennedy, I might have told her the same myself. Senorita Mendoza has been a very dear friend--for a long time." I had been so used to having him evasive that now I did not exactly know what to make of such a burst of confidence. It was susceptible of at least two interpretations. Was he implying that it was sent to cast suspicion on him, because he felt that way himself or because he himself was her friend? "There have been other warnings," pursued Kennedy, "both to myself and Mr. Jameson, as well as Professor Norton and Dr. Leslie. Surely you must have some idea of the source." De Moche shook his head. "None that I can think of," he replied. "Have you asked my mother?" "Not yet," admitted Kennedy. De Moche glanced at his watch. "I have a lecture at this hour," he remarked, evidently glad of an excuse to terminate the interview. As he left, Kennedy accompanied him to the door, careful himself to step over the mat. "Hello, what's new?" we heard a voice in the hall. It was Lockwood, who had come up from downtown. Catching sight of de Moche, however, he stopped short. The two young men met face to face. Between them passed a glance of unconcealed hostility, then each nodded stiffly. De Moche turned to Kennedy as he passed down the hall. "Perhaps it may have been sent to divert suspicion--who can tell?" he whispered. Kennedy nodded appreciatively, noting the change. At the sound of Lockwood's voice both Norton and I had taken a step further after them out into the hall, Norton somewhat in advance. As de Moche disappeared for his lecture, Kennedy turned to me from Lockwood and caught my eye. I read in his glance that fell from me to the mat that he wished me quietly to abstract the piece of paper which he had placed under it. I bent down and did so without Lockwood seeing me. "Why was he here?" demanded Lockwood, with just a trace of defiance in his voice, as though he fancied the meeting had been framed. "I have been showing this to every one who might help me," returned Kennedy, going back into the laboratory after giving me an opportunity to dispose of the shoe-prints. He handed the anonymous letter and the other warnings to the young soldier of fortune, with a brief explanation. "Why don't they come out into the open, whoever they are?" commented Lockwood, laying the papers down carelessly again on the table. "I'll meet them--if they mean me." "Who?" asked Kennedy. Lockwood faced Norton and ourselves. "I'm not a mind reader," he said significantly. "But it doesn't take much to see that some one wants to throw a brick at me. When I have anything to say I say it openly. Inez Mendoza without friends just now would be a mark, wouldn't she?" His strong face and powerful jaw were set in a menacing scowl. He would be a bold man who would have come between Lockwood and the lady under the circumstances. "You are confident of Mr. Whitney?" inquired Kennedy. "Ask Norton," replied Lockwood briefly. "He knew him long before I did." Norton smiled quietly. "Mr. Kennedy should know what my opinion of Mr. Whitney is, I think," replied Norton confidently. "I trust that you will succeed in running these blackmailers down," pursued Lockwood, still standing. "If I did not have more than I can attend to already since the murder of Mendoza I'd like to take a hand myself. It begins to look to me, after reading that letter, as though there was nothing too low for them to attempt. I shall keep this latest matter in mind. If either Mr. Whitney or myself get any hint, we'll turn it over to you." Norton left shortly after Lockwood, and Kennedy again picked up the letter and scanned it. "I could learn something, I suppose, if I analyzed this printing," he considered, "but it is a tedious process. Let me see that envelope again. H-m, postmarked by the uptown sub-station, mailed late last night. Whoever sent it must have done so not very far from us here. Lockwood seemed to take it as though it applied to himself very readily, didn't he? Much more so than de Moche. Only for the fact that the fibres show it to be on paper similar to the first warnings, I might have been inclined to doubt whether this was bona fide. At least, the sender must realize now that it has produced no appreciable effect--if any was intended." Kennedy's last remark set me thinking. Could some one have sent the letter not to produce the effect apparently intended, but with the ultimate object of diverting suspicion from himself? Lockwood, at least, had not seemed to take the letter very seriously. X THE X-RAY READER "I think I'll pay another visit to Whitney, in spite of all that Norton and Lockwood say about him," remarked Kennedy, considering the next step he would take in his investigation. Accordingly, half an hour later we entered his Wall Street office, where we were met by a clerk, who seemed to remember us. "Mr. Whitney is out just at present," he said, "but if you will be seated I think I can reach him by telephone." As we sat in the outer office while the clerk telephoned from Whitney's own room the door opened and the postman entered and laid some letters on a table near us. Kennedy could not help seeing the letter on top of the pile, and noticed that it bore a stamp from Peru. He picked it up and read the postmark, "Lima," and the date some weeks previous. In the lower corner, underscored, were the words "Personal--Urgent." "I'd like to know what is in that," remarked Craig, turning it over and over. He appeared to be considering something, for he rose suddenly, and with a nod of his head to himself, as though settling some qualm of conscience, shoved the letter into his pocket. A moment later the clerk returned. "I've just had Mr. Whitney on the wire," he reported. "I don't think he'll be back at least for an hour." "Is he at the Prince Edward Albert?" asked Craig. "I don't know," returned the clerk, oblivious to the fact that we must have seen that in order to know the telephone number he must have known whether Mr. Whitney was there or elsewhere. "I shall come in again," rejoined Kennedy, as we bowed ourselves out. Then to me he added, "If he is with Senora de Moche and they are at the Edward Albert, I think I can beat him back with this letter if we hurry." A few minutes later, in his laboratory, Kennedy set to work quickly over an X-ray apparatus. As I watched him, I saw that he had placed the letter in it. "These are what are known as 'low tubes,'" he explained. "They give out 'soft rays.'" He continued to work for several minutes, then took the letter out and handed it to me. "Now, Walter," he said brusquely, "if you will just hurry back down there to Whitney's office and replace that letter, I think I will have something that will astonish you--though whether it will have any bearing on the case remains to be seen. At least I can postpone seeing Whitney himself for a while." I made the trip down again as rapidly as I could. Whitney was not back when I arrived, but the clerk was there, and I could not very well just leave the letter on the table again. "Mr. Kennedy would like to know when he can see Mr. Whitney," I said, on the spur of the moment. "Can't you call him up again?" The clerk, as I had anticipated, went into Whitney's office to telephone. Instead of laying the letter on the table, which might have excited suspicion, I stuck it in the letter slot of the door, thinking that perhaps they might imagine that it had caught there when the postman made his rounds. A moment later the clerk returned. "Mr. Whitney is on his way down now," he reported. I thanked him, and said that Kennedy would call him up when he arrived, congratulating myself on the good luck I had had in returning the letter. "What is it?" I asked, a few minutes later, when I had rejoined Craig in the laboratory. He was poring intently over what looked like a negative. "The possibility of reading the contents of documents inclosed in a sealed envelope," he replied, still studying the shadowgraph closely, "has already been established by the well-known English scientist, Dr. Hall Edwards. He has been experimenting with the method of using X-rays recently discovered by a German scientist, by which radiographs of very thin substances, such as a sheet of paper, a leaf, an insect's body, may be obtained. These thin substances, through which the rays used formerly to pass without leaving an impression, can now be easily radiographed." I looked carefully as he traced out something on the queer negative. On it, it was easily possible, following his guidance, to read the words inscribed on the sheet of paper inside. So admirably defined were all the details that even the gum on the envelope and the edges of the sheet of paper inside the envelope could be distinguished. "It seems incredible," I exclaimed, scarcely believing what I actually saw. "It is almost like second sight." Kennedy smiled. "Any letter written with ink having a mineral base can be radiographed," he added. "Even when the sheet is folded in the usual way, it is possible, by taking a radiograph, as I have done, stereoscopically. Then every detail can be seen standing out in relief. Besides, it can be greatly magnified, which aids in deciphering it if it is indistinct or jumbled up. Some of it looks like mirror-writing. Ah," he continued, "here's something interesting." Together we managed to trace out the contents of several paragraphs laboriously, the gist of which I give here: "LIMA, PERU. "DEAR WHITNEY: "Matters are progressing very favorably here, considering the stoppage of business due to the war. I am doing everything in my power to conserve our interests, and now and then, owing to the scarcity of money, am able to pick up a concession cheaply, which will be of immense value to us later. "However, it is not so much of business that I wish to write you at the present time. You know that my friend Senora de Moche, with her son, Alfonso, is at present in New York. Doubtless she has already called on you and tried to interest you in her own properties here. I need not advise you to be very careful in dealing with her. "The other day I heard a rumour that may prove interesting to you, regarding Norton and his work here on his last trip. As we know, he has succeeded in finding and getting out of the country an Inca dagger which, I believe, bears a very important inscription. I do not know anything definite about it, as these people are very reticent. But no doubt he has told you all about it by this time. If it should prove of value, I depend on you to let me know, so that I may act at this end accordingly. "What I am getting at is this: I understand that from rumours and remarks of the Senora she believes that Norton took an unfair advantage during her absence. What the inscription is I don't know, but from the way these people down here act one would think that they all had a proprietary interest in the relic. What it is all about I don't know. But you will find the Senora both a keen business woman and an accomplished antiquarian, if you have not already discovered it. "In regard to Lockwood and Mendoza, if we can get them in on our side, it ought to prove a winning combination. There are stories here of how de Moche has been playing on Mendoza's passions--she's thoroughly unscrupulous and Don Luis is somewhat of a Don Juan. I write this to put you on guard. Her son, Alfonso, whom you perhaps have met also, is of another type, though I have heard it said that he laid siege to Inez Mendoza in the hope of becoming allied with one of the oldest families. "Such, at least, is the gossip down here. I cannot presume to keep you posted at such a distance, but thought I had better write what is in every one's mouth. As for the inscribed dagger which Norton has taken with him, I rely on you to inform me. There seems to be a great deal of mystery connected with it, and I am unable even to hazard a guess as to its nature. Fortunately, you are on the spot "Very sincerely yours, "HAGGERTY." "So," remarked Kennedy, as he read over the translation of the skiagraph which he had jotted down as we picked out the letters and words, "that's how the land lies. Everybody seems to have appreciated the importance of the dagger." "Except Norton," I could not help putting in in disgust. "And now it's gone," he continued, "just as though some one had dropped it overboard. I believe I will keep that appointment you made for me with Whitney, after all." Thus it happened that I found myself a third time entering Whitney's building. I was about to step into the elevator, when Kennedy tugged at my arm and pulled me back. "Hello, Norton," I heard him say, as I turned and caught sight of the archaeologist just leaving an elevator that had come down. Norton's face plainly showed that he was worried. "What the matter?" asked Kennedy, putting the circumstances together. "What has Whitney been doing?" Norton seemed reluctant to talk, but having no alternative motioned to us to step aside in the corridor. "It's the first time I've talked with him since the dagger was stolen--that is, about the loss," he said nervously. "He called me up half an hour ago and asked me to come down." I looked at Kennedy significantly. Evidently it must have been just after his return to the office and receipt of the letter which I had stuck in the letter slot. "He was very angry over something," continued Norton. "I'm sure it was not my fault if the dagger was stolen, and I'm sure that managing an expedition in that God-forsaken country doesn't give you time to read every inscription, especially when it is almost illegible, right on the spot. There was work enough for months that I brought back, along with that. Sometimes Whitney's unreasonable." "You don't think he could have known something about the dagger all along?" ventured Craig. Norton puckered his eyes. "He never said anything," he replied. "If he had asked me to drop other things for that, why, of course, I would have done so. We can't afford to lose him as a contributor to the exploration fund. Confound it--I'm afraid I've put my foot in it this time." Kennedy said nothing, and Norton continued, growing more excited: "Everybody's been talking to Whitney, telling him all kinds of things--Lockwood, the de Moches, heaven knows who else. Why don't they come out and face me? I've a notion to try to carry on my work independently. Nothing plays hob with scholarship like money. You'd think he owned me body and soul, and the collection, too, if you heard him talk. Why, he accused me of carelessness in running the Museum, and heaven knows I'm not the curator--I'm not even the janitor!" Norton was excited, but I could not help feeling that he was also relieved. "I've been preparing for the time when I'd have to cut loose," he went on finally. "Now, I suppose it is coming. Ah, well, perhaps it will be better--who can tell? I may not do so much, but it will all be mine, with no strings attached. Perhaps, after all, it is for the best." Talking over his troubles seemed to do Norton some good, for I am sure that he left us in a better frame of mind than we had found him. Kennedy wished him good-luck, and we again entered the lift. We found Whitney in an even greater state of excitement than Norton had been. I am sure that if it had been any one else than Kennedy he would have thrown him out, but he seemed to feel that he must control himself in our presence. "What do you know about that fellow Norton, up at your place?" he demanded, almost before we had seated ourselves. "A very hard-working, ambitious man his colleagues tell me," returned Kennedy, purposely I thought, as if it had been a red rag flaunted before a bull. "Hard-working--yes," bellowed Whitney. "He has worked me hard. I send him down to Peru--yes, I put up most of the money. Then what does he do? Just kids me along, makes me think he's accomplishing a whole lot--when he's actually so careless as to let himself be robbed of what he gets with my money. I tell you, you can't trust anybody. They all double-cross you. I swear, I think Lockwood and I ought to go it alone. I'm glad I found that fellow out. Let himself be robbed--a fine piece of work! Why, that fellow couldn't see through a barn door--after the horse was stolen," he concluded, mixing his metaphors in his anger. "Evidently some one has been telling you something," remarked Kennedy. "We tried to see you twice this morning, but couldn't find you." His tone was one calculated to impress Whitney with the fact that he had been watching and had some idea of where he really was. Whitney shot a sharp glance at Craig, whose face betrayed nothing. "Ambitious--I should say so," repeated Whitney, reverting to Norton to cover up this new change of the subject. "Well--let him be ambitious. We can get along without him. I tell you, Kennedy, no one is indispensable. There is always some way to get along--if you can't get over an obstacle, you can get around it. I'll dispense with Mr. Norton. He's an expensive luxury, anyhow. I'm just as well satisfied." There was real vexation in Whitney's voice, yet as he talked he, too, seemed to cool down. I could not help thinking that both Norton and Whitney were perhaps just a bit glad at the break. Had both of them got out of each other all that they wanted--Norton his reputation and Whitney--what? He cooled down so rapidly now that almost I began to wonder whether his anger had been genuine. Did he know more about the dagger than appeared? Was this his cover--to disown Norton? "It seems to me that Senora de Moche is ambitious for her son, too," remarked Kennedy, tenaciously trying to force the conversation into the channel he chose. "How's that?" demanded Whitney, narrowing his eyes down into a squint at Kennedy's face, a proceeding that served by contrast to emphasize the abnormal condition of the pupils which I had already noticed both in his eyes and Lockwood's. "I don't think she'd object to having him marry into one of the leading families in Peru," ventured Kennedy, paraphrasing what we had already read in the letter. "Perhaps Senorita Mendoza herself can be trusted to see to that," Whitney replied with a quick laugh. "To say nothing of Mr. Lockwood," suggested Craig. Whitney looked at him quizzically, as though in doubt just how much this man knew. "Senora de Moche puzzles me," went on Kennedy. "I often wonder whether superstition or greed would rule her if it came to the point in this matter of the Gold of the Gods, as they all seem to call the buried treasure at Truxillo. She's a fascinating woman, but I can't help feeling that with her one is always playing with fire." Whitney eyed us knowingly. I had long ago taken his measure as a man quite susceptible to a pretty face, especially if accompanied by a well-turned ankle. "I never discuss politics during business hours," he laughed, with a self-satisfied air. "You will excuse me? I have some rather important letters that I must get off." Kennedy rose, and Whitney walked to the door with us, to call his stenographer. We had scarcely said good-bye and were about to open the outer door when it was pushed open from outside, and Lockwood bustled in. "No more anonymous letters, I hope?" he queried, in a tone which I could not determine whether serious or sarcastic. Kennedy answered in the negative. "Not unless you have one." "I? I rather think the ready letter-writers know better than to waste time on me. That little billet doux seems to have quite upset the Senorita, though. I don't know how many times she has called me up to see if I was all right. I begin to think that whoever wrote it has done me a good turn, after all." Lockwood did not say it in a boastful way, but one could see that he was greatly pleased at the solicitude of Inez. "She thinks it referred to you, then?" asked Kennedy. "Evidently," he replied; then added, "I won't say but that I have taken it seriously, too." He slapped his hip pocket. Under the tail of his coat bulged a blue-steel automatic. "You still have no idea who could have sent it, or why?" Lockwood shook his head. "Whoever he is, I'm ready," he replied grimly, bowing us out. XI THE SHOE-PRINTS "I'm afraid we've neglected the Senorita a bit, in our efforts to follow up what clues we have in the case," remarked Kennedy, as we rode uptown again. "She needs all the protection we can give her. I think we'd better drop around there, now that she is pretty likely to be left alone." Accordingly, instead of going back to the laboratory, we dropped off near the apartment of the Mendozas and walked over from the subway. As we turned the corner, far down the long block I could see the entrance to the apartment. "There she is now," I said to Kennedy, catching sight of her familiar figure, clad in sombre black, as she came down the steps. "I wonder where she can be going." She turned at the foot of the steps and, as chance would have it, started in the opposite direction from us. "Let us see," answered Kennedy, quickening his pace. She had not gone very far before a man seemed to spring up from nowhere and meet her. He bowed, and walked along beside her. "De Moche," recognized Kennedy. Alfonso had evidently been waiting in the shadow of an entrance down the street, perhaps hoping to see her, perhaps as our newspaper friend had seen before, to watch whether Lockwood was among her callers. As we walked along, we could see the little drama with practically no fear of being seen, so earnestly were they talking. Even during the few minutes that the Senorita was talking with him no one would have needed to be told that she really had a great deal of regard for him, whatever might be her feelings toward Lockwood. "I should say that she wants to see him, yet does not want to see him," observed Kennedy, as we came closer. She seemed now to have become restive and impatient, eager to cut the conversation short. It was quite evident at the same time that Alfonso was deeply in love with her, that though she tried to put him off he was persistent. I wondered whether, after all, some of the trouble had not been that during his lifetime the proud old Castilian Don Luis could never have consented to the marriage of his daughter to one of Indian blood. Had he left a legacy of fear of a love forbidden by race prejudice? In any event, the manner of Alfonso's actions about the Mendoza apartment was such that one could easily imagine his feelings toward Lockwood, whom he saw carrying off the prize under his very eyes. As for his mother, the Senora, we had already seen that Peruvians of her caste were also a proud old race. Her son was the apple of her eye. Might not some of her feelings be readily accounted for? Who were these to scorn her race, her family? We had walked along at a pace that finally brought us up with them. As Kennedy and I bowed, Alfonso seemed at first to resent our intrusion, while Inez seemed rather to welcome it as a diversion. "Can we not expect you?" the young man repeated. "It will be only for a few minutes this afternoon, and my mother has something of very great importance to tell." He was half pleading, half apologizing. Inez glanced hastily around at Kennedy, uncertain what to say, and hoping that he might indicate some course. Surreptitiously, Kennedy nodded an affirmative. "Very well, then," she replied reluctantly, not to seem to change what had been her past refusal too suddenly. "I may ask Professor Kennedy, too?" He could scarcely refuse before us. "Of course," he agreed, quickly turning to us. "We were speaking about meeting this afternoon at four in the tea room of the Prince Edward. You can come?" Though the invitation was not over-gracious, Kennedy replied, "We should be delighted to accompany Miss Inez, I am sure. We happened to be passing this way and thought we would stop in to see if anything new had happened. Just as we turned the corner we saw you disappearing down the street, and followed. I trust everything is all right?" "Nothing more has happened since this morning," she returned, with a look that indicated she understood that Kennedy referred to the anonymous letter. "I had a little shopping to do. If you will excuse me, I think I will take a car. This afternoon--at four." She nodded brightly as we assisted her into a taxicab and left us three standing there on the curb. For a moment it was rather awkward. To Alfonso her leaving was somewhat as though the sun had passed under a cloud. "Are you going up toward the University?" inquired Kennedy. "Yes," responded the young man reluctantly. "Then suppose we walk. It would take only a few more minutes," suggested Kennedy. Alfonso could not very well refuse, but started off at a brisk pace. "I suppose these troubles interfere seriously with your work," pursued Craig, as we fell into his stride. "Yes," he admitted, "although much of my work just now is only polishing off what I have already learned--getting your American point of view and methods. You see, I have had an idea that the canal will bring both countries into much closer relations than before. And if you will not learn of us, we must learn of you." "It is too bad we Americans don't take more interest in the countries south of us," admitted Craig. "I think you have the right idea, though. Such men as Mr. Whitney are doing their best to bring the two nations closer together." I watched the effect of the mention of Whitney's name. It seemed distasteful, only in a lesser degree than Lockwood's. "We do not need to be exploited," he ventured. "My belief is that we should not attract capital in order to take things out of the country. If we might keep our own earnings and transform them into capital, it would be better. That is why I am doing what I am at the University." I could not believe that it explained the whole reason for his presence in New York. Without a doubt the girl who had just left us weighed largely in his mind, as well as his and his mother's ambitions, both personal and for Peru. "Quite reasonable," accepted Kennedy. "Peru for the Peruvians. Yet there seems to be such untold wealth in the country that taking out even quite large sums would not begin to exhaust the natural resources." "But they are ours, they belong to us," hastened de Moche, then caught the drift of Kennedy's remarks, and was on his guard. "Buried treasure, like that which you call the Gold of the Gods, is always fascinating," continued Kennedy. "The trouble with such easy money, however, is that it tends to corrupt. In the early days history records its taint. And I doubt whether human nature has changed much under the veneer of modern civilization. The treasure seems to leave its trail even as far away as New York. It has at least one murder to its credit already." "There has been nothing but murder and robbery from the time that the peje chica was discovered," asserted the young man sadly. "You are quite right." "Truly it would seem to have been cursed," added Craig. "The spirit of Mansiche must, indeed, watch over it. I suppose you know of the loss of the old Inca dagger from the University Museum and that it was that with which Don Luis was murdered?" It was the first time Kennedy had broached the subject to de Moche, and I watched closely to see what was its effect. "Perhaps it was a warning," commented Alfonso, in a solemn tone, that left me in doubt whether it was purely superstitious dread or in the nature of a prophecy of what might be expected from some quarter of which we were ignorant. "You have known of the existence of the dagger always, I presume," continued Kennedy. "Have you or any one you know ever sought to discover its secret and search it out?" "I think my mother told you we never dig for treasure," he answered. "It would be sacrilegious. Besides, there is more treasure buried by nature than that dedicated to the gods. There is only one trouble that may hurt our natural resources--the get-rich-quick promoter. I would advise looking out for him. He flourishes in a newly opened country like Peru. That curse, I suppose, is much better understood by Americans than the curse of Mansiche. But as for me, you must remember that the curse is part of my religion, as it were." We had reached the campus by this time, and parted at the gate, each to go his way. "You will drop in on me if you hear anything?" invited Craig. "Yes," promised Alfonso. "We shall see you at four." With this parting reminder he turned toward the School of Mines while we debouched off toward the Chemistry Building. "The de Moches are nobody's tools," I remarked. "That young man seems to have a pretty definite idea of what he wants to do." "At least he puts it so before us," was all that Kennedy would grant. "He seems to be as well informed of what passed at that visit to the Senora as though he had been there too." We had scarcely opened the laboratory door when the ringing of the telephone told us that some one had been trying to get in touch for some time. "It was Norton," said Kennedy, hanging up the receiver. "I imagine he wants to know what happened after we left him and went up to see Whitney." That was, in fact, just what Norton wanted, as well as to make clear to us how he felt on the subject. "Really, Kennedy," he remarked, "it must be fine to feel that your chair in the University is endowed rather than subsidized. You saw how Whitney acted, you say. Why, he makes me feel as if I were his hired man, instead of head of the University's expedition. I'm glad it's over. Still, if you could find that dagger and have it returned it might look better for me. You have no clue, I suppose?" "I'm getting closer to one," replied Craig confidently, though on what he could base any optimism I could not see. The same idea seemed to be in Norton's mind. "You think you will have something tangible soon?" he asked eagerly. "I've had more slender threads than these to work on," reassured Kennedy. "Besides, I'm getting very little help from any of you. You yourself, Norton, at the start left me a good deal in the dark over the history of the dagger." "I couldn't do otherwise," he defended. "You understand now, I guess, how I have always been tied, hand and foot, by the Whitney influence. You'll find that I can be of more service, now." "Just how did you get possession of the dagger?" asked Kennedy, and there flashed over me the recollection of the story told by the Senora, as well as the letter which we had purloined. "Just picked it up from an Indian who had an abnormal dislike to work. They said he was crazy, and I guess perhaps he was. At any rate, he later drowned himself in the lake, I have heard." "Could he have been made insane, do you think?" ruminated Craig. "It's possible that he was the victim of somebody, I understand. The insanity might have been real enough without the cause being natural." "That's an interesting story," returned Norton. "Offhand, I can't seem to recall much about the fellow, although some one else might have known him very well." Evidently he either did not know the tale as well as the Senora, or was not prepared to take us entirely into his confidence. "Who is Haggerty?" asked Craig, thinking of the name signed to the letter we had read. "An agent of Whitney and his associates, who manages things in Lima," explained Norton. "Why?" "Nothing--only I have heard the name and wondered what his connection might be. I understand better now." Kennedy seemed to be anxious to get to work on something, and, after a few minutes, Norton left us. No sooner had the door closed than he took the glass-bell jar off his microscope and drew from a table drawer several scraps of paper on which I recognized the marks left by the carbon sheets. He set to work on another of those painstaking tasks of examination, and I retired to my typewriter, which I had moved into the next room, in order to leave Kennedy without anything that might distract attention from his work. One after another he examined the sheets which he had marked, starting with a hand-lens and then using one more powerful. At the top of the table lay the specially prepared paper on which he had caught and preserved the marks in the dust of the Egyptian sarcophagus in the Museum. Besides these things, I noticed that he had innumerable photographs, many of which were labelled with the stamp of the bureau in the Paris Palais de Justice, over which Bertillon had presided. One after another he looked at the carbon prints, comparing them point by point with the specially prepared copy of the shoe-prints in the sarcophagus. It was, after all, a comparatively simple job. We had the prints of de Moche and Lockwood, as well as Whitney, all of them crossed by steps from Norton. "Well, what do you think of that?" I heard him mutter. I quit my typewriter, with a piece of paper still in it, and hurried into the main room. "Have you found anything?" "I should say I had," he replied, in a tone that betrayed his own astonishment at the find. "Look at that," he indicated to me, handing over one of the sheets. "Compare it with this Museum foot-print." With his pencil Kennedy rapidly indicated the tell-tale points of similarity on the two shoe-prints. I looked up at him, convinced now of some one's identity. "Who was it?" I asked, unable to restrain myself longer. Kennedy paused a minute, to let the importance of the surprise be understood. "The man who entered the Museum and concealed himself in the sarcophagus in the Egyptian section adjoining Norton's treasures," replied Kennedy slowly, "was Lockwood himself!" XII THE EVIL EYE Completely at sea as a result of the unexpected revelation of the shoe-prints we had found in the Museum, and with suspicions now thoroughly aroused against Lockwood, I accompanied Kennedy to keep our appointment with the Senorita at the Prince Edward Albert. We were purposely a bit early, in order to meet Inez, so that she would not have to be alone with the Senora, and we sat down in the lobby in a little angle from which we could look into the tea room. We had not been sitting there very long when Kennedy called my attention to Whitney, who had just come in. Almost at the same time he caught sight of us, and walked over. "I've been thinking a good deal of your visit to me just now," he began, seating himself beside us. "Perhaps I should not have said what I did about your friend Norton. But I couldn't help it. I guess you know something about that dagger he lost, don't you?" "I have heard of the 'great fish' and the 'little fish' and the 'curse of Mansiche,'" replied Kennedy, "if that is what you mean. Somehow the Inca dagger seems to have been mixed up with them." "Yes--with the peje grande, I believe," went on Whitney. Beneath his exterior of studied calm I could see that he was very much excited. If I had not already noted a peculiar physical condition in him, I might have thought he had stopped in the cafe with some friends too long. But his eyes were not those of a man who has had too much to drink. Just then Senorita Mendoza entered, and Kennedy rose and went forward to greet her. She saw Whitney, and flashed an inquiring glance at us. "We were waiting for Senorita Mendoza," explained Kennedy to both Whitney and her, "when Mr. Whitney happened along. I don't see Senora de Moche in the tea room. Perhaps we may as well sit out here in the corridor until she comes." It was evidently his desire to see how Whitney and Inez would act, for this was the first time we had ever seen them together. "We were talking of the treasure," resumed Whitney, omitting to mention the dagger. "Kennedy, we are not the only ones who have sought the peje grande, or rather are seeking it. But we are, I believe, the only ones who are seeking it in the right place, and," he added, leaning over confidentially, "your father, Senorita, was the only one who could have got the concession, the monopoly, from the government to seek in what I am convinced will be the right place. Others have found the 'little fish.' We shall find the 'big fish.'" He had raised his voice from the whisper, and I caught Inez looking anxiously at Kennedy, as much as to say, "You see? He is like the rest. His mind is full of only one subject." "We shall find it, too," he continued, still speaking in a high-pitched key, "no matter what obstacles man or devil put in our way. It shall be ours--for a simple piece of engineering--ours! The curse of Mansiche--pouf!" He snapped his fingers defiantly as he said it. There was an air of bravado about his manner. I could not help feeling that perhaps in his heart he was not so sure of himself as he would have others think. I watched him closely, and could see that he had suddenly become even more excited than before. It was as though some diabolical force had taken possession of his brain, and he fought it off, but was unable to conquer. Kennedy followed the staring glance of Whitney's eyes, which seemed almost to pop out of his head, as though he were suffering from the disease exophthalmic goitre. I looked also. Senora de Moche had come from the elevator, accompanied by Alfonso, and was walking slowly down the corridor. As she looked to the right and left, she had caught sight of our little group, all except Whitney, with our backs toward her. She was now looking fixedly in our direction, paying no attention to anything else. Whitney was a study. I wondered what could be the relations between these two, the frankly voluptuous woman and the calculating full-blooded man. Whitney, for his part, seemed almost fascinated by her gaze. He rose as she bowed, and, for a moment, I thought that he was going over to speak to her, as if drawn by that intangible attraction which Poe has so cleverly expressed in his "Imp of the Perverse." For, clearly, one who talked as Whitney had just been talking would have to be on his guard with that woman. Instead, however, he returned her nod and stood still, while Kennedy bowed at a distance and signalled to her that we would be in the tea room directly. I glanced up in time to see the anxious look on the face of Inez change momentarily into a flash of hatred toward the Senora. At the same moment Alfonso, who was on the other side of his mother, turned from looking at a newsstand which had attracted his attention and caught sight of us. There was no mistaking the ardent glance which he directed at the fair Peruvian at my side. I fancied, too, that her face softened a bit. It was only for a moment, and then Inez resumed her normal composure. "I won't detain you any longer," remarked Whitney. "Somehow, when I start to talk about my--our plans down there at Truxillo I could go on all night. It is marvellous, marvellous. We haven't any idea of what the future holds in store. No one else in all this big city has anything like the prospect which is before us. Gradually we are getting everything into shape. When we are ready to go ahead, it will be the sensation of Wall Street--and, believe me, it takes much to arouse the Street." He may have been talking wildly, but it was worth while to listen to him. For, whatever else he was, Whitney was one of the most persuasive promoters of the day. More than that, I could well imagine how any one possessed of an imagination susceptible to the influence of mystery and tradition would succumb to the glittering charm of the magic words, peje chica, and feel all the gold-hunter's enthusiasm when Whitney brought him into the atmosphere of the peje grande. As he talked, visions of hidden treasure seemed to throw a glamour over everything. One saw golden. "You will excuse us?" apologized Kennedy, taking Inez by the arm. "If you are about, Mr. Whitney, I shall stop to chat with you again on the way out." "Remember--she is a very remarkable woman," said Whitney, as we left him and started for the tea room. His tone was not exactly one of warning, yet it seemed to have cost him an effort to say it. I could not reconcile it with any other idea than that he was trying to use her in his own plans, but was still in doubt of the outcome. We parted from him and entered the darkened tea room, with its wicker tables and chairs, and soft lights, glowing pinkly, to simulate night in the broad light of afternoon outside. A fountain splashed soothingly in the centre. Everything was done to lend to the place an exotic air of romance. Alfonso and his mother had chosen a far corner, deeper than the rest in the shadows, where two wicker settees were drawn up about a table, effectually cutting off inquisitive eyes and ears. Alfonso rose as we approached and bowed deeply. I could not help watching the two women as they greeted each other. "Won't you be seated?" he asked, pulling around one of the wicker chairs. It was then that I saw how he had contrived to sit next to Inez, while Kennedy manoeuvred to sit on the end, where he could observe them all best. It was a rather delicate situation, and I wondered how Kennedy would handle it, for, although Alfonso had done the inviting, it was really Craig who was responsible for allowing Inez to accept. The Senora seemed to recognize it, also, for, although she talked to Inez, it was plain she had him in mind. "I have heard from Alfonso about the cruel death of your father," she began, in a softened tone, "and I haven't had a chance to tell you how deeply I sympathize with you. Of course, I am a much older woman than you, have seen much more trouble. But I know that never in life do troubles seem keener than when life is young. And yours has been so harsh. I could not let it pass without an opportunity to tell you how deeply I feel." She said it with an air of sincerity that was very convincing, so convincing, in fact, that it shook for the moment the long chain of suspicion that I had been forging both of her and her son. Could she be such a heartless woman as to play on the very heartstrings of one whom she had wronged? I was shaken, moreover, by the late discovery by Kennedy of the foot-prints. The Senorita murmured her thanks for the condolences in a broken voice. It was evident that whatever enmity she bore against the Senora it was not that of suspicion that she was the cause of her father's death. "I can sympathize with you the more deeply," she went on, "because only lately I have lost a very dear brother myself. Already I have told Professor Kennedy something about it. It was a matter of which I felt I must speak to you, for it may concern you, in the venture in which Mr. Lockwood and your father were associated, and into which now Mr. Whitney has entered." Inez said nothing, and Craig bowed, as though he, too, wished her to go on. "It is about the 'big fish' and the concession which your father has obtained from the government to search for it." The Senorita started and grew a bit pale at the reference, but she seemed to realize that it was something she ought to hear, and steeled herself to it. "Yes," she murmured, "I understand." "As you no doubt know," resumed the Senora, "no one has had the secret of the hiding-place. It has been by mere tradition that they were going to dig. That secret, you may know or may not know now, was in reality contained in the inscriptions on an old Inca dagger." Inez shuddered at the mention of the weapon, a shudder that was not lost on the Senora. "I have already told Professor Kennedy that both the tradition and the dagger were handed down in my own family, coming at last to my brother. As I said, I don't know how it happened, but somehow he seemed to be getting crazy, until he talked, and the dagger was stolen from him. It came finally into Professor Norton's hands, from whom it was in turn stolen." She looked at Inez searchingly, as if to discover just what she knew. I wondered whether the Senora suspected the presence of Lockwood's footprints in the sarcophagus in the Museum--what she would do if she did. "After he lost it," she continued reminiscently, "my brother threw himself one day into Lake Titicaca. Everywhere the trail of that dagger, of the secret of the Gold of the Gods has been stained by blood. To-day the world scoffs at curses. But surely that gold must be cursed. It has been cursed for us and ours." She spoke bitterly; yet might she not mean that the loss of the dagger, the secret, was a curse, too? "There is one other thing I wish to say, and then I will be through. Far back, when your ancestors came into the country of mine, an ancestor of your father lost his life over the treasure. It seems as if there were a strange fatality over it, as if the events of to-day were but living over the events of yesterday. It is something that we cannot escape--fate." She paused a moment, then added, "Yet it might be possible that the curse could be removed if somehow we, who were against each other then, might forget and be for each other now." "But Senorita Mendoza has not the dagger," put in Kennedy, watching her face keenly, to read the effect of his remark. "She has no idea where it may be." "Then it is pure tradition on which Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Whitney depend in their search for the treasure?" flashed back the Senora quickly. Kennedy did not know, but he did not confess it. "Until we know differently, we must take their word for it," he evaded. "It was not that that I meant, however," replied Senora de Moche. "I meant that we might stop the curse by ceasing to hunt for the treasure. It has never done any one good; it never will. Why tempt fate, then? Why not pause before it is too late?" I could not quite catch the secondary implication of her plan. Did it mean that the treasure would then be left for her family? Or was she hinting at Inez accepting Alfonso's suit? Somehow I could not take the Senora at her face value. I constantly felt that there was an ulterior motive back of her actions and words. I saw Craig watching the young man's face, and followed his eyes. There was no doubt of how he took the remark. He was gazing ardently at Inez. If there had ever been any doubt of his feelings, which, of course, there had not, this would have settled it. "One thing more," added the Senora, as though she had had an afterthought, "and that is about Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Whitney. Let me ask you to think it over. Suppose they have not the dagger. Then are their chances better than others? And if they have"--she paused to emphasize it--"what does that mean?" Kennedy had turned his attention to the Senorita. It was evident that the dilemma proposed by de Moche was not without weight. She had now coloured a flaming red. The woman had struck her in a vital spot. "Mr. Lockwood is not here to defend himself," Inez said quietly. "I will not have him attacked by innuendo." She had risen. Neither the ardour of Alfonso nor the seeds of doubt of the Senora had shaken her faith. It was a test that Kennedy evidently was glad to have witnessed. For some day she might learn the truth about the foot-prints. He understood her character better. The Senora, too, had learned that if she were to bring pressure on the girl she might break her, but she would not bend. Without another word Inez, scarcely bowing stiffly, moved out of the tea room, and we followed, leaving the mother and son there, baffled. "I hope you will pardon me for allowing you to come here," said Kennedy, in a low voice. "I did it because there are certain things that you ought to hear. It was in fairness to you. I would not have you delude yourself about Mr. Whitney, about--Mr. Lockwood, even. I want you to feel that, no matter what you hear or see, you can come to me and know that I will tell you the truth. It may hurt, but it will be best." I thought he was preparing the way for a revelation about the foot-prints, but he said nothing more. "Oh, that woman!" she exclaimed, as if to change the subject. "I do not know, I cannot say, why she affects me so. I saw a change in my father, when he knew her. I have told you how he was, how sometimes I thought he was mad. Did you notice a change in Mr. Whitney, or haven't you known him long enough? And lately I have fancied that I see the same sort of change beginning in Mr. Lockwood. At times they become so excited, their eyes seem staring, as if some fever were wasting them away. Father seemed to see strange visions, and hear voices, was worse when he was alone than when he was in a crowd. Oh, what is it? I could think of nothing else, not even what she was saying, all the time I was with her." "Then you fear that in some way she may be connected with these strange changes?" asked Kennedy. "I don't know," she temporized; but the tone of her answer was sufficient to convey the impression that in her heart she did suspect something, she knew not what. "Oh, Professor Kennedy," she cried finally, "can't you see it? Sometimes--when she looks out of those eyes of hers--she almost makes people do as she pleases." We had come to the taxicab stand before the hotel, and Kennedy had already beckoned to a cab to take her home. As he handed her in she turned with a little shiver. "Don't please, think me foolish," she added, with bated breath, "but often I fear that it is, as we call it, the mal de ojo--the evil eye!" XIII THE POISONED CIGARETTE There was not a grain of superstition in Kennedy, yet I could see that he was pondering deeply what Inez Mendoza had just said. Was it possible that there might be something in it--not objectively, but subjectively? Might that very fear which the Senorita had of the Senora engender a feeling that would produce the very result that she feared? I knew that there were strange things that modern psychology was discovering. Could there be some scientific explanation of the evil eye? Kennedy turned and went back into the hotel, to keep his appointment with Whitney, and as he did so I reflected that, whatever credence might be given the evil-eye theory, there was something now before us that was a fact--the physical condition which Inez had observed in her father before his death, saw now in Whitney, and foresaw in Lockwood. Surely that in itself constituted enough of a problem. We found Whitney in the cafe, sitting alone in a leather-cushioned booth, and smoking furiously. I observed him narrowly. His eyes had even more than before that peculiar, staring look. By the manner in which his veins stood out I could see that his heart action must be very rapid. "Well," he remarked, as we seated ourselves, "how did you come out in your tete-a-tete?" "About as I expected," answered Kennedy nonchalantly. "I let it go on merely because I wanted Senorita Mendoza to hear certain things, and I thought that the Senora could tell them best. One of them related to the history of that dagger." I thought Whitney's eyes would pop out of his head. "What about it?" he asked. "Well," replied Kennedy briefly, "there was the story of how her brother had it and was driven crazy until he gave it up to somebody, then committed suicide by throwing himself into Titicaca. The other was the tradition that in the days after Pizarro a Mendoza was murdered by it, just as her father has now been murdered." Whitney was listening intently, and seemed to be thinking deeply of something. "Do you know," he said finally, with a nod to indicate that he knew what it was that Kennedy referred to, "I've been thinking of that de Moche woman a good deal since I left you with her. I've had some dealings with her." He looked at Kennedy shrewdly, as though he would have liked to ask whether she had said anything about him, but did not because he knew Kennedy would not tell. He was trying to figure out some other way of finding out. "Sometimes I think she is trying to double-cross me," he said, at length. "I know that when she talks to others about me she says many things that aren't so. Yet when she is with me everything is fine, and she is ready soon to join us, use her influence with influential Peruvians; in fact, there isn't anything she won't do--manana, to-morrow." All that Whitney said we now knew to be true. "She has one interesting dilemma, however, which I do not mind telling you," remarked Kennedy at length. "She cannot expect me to keep secret what she said before all of us. Inez Mendoza would mention it, anyhow." "What was that?" queried Whitney, dissembling his interest. "Why," replied Kennedy slowly, "it was that, with the plans for digging for the treasure which you say you have, suppose you and Lockwood and your associates have not the dagger--how are you better off than previous hunters? And supposing you have it--what does that imply?" Whitney thought a moment over the last proposition of the dilemma. "Imply?" he repeated slowly. Then the significance of it seemed to dawn on him, the possession of the dagger and its implication in regard to the murder of Mendoza. "Well," he answered, "we haven't the dagger. You know that. But, on the other hand, we think our plans for getting at the treasure are better than any one else has ever had, more certain of success." "Yet the possession of the dagger, with its inscription, is the only thing that absolutely insures success," observed Kennedy. "That's true enough," agreed Whitney. "Confound that man Norton. How could he be such a boob as to let the chance slip through his fingers?" "He never told you of it?" asked Kennedy. "Yes, he told me of the dagger, but hadn't read the inscription, he said," answered Whitney. "I was so busy at the time with Lockwood and Mendoza, who had the concession to dig for the treasure, that I didn't pay much attention to what Norton brought back. I thought that could wait until Lockwood had been persuaded to join the interests I represent." "Did Lockwood or Mendoza know about the dagger and its importance?" suggested Craig. "If they did, they never said anything about it," returned Whitney promptly. "Mendoza is dead. Lockwood tells me he knew nothing about it until very lately--since the murder, I suppose." "You suppose?" persisted Kennedy. "Are you sure that he knew nothing about it before?" "No," confessed Whitney, "I'm not sure. Only I say that he told me nothing of it." "Then he might have known?" "Might have. But I don't think it very probable." Whitney seemed to be turning something over in his mind. Suddenly he brought his fist down on the little round table before us, rattling the glasses. "Do you know," he exclaimed, "the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that Norton ought to be held to account for that loss! He ought to have known. Then the presumption is that he did know. By heaven, I'm going to have that fellow watched. I'm going to do it to-day, too. I don't trust him. He shall not double-cross me--even if that woman does!" I wondered whether Whitney was bluffing. If he was, he was making a lot of fuss over it. He talked more and more wildly, as he grew more excited over his latest idea. "I'll have detectives put on his trail," he blustered. "I'll talk it over with Lockwood. He never liked the man." "What did Lockwood say about Norton?" asked Kennedy casually. Whitney eyed us a moment. "Say," he ejaculated, "it was Norton brought you into this case, wasn't it?" "I cannot deny that," returned Kennedy quietly, meeting his eyes. "But it is Inez Mendoza now that keeps me in it." "So--you're another rival, are you?" purred Whitney sarcastically. "Lockwood and de Moche aren't enough. I have a sneaking suspicion that Norton himself is one of them. Now it's you, too. I suppose Mr. Jameson is another. Well, if I was ten years younger, I'd cut you all out, or know the reason why. Oh, YES, I think I will NOT tell you what Mr. Lockwood suspects." With every sentence the veins of Whitney's forehead stood out further, until now they were like whipcords. His eyes and face were fairly apoplectic. Slowly the conviction was forced on me. The man acted for all the world like one affected by a drug. "Well," he went on, "you may tell Norton for me that I am going to have him watched. That will throw a scare into him." At least it showed that the breach between Whitney and Norton was deep. Kennedy listened without saying much, but I knew that he was gratified. He was playing Lockwood against de Moche, the Senora against Inez. Now if Whitney would play himself against Norton, out of the tangle might emerge just the clues he needed. For when people get fighting among themselves the truth comes out. "Very well," remarked Craig, rising, with a hurried glance at Whitney's apoplectic face, "go as far as you like. I think we understand each other better, now." Whitney said nothing, but, rising also, turned on his heel and walked deliberately out of the cafe into the corridor of the Prince Edward Albert, leaving us standing there. Kennedy leaned over and swept up the ashes of Whitney's cigarettes which lay in the ash-tray, placing them, stubs and all, in an envelope, as he had done before. "We have one sample, already," he said. "Another won't hurt. You can never have too much material to work with. Let us see where he is going." Slowly we followed in the direction which Whitney had taken from the cafe. There was Whitney standing by the cigar-stand, gazing intently down the corridor. Kennedy and I moved over so that we could see what he was gazing at. Just then he started to walk hurriedly in the direction in which he was looking. "Senora de Moche!" exclaimed Craig, drawing me toward a palm. It was indeed she. She had left the tea room and gone to her own room. Now she was alighting from the elevator, and had started toward the main dining-room, when her eyes had rested on Whitney. In spite of all that he had said to us about her, he had received the glance as a signal and was fluttering over to her like a moth to a flame. What was the reason back of it all, I asked, as I thought of those wonderful eyes of hers? Was it a sort of auto-hypnotism? There was, I knew, a form of illusion known as ophthalmophobia--fear of the eye. It ranged from mere aversion at being gazed at all the way to the subjective development of real physical action from an otherwise trivial objective cause. Perhaps Inez was right about the eyes. One might fear them, and that fear might cause the precise thing to happen which the owner of the eyes intended. Still, as I reflected before, there was a much more important problem regarding eyes before us, that of the drug that was evidently being used in the cigarettes. What was it? There was no chance of our gleaning anything now from these two who made such a strange pair. Kennedy turned and went out of the nearest entrance of the hotel. "Central Park, West," he directed a cab driver, as we climbed in his machine; then to me, after giving the number, "I must see Inez Mendoza again before I can go ahead." Inez was not expecting us so soon after leaving her at the hotel, yet I think was just a little glad that we had come. "Did anything happen after I left?" she asked eagerly. "We went back and saw Mr. Whitney," returned Craig. "I believe you are right. He is acting queerly." "Alfonso called me up," she volunteered. "Was it about anything I should know?" queried Craig. "Well," she hesitated, "he said he hoped that nothing that had taken place would change our own relations. That was about all. He was the dutiful son, and made no attempt to explain anything that was said." Kennedy smiled. "You have not seen Mr. Lockwood since, I suppose?" he asked. "You always make me tell what I hadn't intended," she confessed, smiling back. "Yes, I couldn't help it. At least, I didn't see him. I called him up. I wanted to tell him what she had said and that it hadn't made any difference to me." "What did he say?" "I can't remember just how he put it, but I think he meant that it was something very much like that anonymous letter I received. We both feel that there is some one who wants to make trouble between us, and we are not going to let it happen." If she had known of Kennedy's discovery of the shoe-prints, I feel sure that, as far as we were concerned, the case would have ended there. She was in no mood to be convinced by such a thing, would probably have insisted that some one was wearing a second-hand pair of his shoes. Kennedy's eye had been travelling around the room as though searching for something. "May I have a cigarette out of that case over there?" he asked, indicating a box of them on a table. "Why--that is Mr. Lockwood's," she replied. "He left it here the last time he was here and I forgot to send it to him. Wait a minute. Let me get you some of father's." She left the room. The moment the door closed Kennedy reached over and took one from the case. "I have some of Lockwood's already, but another won't matter, as long as I can get it," he said. "I thought it was her father's. When she brings them, smoke one with me, and be careful to save the stub. I want it." A moment later she entered with a metal box that must have held several hundred. Kennedy and I each took one and lighted it, then for several minutes chatted as an excuse for staying. As for myself, I was glad enough to leave a pretty large stub, for I did not like it. These cigarettes, like those Whitney had offered us, had a peculiar flavour which I had not acquired a liking for. "You must let me know whether anything else develops from the meeting in the tea room," said Kennedy finally, rising. "I shall be at the laboratory some time, I think." XIV THE INTERFEROMETER Norton was waiting for us at the laboratory when we returned, evidently having been there some time. "I was on my way to my apartment," he began, "when I thought I'd drop in to see how things are progressing." "Slowly," returned Kennedy, throwing off his street clothes and getting into his laboratory togs. "Have you seen Whitney since I had the break with him?" asked Norton, a trifle anxiously. I wondered whether Kennedy would tell Norton what to expect from Whitney. He did not, however. "Yes," he replied, "just now we had an appointment with Senora de Moche and some others and ran into him at the hotel for a few moments." "What did he say about me?" queried Norton. "He hadn't changed his mind," evaded Kennedy. "Have you heard anything from him?" "Not a syllable. The break is final. Only I was wondering what he was telling people about me. He'll tell them something--his side of the case." "Well," considered Kennedy, as though racking his brain for some remark which he remembered, while Norton watched him eagerly, "I do recall that he was terribly sore about the loss of the dagger, and seemed to think that it was your fault." "I thought so, I knew it," replied Norton bitterly. "I can see it coming. All the trustees will hear of my gross negligence in letting the Museum be robbed. I suppose I ought to sit up there all night. Oh, by the way, there's another thing I wanted to ask you. Have you ever done anything with those shoe-prints you found in the dust of the mummy case?" I glanced at Kennedy, wondering whether he felt that the time had come to reveal what he had discovered. He said nothing for a moment, but reached into a drawer and pulled out the papers, which I recognized. "Here they are," he said, picking out the original impression which he had taken. "Yes," repeated Norton, "but have you been able to do anything toward identifying them?" "I found it rather hard to collect prints of the shoes of all of those I wished to compare. But I have them at last." "And?" demanded Norton, leaning forward tensely. "I find that there is one person whose shoe-prints are precisely the same as those we found in the Museum," went on Kennedy, tossing over the impression he had taken. Norton scanned the two carefully. "I'm not a criminologist," he said excitedly, "but to my untrained eye it does seem as though you had here a replica of the first prints, all right." He laid them down and looked squarely at Kennedy. "Do you mind telling me whose feet made these prints?" "Turn the second over. You will see the name written on it." "Lockwood!" exclaimed Norton in a gasp as he read the name. "No--you don't mean it." "I mean nothing less," repeated Kennedy firmly. "I do not say what happened afterwards, but Lockwood was in the Museum, hiding in the mummy case, that night." Norton's mind was evidently working rapidly. "I wish I had your power of deduction, Kennedy," he said, at length. "I suppose you realize what this means?" "What does it mean to you?" asked Kennedy, changing front. Norton hesitated. "Well," he replied, "it means to me, I suppose, what it means to any one who stops to think. If Lockwood was there, he got the dagger. If he had the dagger--it was he who used it!" The inference was so strong that Craig could not deny it. Whether it was his opinion or not was another matter. "It fits in with other facts, too," continued Norton. "For instance, it was Lockwood who discovered the body of Mendoza." "But the elevator boy took Lockwood up himself," objected Craig, more for the sake of promoting the discussion than to combat Norton. "Yes--when he 'discovered' the thing. But it must have been done long before. Who knows? He may have entered. The deed might have been done. He may have left. No one saw him come or go. What then more likely to cover himself up than to return when he knew that his entrance would be known, and find the thing himself?" Norton's reasoning was clever and plausible. Yet Kennedy scarcely nodded his head, one way or the other. "You were acquainted with Lockwood?" he asked finally. "I mean to say, of course, before this affair." "Yes, I met him in Lima just as I was starting out on my expedition. He was preparing to come to New York." "What did you think of him then?" "Oh, he was all right, I suppose. He wasn't the sort who would care much for an archaeologist. He cared more for a prospector going off into the hills than he did for me. And I--I admit that I am impossible. Archaeology is my life." Norton continued to study the prints. "I can hardly believe my eyes," he murmured; then he looked up suddenly. "Does Whitney know about this--or Lockwood?" Kennedy shook his head negatively. "Because," pursued Norton, "an added inference to that I spoke of would be that the reason why they are so sure that they will find the treasure is that they are not going on tradition, as they say, but on the fact itself." "A fair conclusion," agreed Craig. "I wish the break could have been postponed," continued Norton. "Then I might have been of some service in my relation to Whitney. It's too late for me to be able to help you in that direction now, however." "There is something you can do, though," said Craig. "I shall be delighted," hastened Norton. "What is it?" "You know Senora de Moche and Alfonso?" "Yes." "I wish that you would cultivate their acquaintance. I feel that they are very suspicious of me. Perhaps they may not be so with you." "Is there any special thing you want to find out?" "Yes--only I have slight hopes of doing so. You know that she is on most intimate terms with Whitney." "I'm afraid I can't do much for you, then. She'll fight shy of me. He'll tell her his story." "That will make no difference. She has already warned me against him. He has warned against her. It's a most remarkable situation. He is trying to get her into some kind of deal, yet all the time he is afraid she is double-crossing him. And at the same time he obeys her--well, like Alfonso would Inez if she'd only let him." Norton frowned. "I don't like the way they hover about Inez Mendoza," he remarked. "Perhaps the Senora is after Whitney, while her son is after Inez. Lockwood seems to be impervious to her. Yes, I'll undertake that commission for you, only I can't promise what success I'll have." Kennedy restored the shoe-prints to the drawer. "I think that's gratifying progress," went on Norton. "First we know who stole the dagger. We know that the dagger killed Mendoza. You have even determined what the poison on the blade was. It seems to me that it remains only to determine who struck the actual blow. I tell you, Kennedy, Whitney will regret the day that he ever threw me over on so trivial a pretext." Norton was pacing up and down excitedly now. "My only fear is," he went on, "what the shock of such a thing will be on that poor little girl. First her father, then Lockwood. Why--the blow will be terrible. You must be careful, Kennedy." "Never fear about that," reassured Craig. "Not a word of this has been breathed to her yet. We are a long way from fixing the guilt of the murder; inference is one thing, fact another. We must have facts. And the facts I want, which you may be able to get, relate to the strange actions of the de Moches." Norton scanned Kennedy's face for some hint of what was back of the remark. But there was nothing there. "They will bear watching, all right," he said, as he rose to go. "Old Mendoza was never quite the same after he became so intimate with her. And I think I can see a change in Whitney." "What do you attribute it to?" asked Kennedy, without admitting that it had attracted his attention, too. "I haven't the slightest idea," confessed Norton. "Inez is as afraid of her as any of the rest," remarked Kennedy thoughtfully. "She says it is the evil eye." "Not an uncommon belief among Latin-Americans," commented Norton. "In fact, I suppose there are people among us who believe in the evil eye yet. Still, you can hardly blame that little girl for believing it is almost anything. Well, I won't keep you any longer. I shall let you know of anything I find out from the de Moches. I think you are getting on remarkably." Norton left us, his face much brighter than it had been when we met him at the door. Kennedy, alone at last in the laboratory, went over to a cabinet and took out a peculiar-looking apparatus, which seemed, as nearly as I can describe it, to consist of a sort of triangular prism, set with its edge vertically on a rigid platform attached to a massive stand of brass. "Norton seems to have suddenly become quite solicitous of the welfare of Senorita Mendoza," I hazarded, as he worked over the adjustment of the thing. Kennedy smiled. "Every one seems to be--even Whitney," he returned, twisting a set-screw until he had the alignment of the various parts as he wanted it. The telephone bell rang. "Do you want to answer it?" I asked Craig. "No," he replied, not even looking up from his work. "Find out who it is. Unless it is something very important say I am out on an investigation and that you have heard from me; that I shall not be either at the laboratory or the apartment until tomorrow morning. I must get this done to-night." I took down the receiver. "Hello, is this Professor Kennedy?" I recognized a voice. "No," I replied. "Is there any message I can take?" "This is Mr. Lockwood," came back the information I had already guessed. "When do you expect him?" "It's Lockwood," I whispered to Craig, my hand over the transmitter. "See what he wants," returned Craig. "Tell him what I told you." I repeated Kennedy's message. "Well, that's too bad," replied Lockwood. "I've just seen Mr. Whitney, and he tells me that Kennedy and you are pretty friendly with Norton, Of course, I knew that. I saw you at the Mendozas' together the first time. I'd like to have a talk with him about that man. I suppose he has told you all his side of the story of his relations with Whitney." I am, if anything, a good listener, and so I said nothing, not even that he had better tell it to Kennedy in the morning, for it was such a novelty to have any of these people talk voluntarily that I really didn't much care whether I believed what they said or not. "I used to know him down in Lima, you know," went on Lockwood. "What I want to say has to do with that dagger he says was stolen. I want to tell what I know of how he got it. There was an Indian mixed up in it who committed suicide--well, you tell Kennedy I'll see him in the morning." Lockwood rang off, and I repeated what he had told me, as Kennedy continued to adjust the apparatus. "Say," I exclaimed, as I finished. "That was a harry's of a commission you gave Norton just now, watching the de Moches. Why, they'd eat him alive if they got a chance, and I don't know that all's like a Sunday school on his part. Lockwood doesn't seem to think so." Kennedy smiled quietly. "That was why I asked him to do it," he returned. "I thought that he wouldn't let much escape him. They all seem so down on him, he'll have to watch out. It will keep him busy, too, and that means a chance for us to work." He had finished setting up the machine, and now went over to another drawer, from which he took the envelope of stubs which we had taken down at Whitney's office first. Then from the pocket of his street coat he drew both the second envelope of ashes and stubs, the whole cigarette from Lockwood's case, and the stubs which both of us had saved from the cigarettes that had once belonged to Mendoza. Carefully he separated and labelled them all, so that there would be no chance for them to get mixed up. Then he picked up one of the stubs and lighted it. The smoke curled up in wreaths between a powerful light and the peculiar instrument, while Craig peered through a lens, manipulating the thing with exhaustless patience and skill. I watched him curiously, but said nothing, for he was studying something carefully, and I did not want to interrupt his train of thought. Finally he beckoned me over. "Can you make anything out of that?" he asked. I looked through the eye-piece, also. On a sort of fine grating all I could see was a number of strange lines. "If you want an opinion from me," I said, with a laugh, "you'll have to tell me first what I am looking at." "That," he explained, as I continued to gaze, "is one of the latest forms of the spectroscope, known as the interferometer, with delicately ruled gratings in which power to resolve the straight, close lines in the spectrum is carried to the limit of possibility. A small watch is delicate. But it bears no comparison to the delicacy of these defraction spectroscopes. "Every substance, you know, is, when radiating light, characterized by what at first appears to be almost haphazard sets of spectral bands without relation to one another. But they are related by mathematical laws, and the apparent haphazard character is only the result of our lack of knowledge of how to interpret the results." He resumed his place at the eye-piece to check over his results. "Walter," he said finally, looking up at me with a twinkle in his eye, "I wish that you'd go out and find me a cat." "A cat?" I repeated. "Yes, a cat--felis domesticus, if it sounds better that way--a plain, ordinary cat." I jammed on my hat and, late as it was, sallied forth on this apparently ridiculous mission. Several belated passers-by and a policeman watched me as though I were a house-breaker, and I felt like a fool, but at last, by perseverance and tact, I managed to capture a fairly good specimen of the species, and carried it in my arms to the laboratory with some profanity and many scratches. XV THE WEED OF MADNESS In my absence Craig had set to work on a peculiar apparatus, as though he were distilling something from several of the cigarette stubs which he had been studying by means of the interferometer. "Here's your confounded cat," I ejaculated, as I placed the unhappy feline in a basket and waited patiently until finally he seemed to be rewarded for his patient labours. It was well along toward morning when he obtained in a test-tube a few drops of a colourless, odourless liquid. "My interferometer gave me a clue," he remarked, as he held the tube up with satisfaction. "Without the tell-tale line in the spectrum which I was able to discover by its use I might have been hunting yet for it. It is so rare that no one would ever have thought, offhand, I suppose, to look for it. But here it is, I'm sure, only I wanted to be able to test it." "So you are not going to try it on yourself," I said sarcastically, referring to his last experiment with a poison. "This time you are going to make the cat the dog." "The cat will be better to test it on than a human being," he replied, with a glance that made me wince, for, after his performance with the curare, I felt that once the scientific furore was on him I might be called upon to become an unwilling martyr to science. It was with an air of relief, both for himself and my own peace and safety, that I saw him take the cat out of the basket and hold her in his arms, smoothing her fur gently, to quiet the feelings that I had severely ruffled. Then with a dropper he sucked up a bit of the liquid from the test-tube. I watched him intently as he let a small drop fall into the eye of the cat. The cat blinked a moment, and I bent over to observe it more closely. "It won't hurt the cat," he explained, "and it may help us." As I looked at the cat's eye it seemed to enlarge, even under the glare of a light, shining forth, as it were, like the proverbial cat's eye under a bed. What did it mean? Was there such a thing, I wondered hastily, as the drug of the evil eye? "What have you found?" I queried. "Something very much like the so-called 'weed of madness,' I think," he replied slowly. "The weed of madness?" I repeated. "Yes. It is similar to the Mexican toloache and the Hindu datura, which you must have heard about." I had heard of these weird drugs, but they had always seemed to be so far away and to belong rather to the atmosphere of civilizations different from New York. Yet, I reflected, what was to prevent the appearance of anything in such a cosmopolitan city, especially in a case so unusual as that which had so far baffled even Kennedy's skill? "You know the jimson weed--the Jamestown weed, as it is so often called?" he continued, explaining. "It grows almost everywhere in the world, but most thrivingly in the tropics. All the poisons that I have mentioned are related to it in some way, I believe." "I've seen the thing in lots and fields," I replied, "but I never thought it was of much importance." "Well," he resumed, "the jimson weed on the Pacific coast, in some parts of the Andes, has large white flowers which exhale a faint, repulsive odour. It is a harmless-looking plant, with its thick tangle of leaves, a coarse green growth, with trumpet-shaped flowers. But to one who knows its properties it is quite too dangerously convenient for safety." "But what has that to do with the evil eye?" I asked. "Nothing; but it has much to do with the cigarettes that Whitney is smoking," he went on positively. "Those cigarettes have been doped!" "Doped?" I interrogated, in surprise. "With this weed of madness, as you call it?" "No, it isn't toloache that was used," he corrected. "I think it must be some particularly virulent variety of the jimson weed that was used, though that same weed in Mexico is, I am sure, what there they call toloache. Perhaps its virulence in this case lies in the method of concentration in preparing it. For instance, the seeds of the stramonium, which is the same thing, contain a much higher percentage of poison than the leaves and flowers. Perhaps the seeds were used. I can't say. But, then, that isn't at all necessary. It is the fact of its use that concerns us most now." He took a drop of the liquid which he had isolated and added a drop of nitric acid. Then he evaporated it by gentle heat and it left a residue slightly yellow. Next he took from the shelf over his table a bottle marked "Alcoholic Solution--Potassium Hydrate." He opened it and let a drop fall on the place where the liquid had evaporated. Instantly the residue became a beautiful purple, turning rapidly to violet, then to dark red, and, finally, it disappeared altogether. "Stramonium, all right," he nodded, with satisfaction at the achievement of his night's labours. "That was known as Vitali's test. Yes, there was stramonium in those cigarettes--datura stramonium--perhaps a trace of hyoscyamine." I tried to look wise, but all I could think of was that, whatever his science showed me now, my instinct had been enough to prompt me not to smoke those cigarettes, though, of course, only Kennedy's science could tell what it was that caused that instinctive aversion. "They are all like atropine, mydriatic alkaloids," he proceeded, "so called from the effect they have on the eye. Why, one-one hundred thousandth of a grain will affect the eye of a cat. You saw how it acted on our subject. It is more active in that way than atropine. Better yet, you remember how Whitney's eyes looked, how Inez said her father stared, and how she feared for Lockwood?" "I remember," I said, still not able to detach the evil-eye idea quite from my mind. "How about the Senora's eyes? What makes them so--well, effective?" "Oh," Craig answered quickly, "her pupils were normal enough. Didn't you notice that? It was the difference in Whitney's and the others' that first suggested making some tests." "What is the effect?" I asked, wondering whether it might have contributed to the cause of Mendoza's death. "The concentrated poison which has been used in these cigarettes does not kill--at least not outright. It is worse than that. Slowly it accumulates in the system. It acts on the brain." I was listening, spellbound, as he made his disclosure. No wonder, I thought, even a scientific criminal stood in awe of Craig. "Of all the dangers to be met with in superstitious countries, these mydratic alkaloids are among the worst. They offer a chance for crimes of the most fiendish nature--worse than with the gun or the stiletto. They are worse because there is so little fear of detection. That crime is the production of insanity!" Horrible though the idea, and repulsive, I could not doubt it in the face of Craig's investigations and what I had already seen with my own eyes. In fact, it was necessary for me only to recall the mild sensations I myself had experienced, in order to be convinced of the possible effect intended by the insidious poison contained in the many cigarettes which Whitney, for instance, had smoked. "But don't you suppose they know it?" I wondered. "Can't they tell it?" "I suppose they have gradually become accustomed to it," Craig ventured. "If you have ever smoked one particular brand of cigarette you must have noticed how the manufacturer can gradually substitute a cheaper grade of tobacco without any large number of his patrons knowing anything about it. I imagine it might have been done in some way like that." "But you would think they'd feel the effect and attribute it to smoking." "Perhaps they do feel the effect. But when it comes to tracing causes, some people are loath to admit that tobacco and liquor can be the root of the evil. No, some one is slipping these cigarettes in on them, perhaps substituting the doped brand for those that are ordered. If you will notice, both Whitney and Lockwood have cigarettes that are made especially for them. So had Mendoza. It is a circumstance which some one has turned to account, though how and by whom the substitution has been made I cannot say yet. I wish I had time to follow out this one line, to the exclusion of everything else. But I've got to keep my fingers on every rope at once, else the thing will pull away from me. It is enough for the present that we know what the poison is. I shall take up the tracing of the person who is administering it the moment I get a hint." It was almost daylight before Craig and I left the laboratory after his discovery of the manner of the cigarette poisoning by stramonium. But that was the only way in which he was able to make progress--taking time for each separate point by main force. I was thoroughly tired, though not so much so that my dreams were not haunted by a succession of baleful eyes peering at me from the darkness. I slept late, but was awakened by a knocking on the door. As I rose to answer it I saw through the open door of Kennedy's room that he had been about early and must already be at the laboratory. How he did it I don't know. My own newspaper experience had made me considerable of a nighthawk. But I always paid for it by sleeping the next day. With Kennedy, when he was on a case, even five hours of sleep was more than he seemed able to stand. "Hello, Jameson," greeted a voice, as I opened the door. "Is Kennedy in--oh, he hasn't come back yet?" It was Lockwood, at first eager to see Craig, then naturally crestfallen because he saw that he was not there. "Yes," I replied, rubbing my eyes. "He must be at the laboratory. If you'll wait a minute while I slip on my clothes, I'll walk over there with you." While I completed my hasty toilet, Lockwood sat in our living room, gazing about with fascination at the collection of trophies of the chase of criminals. "This is positively a terrifying array of material, Jameson," he declared, as at last I emerged. "Between what Kennedy has here and what he has stowed away in that laboratory of his, I wonder that any one dares be a crook." I could not help eying him keenly. Could he have spoken so heartily if he had known what it was, damning to himself, that Kennedy had tucked away in the laboratory? If he knew, he must have been a splendid actor, one of those whom only the minute blood-pressure test of the sphygmograph could induce to give up a secret, and then only in spite of himself. "It is wonderful," I agreed. "Are you ready?" We left the apartment and walked along in the bracing morning air toward the campus and the Chemistry Building. Sure enough, as I had expected, Kennedy was in his laboratory. As we entered he was verifying his experiments and checking over his results, carefully endeavouring to isolate any of the other closely related mydriatic alkaloids that might be contained in the noxious fumes of the poisoned tobacco. Though Craig was already convinced of what was going on, I knew that he always considered it a matter of considerable medico-legal importance to be exact, for if the affair ever came to the stage of securing an indictment the charge could be sustained only by specific proof. As we appeared in the door, however, he laid aside his work, and greeted us. "I suppose Jameson has already told you that I called you up last night--and what I said?" began Lockwood. Kennedy nodded. "It was something about Norton, wasn't it?" Lockwood leaned over impressively and almost whispered: "Of course, you are in no position to know, but there are ugly rumours current down in Lima among the natives regarding that dagger." Kennedy did not appear to be particularly impressed. "Is that so?" he said merely. "What are they?" "Well," resumed Lockwood, "I wasn't in Lima at the time. I was up here. But they tell me that there was something crooked about the way that that dagger was got away from an Indian--a brother of Senora de Moche." "Yes," replied Kennedy, "I know something about it. He committed suicide. But what has that to do with Norton?" Lockwood hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders. "I should think the inference was plain," he insinuated. Then, looking at Craig fixedly, as though to take his measure, he added, "We are not out of touch with what is going on down there, even if we are several thousand miles away." I wondered whether he had any information more than we had already obtained by X-raying the letter to Whitney signed "Haggerty." If he had, it was not his purpose, evidently, yet to disclose it. I felt from his manner that he was not playing a trump-card, but was just feeling us out by this lead. "There was some crooked business about that dagger down there as well as here," he pursued. "There are many interests connected with it. Don't you think that it would be worth while watching Norton?" he paused, then added: "We do--and we're going to do it." "Thank you very much," returned Kennedy quietly. "Mr. Whitney has already told me he intended to do so." Lockwood eyed us critically, as though not quite sure what to make of the cool manner in which Craig took it. "I think if I were you," he said at length, "I'd keep a close watch on the de Moches, both of them, too." "Exactly," agreed Craig, without showing undue interest. Lockwood had risen. "Well," he snapped, "you may not think much of what I am telling you now. But just wait until OUR detectives begin to dig up facts." No sooner had he left than I turned to Craig. "What was that?" I asked. "A plant?" "Perhaps," he returned, clearing up the materials which he had been using. The telephone rang. "Hello, Norton," I heard Craig answer. "What's that? You are shadowed by some one--you think it is by Whitney?" I had been expecting something of the sort, and listened attentively, but it was impossible to gather the drift of the one-sided conversation. As Kennedy hung up the receiver I remarked, "So it was not a bluff, after all." "I think my plan is working," he remarked thoughtfully. "You heard what he said? He guesses right the first time, that it is Whitney. The last thing he said was, 'I'll get even! I'll take some action!' and then he rang off. I think we'll hear something soon." Instead of going out, Kennedy pulled out the several unsigned letters we had collected, and began the laborious process of studying the printing, analyzing it, in the hope that he might discover some new clue. XVI THE EAR IN THE WALL Perhaps an hour later our laboratory door was flung open suddenly, and both Kennedy and I leaped to our feet. There was Inez Mendoza, alone, pale and agitated. "Tell me, Professor Kennedy," she cried, her hands clasped before her in frantic appeal, "tell me--it isn't true--is it? He wasn't there--no--no--no!" She would have fainted if Craig had not sprung forward and caught her in time to place her in our only easy-chair. "Walter," he said, "quick--that bottle of aromatic spirits of ammonia over there--the second from the left." I handed it to him, and threw open the window to allow the fresh air to blow in. As I did so one of the papers Kennedy had been studying blew off the table, and, as luck would have it, fell almost before her. She saw it, and in her hypersensitive condition recognized it instantly. "Oh--that anonymous letter!" she cried. "Tell me--you do not think that--the friend of my father's that it warned me to beware of--was--" She did not finish the sentence. She did not need to do so. "Please, Senorita," pleaded and soothed Kennedy, "try to be calm. What has happened? Tell me. What is it?" The ammonia and the fresh air seemed to have done their work, for she managed to brace herself, gripping the arms of the chair tightly and looking up searchingly into Craig's face. "It's about Chester," she managed to gasp; then seemed unable to go on. It was the first time I had ever heard her use Lockwood's first name, and I knew that something had stirred her emotions more deeply than at any time since the death of her father. "Yes," prompted Kennedy. "Go on." "I have heard that you found foot-prints, shoe-prints, in the dust in the Museum after the dagger was stolen," she said, speaking rapidly, suppressing her feelings heroically. "Since then you have been collecting prints of shoes--and I've heard that the shoe-prints that were found are those of--of Mr. Lockwood. Oh, Professor Kennedy, it cannot be--there must be some mistake." For a moment Kennedy did not say anything. He was evidently seeking some way in which to lead up to the revelation of the truth without too much shock. "You remember that time in the tea room when we were sitting with Senora de Moche?" he asked finally. "Yes," she said shortly, as though the very recollection were disagreeable to her. Kennedy, however, had a disagreeable task, and he felt that it must be performed in the kindest manner. "You remember then that she said she had one thing more to say, that it was about Mr. Whitney and Mr. Lockwood." She was about to interrupt, but he hurried on, giving her no chance to do so. "She asked you to think it over. Suppose they did not have the dagger, she said. Then were their chances of finding the treasure any better than any one else had? And if they did have it, she asked what that meant. It is a dilemma, my dear Senorita, which you must meet some time. Why not meet it now?" Her face was set. "You will remember, also, Professor Kennedy," she said, with a great effort controlling her voice, "that I said that Mr. Lockwood was not there to defend himself and I would not have him attacked by innuendo. I meant it to the Senora--I mean it to you!" She had also meant it to defy him; but as she proceeded her voice broke, and before she knew it her nature had triumphed, and she was alternately sobbing and pleading. For a minute or two Kennedy let her give vent to her emotions. "It cannot be. It cannot be," she sobbed over and over. "He could not have been there. He could not have done it." It was a terrible thing to have to disillusion her, but it was something now that had to be done. Kennedy had not sought to do so. He had postponed it in the hope of finding some other way. But now the thing was forced upon him. "Who told you?" he asked finally. "I was trying to read, to keep my mind occupied, as you asked me, when Juanita told me that there was some one in the living room who wanted to see me--a man. I thought it was either you or Mr. Jameson. But it was--Professor Norton--" Kennedy and I exchanged glances. That was the action in revenge to Lockwood and Whitney which he had contemplated over the telephone. It was so cruel and harsh that I could have hated him for it, the more so as I recollected that it was he himself who had cautioned us against doing the very thing which now he had done in the heat of passion. "Oh," she wailed, "he was very kind and considerate about it. He said he felt that it was his duty to tell me, that he would be anything, like an older brother, to me; that he could not see me blinded any longer to what was going on, and everybody knew, but had not love enough for me to tell. It was such a shock. I could not even speak. I simply ran from the room without another word to him, and Juanita found me lying on the bed. Then--I decided--I would come to you." She paused, and her great, deep eyes looked up pathetically. "And you," she added bitterly, "you are going to tell me that he was right, that it is true. You can't prove it. Show me what it is that you have. I defy you!" Somehow, as she rested and relieved her feelings, a new strength seemed to come to her. It was what Kennedy had been waiting for, the reaction that would leave her able for him to go on and plan for the future. He reached into a drawer of a cabinet and pulled out the various shoe-prints which he had already shown Norton, and which he had studied and restudied so carefully. "That is the print of the shoe in the dust of the Egyptian sarcophagus of the Museum," he said quietly. "Some one got in during the daytime and hid there until the place was locked. That is the print of Alfonso de Moche's shoe, that of Mr. Whitney's, and that of Mr. Lockwood's." He said it quickly, as though trying to gloss it over. But she would not have it that way. She felt stronger, and she was going to see just what there was there. She took the prints and studied them, though her hand trembled. Hers was a remarkable mind. It took only seconds to see what others would have seen only in minutes. But it was not the reasoning faculty that was aroused by what she saw. It sank deep into her heart. She flung the papers down. "I don't believe it!" she defied. "There is some mistake. No--it cannot be true!" It was a noble exhibition of faith. I think I have never seen any instant more tense than that in Kennedy's laboratory. There stood the beautiful girl declaring her faith in her lover, rejecting even the implication that it might have been he who had taken the dagger, perhaps murdered her father to insure the possession of her father's share of the treasure as well as the possession of herself. Kennedy did not try to combat it. Instead he treated her very intuitions with respect. In him there was room for both fact and feeling. "Senorita," he said finally, in a voice that was deep and thrilling with feeling, "have I ever been other than a friend to you? Have I ever given you cause to suspect even one little motive of mine?" She faced him, and they looked into each other's eyes an instant. But it was long enough for the man to understand the woman and she to understand him. "No," she murmured, glancing down again. "Then trust me just this once. Do as I ask you." For an instant she struggled with herself. What would he ask? "What is it?" she questioned, raising her eyes to him again. "Have you seen Mr. Lockwood?" "No." "Then, I want you to see him. Surely you wish to have no secrets from him any more than you would wish him to have anything secret from you. See him. Ask him frankly about it all. It is the only fair thing to him--it is only fair to yourself." Senorita Mendoza was no coward. "I--I will," she almost whispered. "Splendid!" exclaimed Kennedy in admiration. "I knew that you would. You are not the woman who could do otherwise. May I see that you get home safely? Walter, call a taxicab." Senorita Mendoza was calmer, though pale and still nervous, when I returned. Kennedy handed her into the car and then returned to the laboratory for two rather large packages, which he handed to me. "You must come along with us, Walter," he said. "We shall need you." Scarcely a word was spoken as we jolted over the city pavements and at last reached the apartment. Inez and Craig entered and I followed, carrying just one of the packages as Craig had indicated by dumb show, leaving the other in the car, which was to wait. "I think you had better write him a note," suggested Craig, as we entered the living room. "I don't want you to see him until you feel better--and, by the way, see him here." She nodded with a wan smile, as though thinking how unusual it was for a meeting of lovers to be an ordeal, then excused herself to write the note. She had no sooner disappeared than Kennedy unwrapped the package which I had brought. From it he took a cedar box, oblong, with a sort of black disc fixed to an arm on the top. In the face of the box were two little square holes, with sides of cedar which converged inward into the box, making a pair of little quadrangular pyramidal holes which ended in a small black circle in the interior. He looked about the room quickly. Beside a window that opened out over a house several stories below stood a sectional bookcase. Into this bookcase, back of the books, in the shadow, he shoved the little box, to which he had already attached a spool of twisted wires. Then he opened the window and dropped the spool out, letting it unwind of its own weight until it fell on the roof far below. He shut the window and rejoined me without a word. A moment later she returned with the dainty note which she had written. "Shall I send it by a messenger?" she asked. "Yes, please," answered Kennedy, rising. As he moved a step to the door he held out his hand to her. "Senorita Mendoza," he said simply, in a tone that meant more than words, "you are a wonderful woman." She took his hand without a word, and a moment later we were whisked down in the elevator. "I must get on that roof on some pretext," remarked Kennedy, as we reached the street and he got his bearings. "Let me see, that house which backs up to the apartment is around the corner. Have the man drive us around there." We located the house and mounted the steps. On the wall beside the brownstone door was pasted a little slip of paper, "Furnished Rooms." "Splendid!" exclaimed Kennedy, as he read it. "Dismiss the taxi and meet me inside with the other package." By the time I had paid the man and come up the steps again Kennedy had made a dicker with the landlady for a double room on the third floor for both of us, and, by payment of a week's rent, we were to have immediate possession. "Our baggage will follow to-day," he explained, as we mounted the stairs to the room. I thought the landlady would never get through expatiating upon what a select place she ran, and thus leave us alone in our room, but at last even her flood of words was stilled by demands from a servant downstairs who must be instructed if the selectness of the establishment were to be maintained. No sooner were we alone than Kennedy tiptoed into the hall and made sure that we were not watched. It was then the work of only a few seconds to mount a ladder to a scuttle, unhook it, and gain the roof. There, dangling down from the dizzy height above, swayed the twisted wire. He seized it, unrolled it some more, and sent me downstairs to catch it, as he swung it over the edge of the roof to one of our own windows. Then he rejoined me. The other package, which had been heavier, consisted of another of those mysterious boxes, as well as several dry cells. Quickly he attached the wires to the box, placing the dry cells in the circuit. Then he began adjusting the mechanism of the box. So far I had only a vague idea of just what he had in mind, but gradually it began to dawn on me. It was perhaps half an hour, perhaps longer, after we had left the Senorita, before, sure that everything was all right with his line and the batteries which he had brought, Kennedy turned a little lever that moved in a semicircle, touching one after another of a series of buttons on the face of the cedar box, meanwhile holding a little black disc from the back of the box to his ear as he adjusted the thing. Nothing seemed to happen, but I could tell by the look of intentness on his face that he was getting along all right and was not worrying. Suddenly the look on his face changed to one of extreme satisfaction. He dropped the disc he was holding to his ear back into its compartment and turned to me. All at once it seemed as if the room in which we were was peopled by spirits. There was the sound of voices, loud, clear, distinct. It was uncanny. "He has just come in," remarked Craig. "Who?" I asked. "Lockwood--can't you recognize his voice? Listen." I did listen intently, and the more my ears became adjusted, the more plainly I could distinguish two voices, that of a man and that of a woman. It was indeed Lockwood and the Senorita, far above us. I would have uttered an exclamation of amazement, but I could not miss what they were saying. "Then you--you believe what he says?" asked Lockwood earnestly. "Professor Kennedy has the prints," replied Inez tremulously. "You saw them?" "Yes." "And you believe what HE says, too?" There was a silence. "What is it?" I asked, tapping the box lightly. "A vocaphone," replied Kennedy. "The little box that hears and talks." "Can they hear us?" I asked, in an awestruck whisper. "Not unless I want them to hear," he replied, indicating a switch. "You remember, of course, the various mechanical and electrical ears, such as the detectaphone, which we have used for eavesdropping in other cases?" I nodded. "Well, this is a new application which has been made of the detectaphone. When I was using that disc from the compartment there, I had really a detectaphone. But this is even better. You see how neat it all is? This is the detective service, and more. We can 'listen in' and we don't have to use ear-pieces, either, for this is a regular loud-speaking telephone--it talks right out in meeting. Those square holes with the converging sides act as a sort of megaphone to the receivers, those little circles back there inside magnifying the sound and throwing it out here in the room, so that we can hear just as well as if we were up there in the room where they are talking. Listen--I think they are talking again." "I suppose you know that Whitney and I have placed detectives on the trail of Norton," we could hear Lockwood say. "You have?" came back the answer in a voice which for the first time sounded cold. Lockwood must have recognized it. He had made a mistake. It was no sufficient answer to anything that he had done to assert that some one else had also done something. "Inez," he said, and we could almost hear his feet as he moved over the floor in her direction in a last desperate appeal, "can't you trust me, when I tell you that everything is all right, that they are trying to ruin me--with you?" There was a silence, during which we could almost hear her quick breath come and go. "Women--not even Peruvian women are like the women of the past, Chester," she said at length. "We are not playthings. Perhaps we have hearts--but we also have heads. We are not to be taken up and put down as you please. We may love--but we also think. Chester, I have been to see Professor Kennedy, and--" She stopped. It hurt too much to repeat what she had seen. "Inez," he implored. There was evidently a great struggle of love and suspicion going on in her, her love of him, her memory of her father, the recollection of what she had heard and seen. No one could have been as we were without wishing to help her. Yet no one could help her. She must work out her own life herself. "Yes," she said finally, the struggle ended. "What is it?" "Do you want me to tell you the truth?" "Yes," she murmured. His voice was low and tense. "I was there--yes--but the dagger was gone!" XVII THE VOICE FROM THE AIR "Do you believe it?" I asked Kennedy, as the voices died away, leaving us with a feeling that some one had gone out of the very room in which we were. He shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. But I cannot say that he seemed ill pleased at the result of the interview. "We'll just keep this vocaphone in," he remarked. "It may come in handy some time. Now, I think we had better go back to the laboratory! Things have begun to move." On the way back he stopped to telephone Norton to meet us and a few minutes after we arrived, the archaeologist entered. Kennedy lost no time in coming directly to the point, and Norton could see, in fact seemed to expect and be prepared for what was coming. "Well," exclaimed Kennedy, "you've done it, this time!" "I know what you are going to ask," returned Norton. "You are going to ask me why I did it. And I'm going to tell you. After I left you, the other day, I thought about it a long time. The more I thought, the more of a shame it seemed to me that a girl like that should be made a victim of her feelings. It wasn't so much what they have done to me that made me do it. I would have acted the same if it had been de Moche instead of Lockwood who was playing on her heart. I was afraid, to tell the truth, that you wouldn't tell her until it was too late. And she's too good to throw herself away and allow her fortune to be wasted by a couple of speculators." "Very well," said Craig. "For the sake of argument, let us admit all that. What did you expect to accomplish by it?" "Why--put an end to it, of course." "But do you think she was going to accept as truth what you told her? Would that be natural for one so high-strung?" "Perhaps not--right away. But I supposed she would come to you--as I see she has, for you know about it. After that, it was only a question of time. It may have been a heroic remedy, but the disease was critical." "Suppose," suggested Craig, "that, after all, he told her that he was there in the Museum, but that he did not get the dagger. And suppose that she believed it. What then?" Norton looked up quickly. "Did he tell her that?" "I am supposing that he did," repeated Craig, declining to place himself in a position which might lead to disclosing how he found out. "Then I should say that he was a great deal cleverer than I gave him credit for being," returned Norton. "Well, it's done now, and can't be undone. Have you found out anything about the de Moches?" "Not very much, I must admit. Of course, you know I'm not on the best of terms with them, for some reason or other. But I've been around the Prince Edward Albert a good deal, and I don't think they've been able to do much that I haven't some kind of line on. Alfonso seems to be moping. His professors here tell me that he has been neglecting his work sadly for the past few days. The Senora and Whitney seem to be as friendly as ever. I should say that they were going the pace fast, and it shows on him." I glanced significantly at Kennedy, but he betrayed nothing that might lead one to suppose he had discovered the cause. Evidently he was not ready yet to come out into the open and expected further developments on the poisoned cigarette clue. The telephone rang and Craig took down the receiver. "Yes, this is Kennedy," he answered. "Oh, hello, Lockwood. What's that? You've been trying to get me all day? I just came in. Why, yes, I can see you in about half an hour." "I guess I'd better clear out," said Norton with a bitter laugh, as Kennedy hung up the receiver. "There have been enough crimes committed without adding another murder to the list." "Keep on watching the de Moches," requested Kennedy as Norton made his way to the door. "Yes," agreed Norton. "They will bear it--particularly Alfonso. They are hot-blooded. You never know what they are going to do, and they keep their own counsel. I might hope that Lockwood would forget; but a de Moche--never." I cannot say that I envied him very much, for doubtless what he said was true, though his danger might be mitigated by the fact that the dagger was no longer in his Museum. Still, it would never have left Peru, I reflected, if it had not been for him, and there is, even in the best of us, a smouldering desire for revenge. Lockwood was more than prompt. I had expected that he would burst into the laboratory prepared to clean things out. Instead he came in as though nothing at all had happened. "There's no use mincing words, Kennedy," he began. "You know that I know what has happened. That scoundrel, Norton, has told Inez that you had shoe-prints of some one who was in the Museum the night of the robbery and that those shoe-prints correspond with mine. As a matter of fact, Kennedy, I was there. I was there to get the dagger. But before I could get it, some one else must have done so. It was gone." I wanted to believe Lockwood. As for Craig he said nothing. "Then, when I did have a chance to get away that night," he continued, "I went over to Mendoza's. The rest you know." "You have told Inez that?" asked Kennedy in order to seem properly surprised. "Yes--and I think she believes me. I can't say. Things are strained with her. It will take time. I'm not one of those who can take a girl by main force and make her do what she won't do. I wish I could smooth things over. Let me see the prints." Kennedy handed them over to him. He looked at them, long and closely, then handed back the damning evidence against himself. "I know it would be no use to destroy these," he remarked. "In the first place that would really incriminate me. And in the second I suppose you have copies." Craig smiled blandly. "But I can tell you," he exclaimed, bringing his fist down on the laboratory table with a bang, "that before I lose that girl, somebody will pay for it--and there won't be any mistakes made, either." The scowl on his face and the menacing look in his eye showed that now, with his back up against the wall, he was not bluffing. He seemed to get little satisfaction out of his visit to us, and in fact I think he made it more in a spirit of bravado than anything else. Lockwood had scarcely gone before Kennedy pulled out the University schedule, and ran his finger down it. "Alfonso ought to be at a lecture in the School of Mines," he said finally, folding up the paper. "I wish you'd go over and see if he is there, and, if he is, ask him to step into the laboratory." The lecture was in progress all right, but when I peered into the room it was evident that de Moche was not there. Norton was right. The young man was neglecting his work. Evidently the repeated rebuffs of Inez had worked havoc with him. Nor was he at the hotel, as we found out by calling up. There was only one other place that I could think of where he would be likely to be and that was at the apartment of Inez. Apparently the same idea occurred to Kennedy, for he suggested going back to our observation point in the boarding-house and finding out. All the rest of the day we listened through the vocaphone, but without finding out a thing of interest. Now and then we would try the detective instrument, the little black disc in the back, but with no better success. Then we determined to listen in relays, one listening, while the other went out for dinner. It must have been just a bit after dark that we could hear Inez talking in a low tone with Juanita. A buzzing noise indicated that there was some one at the hall door. "If it's any one for me," we heard Inez say, "tell them that I will be out directly. I'm not fit to be seen now." The door was opened and a voice which we could not place asked for the senorita. A moment later Juanita returned and asked the visitor to be seated a few moments. It was not long before we were suddenly aware that there was another person in the room. We could hear whispers. The faithful little vocaphone even picked them up and shot them down to us. "Is everything all right?" whispered one, a new voice which was somewhat familiar I thought, but disguised beyond recognition. "Yes. She'll be out in a minute." "Now, remember what I told you. If this thing works you get fifty dollars more. I'd better put this mask on--damn it!--the slit's torn. It'll do. I'll hide here as soon as we hear her. That's a pretty nice private ambulance you have down there. Did you tell the elevator boy that she had suddenly been taken ill? That's all fixed, then. I've got the stuff--amyl nitrite--she'll go off like a shot. But we'll have to work quick. It only keeps her under a few minutes. I can't wear this mask down and I'm afraid some one will recognize me. Oh, you brought a beard. Good. I'll give you the signal. There must be no noise. Yes, I saw the stretcher where you left it in the hall." "All right, Doc," returned the first and unfamiliar voice. It all happened so quickly that we were completely bowled over for the moment. Who was the man addressed as "Doc"? There was no time to find out, no time to do anything, apparently, so quickly had the plot been sprung. I looked at Kennedy, aghast, not knowing what to do in this unexpected crisis. A moment later we heard a voice, "I'm sorry to have had to keep you waiting, but what is it that I can do for you?" "Good God!" exclaimed Kennedy. "It is Inez herself!" It was altogether too late to get over there to warn her, perhaps even to rescue her. What could we do? If we could only shout for help. But what good would that do, around a corner and so far away? The vocaphone itself! Quickly Kennedy turned another switch, of a rheostat, which accentuated a whisper to almost a shout. "Don't be alarmed, Senorita," he cried. "This is Kennedy talking. Look under the bookcase by the window. You will find a cedar box. It is a detective vocaphone through which I can hear you and which is talking out to you. I have heard something just there just now--" "Yes, yes. Go on!" "You are threatened. Shout! Shout!" Just then there came a sound of a scuffle and a muffled cry which was not much above a whisper, as though a strong hand was clapped over her mouth. What could we do? "Juanita--Juanita--help!--police!" shouted Craig himself through the vocaphone. An instant later we could hear other screams as Juanita heard and spread the alarm, not a second too soon. "Come on, Walter," shouted Kennedy dashing out of the room, now that he was assured the alarm had been given. We hurried around the corner, and into the apartment. One of the elevators was up, and no one was running the other, but we opened the gates and Kennedy ran it up by himself. In the Mendoza apartment all was a babel of voices, every one talking at once. "Did you get them?" Craig asked, looking about. "No, sir," replied the elevator boy. "One of them came in from the ambulance and told me Miss Mendoza was suddenly taken sick. He rode up with the stretcher. The other one must have walked up." "Do you know him? Has he ever been here before?" "I can't say, sir. I didn't see him. At least, sir, when I heard the screams I ran in from the elevator, which the other one told me to wait with--left the door open. Just as I ran in, they dodged out past me, jumped into the car and rode down. I guess they must have had the engine of the ambulance motor running, sir, if they got away without you seeing them." We were too late to head them from speeding off. But, at least, we had saved the Senorita. She was terribly upset by the attack, much shaken, but really all right. "Have you any idea who it could be?" asked Craig as the faithful Juanita cared for her. "I don't know the man who was waiting and 'Nita never saw him, either," she replied. "The one who jumped out from behind the portieres had on a mask and a false beard. But I didn't recognize anything about him." Sudden as the attack had been and serious as might have been the outcome, we could not but feel happy that it had been frustrated. Yet it seemed that some one ought to be delegated to see that such a thing could not occur again. "We must think up some means of protecting you," soothed Kennedy. "Let me see, Mr. Lockwood and Mr. Whitney seem to be the closest to you. If you don't mind I'll call them up. I wonder if you'd object if we had a little luncheon up here, to-morrow? I have a special reason for asking it. I want to insure your safety and we may as well meet on common ground." "There isn't the slightest objection in the world," she replied, as Kennedy reached for the telephone. We had some little difficulty in locating both Lockwood and Whitney, but finally after a time managed to find them and arrange for the conference on the Senorita's safety for the next day. Outside Kennedy gave instructions to the officer on the beat to watch the apartment particularly, and there was no reason now to fear a repetition of the attempt, at least that night. XVIII THE ANTIDOTE Early the following morning Kennedy left me alone in the laboratory and made a trip downtown, where he visited a South American tobacco dealer and placed a rush order for a couple of hundred cigarettes exactly similar in shape and quality to those which Mendoza had smoked and which the others seemed also to prefer, except, however, that the deadly drug was left out. While he was gone, it occurred to me to take up again the hunt for Alfonso. Norton was not in his little office, nor could I find Alfonso anywhere about the campus. In fact he seemed to have almost dropped out of his University work for the time. Accordingly, I turned my steps toward the Prince Edward Albert Hotel, in the hope that he might be there. Inquiries of the clerk at the desk told me that he had been there, but was out just at that moment. I did not see Whitney around, nor the Senora, so I sat down to wait, having nothing better to do until Kennedy's return. I was about to give it up and go, when I heard a cab drive up to the door and, looking up, I saw Alfonso get out. He saw me about the same time and we bowed. I do not think he even tried to avoid me. "I haven't seen you for some time," I remarked, searching his face, which seemed to me to be paler than it had been. "No," he replied. "I haven't been feeling very well lately and I've been running up into the country now and then to a quiet hotel--a sort of rest cure, I suppose you would call it. How are you? How is Senorita Inez?" "Very well," I replied, wondering whether he had said what he did in the hope of establishing a complete alibi for the events of the night before. Briefly I told him what had happened, omitting reference to the vocaphone and our real part in it. "That is terrible," he exclaimed. "Oh, if she would only allow me to take care of her--I would take her back to our own country, where she would be safe, far away from these people who seek to prey on all of us." He paced up and down nervously, and I could see that my information had added nothing to his peace of mind, though, at the same time, he had betrayed nothing on his part. "I was just passing through," I said finally, looking at my watch, "and happened to see you. I hope your mother is well?" "As well as is to be expected, surrounded by people who watch every act," he replied, I thought with a rap at us for having Norton about and so active, though I could not be sure. We separated, and I hastened back to the laboratory to report to Craig that Alfonso was rusticating for his health. Kennedy, on his part, had had an experience, though it was no more conclusive than my own. After he had left the tobacco district, he had walked up Wall Street to the subway. In the crowd he had seen Senora de Moche, although she had not seen him. He had turned and followed her until she entered the building in which Whitney and his associates had their offices. Whether it indicated that she was still leading them a chase, or they her, was impossible to determine, but it at least showed that they were still on friendly terms with each other. In the laboratory he could always find something to do on the case, either in perfecting his chemical tests of the various drugs we had discovered, or in trying to decipher some similarities in the rough printing of the four warnings and the anonymous letter with the known handwriting of those connected with the case, many specimens of which he bad been quietly collecting. That in itself was a tremendously minute job, entailing not only a vast amount of expert knowledge such as he had collected in his years of studying crime scientifically, but the most exact measurements and careful weighing and balancing of trifles, which to the unscientific conveyed no meanings at all. Still, he seemed to be forging ahead, though he never betrayed what direction the evidence seemed to be taking. The package of cigarettes which he had ordered downtown was delivered about an hour after his return and seemed to be the signal for him to drop work, for the meeting with Lockwood and Whitney had been set early. He stowed the package in his pockets and then went over to a cabinet in which he kept a number of rather uncommon drugs. From it he took a little vial which he shoved into his waistcoat pocket. "Are you ready, Walter?" he asked. "Whenever you are," I said, laying aside my writing. Together we made our way down to the Mendoza apartment which had been the scene of the near-tragedy the night before. Outside, he paused for several moments to make inquiries about any suspicious persons that might have been seen lurking about the neighbourhood. None of the attendants in the apartment remembered having seen any, and they were now very alert after the two events, the murder and the attempted abduction. Not a clue seemed to have been left by the villain who had been called "Doc." "How do you feel after your thrilling experience?" greeted Craig pleasantly, as Juanita admitted us and Inez came forward. "Oh, Mr. Kennedy," she answered, with a note of sadness in her tone. "It makes me feel so alone in the world. If it were not for 'Nita--and you, I don't know what I should do." "Doesn't Mr. Lockwood count?" asked Kennedy observantly. "Of course--everything," she answered hastily. "But he has to be away so much on business, and--" She paused and sighed. I could not help wondering whether, after all, his explanation of the dagger episode had been enough to satisfy her. Had she really accepted it? Neither Lockwood nor Whitney had arrived, and Kennedy improved the opportunity to have a quiet talk aside with her, at which, I imagine, he was arranging a programme of what was to happen at this meeting and her part in it to co-operate with him. She had left the room for a moment and we were alone. It was evidently a part of his plan, for no sooner was she gone than he opened the package of cigarettes which he had ordered and took out from the box in which Mendoza had kept his cigarettes those that were there, substituting those he had brought. We had not long to wait, now. Lockwood and Whitney came together. I was interested to see the greeting of Inez and her lover. Was it pure fancy, or did I detect a trace of coldness as though there had sprung up something between them? As far as Lockwood was concerned, I felt sure that he was eager to break down any barrier that kept them from being as they had been. Whitney took her hand and held it, in a playful sort of way. "I wish I were a young buck," he smiled. "No one would dare look at you--much less try to carry you off. Yes, we must be more careful of our little beauty, or we shall lose her." They turned to greet us. I felt, as we shook hands, that it was much the same sort of handshake that one sees in the prize ring--to be followed by the clang of a bell, then all going to it, in battle royal, with the devil after the hindmost. There was scarcely a chance for a preliminary bout before luncheon was announced, and we entered the cozy little dining-room to seat ourselves at the daintiest of tables. One could feel the hostess radiating hospitality, even on such a cross-current set of guests as we were, and for the time, I almost felt that it had been Kennedy's purpose to promote a love-feast instead of an armed truce. Nothing was said about the main cause of our being together for some time, and the small talk almost lifted for a time the incubus that had settled down on all our lives since the tragedy in the den at the other end of the suite. But the fact could not be blinked. Tacitly every one seemed to wait on Kennedy to sound the gong. Finally he did so. "Of course," he began, clearing his throat, "there is no use making believe about anything. I think we all understand each other better now than we have ever done before. As for me, I am in this case under a promise to stick to it and fight it to the end. I suppose the rest of you are, also. But that need not prevent us agreeing on one thing. We can work together to protect Senorita Mendoza, at least, from such danger as threatened her last night." "It's a dastardly shame," Lockwood exclaimed angrily, "that a man who would attempt a thing like that should go unpunished." "Show me how to trace him and I'll guarantee the punishment," rejoined Craig drily. "I am not a detective," replied Lockwood. Kennedy forebore to reply in kind, though I knew there was a ready answer on his tongue for the lover. Ever since they had arrived, the Senorita had seen that they were well supplied with cigarettes from the case in which she and they supposed were the genuine South American brand of her father. Kennedy and I smoked them, too, although neither of us liked them very much. The others were smoking furiously. "However," resumed Kennedy, "I do not feel that I want to intrude myself in this matter without being perfectly frank and having the approval of Senorita Mendoza. She has known both of you longer and more intimately than she has known me, although she has seen fit to place certain of her affairs in my hands, for which I trust I shall render a good account of my stewardship. It seems to me, though, that if there is, as we now know there is, some one whom we do not know"--he paused--"who has sunk so low as to wish to carry her off, apparently where she shall be out of the influence of her friends, it is only right that precautions should be taken to prevent it." "What is your suggestion?" demanded Whitney, rather contentiously. "Would there be any objection," asked Kennedy, "if I should ask my old friend,--or any of you may do it,--Deputy Commissioner O'Connor to detail a plainclothesman to watch this house and neighbourhood, especially at night?" We watched the faces of the others. But it was really of no use. "I think that is an excellent plan," decided Inez herself. "I shall feel much safer and surely none of you can be jealous of the city detectives." Kennedy smiled. She had cut the Gordian knot with a blow. Neither Lockwood nor Whitney could object. The purpose of the luncheon was accomplished. In fact he did not wait for further consideration, but excused himself from the table for a moment to call up our old friend O'Connor and tell him how gravely his man was needed. It was a matter of only a few minutes when he returned from the other room. "He will detail Burke for this special service as long as we want him," reported Craig, sitting down again. Inez was delighted, naturally, for the affair had been a terrific shock to her. I could see how relieved she felt, for I was sitting directly next to her. The maid had, meanwhile brought in the coffee and Inez had been waiting to pour until Kennedy returned. She did not do so, now, either, however. It seemed as if she were waiting for some kind of signal from Kennedy. "What a splendid view of the park you get here," remarked Kennedy turning toward the long, low windows that opened on a balustraded balcony. "Just look at that stream of automobiles passing on the west drive." Common politeness dictated that all should turn and look, although there was no novelty in the sight for any of us. As I have said, I was sitting next to Inez. To me she was a far more attractive sight than any view of the park. I barely looked out of the window. Imagine my surprise, then, at seeing her take advantage of the diversion to draw from the folds of her dress a little vial and pour a bit of yellowish, syrupy liquid into the cup of coffee which she was preparing for Whitney. I could not help looking at her quickly. She saw that I had seen her and raised her other hand with a finger to her lips and an explanatory glance at Kennedy who was keeping the others interested. Instantly, I recognized the little vial which Craig had shoved into his waistcoat pocket. That had been the purpose of his whispered conference with her when we arrived. I said nothing, but determined to observe more closely. More coffee and more cigarettes followed, always from the same box which was now on the table. The luncheon developed almost a real conversation. For the time, under the spell of our hostess, we nearly forgot that we were in reality bitter enemies. My real interest, as time passed, centred in Whitney and I could not help watching him closely. Was it a fact, or was it merely my imagination? He seemed quite different. The pupils of his eyes did not seem to be quite so dilated as they had been at other times, or even when he arrived. Even his heart action appeared to be more normal. I think Inez noticed it, too. There was none of the wildness in his conversation, such as there often had been at other times. Our party was prolonged beyond the time we had expected, but, although he had much on his mind, Kennedy made no move to break it up. In fact he did everything to encourage it. At last, however, the others did notice the time, and I think it was with sincere regret that the truce was broken. Even then, no parting shots were indulged in. As we left, Inez thanked Kennedy for his consideration, and I am sure that that in itself was reward enough. We parted from Lockwood, who wished to remain a little while, and rode down in the elevator with Whitney, a changed man. "I'll walk over to the elevated with you," he said. "I was going to my hotel, but I think I'll go down to the office instead." Evidently he had got Senora de Moche out of his mind, at least temporarily, I thought. Then for the first time I recalled that during the whole luncheon there had been no reference to either the Senora or Alfonso, though both must have been in our minds often. "What was it you had Inez drop into Whitney's coffee?" I asked Craig as we parted from him and rode uptown. "You saw that?" he smiled. "It was pilocarpine, jaborandi, a plant found largely in Brazil, one of the antidotes for stramonium poisoning. It doesn't work with every one. But it seems to have done so with him. Besides, the caffeine in the coffee probably aided the pilocarpine. Then, too, I made them smoke cigarettes without the dope that is being fed them. Lockwood's case, for some reason, hasn't gone far. But did you notice how the treatment contracted the pupils of Whitney's eyes almost back to normal again?" I had and said so, adding, "But what was your idea?" "I think I've got at the case from a brand-new angle," he replied. "Unless I am greatly mistaken, when the person who is doing the doping sees that Whitney is getting better--why, I think you all noticed it, Inez and Lockwood as well as you--it will mean another attempt to substitute more cigarettes doped with that drug. I think it's by substitution that it's being done. We'll see." At the laboratory, Kennedy called Norton and described briefly what had happened, especially to Whitney. "Now is your chance, Norton," he added, "to do some real good work. I want some one to watch the Senora, see if she, too, notes the difference in him. Understand?" "Perfectly," returned Norton. "That is something I think I can do." XIX THE BURGLAR POWDER It was not until after dinner that we heard again from Norton. He had evidently spent the time faithfully hanging about the Prince Edward Albert, but Whitney had not come in, although the Senora and Alfonso were about. "I saw them leaving the dining-room," he reported to us in the laboratory directly afterward, "just as Whitney came in. They could not see me. I took good care of that. But, say, there is a change in Whitney, isn't there? I wonder what caused it?" "It's as noticeable as that?" asked Kennedy. "And did she notice it?" "I'm sure of it," replied Norton confidently. "She couldn't help it. Besides, after he left her and went into the dining-room himself she and Alfonso seemed to be discussing something. I'm sure it was that." Kennedy said nothing, except to thank Norton and compliment him on his powers of observation. Norton took the praise with evident satisfaction, and after a moment excused himself, saying that he had some work to do over in the Museum. He had no sooner gone than Kennedy took from a drawer a little packet of powder and an atomizer full of liquid, which he dropped into his pocket. "I think the Prince Edward Albert will be the scene of our operations, to-night, Walter," he announced, reaching for his hat. He seemed to be in a hurry and it was not many minutes before we entered. As he passed the dining-room he glanced in. There was Whitney, not half through a leisurely dinner. Neither of the de Moches seemed to be downstairs. Kennedy sauntered over to the desk and looked over the register. We already knew that Whitney and the Senora had suites on the eighth floor, on opposite sides and at opposite ends of the hall. The de Moche suite was under the number 810. That of Whitney was 825. "Is either 823 or 827 vacant?" asked Kennedy as the clerk came over to us. He turned to look over his list. "Yes, 827 is vacant," he found. "I'd like to have it," said Kennedy, making some excuse about our luggage being delayed, as he paid for it for the night. "Front!" called the clerk, and a moment later we found ourselves in the elevator riding up. The halls were deserted at that time in the evening except for a belated theatre-goer, and in a few minutes there would ensue a period in which there was likely to be no one about. We entered the room next to Whitney's without being observed by any one of whom we cared. The boy left us, and it was a simple matter after that to open a rather heavy door that communicated between the two suites and was not protected by a Yale lock. Instead of switching on the lights, Kennedy first looked about carefully until he was assured that there was no one there. It seemed to me to be an unnecessary caution, for we knew Whitney was down-stairs and would probably be there a long time. But he seemed to think it necessary. Positive that we were alone, he made a hasty survey of the rooms. Then he seemed to select as a starting-point a table in one corner of the sitting-room on which lay a humidor and a heavy metal box for cigarettes. Quickly he sprinkled on the floor, from the hall door to the table on which the case of cigarettes lay, some of the powder which I had seen him wrap up in the laboratory before we left. Then, with the atomizer, he sprayed over it something that had a pungent, familiar odour--walking backwards from the hall door to the table, as he sprayed. "Don't you want more light?" I asked, starting to cross to a window to let the moonlight stream in. "Don't walk on it, Walter," he whispered, pushing me back. "No, I don't need any more light." "What are you doing?" I asked, mystified at his actions. "First I sprinkled some powdered iodine on the floor," he replied, "and then sprayed over just enough ammonia to moisten it. It will evaporate quickly, leaving what I call my anti-burglar powder." "I'm sure I wouldn't be thought one of the fraternity for the world," I observed, stepping aside to give him all the room he wanted in which to operate. He had finished his work by this time and now the evening wind was blowing away the slight fumes that had arisen. For a few moments he left our door into Whitney's room open, in order to insure clearing away the odour. Then he quietly closed it, but did not lock it again. We waited a few minutes, then Craig leaned over to me. "I wish you'd go down and see how near Whitney is through dinner," he said. "If he is through, do something, anything to keep him down there. Only be as careful as you can not to be seen by any one who knows us." I rode down in an empty elevator and cautiously made my way to the dining-room. Whitney had finished much sooner than I had expected and was not there. Much as I wanted not to be seen, I found that it was necessary to make a tour of the hotel to find him and I did so, wondering what expedient I would adopt to keep him down there if I found him. I did not have to adopt any, however. Whitney was almost alone in the writing-room, and a big pile of letters beside him showed me that he would be busy for some time. I rode back to the room to tell Craig, flattering myself that I had not been seen. "Good," he exclaimed. "I don't think we'll have to wait much longer, if anything at all is going to happen." In the darkness we settled ourselves for another vigil that was to last we knew not how long. Neither of us spoke as we half crouched in the shadow of our room, listening. Slowly the time passed. Would any one take advantage of the opportunity to tamper with the box of cigarettes on the table? I fell to speculating. Who could it possibly have been that had conceived this devilish plot? What was back of it all? I wondered whether it were possible that Lockwood, now that Mendoza was out of the way, could desire to remove Whitney, the sole remaining impediment to possessing the whole of the treasure as well as Inez? Then there were the Senora and Alfonso, the one with a deep race and family grievance, the other a rejected suitor. What might not they do with some weird South American poison? Once or twice we heard the elevator door clang and waited expectantly, but nothing happened. I began to wonder whether, even if some one had a pass-key to the suite, we could hear him enter if he was quiet. The outside hall was thickly carpeted, and deadened every footfall if one exercised only reasonable care. The rooms themselves were much the same. "Don't you think we might have the door ajar a little?" I suggested anxiously. "Sh!" was Kennedy's only comment in the negative. I glanced now and then at my watch and by straining my eyes was surprised to see how early it was yet. The minutes were surely leaden-footed. In the darkness, I fell again to reviewing the weird succession of events. I am not by nature superstitious, but in the black silence I could well imagine a staring succession of eyes, beginning with the dilated pupils of Whitney and passing on to the corpse-like expression of Mendoza, but always ending with the remarkable, piercing, black eyes of the Indian woman with the melancholy-visaged son, as they had impressed me the first time I saw them and, in fact, ever since. Was it a freak of my mind, or was there some reason for it? Suddenly I heard in the next room what sounded like a series of little explosions, as though some one were treading on match heads. "My burglar powder works," muttered Craig to me in a hoarse whisper. "Every step, even those of a mouse running across, sets it off!" He rose quickly and threw open the door into Whitney's suite. I sprang after him. There, in the shadows, I saw a dark form, starting back in quick retreat. But we were too late. He was cat-like, too quick for us. In the dim light of the little explosions we could catch a glimpse of the person who had been craftily working with the dread drug to drive Whitney and others insane. But the face was masked! He banged shut the door after him and fled down the hall, making a turn to a flight of steps. We followed, and at the steps paused a moment. "You go up, Walter," shouted Kennedy. "I'll go down." It was fifteen minutes later before we met downstairs, neither of us with a trace of the intruder. He seemed to have vanished like smoke. "Must have had a room, like ourselves," remarked Craig somewhat chagrined at the outcome of his scheme. "And if he was clever enough to have a room, he is clever enough to have a disguise that would fool the elevator boys for a minute. No, he has gone. But I'll wager he won't try any more substitutions of stramonium-poisoned cigarettes for a while. It was too close to be comfortable." We were baffled again, and this time by a mysterious masked man. Could it be the same whom we heard over the vocaphone addressed as "Doc"? Perhaps it was, but that gave us no hint as to his identity. He seemed just as far away as ever. We waited around the elevators for some time, but nothing happened. Kennedy even sought out the manager of the hotel, and after telling who he was, had a search made of the guests who might be suspected. The best we could do was to leave word that the employees might be put on the lookout for anything of a suspicious nature. Whitney, the innocent cause of all this commotion, was still in the writing-room with his letters. "I think I ought to tell him," decided Kennedy as we passed down the lobby. He seemed surprised to see us, as we strolled up to his writing desk, but pushed aside the few letters which he had not finished and asked us to sit down. "I don't know whether you have noticed it," began Craig, "but I wonder how you feel?" Whitney had expected something else rather than his health as the subject of a quiz. "Pretty good now," he answered before he knew it, "although I must admit that for the past few days I have wondered whether I wasn't slowing up a bit--or rather going too fast." "Would you like to know why you feel that way?" asked Craig. Whitney was now genuinely puzzled. It was perfectly evident, as it had been all the time, that he had not the slightest inkling of what was going on. As Craig briefly unfolded what we had discovered and the reason for it, Whitney watched him aghast. "Poisoned cigarettes," he repeated slowly. "Well, who would ever have thought it. You can bet your last jitney I'll be careful what I smoke in the future, if I have to smoke only original packages. And it was that, partly, that ailed Mendoza?" Kennedy nodded. "Don't take any pilocarpine, just because I told you that was what I used. You have given yourself the best prescription, just now. Be careful what you smoke. And, don't get excited if you seem to be stepping on matches up there in your room for a little while, either. It's nothing." Whitney's only known way of thanking anybody was to invite them to adjourn to the cafe, and accordingly we started across the hall, after he had gathered up his correspondence. The information had made more work that night impossible for him. As we crossed from the writing-room, we saw Alfonso de Moche coming in from the street. He saw us and came over to speak. Was it a coincidence, or was it merely a blind? Was he the one who had got away and now calculated to come back and throw us off guard? Whitney asked him where he had been, but he replied quickly that his mother had not been feeling very well after dinner and had gone to bed, while he strolled out and had dropped into a picture show. That, I felt, was at least clever. The intruder had been a man. De Moche excused himself, and we continued our walk to the cafe, where Whitney restored his shattered peace of mind somewhat. "What's the result of your detective work on Norton?" ventured Kennedy at last, seeing that Whitney was in a more expansive frame of mind, and taking a chance. "Oh," returned Whitney, "he's scared, all right. Why, he has been hanging around this hotel--watching me. He thinks I don't know it, I suppose, but I do." Kennedy and I exchanged glances. "But he's slippery," went on Whitney. "He knows that he is being shadowed and the men tell me that they lose him, now and then. To tell the truth I don't trust most of these private detectives. I think their little tissue paper reports are half-faked, anyhow." He seemed to want to say no more on the subject, from which I took it that he had discovered nothing of importance. "One thing, though," he recollected, after a moment. "He has been going to see Inez Mendoza, they tell me." "Yes?" queried Kennedy. "Confound him. He pretty nearly got Lockwood in bad with her, too," said Whitney, then leaning over confidentially added, "Say, Kennedy, honestly, now, you don't believe that shoe-print stuff, do you?" "I see no reason to doubt it," returned Kennedy with diplomatic firmness. "Why?" "Well," continued Whitney, still confidential, "we haven't got the dagger--that's all. There--I never actually asserted that before, though I've given every one to understand that our plans are based on something more than hot-air. We haven't got it, and we never had it." "Then who has it?" asked Kennedy colourlessly. Whitney shook his head. "I don't know," he said merely. "And these attacks on you--this cigarette business--how do you explain that," asked Craig, "if you haven't the dagger?" "Jealousy, pure jealousy," replied Whitney quickly. "They are so afraid that we will find the treasure. That's my dope." "Who is afraid?" "That's a serious matter," he evaded. "I wouldn't say anything that I couldn't back up in a case of that kind. I'd get into trouble." There was nothing to be gained by prolonging the conversation and Kennedy made a move as though to go. "Just give us a square deal," said Whitney as we left. "That's all we want--a square deal." Kennedy and I walked out of the Prince Edward Albert and turned down the block. "Well, have you found out anything more?" asked a voice in the shadow beside us. We turned. It was Norton. "I saw you talking to Whitney in the writing-room," he said, with a laugh, "then in the cafe, and I saw Alfonso come in. He still has those shadows on me. I wouldn't be surprised if there was one of them around in a doorway, now." "No," returned Kennedy, "he didn't say anything that was important. They still say they haven't the dagger." "Of course," said Norton. "You'll wait around a little longer?" asked Kennedy as we came to a corner and stopped. "I think so," returned Norton. "I'll keep you posted." Kennedy and I walked on a bit. "I'm going around to see how Burke, O'Connor's man, is getting on watching the Mendoza apartment, Walter," he said at length. "Then I have two or three other little outside matters to attend to. You look tired. Why don't you go home and take a rest? I shan't be working in the laboratory to-night, either." "I think I will," I agreed, for the strain of the case was beginning to tell on me. XX THE PULMOTOR I went directly to our apartment after Craig left me and for a little while sat up, speculating on the probabilities of the case. Senora de Moche had told us of her ancestor who had been intrusted with the engraved dagger, of how it had been handed down, of the death of her brother; she had told us of the murder of the ancestor of Inez Mendoza, of the curse of Mansiche. Was this, after all, but a reincarnation of the bloody history of the Gold of the Gods? There were the shoe-prints in the mummy case. They were Lockwood's. How about them? Was he telling the truth? Now had come the poisoned cigarettes. All had followed the threats: BEWARE THE CURSE OF MANSICHE ON THE GOLD OF THE GODS. Several times I had been forced already to revise my theories of the case. At first I had felt that it pointed straight toward Lockwood. But did it seem to do so now? Suppose Lockwood had stolen the dagger from the Museum, although he denied even that. Did that mean, necessarily that he committed the murder with it, that he now had it? Might he not have lost it? Might not some one else--the Senora, or Alfonso, or both--have obtained it? Might not Mendoza have been murdered with it by some other hand to obtain or to hide the secret on its bloody blade? I went to bed, still thinking, no nearer a conclusion than before, prepared to dream over it. That is the last I remember. When I regained consciousness, I was lying on the bed still, but Craig was bending over me. He had just taken a rubber cap off my face, to which was attached a rubber tube that ran to a box perhaps as large as a suitcase, containing a pump of some kind. I was too weak to notice these things right away, too weak to care much about them, or about anything else. "Are you all right now, old man?" he asked, bending over me. "Y-Yes," I gasped, clutching at the choking sensation in my throat. "What has happened?" Perhaps I had best tell it as though I were not the chief actor; for it came to me in such disjointed fragmentary form, that it was some time before I could piece it together. Craig had seen Burke, and had found that everything was all right. Then he had made the few little investigations that he intended. But he had not been to the laboratory. There had been no light there that night. At last when he arrived home, he had found a peculiar odour in the hall, but had thought nothing of it, until he opened our door. Then there rushed out such a burst of it that he had to retreat, almost fainting, choking and gasping for breath. His first thought was for me; and protecting himself as best he could he struggled through to my room, to find me lying on the bed, motionless, almost cold. He was by this time too weak to carry me. But he managed to reach the window and throw it wide open. As the draught cleared the air, he thought of the telephone and with barely strength enough left called up one of the gas companies and had a pulmotor sent over. Now that the danger was past for me, and he felt all right, his active mind began at once on the reconstruction of what had happened. What was it--man or devil? Could a human fly have scaled the walls, or an aeroplane have dropped an intruder at the window ledge? The lock on the door did not seem to have been tampered with. Nor was there any way by which entrance could have been gained from a fire escape. It was not illuminating gas. Every one agreed on that. No, it was not an accident. It was an attempt at murder. Some one was getting close to us. Every other weapon failing, this was desperation. I had been made comfortable, and he was engaged in one of his characteristic searches, with more than ordinary eagerness, because this was his own apartment, and it was I who had been the victim. I followed him languidly as he went over everything, the furniture, the walls, the windows, the carpets--there looking for finger-prints, there for some trace of the poisonous gas that had filled the room. But he did not have the air of one who was finding anything. I was too tired to reason. This was but another of the baffling mysteries that confronted us. A low exclamation caused me to open my eyes and try to discover what was the cause. He was bending over the lock of the door looking at it intently. "Broken?" I managed to say. "No--corroded," he replied. "You keep still. Save your energy. I've got strength enough for two, for a while." He came over to the bed and bent over me. "I won't hurt you," he encouraged, "but just let me get a drop of your blood." He took a needle and ran it gently into my thumb beside the nail. A drop or two of blood oozed out and he soaked it up with a piece of sterile gauze. "Try to sleep," he said finally. "And you?" I asked. "It's no use. I'm going over to the laboratory. I can't sleep. There's a cop down in front of the house. You're safe enough. By George, if this case goes much further we'll have half the force standing guard. Here--drink that." I had made up my mind not to go to sleep, if he wouldn't, but I slipped up when I obeyed him that time. I thought it was a stimulant but it turned out to be a sedative. I did not wake up until well along in the morning, but when I did I was surprised to find myself so well. Before any one could stop me, I was dressed and had reached the door. A friend of ours who had volunteered to stay with me was dozing on a couch as I came out. "Too late, Johnson," I called, trying hard to be gay, though I felt anything but like it. "Thank you, old man, for staying with me. But I'm afraid to stop. You're stronger than I am this morning--and besides you can run faster. I'm afraid you'll drag me back." He did try to do it, but with a great effort of will-power I persuaded him to let me go. Out in the open air, too, it seemed to do me good. The policeman who had been stationed before the house gazed at me as though he saw a ghost, then grinned encouragingly. Still, I was glad that the laboratory was only a few blocks away, for I was all in by the time I got there, and hadn't even energy enough to reply to Kennedy's scolding. He was working over a microscope, while by his side stood in racks, innumerable test-tubes of various liquids. On the table before him lay the lock of our door which he had cut out after he gave me the sleeping draught. "What was it?" I asked. "I feel as if I had been on a bust, without the recollection of a thing." He shook his head as if to discourage conversation, without taking his eyes off the microscope through which he was squinting. His lips were moving as if he were counting. I waited in impatient silence until he seemed to have finished. Then, still without a word, he took up a test-tube and dropped into it a little liquid from a bottle on a shelf above the table. His face lighted up, and he regarded the reaction attentively for some time. Then he turned to me, still holding the tube. "You have been on a bust," he said with a smile as if the remark of a few minutes before were still fresh. "Only it was a laughing gas jag--nitrous oxide." "Nitrous oxide?" I repeated. "How--what do you mean?" "I mean simply that a test of your blood shows that you were poisoned by nitrous oxide gas. You remember the sample of blood which I squeezed from your thumb? I took it because I knew that a gas--and it has proved to be nitrous oxide--is absorbed through the lungs into the circulation and its presence can be told for a considerable period after administration." He paused a moment, then went on: "To be specific in this case I found by microscopic examination that the number of corpuscles in your blood was vastly above the normal, something like between seven and eight million to a drop that should have had somewhat more than only half that number. You were poisoned by gas that--" "Yes," I interrupted, "but how, with all the doors locked?" "I was coming to that," he said quietly, picking up the lock and looking at it thoughtfully. He had already placed it in a porcelain basin, and in this basin he had poured some liquids. Then he passed the liquids through a fine screen and at last took up a tube containing some of the resulting liquid. "I have already satisfied myself," he explained, "but for your benefit, seeing that you're the chief sufferer, I'll run over a part of the test. You saw the reaction which showed the gas a moment ago. I have proved chemically as well as microscopically that it is present in your blood. Now if I take this test-tube of liquid derived from my treatment of the lock and then test it as you saw me do with the other, isn't that enough for you? See--it gives the same reaction." It did, indeed, but my mind did not react with it. "Nitrous oxide," he continued, "in contact with iron, leaves distinct traces of corrosion, discernible by chemical and microscopic tests quite as well as the marks it leaves in the human blood. Manifestly, if no one could have come in by the windows or doors, the gas must have been administered in some way without any one coming into the room. I found no traces of an intruder." It was a tough one. Never much good at answering his conundrums when I was well, I could not even make a guess now. "The key-hole, of course!" he explained. "I cut away the entire lock, and have submitted it to these tests which you see." "I don't see it all yet," I said. "Some one came to our door in the night, after gaining entrance to the hall--not a difficult thing to do, we know. That person found our door locked, knew it would be locked, knew that I always locked it. Knowing that such was the case, this person came prepared, bringing perhaps, a tank of compressed nitrous oxide, certainly the materials for making the gas expeditiously." I began to understand how it had been done. "Through the keyhole," he resumed, "a stream of the gas was injected. It soon rendered you unconscious, and that would have been all, if the person had been satisfied. A little bit would have been harmless enough. But the person was not satisfied. The intention was not to overcome, but to kill. The stream of gas was kept up until the room was full of it. "Only my return saved you, for the gas was escaping very slowly. Even then, you had been under it so long that we had to resort to the wonderful little pulmotor after trying both the Sylvester and Schaefer methods and all other manual means to induce respiration. At any rate we managed to undo the work of this fiend." I looked at him in surprise, I, who didn't think I had an enemy in the world. "But who could it have been?" I asked. "We are pretty close to that criminal," was the only reply he would give, "providing we do not spread the net in sight of the quarry." "Why should he have wanted to get me?" I repeated. "Don't flatter yourself," replied Craig. "He wanted me, too. There wasn't any light in the laboratory last night. There was a light in our apartment. What more natural than to think that we were both there? You were caught in the trap intended for both of us." I looked at him, startled. Surely this was a most desperate criminal. To cover up one murder--perhaps two--he did not hesitate to attempt a third, a double murder. The attack had been really aimed at Kennedy. It had struck me alone. But it had miscarried and Craig had saved my life. As I reflected bitterly, I had but one satisfaction. Wretched as I felt, I knew that it had spared Craig from slowing up on the case at just the time when he was needed. The news of the attempt spread quickly, for it was a police case and got into the papers. It was not half an hour after I reached the laboratory that the door was pushed open by Inez Mendoza, followed by a boy spilling with fruit and flowers like a cornucopia. "I drove to the apartment," she cried, greatly excited and sympathetic, "but they told me you had gone out. Oh, I was glad to hear it. Then I knew it wasn't so serious. For, somehow, I feel guilty about it. It never would have happened if you hadn't met me." "I'm sure it's worth more than it cost," I replied gallantly. She turned toward Kennedy. "I'm positively frightened," she exclaimed. "First they direct their attacks against my father--then against me--now against you. What will it be next? Oh--it is that curse--it is that curse!" "Never fear," encouraged Kennedy, "we'll get you out--we'll get all of us out, now, I should say. It's just because they are so desperate that we have these things. As long as there is nothing to fear a criminal will lie low. When he gets scared he does things. And it's when he does things that he begins to betray himself." She shuddered. "I feel as though I was surrounded by enemies," she murmured. "It is as if an unseen evil power was watching over me all the time--and mocking me--striking down those I love and trust. Where will it end?" Kennedy tried his best to soothe her, but it was evident that the attack on us could not have had more effect, if it had been levelled direct at her. "Please, Senorita," he pleaded, "stand firm. We are going to win. Don't give in. The Mendozas are not the kind to stop defeated." She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. "It was my father's way," she choked back her emotion. "How could you, a stranger, know?" "I didn't know," returned Kennedy. "I gathered it from his face. It is also his daughter's way." "Yes," she said, straightening up and the fire flashing from her eyes, "we are a proud, old, unbending race. Good-bye. I must not interrupt your work any longer. We are also a race that never forgets a friend." A moment later she was gone. "A wonderful woman," repeated Kennedy absently. Then he turned again to his table of chemicals. The telephone had begun to tinkle almost continuously by this time, as one after another of our friends called us up to know how we were getting on and be assured of our safety. In fact I didn't know that it was possible to resuscitate so many of them with a pulmotor. "By George, I'm glad it wasn't any more serious," came Norton's voice from the doorway a moment later. "I didn't see a paper this morning. The curator of the Museum just told me. How did it happen?" Kennedy tried to pass it off lightly, and I did the same, for as I was up longer I really did feel better. Norton shook his head gravely, however. "No," he said, "there were four of us got warnings. They are a desperate, revengeful people." I looked at him quickly. Did he mean the de Moches? XXI THE TELESCRIBE I decided that discretion was the better part of valour and that I had better go slow that day and regain my strength, a fortunate decision, as it turned out. Kennedy, also, spent most of the time in the laboratory, so that, after all, I did not feel that I was missing very much. It was along in the afternoon that the telephone began acting strangely, as it will do sometimes when a long distance connection is being made. Twice Kennedy answered, without getting any response. "Confound that central," he muttered. "What do you suppose is the matter?" Again the bell rang. "Hello," shouted Kennedy, exasperated. "Who's this?" There was a pause. "Just a minute," he replied. Quickly he jammed the receiver down on a little metal base which he had placed near the instrument. Three prongs reaching upward from the base engaged the receiver tightly, fitting closely about it. Then he took up a watch-case receiver to listen through in place of the regular receiver. "Who is it?" he answered. Apparently the voice at the other end of the wire replied rather peevishly, for Kennedy endeavoured to smooth over the delay. I wondered what was going on, why he was so careful. His face showed that, whatever it was, it was most important. As he restored the telephone to its normal condition, he looked at me puzzled. "I wonder whether that was a frame-up!" he exclaimed, pulling a little cylinder off the instrument into which he had inserted the telephone receiver. "I thought it might be and I have preserved the voice. This is what is known as the telescribe--a recent invention of Edison which records on a specially prepared phonograph cylinder all that is said--both ways--over a telephone wire." "What was it about?" I asked eagerly. He shoved the cylinder on a phonograph and started the instrument. "Professor Kennedy?" called an unfamiliar voice. "Yes," answered a voice that I recognized as Craig's. "This is the detective agency employed by Mr. Whitney. He has instructed us to inform you that he has obtained the Peruvian dagger for which you have been searching. That's all. Good-bye." I looked at Kennedy in blank surprise. "They rang off before I could ask them a question," said Craig. "Central tells me it was a pay station call. There doesn't seem to be any way of tracing it. But, at least I have a record of the voice." "What are you going to do?" I queried. "It may be a fake." "Yes, but I'm going to investigate it. Do you feel strong enough to go down to Whitney's with me?" The startling news had been like a tonic. "Of course," I replied, seizing my hat. Kennedy paused only long enough to call Norton. The archaeologist was out, and we hurried on downtown to Whitney's. Whitney was not there and his clerk was just about to close the office. All the books were put away in the safe and the desks were closed. Now and then there echoed up the hall the clang of an elevator door. "Where is Mr. Whitney?" demanded Craig of the clerk. "I can't say. He went out a couple of hours ago." "Did he have a visit from one of his detectives?" shot out Craig suddenly. The clerk looked up suspiciously at us. "No," he replied defiantly. "Walter--stand by that door," shouted Craig. "Let no one in until they break it down." His blue-steel automatic gleamed a cold menace at the clerk. A downtown office after office hours is not exactly the place to which one can get assistance quickly. The clerk started back. "Did he have a visit from one of his detectives?" "Yes." "What was it about?" The clerk winced. "I don't know," he replied, "honest--I don't." Craig waved the gun for emphasis. "Open the safe," he said. Reluctantly the clerk obeyed. Under the point of the gun he searched every compartment and drawer of the big chrome steel strong-box which Whitney had pointed out as the safest place for the dagger on our first visit to him. But there was absolutely no trace of it. Had we been hoaxed and was all this risk in vain? "Where did Mr. Whitney go?" demanded Craig, as he directed the clerk to shut the door and lock the safe again, baffled. "If I should try to tell you," returned the man, very much frightened, "I would be lying. You would soon find out. Mr. Whitney doesn't make a confidant of me, you know." It was useless. If he had the dagger, at least we knew that it was not at the office. We had learned only one thing. He had had a visit from one of his detectives. As fast as the uptown trend of automobiles and surface cars during the rush hour would permit, Kennedy and I hurried in a taxicab to the Prince Edward Albert in the hope of surprising him there. "It's no use to inquire for him," decided Craig as we entered the hotel. "I still have the key to that room, 827, next to his. We'll ride right up in the elevator boldly and get in." No one said anything to us, as we let ourselves into the room next to Whitney's. A new lock had been placed on the door between the suites, but, aside from the additional time it took to force it, it presented no great difficulty. "He wouldn't leave the dagger here, of course," remarked Kennedy, as at last we stepped into Whitney's suite. "But we may as well satisfy ourselves. Hello--what's this?" The room was all upset, as though some one had already gone through it. For a moment I thought we had been forestalled. "Packed a grip hastily," Craig remarked, pointing to the marks on the bedspread where it had rested while he must literally have thrown things into it. We made a hasty search ourselves, but we knew it was hopeless. Two things we had learned. Whitney had had a visit from his detectives, and he had gone away hurriedly. An anonymous telephone message had been sent to Kennedy. Had it been for the purpose of throwing us off the track? The room telephone rang. Quickly Craig jumped to it and took down the receiver. "Hello," he called. "Yes, this is Mr. Whitney." A silence ensued during which, of course, I could not gather any idea of what was going on over the wire. "The deuce!" exclaimed Kennedy, working the hook up and down but receiving no response. "The fellow caught on. Something must have happened to Norton, too." "How's that?" I asked. "Why," he replied, "some one just called up Whitney and said that Norton had got away from him." "Perhaps they're trying to keep him out of the way just as they are with us," I suggested. "I think the thing is a plant." Down the hall, Kennedy stopped and tapped lightly at the door of 810, the de Moche suite. I think he was surprised when the Senora's maid opened it. "Tell Senora de Moche it is Professor Kennedy," he said quickly, "and that I must see her." The maid admitted us into the sitting-room where we had had our first interview with her and a moment later she appeared. She was evidently not dressed for dinner, although it was almost time, and I saw Kennedy's eye travel from her to a chair in the corner over which was draped a linen automobile coat and a heavy veil. Had she been preparing to go somewhere, too? The door to Alfonso's room was open and he clearly was not there. What did it all mean? "Have you heard anything of a report that the dagger has been found?" demanded Kennedy abruptly. "Why--no," she replied, greatly surprised, apparently. "You were going out?" asked Kennedy with a significant glance at the coat and veil. "Only for a little ride with Alfonso, who has gone to hire a car," she answered quickly. I felt sure that she had heard something about the dagger. We had no further excuse for staying and on the way out, now that he had satisfied himself that Whitney was not there, Craig inquired at the office for him. They could tell us nothing of his whereabouts, except that he had left in his car late in the afternoon in a great hurry. Kennedy stepped into a telephone booth and called up Lockwood, but no one answered. Inquiry in the garages in the neighbourhood finally located that at which Lockwood kept his car. There, all that they could tell us was that the car had been filled with gas and oil as if for a trip. Lockwood was gone, too. Kennedy hastily ordered a touring car himself and placed it at a corner of the Prince Edward Albert where he could watch two of the entrances, while I waited on the next corner where I could see the entrance on the other street. For some time we waited and still she did not come out. Had she telephoned to Alfonso and had he gone alone? Perhaps she had already been out and had taken this method of detaining us, knowing that we would wait to watch her. It must have been a mixture of both motives, for at length I was rewarded by seeing her come cautiously out of the rear entrance of the hotel alone and start to walk hurriedly up the street. I signalled to Craig who shot down and picked me up. By this time the Senora had reached a public cab stand and had engaged a hack. Sinking back in the shadows of the top, which was up, Craig directed our driver to follow the hack cautiously, keeping a couple of blocks behind. There was some satisfaction, though slight, in it, at least. We felt the possibility of the trail leading somewhere, now. On uptown the hack went, while we kept discreetly in the rear. We had reached a part of the city where it was sparsely populated, when the hack suddenly turned and doubled back on us. There was not time for us to turn and we trusted that by shrinking back in the shadow we might not be observed. As the hack passed us, however, the Senora leaned out until it was perfectly evident that she must recognize us. She said nothing but I fancied I saw a smile of satisfaction as she settled back into the cushions. She was deliberately going back along the very road by which she had led us out. It had been an elaborate means of wasting our time. She did not have the satisfaction, however, of shaking us off, for we followed all the way back to the hotel and saw her go in. Then Kennedy placed the car where we had it before and left the driver with instructions to follow her regardless of time if she should come out again. Surely, I reasoned, there must be something very queer going on, if they were all in it to eliminate us and Norton. What had happened to him? Kennedy hastened back to the campus, late as it was, there to start anew. Norton was not in his quarters and, on the chance that he might have sought to elude Whitney's detectives by doing the unexpected and going to the Museum, Kennedy walked over that way. There was nothing to indicate that anybody had been at the Museum, but, as we passed our laboratory, we could hear the telephone ringing inside, as though some one had been trying to get us for a long time. Kennedy opened the door and switched on the lights. Waiting only long enough to jam the receiver down into place on the telescribe, he answered the call. "The deuce you will!" I heard him exclaim, then apparently whoever was talking rang off and he could not get them back. "Another of those confounded telephone messages," he said, turning to me and taking the cylinder off. "It looks as though the ready-letter writer who used to send warnings had learned his lesson and taken to the telephone as leaving fewer clues than handwriting." He placed the record on the phonograph so that I could hear it. It was brief and to the point, as had been the first. "Hello, is that you, Kennedy? We've got Norton. Next we'll get you. Good-bye." Kennedy repeated the first message. It was evident that both had been spoken by the same voice. "Whose is it?" I asked blankly. "What does it mean?" Before Craig could answer there was a knock at our door and he sprang to open it. XXII THE VANISHER It was Juanita, Inez Mendoza's maid, frantic and almost speechless. "Why, Juanita," encouraged Kennedy, "what's the matter?" "The Senorita!" she gasped, breaking down now and sobbing over and over again. "The Senorita!" "Yes, yes," repeated Kennedy, "but what about her? Is there anything wrong?" "Oh, Mr. Kennedy," sobbed the poor girl, "I don't know. She is gone. I have had no word from her since this afternoon." "Gone!" we exclaimed together. "Where was Burke--that man that the police sent up to protect her?" "He is gone, too--now," replied Juanita in her best English, sadly broken by the excitement. Kennedy and I looked at each other aghast. This was the hardest blow of all. We had thought that, at least, Inez would be safe with a man like Burke, whom we could trust, detailed to watch her. "Tell me," urged Kennedy, "how did it happen? Did they carry her off--as they tried to do the other time?" "No, no," sobbed Juanita. "I do not know. I do not know even whether she is gone. She went out this afternoon for a little walk. But she did not come back. After it grew dark, I was frightened. I remembered that you were here and called up, but you were out. Then I saw that policeman. I told him. He has others working with him now. But I could not find you--until now I saw a light here. Oh, my poor, little girl, what has become of her? Where have they taken her? Oh, MADRE DE DIOS, it is terrible!" Had that been the purpose for which we had been sent on wild-goose chases? Was Inez really kidnapped this time? I knew not what to think. It seemed hardly possible that all of them could have joined in it. If she were kidnapped, it must have been on the street in broad daylight. Such things had happened. It would not be the first disappearance of the kind. Quickly Kennedy called up Deputy O'Connor. It was only too true. Burke had reported that she had disappeared and the police, especially those at the stations and ferries and in the suburbs had been notified to look for her. All this seemed to have taken place in those hours when the mysterious telephone calls had sent us on the wrong trail. Kennedy said nothing, but I could see that he was doing some keen thinking. Just then the telephone rang again. It was from the man whom we had left at the Prince Edward Albert. Senora de Moche had gone out and driven rapidly to the Grand Central. He had not been able to find out what ticket she bought, but the train was just leaving. Kennedy paced up and down, muttering to himself. "Whitney first--then Lockwood--and Alfonso. The Senora takes a train. Suppose the first message were true? Gas and oil for a trip." He seized the telephone book and hastily turned the pages over. At last his finger rested on a name in the suburban section. I read: "Whitney, Stuart. Res. 174-J Rockledge." Quickly he gave central the number, then shoved the receiver again into the telescribe. "Hello, is Mr. Whitney there?" I heard later as he placed the record again in the phonograph for repetition. "No--who is this?" "His head clerk. Tell him I must see him. Kennedy has been to the office and--" "Say--get off the line. We had that story once." "That's it!" exclaimed Craig. "Don't you see--they've all gone up to Whitney's country place. That clerk was faking. He has already telephoned. And listen. Do you see anything peculiar?" He was running all three records which we had on the telescribe. As he did so, I saw unmistakably that it was the same voice on all three. Whitney must have had a servant do the telephoning for him. "Don't fret, Juanita," reassured Kennedy. "We shall find your mistress for you. She will be all right. You had better go back to the apartment and wait. Walter look up the next train to Rockledge while I telephone O'Connor." We had an hour to wait before the next train left and in the meantime we drove Juanita back to the Mendoza apartment. It was a short run to Rockledge by railroad, but it seemed to me that it took hours. Kennedy sat in silence most of the time, his eyes closed, as if he were trying to place himself in the position of the others and figure out what they would do. At last we arrived, the only passengers to get off at the little old station. Which way to turn we had not the slightest idea. We looked about. Even the ticket office was closed. It looked as though we might almost as well have stayed in New York. Down the railroad we could see that a great piece of engineering was in progress, raising the level of the tracks and building a steel viaduct, as well as a new station, and at the same time not interrupting the through traffic, which was heavy. "Surely there must be some one down there," observed Kennedy, as we picked our way across the steel girders, piles of rails, and around huge machines for mixing concrete. We came at last to a little construction house, a sort of general machine-and work-shop, in which seemed to be everything from a file to a pneumatic riveter. "Hello!" shouted Craig. There came a sound from a far corner of a pile of ties and a moment later a night-watchman advanced suspiciously swinging his lantern. "Hello yourself," he growled. "Which way to Stuart Whitney's estate?" asked Craig. My heart sank as he gave the directions. It seemed miles away. Just then the blinding lights of a car flashed on us as it came down the road parallel to the tracks. He waved his light and the car stopped. It was empty, except for a chauffeur evidently returning from a joy ride. "Take these gentlemen as far as Smith's corner, will you?" asked the watchman. "Then show 'em the turn up to Whitney's." The chauffeur was an obliging chap, especially as it cost him nothing to earn a substantial tip with his master's car. However, we were glad enough to ride in anything on wheels, and not over-particular at that hour about the ownership. "Mr. Whitney hasn't been out here much lately," he volunteered as he sped along the beautiful oiled road, and the lights cast shadows on the trees that made driving as easy as in daylight. "No, he has been very busy," returned Craig glad to turn to account the opportunity to talk with a chauffeur, for it is the chauffeur in the country who is the purveyor of all knowledge and gossip. "His car passed us when I was driving up from the city. My boss won't let me speed or I wouldn't have taken his dust. Gee, but he does wear out the engines in his cars, Whitney." "Was he alone?" asked Craig. "Yes--and then I saw him driving back again when I went down, to the station for some new shoes we had expressed up. Just a flying trip, I guess--or does he expect you?" "I don't think he does," returned Craig truthfully. "I saw a couple of other cars go up there. House party?" "Maybe you'd call it that," returned Craig with a twinkle of the eye. "Did you see any ladies?" "No," returned the chauffeur. "Just a man driving his own car and another with a driver." "There wasn't a lady with Mr. Whitney?" asked Craig, now rather anxious. "Neither time." I saw what he was driving at. The Senora might have got up there in any fashion without being noticed. But for Inez not to be with Whitney, nor with the two who must evidently have been Lockwood and Alfonso, was indeed strange. Could it be that we were only half right--that they had gathered here but that Inez had really disappeared? The young man set us down at Smith's Corner and it proved to be only about an eighth of a mile up the road and up-hill when Whitney's house burst in sight, silhouetted against the sky. There were lights there and it was evident that several people had gathered for some purpose. We made our way up the path and paused a moment to look through the window before springing the little surprise. There we could see Lockwood, Alfonso, and Senora de Moche, who had arrived, after all and probably been met at the station by her son. They seemed like anything but a happy party. Never on the best of terms, they could not be expected to be happy. But now, if ever, one would have thought they might do more than tolerate each other, assuming that some common purpose had brought them here. Kennedy rang the bell and we could see that all looked surprised, for they had heard no car approach. A servant opened the door and before he knew it, Kennedy had pushed past him, taking no chances at a rebuff after the experience over the wire. "Kennedy!" exclaimed Lockwood and Alfonso together. "Where is Inez Mendoza?" demanded Craig, without returning the greeting. "Inez?" they repeated blankly. Kennedy faced them squarely. "Come, now. Where is she? This is a show-down. You may as well lay your cards on the table. Where is she--what have you done with her?" The de Moches looked at Lockwood and he looked at them, but neither spoke for a moment. "Walter," ordered Kennedy, "there's the telephone. Get the managing editor of the Star and tell him where we are. Every newspaper in the United States, every police officer in every city will have the story, in twelve hours, if you precious rascals don't come across. There--I give you until central gets die Star." "Why--what has happened?" asked Lockwood, who was the first to recover his tongue. "Don't stand there asking me what has happened," cried Kennedy impatiently. "Tickle that hook again, Walter. You know as well as I do that you have planned to get Inez Mendoza away from my influence--to kidnap her, in other words--" "We kidnap her?" gasped Lockwood. "What do you mean, man? I know nothing of this. Is she gone?" He wheeled on the de Moches. "This is some of your work. If anything happens to that girl--there isn't an Indian feud can equal the vengeance I will take!" Alfonso was absolutely speechless. Senora de Moche started to speak, but Kennedy interrupted her. "That will do from you," he cut short. "You have passed beyond the bounds of politeness when you deliberately went out of your way to throw me on a wrong trail while some one was making off with a young and innocent girl. You are a woman of the world. You will take your medicine like a man, too." I don't think I have ever seen Kennedy in a more towering rage than he was at that moment. "When it was only a matter of a paltry poisoned dagger at stake and a fortune that may be mythical or may be like that of Croesus, for all I care, we could play the game according to rules," he exclaimed. "But when you begin to tamper with a life like that of Inez de Mendoza--you have passed the bounds of all consideration. You have the Star? Telephone the story anyhow. We'll arbitrate afterward." I think, as I related the facts to my editor, it sobered us all a great deal. "Kennedy," appealed Lockwood at last, as I hung up the receiver, "will you listen to my story?" "It is what I am here for," replied Craig grimly. "Believe it or not, as far as I am concerned," asserted Lockwood, "this is all news to me. My God--where is she?" "Then how came you here?" demanded Craig. "I can speak only for myself," hastened Lockwood. "If you had asked where Whitney was, I could have understood, but--" "Well, where is he?" "We don't know. Early this afternoon I received a hurried message from him--at least I suppose it was from him--that he had the dagger and was up here. He said--I'll be perfectly frank--he said that he was arranging a conference at which all of us were to be present to decide what to do." "Meanwhile I was to be kept away at any cost," supplied Kennedy sarcastically. "Where did he get it?" "He didn't say." "And you didn't care, as long as he had it," added Craig, then, turning to the de Moches, "And what is your tale?" Senora de Moche did not lose her self-possession for an instant. "We received the same message. When you called, I thought it would be best for Alfonso to go alone, so I telephoned and caught him at the garage and when my train arrived here, he was waiting." "None of you have seen Whitney here?" asked Kennedy, to which all nodded in the negative. "Well, you seem to agree pretty well in your stories, anyhow. Let me take a chance with the servants." It is no easy matter to go into another's household and without any official position quiz and expect to get the truth out of the servants. But Kennedy's very wrath seemed to awe them. They answered in spite of themselves. It seemed clear that as far as they went both guests and servants were telling the truth. Whitney had made the run up from the city earlier in the afternoon, had stayed only a short time, then had gone back, leaving word that he would be there again before his guests arrived. They all professed to be as mystified as ourselves now over the outcome of the whole affair. He had not come back and there had been no word from him. "One thing is certain," remarked Craig, watching the faces before him as he spoke. "Inez is gone. She has been spirited away without even leaving a trace. Her maid Juanita told me that. Now if Whitney is gone, too, it looks as if he had planned to double-cross the whole crowd of you and leave you safely marooned up here with nothing left but your common hatred of me. Much good may it do you." Lockwood clenched his fists savagely, not at Kennedy but at the thought that Craig had suggested. His face set itself in tense lines as he swore vengeance on all jointly and severally if any harm came to Inez. I almost forgot my suspicions of him in admiration. "Nothing like this would ever have happened if she had stayed in Peru," exclaimed Alfonso bitterly. "Oh, why did her father ever bring her here to this land of danger?" The idea seemed novel to me to look on America as a lawless, uncultured country, until I reflected on the usual Latin-American opinion of us as barbarians. Lockwood frowned but said nothing, for a time. Then he turned suddenly to the Senora, "You were intimate enough with him," he said. "Did he tell you any more than he told us?" It was clear that Lockwood felt now that every man's hand was against him. I thought I could discover a suppressed gleam of satisfaction in her wonderful eyes as she answered, "Nothing more. It was only that I carried out what he asked me." Could it be that she was taking a subtle delight in the turn of events--the working out of a curse on the treasure-secret which the fatal dagger bore? I could not say. But it would not have needed much superstition to convince any one that the curse on the Gold of the Gods was as genuine as any that had ever been uttered, as it heaped up crime on crime. We waited in silence, the more hopeless as the singing of the night insects italicized our isolation from the organized instruments of man for the righting of wrong. Here we were, each suspecting the other, in the home of a man whom all mistrusted. "There's no use sitting here doing nothing," exclaimed Lockwood in whose mind was evidently the same thought, "not so long as we have the telephone and the automobiles." These, at least, were our last bonds with the great world that had wrapped a dark night about a darker mystery. "There are many miles of wire--many miles of road. Which way shall we turn?" Senora de Moche seemed to take a fiendish delight in the words as she said them. It was as though she challenged our helplessness in the face of a power that was greater than us all. Lockwood flashed a look of suspicion in her direction. As for myself, I had never been able to make the woman out. To-night she seemed like a sort of dea ex machina, who sat apart, playing on the passions of a group of puppet men whom she set against each other until all should be involved in a common ruin. It was impossible, in the silence of this far-off lonely place in the country, not to feel the weirdness of it all. Once I closed my eyes and was startled by the uncanny vividness of a mind-picture that came unbidden. It was of a scrap of paper on which, in rough capitals was printed: BEWARE THE CURSE OF MANSICHE ON THE GOLD OF THE GODS. XXIII THE ACETYLENE TORCH Do you suppose he really had the dagger, or was that a lie?" I asked, with an effort shaking off the fateful feeling that had come over me as if some one were casting a spell. "There is one way to find out," returned Craig, as though glad of the suggestion. Though they hated him, they seemed forced to admit, for the time, his leadership. He rose and the rest followed as he went into Whitney's library. He switched on the lights. There in a corner back of the desk stood a safe. Somehow or other it seemed to defy us, even though its master was gone. I looked at it a moment. It was a most powerful affair, companion to that in the office of which Whitney was so proud, built of layer on layer of chrome steel, with a door that was air tight and soup-proof, bidding defiance to all yeggmen and petermen. Lockwood fingered the combination hopelessly. There were some millions of combinations and permutations that only a mathematician could calculate. Only one was any good. That one was locked in the mind of the man who now seemed to baffle us as did his strong-box. I placed my hand on the cold, defiant surface. It would take hours to drill a safe like that, and even then it might turn the points of the drills. Explosives might sooner wreck the house and bring it down over the head of the man who attacked this monster. "What can we do?" asked Senora de Moche, seeming to mock us, as though the safe itself were an inhuman thing that blocked our path. "Do?" repeated Kennedy decisively, "I'll show you what we can do. If Lockwood will drive me down to the railroad station in his car, I'll show you something that looks like action. Will you do it?" The request was more like a command. Lockwood said nothing, but moved toward the porte-cochere, where he had left his car parked just aside from the broad driveway. "Walter, you will stay here," ordered Kennedy. "Let no one leave. If any one comes, don't let him get away. We shan't be gone long." I sat awkwardly enough, scarcely speaking a word, as Kennedy dashed down to the railroad station. Neither Alfonso nor his mother betrayed either by word or action a hint of what was passing in their minds. Somehow, though I did not understand it, I felt that Lockwood might square himself. But I could not help feeling that these two might very possibly be at the bottom of almost anything. It was with some relief that I heard the car approaching again. I had no idea what Kennedy was after, whether it was dynamite or whether he contemplated a trip to New York. I was surprised to see him, with Lockwood, hurrying up the steps to the porch, each with a huge tank studded with bolts like a boiler. "There," ordered Craig, "set the oxygen there," as he placed his own tank on the opposite side. "That watchman thought I was bluffing when I said I'd get an order from the company, if I had to wake up the president of the road. It was too good a chance to miss. One doesn't find such a complete outfit ready to hand every day." Out of the tanks stout tubes led, with stop-cocks and gauges at the top. From a case under his arm Kennedy produced a curious arrangement like a huge hook, with a curved neck and a sharp beak. Really it consisted of two metal tubes which ran into a sort of cylinder, or mixing chamber, above the nozzle, while parallel to them ran a third separate tube with a second nozzle of its own. Quickly he joined the ends of the tubes from the tanks to the metal hook, the oxygen tank being joined to two of the tubes of the hook, and the second tank being joined to the other. With a match he touched the nozzle gingerly. Instantly a hissing, spitting noise followed, and an intense, blinding needle of flame. "Now we'll see what an oxyacetylene blow-pipe will do to you, old stick-in-the-mud," cried Kennedy, as he advanced toward the safe, addressing it as though it had been a thing of life that stood in his way. "I think this will make short work of you." Almost as he said it, the steel beneath the blow-pipe became incandescent. For some time he laboured to get a starting-point for the flame of the high-pressure torch. It was a brilliant sight. The terrific heat from the first nozzle caused the metal to glow under the torch as if in an open-hearth furnace. From the second nozzle issued a stream of oxygen, under which the hot metal of the door was completely consumed. The force of the blast, as the compressed oxygen and acetylene were expelled, carried a fine spray of the disintegrated metal visibly before it. And yet it was not a big hole that it made--scarcely an eighth of an inch wide, but clean and sharp as if a buzz-saw were eating its way through a plank of white-pine. With tense muscles Kennedy held this terrific engine of destruction and moved it as easily as if it had been a mere pencil of light. He was the calmest of all of us as we crowded about him, but at a respectful distance. "I suppose you know," he remarked hastily, never pausing for a moment in his work, "that acetylene is composed of carbon and hydrogen. As it burns at the end of the nozzle it is broken into carbon and hydrogen--the carbon gives the high temperature and the hydrogen forms a cone that protects the end of the blow-pipe from being itself burnt up." "But isn't it dangerous?" I asked, amazed at the skill with which he handled the blow-pipe. "Not particularly--when you know how to do it. In that tank is a porous asbestos packing saturated with acetone, under pressure. Thus they carry acetylene safely, for it is dissolved and the possibility of explosion is minimized. "This mixing chamber, by which I am holding the torch, where the oxygen and acetylene mix, is also designed in such a way as to prevent a flash-back. The best thing about this style of blow-pipe is the ease with which it can be transported and the curious purposes--like this--to which it can be put." He paused a moment to test what had been burnt. The rest of the safe seemed as firm as ever. "Humph!" I heard one of them, I think it was Alfonso, mutter. I resented it, but Kennedy affected not to hear. "When I shut off the oxygen in this second jet," he resumed, "you see the torch merely heats the steel. I can get a heat of approximately sixty-three hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and the flame will exert a pressure of fifty pounds to the square inch." "Wonderful!" exclaimed Lockwood, who had not heard the suppressed disapproval of Alfonso, and was watching, in undisguised admiration at the thing itself, regardless of consequences. "Kennedy, how did you ever think of such a thing?" "Why, it's used for welding, you know," answered Craig, as he continued to work calmly in the growing excitement. "I first saw it in actual use in mending a cracked cylinder in an automobile. The cylinder was repaired without being taken out at all. I've seen it weld new teeth and build up worn teeth on gearing, as good as new." He paused to let us see the terrifically heated metal under the flame. "You remember when we were talking to the watchman down there at the station, Walter?" he asked. "I saw this thing in that complete little shop of theirs. It interested me. See. I turn on the oxygen now in the second nozzle. The blow-pipe is no longer an instrument for joining metals together, but for cutting them asunder. "The steel burns just as you, perhaps, have seen a watch-spring burn in a jar of oxygen. Steel, hard or soft, tempered, annealed, chrome, or Harveyized, it all burns just about as fast, and just about as easily under this torch. And it's cheap, too. This attack--aside from what it costs to the safe--may amount to a couple of dollars as far as the blow-pipe is concerned--quite a difference from the thousands of dollars' loss that would follow an attempt to blow a safe like this one." We had nothing to say. We stood in awe-struck amazement as the torch slowly, inexorably traced a thin line along the edge of the combination. Minute after minute sped by, as the line burned by the blow-pipe cut around the lock. It seemed hours, but really it was minutes. I wondered when he would have cut about the whole lock. He was cutting clear through and around it, severing it as if with a superhuman knife. With something more than half his work done, he paused a moment to rest. "Walter," he directed, mopping his forehead, for it was real work directing that flaming knife, "get New York on the wire. See if O'Connor is at his office. If he has any report, I want to talk to him." It was getting late and the service was slackening up. I had some trouble, especially in getting a good connection, but at last I got headquarters and was overjoyed to hear O'Connor's bluff, Irish voice boom back at me. "Hello, Jameson," he called. "Where on earth are you? I've been trying to get hold of Kennedy for a couple of hours. Rockledge? Well, is Kennedy there? Put him on, will you?" I called Craig and, as I did so, my curiosity got the better of me and I sought out an extension of the wire in a den across the hall from the library, where I could listen in on what was said. "Hello, O'Connor," answered Craig. "Anything from Burke yet?" "Yes," came back the welcome news. "I think he has a clue. We found out from here that she received a long distance message during the afternoon. Where did Jameson say you were--Rockledge?--that's the place. Of course we don't know what the message was, but anyhow she went out to meet some one right after that. The time corresponds with what the maid says." "Anything else?" asked Craig. "Have you found any one who saw her?" "Yes. I think she went over to your laboratory. But you were out." "Confound it!" interrupted Craig. "Some one saw a woman there." "It wasn't the maid?" "No, this was earlier--in the afternoon. She left and walked across the campus to the Museum." "Oh, by the way, any word of Norton?" "I'm coming to that. She inquired for Norton. The curator has given a good description. But he was out--hadn't been there for some time. She seemed to be very much upset over something. She went away. After that we've lost her." "Not another trace?" "Wait a minute. We had this Rockledge call to work on. So we started backward on that. It was Whitney's place, I found out. We could locate the car at the start and at the finish. He left the Prince Edward Albert and went up there first. Then he must have come back to the city again. No one at the hotel saw him the second time. "What then?" hastened Craig. "She may have met him somewhere, though it's not likely she had any intention of going away. All the rest of those people you have up there seem to have gone prepared. We got something on each of them. Also you'll be interested to know I've got a report of your own doings. It was right, Kennedy, I don't blame you. I'd have done the same with Burke on the job. How are you making out? What? You're cracking a crib? With what?" O'Connor whistled as Kennedy related the story of the blow-pipe. "I think you're on the right track," he commended. "There's nothing to show it, but I believe Whitney told her something that changed her mind about going up there. Probably met her in some tea room, although we can't find anything from the tea rooms. Anyhow, Burke's out trailing along the road from New York to Rockledge and I'm getting reports from him whenever he hits a telephone." "I wish you'd ask him to call me, here, if he gets anything." "Sure I will. The last call was from the Chateau Rouge,--that's about halfway. There was a car with a man and a woman who answers her description. Then, there was another car, too." "Another car?" "Yes--that's where Norton crosses the trail again. We searched his apartment. It was upset--like Whitney's. I haven't finished with that. But we have a list of all the private hacking places. I've located one that hired a car to a man answering Norton's description. I think he's on the trail. That's what I meant by another car." "What's he doing?" "Maybe he has a hunch. I'm getting superstitious about this case. You know Luis de Mendoza has thirteen letters in it. Leslie told me something about a threat he had--a curse. You better look out for those two greasers you have up there. They may have another knife for you." Kennedy glanced over at the de Moches, not in fear but in amusement at what they would think if they could hear O'Connor's uncultured opinion. "All right, O'Connor," said Craig, "everything seems to be going as well as we can expect. Don't forget to tell Burke I'm here." "I won't. Just a minute. He's on another wire for me." Kennedy waited impatiently. He wanted to finish his job on the safe before some one came walking in and stopped it, yet there was always a chance that Burke might turn up something. "Hello," called O'Connor a few minutes later. "He's still following the two cars. He thinks the one with the woman in it is Whitney's, all right. But they've got off the main road. They must think they're being followed. "Or else have changed their destination," returned Craig. "Tell him that. Maybe Whitney had no intention of coming up here. He may have done this thing just to throw these people off up here, too. I can't say. I can tell better whether he intended to come back after I've got this safe open. I'll let you know." Kennedy rang off. "Any news of Inez?" asked Lockwood who had been fuming with impatience. "She's probably on her way up here," returned Craig briefly, taking up the blow-pipe again. Alfonso remained silent. The Senora could scarcely hide her excitement. If there were anything in telepathy, I am sure that she read everything that was said over the wire. Quickly Craig resumed his work, biting through the solid steel as if it had been mere pasteboard, the blow-pipe showering on each side a brilliant spray of sparks, a gaudy, pyrotechnic display. Suddenly, with a quick motion, Kennedy turned off the acetylene and oxygen. The last bolt had been severed, the lock was useless. A gentle push of the hand, and he swung the once impregnable door on its delicately poised hinges as easily as if he had merely said, "Open sesame." Craig reached in and pulled open a steel drawer directly in front of him. There in the shadow lay the dagger--with its incalculably valuable secret, a poor, unattractive piece of metal, but with a fascination such as no other object, I had ever seen, possessed. There was a sudden cry. The Senora had darted ahead, as if to clasp its handle and unloose the murderous blade that nestled in its three-sided sheath. Before she could reach it, Kennedy had seized her hand in his iron grasp, while with the other he picked up the dagger. They stood there gazing into each other's eyes. Then the Senora burst into a hysterical laugh. "The curse is on all who possess it!" "Thank you," smiled Kennedy quietly, releasing her wrist as he dropped the dagger into his pocket, "I am only the trustee." XXIV THE POLICE DOG Craig faced us, but there was no air of triumph in his manner. I knew what was in his mind. He had the dagger. But he had lost Inez. What were we to do? There seemed to be no way to turn. We knew something of the manner of her disappearance. At first she had, apparently, gone willingly. But it was inconceivable that she stayed willingly, now. I recalled all the remarks that Whitney had ever made about her. Had the truth come out in his jests? Was it Inez, not the dagger, that he really wanted? Or was he merely the instrument of one or all of these people before us, and was this an elaborate plan to throw Kennedy off and prove an alibi for them? He had been the partner of Lockwood, the intimate of de Moche. Which was he working for, now--or was he working for himself alone? No answer came to my questions, and I reflected that none would ever come, if we sat here. Yet there seemed to be no way to turn, without risking putting ourselves in a worse position than before. At least, until we had some better plan of campaign, we occupied a strategic advantage in Whitney's own house. The hours of the night wore on. Midnight came. This inaction was killing. Anything would be better than that. Suddenly the telephone startled us. We had wanted it to ring, yet when it rang we were afraid of it. What was its message? It was with palpitating hearts that we listened, while Craig answered. "Yes, Burke," we heard him reply, "this is Kennedy." There came a pause during which we could scarcely wait. "Where are you now? Cold Stream. That is about twelve miles from Rockledge--not on the New York road--the other road. I see. All right. We'll be there. Yes, wait for us." As Craig hung up the receiver, we crowded forward. "Have they found her?" asked Lockwood hoarsely. "It was from Burke," replied Kennedy deliberately. "He is at a place called Cold Stream, twelve miles from here. He tells me that we can find it easily--on a state road, at a sharp curve that has been widened out, just this side of the town. There has been an accident--Whitney's car is wrecked." Lockwood seized his elbow. "My God," he exclaimed, "tell me--she isn't--hurt, is she? Quick!" "So far Burke has not been able to discover a trace of a thing, except the wrecked car," replied Kennedy. "I told him I would be over directly. Lockwood, you may take Jameson and Alfonso. I will go with the Senora and their driver." I saw instantly why he had divided the party. Neither mother nor son was to have a chance to slip away from us. Surely both Lockwood and I should be a match for Alfonso. Senora de Moche he would trust to none but himself. Eagerly now we prepared for the journey, late though it was. No one now had a thought of rest. There could be no rest with that mystery of Inez challenging us. We were off at last, Lockwood's car leading, for although he did not know the roads exactly, he had driven much about the country. I should have liked to have sat in front with him, but it seemed safer to stay in the back with Alfonso. In fact, I don't think Lockwood would have consented, otherwise, to have his rival back of him. Kennedy and the Senora made a strange pair, the ancient order and the ultra-modern. There was a peculiar light in her eyes that gleamed forth at the mere mention of the words, "wreck." Though she said nothing, I knew that through her mind was running the one tenacious thought. It was the working out of the curse! As for Craig, he was always seeking the plausible, natural reason for what to the rest of us was inexplicable, often supernatural. To him she was a fascinating study. On we sped, for Lockwood was a good driver and now was spurred on by an anxiety that he could not conceal. Yet his hand never faltered at the wheel. He seemed to read the signs at the cross-roads without slackening speed. In spite of all that I knew, I found myself compelled to admire him. Alfonso sat back, for the most part silent. The melancholy in his face seemed to have deepened. He seemed to feel that he was but a toy in the hands of fate. Yet I knew that underneath must smoulder the embers of a bitter resentment. It seemed an interminable ride even at the speed which we were making. Twelve miles in the blackness of a country night can seem like a hundred. At last as we turned a curve, and Lockwood's headlights shone on the white fence that skirted the outer edge of the road as it swung around a hill that rose sharply to our left and dropped off in a sort of ravine at the right beyond the fence, I felt the car tremble as he put on the brakes. A man was waving his arms for us to stop, and as we did, he ran forward. He peered in at us and I recognized Burke. "Whe-where's Kennedy?" he asked, disappointed, for the moment fearing he had made a mistake and signalled the wrong car. "Coming," I replied, as we heard the driver of the other car sounding his horn furiously as he approached the curve. Burke jumped to the safe side of the road and ran on back to signal to stop. It was then for the first time that I paid particular attention to the fence ahead of us on which now both our own and the lights of the other car shone. At one point it was torn and splintered, as though something had gone through it. "Great heavens, you don't mean to say that they went over that?" muttered Lockwood, jumping down and running forward. Kennedy had joined us by this time and we all hurried over. Down in the ravine we could see a lantern which Burke had brought and which was now resting on the overturned chassis of the car. Lockwood was down there ahead of us all, peering under the heavy body fearfully, as if he expected to see two forms of mangled flesh. He straightened up, then took the lantern and flashed it about. There was nothing except cushions and a few parts of the car within the radius of its gleam. "Where are they?" he demanded, turning to us. "It's Whitney's car, all right." Burke shook his head. "I've traced the car so far. They were getting ahead of me, when this happened." Together we managed to right the car which was on a hillock. It sank a little further down the hill, but at least we could look inside it. "Bring the lantern," ordered Kennedy. Minutely, part by part, he went over the car. "Something went wrong," he muttered. "It is too much wrecked to tell what it was. Flash the light over here," he directed, stepping over the seat into the back of the tonneau. A moment later he took the light himself and held it close to the rods that supported the top. I saw him reach down and pull from them a few strands of dark hair that had caught between the rods and had been pulled out or broken. "No need of Bertillon's palette of human hair to identify that," he exclaimed. "There isn't time to study it and if there were it would be unnecessary. She was with him, all right." "Yes," agreed Lockwood. "But where is she now--where is he? Could they have been hurt, picked up by some one and carried where they could get aid?" Burke shook his head. "I inquired at the nearest house ahead. I had to do it in order to telephone. They knew nothing." "But they are gone," persisted Lockwood. "There is the bottom of the bank. You can see that they are not here." Kennedy had taken the light and climbed the bank again and was now going over the road as minutely as if he were searching for a lost diamond. "Look!" he exclaimed. Where the Whitney car had skidded and gone over the bank, the tires had dug deep into the top dressing, making little mounds. Across them now we could see the tracks of other tires that had pressed down the mounds. "Some one else has been here," reconstructed Kennedy. "He passed, then stopped and backed up. Perhaps they were thrown out, unconscious, and he picked them up." It seemed to be the only reasonable supposition. "But they knew nothing at the next house," persisted Burke. "Is there a road leading off before you get to the house?" asked Kennedy. "Yes--it crosses the line into Massachusetts." "It is worth trying--it is the only thing we can do," decided Kennedy. "Drive slowly to the crossroads. Perhaps we can pick out the tire-prints there. They certainly won't show on the road itself. It is too hard." At the crossing we stopped and Kennedy dropped down on his hands and knees again with the light. "There it is," he exclaimed. "The same make of anti-skid tire, at least. There was a cut in the rear tire--just like this. See? It is the finger-print of the motor car. I think we are right. Turn up here and run slowly." On we went slowly, Kennedy riding on the running-board of the car ahead. Suddenly he raised his hand to stop, and jumped down. We gathered about him. Had he found a continuation of the tire-tracks? There were tracks but he was not looking at them. He was looking between them. There ran a thin line. He stuck his finger in it and sniffed. "Not gas," he remarked. "It must have been the radiator, leaking. Perhaps he ran his car into Whitney's--forced it too far to the edge of the road. We can't tell. But he couldn't have gone far with that leak without finding water--or cracked cylinders." With redoubled interest now we resumed the chase. We had mounted a hill and had run down into the shadows of a valley when, following in the second car, we heard a shout from Kennedy in the first. Halfway up the hill across the valley, he had come upon an abandoned car. It had evidently reached its limit, the momentum of the previous hill had carried it so far up the other, then the driver had stopped it and let it back slowly off the road into a clump of bushes that hid a little gully. But that was all. There was not a sign of a person about. Whatever had happened here had happened some hours before. We looked about. All was Cimmerian darkness. Not a house or habitation of man or beast was in sight, though they might not be far away. We beat about the under-brush, but succeeded in stirring up nothing but mosquitoes. What were we to do? We were wasting valuable time. Where should we go? "I doubt whether they would have kept on the road," reasoned Kennedy. "They must have known they would be followed. The hardest place to follow them would be across country." "With a lantern?" I objected. "We can't do it." Kennedy glanced at his watch. "It will be three hours before there is light enough to see anything by," he considered. "They have had at least a couple of hours. Five hours is too good a start. Burke--take one of the cars. Go ahead along the road. We mustn't neglect that. I'll take the other. I want to get back to that house and call O' Connor. Walter, you stay here with the rest." We separated and I felt that, although I was doing nothing, I had my hands full watching these three. Lockwood was restless and could not help beating around in the under-brush, in the hope of turning up something. Now and then he would mutter to himself some threat if anything happened to Inez. I let him occupy himself, for our own, as much as his, peace of mind. Alfonso had joined his mother in the car and they sat there conversing in low tones in Spanish, while I watched them furtively. Of a sudden, I became aware that I missed the sound of Lockwood beating about the under-brush. I called, but there was no answer. Then we all called. There came back nothing but a mocking echo. I could not follow him. If I did, I would lose the de Moches. Had he been laying low, waiting his opportunity to get away? Or was he playing a lone hand? Much as I suspected about him, during the past few hours I had come to admire him. I sent the de Moche driver out to look for him, but he seemed afraid to venture far, and, of course, returned and said that he could not find him. Even in his getaway, Lockwood had been characteristic. He had been strong enough to bide his time, clever enough to throw every one off guard. It put a new aspect on the case for me. Had Whitney intended the capture of Inez for Lockwood? Had our coming so unexpectedly into the case thrown the plans awry and was it the purpose to leave them marooned at Rockledge while we were shunted off in the city? That, too, was plausible. I wished Kennedy would return before anything else happened. It was not long by the clock before Kennedy did return. But it seemed ages to me. He was not alone. With him was a man in a uniform, and a powerful dog, for all the world like a huge wolf. "Down, Searchlight," he ordered, as the dog began to show an uncanny interest in me. "Let me introduce my new dog detective," he chuckled. "She has a wonderful record as a police dog. I got O'Connor out of bed and he telephoned out to the nearest suburban station. That saved a good deal of time in getting her up here." I mustered up courage to tell Kennedy of the defection of Lockwood. He did not seem to mind it especially. "He won't get far, with the dog after him, if we want to take the time," he said. "She's a German sheep dog, a Schaeferhund." Searchlight seemed to have many of the characteristics of the wild, prehistoric animal, among them the full, upright ears of the wild dog, which are such a great help to it. She was a fine, alert, upstanding dog, hardy, fierce, and literally untiring, of a tawny light brown like a lioness, about the same size and somewhat of the type of the smooth-coated collie, broad of chest and with a full brush of tail. Untamed as she seemed, she was perfectly under Kennedy's control and rendered him absolute and unreasoning obedience. They took her over to the abandoned car. There they let her get a good whiff of the bottom of the car about the driver's feet, and a moment later she started off. Alfonso and his mother insisted on going with us and that made our progress across country slow. On we went over the rough country, through a field, then skirting a clump of woods until at last we came to a lane. We stopped in the shadow of a thicket. There was an empty summer home. Was there some intruder there? Was it really empty? Now and then we could hear Searchlight scouting about in the under-brush, crouching and hiding, watching and guarding. We paused and waited in the heavily-laden night air, wondering. The soughing of the night wind in the evergreens was mournful. Did it betoken a further tragedy? There was a slight noise from the other side of the house. Craig reached out and drew us back into the shadow of the thicket, deeper. "Some one is prowling about, I think. Leave it to the dog." Searchlight, who had been near us, was sniffing eagerly. From our hiding-place we could just see her. She had heard the sounds, too, even before we had, and for an instant stood with every muscle tense. Then, like an arrow, she darted into the underbrush. An instant later, the sharp crack of a revolver rang out. Searchlight kept right on, never stopping a second, except, perhaps, in surprise. "Crack!" almost in her face came a second spit of fire in the darkness, and a bullet crashed through the leaves and buried itself in a tree with a ping. The intruder's marksmanship was poor, but the dog paid no attention to it. "One of the few animals that show no fear of gun-fire," muttered Kennedy, in undisguised admiration. "G-r-r-r," we heard from the police dog. "She has made a leap at the hand that holds the gun," cried Kennedy, now rising and moving rapidly in the same direction. "She has been taught that a man once badly bitten in the hand is nearly out of the fight." We followed also. As we approached we were just in time to see Searchlight running in and out between the legs of a man who had heard us approach and was hastily making tracks away. As he tripped, the officer who brought her blew shrilly on a police whistle just in time to stop a fierce lunge at his back. Reluctantly, Searchlight let go. One could see that with all her canine instinct she wanted to "get" that man. Her jaws were open, as, with longing eyes, she stood over the prostrate form in the grass. The whistle was a signal, and she had been taught to obey unquestioningly. "Don't move until we get to you, or you are a dead man," shouted Kennedy, pulling an automatic as he ran. "Are you hurt?" There was no answer, but, as we approached, the man moved, ever so little, through curiosity to see his pursuers. Searchlight shot forward. Again the whistle sounded and she dropped back. We bent over to seize him, as Kennedy secured the dog. "She's a devil," ground out the prone figure on the grass. "Lockwood!" exclaimed Kennedy. XXV THE GOLD OF THE GODS "What are you doing here?" demanded Craig, astonished. "I couldn't wait for you to get back. I thought I'd do a little detective work on my own account. I kept getting further and further away, knew you'd find me, anyhow. But I didn't think you'd have a brute like that," he added, binding up his hand ruefully. "Is there any trace of Inez?" "Not yet. Why did you pick out this house?" asked Kennedy, still suspicious. "I saw a light here, I thought," answered Lockwood frankly. "But as I approached, it went out. Maybe I imagined it." "Let us see." Kennedy spoke a few words to the man with the dog. He slipped the leash, with a word that we did not catch, and the dog bounded off, around the house, as she was accustomed to do when out on duty with an officer in the city suburbs, circling about the backs of houses as the man on the beat walked the street. She made noise enough about it, too, tumbling over a tin pail that had been standing on the back porch steps. "Bang!" Some one was in the house and was armed. In the darkness he had not been able to tell whether an attack was being made or not, but had taken no chances. At any rate, now we knew that he was desperate. I thought of all the methods Kennedy had adopted to get into houses in which the inmates were desperate. But always they had been about the city where he could call upon the seemingly exhaustless store of apparatus in his laboratory. Here we were faced by the proposition with nothing to rely on but our native wit and a couple of guns. Besides, I did not know whether to count on Lockwood as an ally or not. My estimation of him had been rising and falling like the barometer in a summer shower. I had been convinced that he was against us. But his manner and plausibility now equally convinced me that I had been mistaken. I felt that it would take some supreme action on his part to settle the question. That crisis was coming now. I think all of us would willingly have pushed Alfonso forward. But the relations of the de Moches with Whitney had been so close that I no more trusted him than I did Lockwood. And if I could not make out Lockwood, a man at least of our own race and education, how could I expect to fathom Alfonso? It seemed, then, to rest with Kennedy and myself. At least so Craig appraised the situation. "You have a gun, Walter," he directed, "Lockwood, give yours to Jameson." Lockwood hesitated. Could he trust being unarmed, while Kennedy and I had all the weapons? Craig had not stopped to ask Alfonso. As he laid out the attack he merely tapped the young man's pockets to see whether he was armed or not, and finding nothing faced us again, Lockwood still hesitating. "I want Walter," explained Craig, "to go around back of the house. It is there they must be expecting an attack. He can take up his position behind that oak. It will be safe enough. By firing one gun on each side of the tree he can make enough noise for half a dozen. Then you and I can rush the front of the house." Lockwood had nothing better to suggest. Reluctantly he handed over his revolver. I dropped back from them and skirted the house at a safe distance so as not to be seen, then came up back of the tree. Carefully I aimed at the glass of a window on the first floor, as offering the greatest opportunity for making a racket, which was the object I had in mind. I fired from the right and the glass was shattered in a thousand bits. Another shot from the left broke the light out of another window on the opposite side. The house was a sort of bungalow, with most of the rooms on the first floor, and a small second story or attic window. That went next. Altogether I felt that I was giving a splendid account of myself. From the house came a rapid volley in reply. Whoever was in there was not going to surrender without a fight. One after another I plugged away with my shots, now bent on making the most of them. With the answering shots it made quite a merry little fusillade, and I was glad enough to have the shelter of the staunch oak which two or three times was hit squarely at about the level of my shoulders. I had never before heard the whirr of so many bullets about me, and I cannot say that I enjoyed it. But my attack was what Craig wanted. I heard a noise in the front of the house, as of feet running, and then I knew that in spite of all he had given me the least dangerous part of the attack. I plugged away valiantly with what shots I had left, then leaving just one more in the chamber of each gun, I hurried around in the shadow, my blood up, to help them. With the aid of the officer, they had just forced the light door and Searchlight had been allowed to leap in ahead of them, as I came up. "Here," I said to Lockwood, handing him back his gun, "take it, there is just one shot left." I, at least, had expected to find one, perhaps two desperate men waiting for us. Evidently our ruse had worked. The room was dark, but there seemed to be no one in it, though we could hear sounds as though some one were hastily barricading the door that led from the front to the room at which I had been firing. Lockwood struck a match. "Confound it, don't!" muttered Craig, knocking it from his hand. "They can see us well enough without helping them." "Chester!" We stood transfixed. It was a woman's voice. Where did it come from? Could she be in the room? "Chester--is that you?" "Yes, Inez. Where are you?" "I ran up here--in this attic--when I heard the shots." "Come down, then. All is right, now." She came down a half ladder, half flight of steps. At the foot she paused just a moment and hesitated. Then, like a frightened bird, she flew to the safety of Lockwood's arms. "Mr. Whitney," she sobbed, "called me up and told me that he had something very important to say, a message from you. He said that he had the dagger, in his safe, up in the country. He told me you'd be there and that you expected me to come up with him in his car. I went. We had some trouble with the engine. And then that other car--the one that followed us, came up behind and forced us off the bank. Mr. Whitney and I were both stunned. I don't remember a thing after that, until I woke up here. Where is it?" I listened, with one eye on that door that had been barricaded. Was Lockwood really innocent, after all? I could not think that Inez Mendoza could make such a mistake, if he were not. Lockwood clenched his fists. "Some one shall pay for this," he exclaimed. There was the problem--the inner room. Who would go in? We looked at each other a moment. The room in which we were was a living room, and perhaps, when there were visitors in the little house, was a guest-room. At any rate, on one side was a huge davenport by day which could be transformed into a folding bed at night. Lockwood looked about hastily and his eye fell on the door, then on this folding bed. With a wrench, he opened it and seized the cotton mattress from the inside. With his gun ready he advanced toward the barricaded door, holding the mattress as a shield, for his experience in wild countries had taught him that a cotton mattress is about as good a thing to stop bullets as one could find on the spur of the moment. Kennedy and the officer followed just behind, and the three threw their weights on the door almost before we knew what they were about. "Chester--don't!" cried Inez in alarm, too late. "He'll--kill you!" The excitement had been too much for her. She reeled, fainting, and I caught her. Before I could restore the davenport to something like its original condition so that we could take care of her, the first onslaught was over. Three guns were sticking their blue noses into the darkness of the next room. "Hands up!" shouted Craig, "Drop your gun! Let me hear it fall!" There followed a thud and Kennedy, followed by Lockwood and the officer entered. As they fumbled to strike a light, I managed to open a window and let in some fresh air, while the Senora, for once human, loosened the throat of Inez' dress and fanned her. Through the open door, now, I could hear what was going on in the next room, but could not see. "It was you, Lockwood," I heard a familiar voice accusing, "who was in the Museum the night the dagger disappeared." "Yes," replied Lockwood, a bit disdainfully. "I suspected something crooked about that dagger. I thought that if I made a copy of the inscription on the blade, I might decipher it myself, or get some one to do it for me. I went in and, when a chance came, I hid in the sarcophagus. There I waited until the Museum was closed. Then, when finally I got to the place where I thought the dagger was--it was gone!" "The point is," cut in Craig, interrupting, "who was the mysterious visitor to Mendoza the night of his murder?" He paused. No one seemed to be disposed to answer and he went on, "Who else than the man who sought to sell the secret on its blade, in return for Inez for whom he had a secret passion? I have reasoned it all out--the offer, the quarrel, the stabbing with the dagger itself, and the escape down the stairs, instead of by the elevator." "And I," put in Lockwood, "coming to report to Mendoza my failure to find the dagger, found him dead--and at once was suspected of being the murderer!" Inez had revived and her quick ears had caught her lover's voice and the last words. Weak as she was, she sprang up and fairly ran into the next room. "No--Chester--No!" she cried. "I never suspected--not even when I saw the shoe-prints. No--that is the man,--there--I know it--I know it!" I hurried after her, as she flung herself again between Lockwood and the rest of us, as if to shield him, while Lockwood proudly caressed the stray locks of dark hair that fluttered on his shoulder. I looked in the direction all were looking. Before us stood, unmasked at last, the scientific villain who had been plotting and scheming to capture both the secret and Inez--well knowing that suspicion would rest either on Lockwood, the soldier of fortune, or on the jealous Indian woman whose son had been rejected and whose brother he had himself already, secretly, driven to an insane suicide in his unscrupulous search for the treasure of Truxillo. It was Professor Norton, himself--first thief of the dagger which later he had hidden but which Whitney's detectives had stolen in turn from him; writer of anonymous letters, even to himself to throw others off the trail; maker of stramonium cigarettes with which to confuse the minds of his opponents, Whitney, Mendoza, and the rest; secret lover of Inez whom he demanded as the price of the dagger; and murderer of Don Luis. Senora de Moche and Alfonso, behind me, could only gasp their astonishment. Much as she would have liked to have the affair end in a general vindication of the curse she could not control a single, triumphant thrust. "His blood," she cried, transfixing Norton with her stern eyes, "has cried out of Titicaca for vengeance from that day to this!" "Want any help?" We all turned toward the door as Burke, dust-covered and tired, stamped in, followed by a man whose face was bandaged and bloody. "I heard shots. Is it all over?" But we paid no attention to Burke. There was Whitney, considerably banged up by the fall, but lucky to be alive. "I tried to shake him," he explained, catching sight of Norton. "But he stuck to us, even on our detours. Finally he grew desperate--forced my car off the road. What happened after that, I don't know. He must have carried me some miles, insensible, and dumped me in the bushes again. I was several miles up the hill, tramping along, looking for a road-house, when this gentleman found me and said I had gone too far." Senora de Moche turned from Lockwood and Inez who were standing, oblivious to the rest of us, and stared at Whitney's bruised and battered face. "It is the curse," she muttered. "It will never--" "Just a moment," interrupted Craig, drawing the dagger from his pocket, and turning toward Inez. "It was to your ancestor that the original possessor of the secret promised to give the 'big fish,' when he was killed." He paused and handed the dagger to her. She touched it shuddering, but as though it were a duty. "Take it," he said simply. "The secret is yours. Only love can destroy the curse on the Gold of the Gods." THE END 
34139	----	Real Gold, by George Manville Fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ REAL GOLD, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. CHAPTER ONE. A CHAT IN A BOAT. "Bother the old fish!" "Yes; they won't bite." "It's no good, Perry; they are having their siesta. Let's get in the shade and have one too." "What! in the middle of the day--go to sleep? No, thank you. I'm not a foreigner." "More am I; but you come and live out here for a bit, and you'll be ready enough to do as the Romans--I mean the Spaniards--do." "Not I, Cyril, and I don't believe fish do go to sleep." "What? Why, I've seen them lie in shoals here, perfectly still; basking in the hot sunshine, fast asleep." "With their eyes shut?" "Gammon! Fish can't shut their eyes." "Then they can't go to sleep.--My! it is hot. I shan't fish any more." Two boys sitting in a boat half a mile from the shore, and sheltered by a ridge of rocks from the tremendous swell of the vast Pacific Ocean, which to north and south curled over in great glistening billows upon the sand--in the former instance, to scoop it out, carry it back, and then throw it up farther away; in the latter, to strike upon sheer rocks and fly up in silver spray with a low deep sound as of muttered thunder. Away to the west there was the great plain of smooth damasked silver, lost at last in a faint haze, and all so bright that the eyes ached and were dazzled by its sheen. To the east, the bright-looking port of San Geronimo, with a few ships, and half-a-dozen long, black, red-funnelled screw-steamers at anchor; beyond them wharves and warehouses, and again beyond these the houses of the little town, with a few scattered white villas rising high on terrace and shelf of the steep cliffs. The place looked bright and attractive seen from the distance, but dry and barren. Nothing green rested and refreshed the eye. No trees, no verdant slope of lawn or field; nothing but sand in front, glittering rock behind. Everything suggested its being a region where no rain fell. But, all the same, it had its beauty. More, its grandeur, for apparently close at hand, though miles away in the clear distance, rose the great Sierra--the mighty range of mountains, next to the Himalayas the highest in the world--and seeming to rise suddenly like a gigantic wall right up into the deep blue sky, cloudless, and dazzling with the ice and snow. The two boys, both of them, though fair by nature, tanned now of a warm reddish brown, were of about the same age, and nearly the same physique; and as now they twisted the stout lines they had been holding round the thole pins of the boat, which softly rose and fell with a pleasant lulling motion, the first who had spoken unfastened the neck-button of his shirt. "Hullo! Going to bathe?" "Bathe! No, thankye. I should wake up the sharks: they'd bite then." "Ugh!" "Yes, you may shudder. They grow fine about here. Why, before I'd made a dozen strokes, you'd hear me squeak, and see me go down and never come up again." "How horrid! You don't mean it, though, do you?" "Yes, it's true enough. I'm going to have a nap." As the boy spoke, he lay back in the stern of the boat, and placed his broad Panama hat over his face. "I say, Perry, old chap!" he continued, with his voice sounding whistly through the closely-woven hat. "What?" "If you smell me burning, wake me up." "All right," said the lad addressed as Perry; and resting his elbows on his knees, he sat gazing up at the huge towering mountain nearest at hand for a few minutes, then: "Cil!" "Hullo!" drowsily. "Don't go to sleep, old chap; I want to talk to you." "I can't go to sleep if you talk. What is it?" "I say, how rum it seems for it to be boiling hot down here, and all that ice and snow to be up there. Look." "Yes," said Cyril, "'tis its nature to. I don't want to look. Seen it before." "But how far is it up to where the snow is--a thousand feet?" "What?" cried Cyril, starting up into a sitting position, with his hat falling off. "I said how far is it up to where the snow is?" "I know you did," cried the boy, laughing, "and you said, was it a thousand feet?" "Yes, and it was stupid of me. It must be twice as high." "Perry Campion, you are a greenhorn. I say: no offence meant; but my dear, fresh, innocent, young friend, that snow is three miles high." "Well, I know that, of course. It must be much more to where it is." "Sixty or seventy," said Cyril, whose drowsiness had departed, and who was now all life and eagerness. "The air's so clear here that it's horribly deceiving. But I didn't mean that: I meant that the snow's quite three miles straight up perpendicular in the air." "Nonsense!" "But I tell you it is. If you were to rise straight up in a balloon from here, you'd have to go up three miles to get on a level with the snow." Perry Campion looked fixedly at his companion, but there was no flinching. "I'm not gammoning you," said Cyril earnestly. "Things are so much bigger out here than they look." "Then how big--how high is that mountain?" said Perry. "Nearly four miles." "But it seems to be impossible." "It isn't, though," said Cyril. "That one's over twenty thousand feet high, and father has seen much bigger ones up to the north. I say, squire, you've got some climbing to do. You won't hop over those hills very easily." "No," said Perry thoughtfully. "It will be a climb." "I say: whereabouts are you going?" "I don't know. Right up in the mountains somewhere." "But what are you going for?" "I don't know that either. To travel, I suppose." "Oh, but the colonel must be going for something," cried Cyril. "I believe I know." "Do you? What?" "Well, you don't want me to tell you. I suppose the colonel has told you not to tell anybody." "No," said Perry quickly. "He has not told me. Why do you think he's going?" "Prospecting. To search out a good place for a mine." Perry looked at him eagerly. "The Andes are full of places where there might be mines. There's gold, and silver, and quicksilver, and precious stones. Lots of treasures never been found yet." "Yes, I've heard that there are plenty of minerals," said Perry thoughtfully. "And besides," said Cyril, grinning, "there's all the gold and silver that belonged to the Incas. The Indians buried it, and they have handed down the secret of the different places to their children." "Who have dug it up and spent it," said Perry. "No. They're too religious. They dare not. They keep the secret of the places till the Incas come again to claim their country, and then it will all be dug up, golden wheels, and suns, and flowers, and cups, and things that the Spaniards never found. That's it; your father's going after the treasures. But if he is, you'd better look out." "Why?" "Because if the Indians thought you were after that, they'd kill you in no time." Perry looked at him searchingly. "Oh, I mean it," said Cyril. "Father has often talked about it, and he says that the Indians consider it a religious duty to protect the hiding-places of these treasures. There was a man took a party with him up into the mountains on purpose to search for them." "Well? Did he find anything?" "Don't know. Nobody ever did know." "How was that?" "He never came back. Nor any of his people." "Why? What became of them?" "I tell you they went up into the mountains and never came back. The Indians know what became of them." "But was no search made for them--no examination made of the Indians?" cried Perry, looking aghast. "Search! Where? Indians! What Indians?" said Cyril sharply. "You forget how big the place is, and what great forests and wilds there are over the other side." "But it sounds so horrible for a party like that to disappear, and no more to be heard of them," said Perry. "Yes, but the Indians are savages, and, as father said, they think they are doing their duty against people who have no right in the country, so your father will have to look out. I wish I were going with you, all the same." "You're safer in San Geronimo, if it's as bad as you say," cried Perry. "Oh, it's bad enough, but I shouldn't mind." There was silence for a few minutes, during which time both lads sat gazing dreamily up at the vast range of mountains before them, with its glittering peaks, dark cavernous valleys, and mysterious shades, towards where the high tablelands lay which had been the seat and home of the barbaric civilisation of the Incas, before ruin and destruction came in the train of the Spanish adventurers who swept the land in search for El Dorado, the City of Gold. Perry Campion was the first to break the silence. "How long have you been out here, Cyril?--Cil, I say, I shall call you Cil." "All right, I don't mind, only it won't be for long. You go next week, don't you?" "Yes, I suppose so," said Perry, glancing again at the mountains. "Wish I were going with you. What did you say?--how long have I been out here? Nearly four years. Father sent me over to England to be educated when I was six, and I was at a big school at Worksop till I was twelve, and then he sent for me to come out here again." "Weren't you glad?" "Of course. It was very jolly at school; but school isn't home, is it?" "Of course not." "Father said I could go on reading with him, and it would brush up his classics, which had grown rusty since he turned merchant." "Wasn't he always a merchant, then?" "My father?" cried Cyril. "No, he was a captain in the army, and had to give up on account of his health. The doctors said he was dying. That was twelve years ago; but he doesn't look like dying now, does he?" "No, he looks wonderfully strong and well." "Yes. This place suited him and mother because it was so dry." "And then he took to being a merchant?" "Yes; and ships off drugs, and minerals, and guano, and bark." "What! for tanning?" "Tanning! Ha! ha! No, no; Peruvian bark, that they make quinine of. Physic for fevers." "Oh! I see." "It's very jolly, and he makes plenty of money; but I do get so tired sometimes. I should like to go to sea, or to travel, or something. I hate being always either at studies or keeping accounts. I wish I were going along with you." "To be killed by the Indians," said Perry drily. "I should like to catch 'em at it," cried Cyril. "But I'd risk it. What an adventure, to go with your father to hunt out the places where the Indians buried the Incas' gold!" "My father did not say he was going in search of that," said Perry. "No; he's too close. But that's it, safe enough; you see if it isn't. Only think of it--right up in the grand valleys, where it's almost dark at mid-day, and you walk along shelves over the torrents where there isn't room for two mules to pass, and there are storms that are quite awful sometimes. I say, I'd give anything to go." "I wish you were going, Cil." "You do?" cried the boy excitedly. "I say: do you mean that?" "Of course I do," said Perry, looking amused at his companion's eagerness. "We've got on right enough together since we have been staying at your house." "Got on? I should think we have," cried Cyril. "Why, it has been no end of a treat to me for you to be at our place. I can't get on very well with the half-Spanish chaps about here. They're gentlemen, of course, with tremendously grand descents from Don this and Don that; but they're not English boys, and you can't make English boys of them." "Of course not." "Ah, you may laugh," continued Cyril, "but would you believe it? I tried to get up a cricket club, and took no end of pains to show them the game, and they all laughed at it, and said I must be half mad. That's being Spanish, that is! It's no wonder their country's left all behind." "Then the cricket was a failure?" said Perry. "Failure? It ended in a fight, and I went home and burned the stumps, bats, and balls." "What a pity!" cried Perry. "That's what father said, and it did seem too bad, after he'd had the tackle brought out from England on purpose. I was sorry afterwards; but I was so jolly wild then, I couldn't help it." "How came there to be a fight?" said Perry after a pause, during which he watched the frank, handsome face of his companion, who was looking at the great peak again. "Oh, it was all about nothing. These Spanish chaps are so cocky and bumptious, and ready to take everything as being meant as an insult. Little stupid things, too, which an English boy wouldn't notice. I was bowling one evening, and young Mariniaz was batting. Of course he'd got his bat and his wits, and he ought to have taken care of himself. I never thought of hitting him, but I sent in a shooter that would have taken off the bail on his side, and instead of blocking it, he stepped right before the wicket." "What for?" said Perry. "Ah, that's more than I know," said Cyril; "and the next moment he caught it right in the centre of his--er--middle." "Ha! ha!" laughed Perry merrily. "It knocked all the wind out of him for a minute, and then, as soon as he could speak, he was furious, and said I did it on purpose--in Spanish--and I said it was an accident that all people were liable to in cricket, and that they ought to be able to defend themselves. Then he said he was able to defend himself." "That meant fighting," cried Perry, growing more interested. "Of course it did, but I wasn't going to notice it, for the mater said I was to be very careful not to get into any quarrel with the Spanish fellows, because they are none too friendly about my father being here. They're jealous because he's a foreigner, when all the time there isn't a more splendid fellow living than my father," cried the boy warmly. "You don't half know him yet." "Well, what happened then?" said Perry, as he noted the warm glow in the boy's cheeks and the flash of his eyes. "Oh, Mariniaz appealed to three or four of the others, and they sided with him, and said that they saw me take a long breath and gather myself up and take a deadly aim at his chest, and then hurl the ball with all my might, as if I meant to kill him." "What rubbish!" cried Perry. "Wasn't it? You couldn't teach chaps like that to play cricket, could you?" "Of course not. They didn't want to learn." "That was it; and they egged Mariniaz on till he called me an English beast, and that upset me and made my tongue loose." "Well?" "He said he knew from the first I had a spite against him, and had been trying to knock him over with the ball; and, feeling what a lie it was, I grew pepper, and told him it wasn't the first time an English ball had knocked over a Spaniard, for I got thinking about our old chaps playing bowls when the news came about the Armada." "Yes?" cried Perry, for Cyril had stopped. "Well, then, he turned more yellow than usual, and he gave me a backhanded smack across the face." "And what did you do?" cried Perry hotly, for the boy once more stopped. "Oh, I went mad for a bit." "You--went mad?" "I suppose so. My mother said I must have been mad, so I expect I was." "But you don't tell me," cried Perry impatiently. "What did you do?" "I don't know." "Yes, you do: tell me." "I can't recollect, and I never could. I only know I turned very hot and saw sparks, and that there was a regular banging about, and sometimes I was up and sometimes I was down; and then all at once I was standing there, with Mariniaz lying on the ground crying, and with his nose bleeding. Another chap was sitting holding his handkerchief to one eye, and two more were being held up by some of the players, who were giving one of them some water to drink, while the other was showing them a tooth which he held in his fingers." "Then you'd whacked four of them?" cried Perry excitedly. "I don't know," said Cyril, with his face screwed up. "I suppose I had been knocking them about a bit, and they wouldn't fight any more. They all said I was an English savage, and that I ought to be sent out of the place; and then I began to get a bit cooler, and felt sorry I had knocked them all about so much." "I don't see why you should," cried Perry. "But I did. It made such an upset. There was no end of a bother. My mother cried about it when I went home, and said I should never look myself again; and when my father came home and saw me with bits of sticking plaster all over my face and knuckles, he was in a regular passion, for he had been hearing about it in the town, and had words with the other boys' fathers. Then he made me tell him all about it from the beginning, sitting back, looking as fierce and stern as could be, till I had done; and I finished off by saying, `What would you have done if you had been me?' "`Just the same as you did, Cil, my boy,' he cried, shaking hands; and then my mother looked astonished, and he sat back in his chair and laughed till he cried. `Why, mother,' he said, `they tell us that the English stock is falling off. Not very much, eh? One English to four Spanish.' "`But it's so terrible,' my mother said. `Yes,' said my father, `fighting is very disgraceful. No more of it, Cil, my lad; but I've made a mistake: I ought to have made a soldier of you, after all.' I say, though, Perry, I do wish I were going with you, all the same." "I tell you what," cried Perry; "I'll ask my father to ask yours to let you go with us." "You will?" cried Cyril, making a rush. "Mind! we shall have the boat over." It was a narrow escape, but by sitting down they made the boat right itself. "Yes, I'll ask him to. I say, though, it isn't so dangerous as you say, is it?" "They say it is, particularly if you are going to hunt for the gold the Indians have buried." "But I don't know that we are. Would you go, even if it is so dangerous." "Of course I would," cried Cyril excitedly. "I do so want a change. Ahoy! Hurray! Dinner!" "Eh? Where?" cried Perry. "Look. Father's hoisting the flag." He pointed in the direction of one of the white villas up on the high cliff slope, where a union jack was being run up a tall signal staff by a figure in white, clearly seen in the bright sunshine, while another figure was evidently using a telescope. "There's my father watching us," said Perry, shading his eyes. "Lend a hand here and help to haul up this stone," cried Cyril, and together the boys hauled up the heavy block which served for an anchor. Five minutes after, they were rowing steadily for the wharf--Incas' treasure, perils from Indians, fights with Spanish boys, and heights of snow peaks forgotten in the one important of all questions to a hungry youth--_Dinner_. CHAPTER TWO. A FAILURE. Dinner was over at Captain Norton's. Mrs Norton had left the dining-room, after begging her son and his visitor not to go out in the broiling heat. The boy had promised that he would not, and after he had sat listening to Colonel Campion's--a keen grey-haired man, thin, wiry in the extreme, and giving promise of being extremely active--talk to his father about the preparations for his trip up into the mountains, Cyril gave Perry a kick under the table, and rose. Taking the sharp jar upon his shin to mean telegraphy and the sign, "Come on," Perry rose as well, and the two boys, forgetful of all advice, went and sat in the dry garden, where every shrub and plant seemed to be crying out for water, and looked as if it were being prepared for a _hortus siccus_ beloved of botanists, and where the sun came down almost hot enough to fry. Here the boys had a long discussion about the promise Perry had made in the boat; after which they waited for an opportunity. Meanwhile, as the two gentlemen sat chatting over their cigarettes, Captain Norton, a frank, genial, soldierly-looking man, said: "So you mean to take all the risks?" "Risks!" said the colonel, turning his keen eyes upon the speaker, as he let the smoke from his cigarette curl up toward the ceiling. "You an old soldier, and ask that?" "Yes," said Captain Norton. "I have been here a long time now, and know something of the country." "Are the risks so very great, then?" "To an ordinary traveller--no: to a man going with some special object or search--yes." "I did nut say that I was going on a special search," said Colonel Campion quickly. "No, but everything points to it; and as you came to me with letters of introduction from an old friend and brother-officer, I receive you as my friend, and treat you as I would a brother." "And as the man whom you treat as a brother, I am very reticent, eh?" "Very," said Cyril Norton's father; "and if I try to know why you are going upon so perilous a journey, it is not from curiosity, but because I am eager to save you from running into danger." Colonel Campion held out his hand, which was taken, and the two men sat for a few moments gazing in each other's eyes. "If I spoke out, Norton, you would immediately do everything you could to prevent me from going, instead of helping me; so I am silent, for I have made up my mind to go, and no persuasion would stop me." "Then you are going on an insane quest of the treasures of gold said to have been buried by the Incas' followers to preserve them from the Spaniards." "Am I?" said the colonel quietly. "I take it for granted that you are; so now, listen. It will be a very dangerous search. That the gold exists, I do not doubt; and I feel pretty sure that the Indians have had it handed down from father to son. Where this gold is hidden in the mountains is a sacred trust, which they in their superstitious natures dare not betray. It means death to any one who discovers one of these hoards." "If found out," said the colonel, smoking, with his eyes half shut. "He would certainly be found out," said the captain, "and if you persist in going, you must run the risk; but I beg of you not to take that boy Perry with you, to expose him to these dangers." "What am I to do with him, then?" "Leave him with us. He will be happy enough with my boy Cyril; and my wife and I will take every care of him." "Thank you, Norton," cried the colonel warmly; "I am most grateful. But you are wrong: he would not be happy if he stayed here and I went alone; I believe he would prefer running all risks with me. How odd!" added the colonel, smiling; "here he is, to speak for himself." For at that moment the door was softly opened, and Perry stood there, looking startled. "Come in, boy, come in," cried the colonel. "I--I beg; our pardon; I thought Captain Norton had gone." "No, and we were just talking about you." "About me, father?" "Yes; Captain Norton thinks it would be too risky and arduous a journey for you up into the mountains, and he says you are to stay here and make yourself happy with Cyril till I come back." The lad looked delighted. "Oh father!" he cried. Then, quick as thought, his manner changed. "It is very good of Captain Norton," he said gravely, "but I could not stop here and let you go alone." "Don't be hasty, Perry, lad," said the captain kindly. "There, I'm going down to the wharf; you and your father chat it over, and we'll talk about it when I return." He left the room, passing out through the veranda. "Well," said the colonel, looking away at the window, "I think he's right, and you had better stay, Perry." "I don't think you do, father," replied the boy. "Besides, you promised to take me." "Um! Yes, I did, my lad; but circumstances have altered since then. They say it's dangerous up there among the Indians." "Then you had better not go, father," said Perry quickly. "I have undertaken to go, and I am going," said the colonel firmly. "I gave my word." "And you can't break it, father?" "No, my boy, not honourably." Perry laughed softly. "Hullo! What does that mean, sir?" cried the colonel. "Glad I am going into danger?" "Of course not, father," said Perry. "I was only laughing because you promised to take me, and you can't break your word." The colonel leaned back and laughed. "And I've come with a petition, father," said Perry. "Petition?" "Yes; you said that it would be nice for me to be with Cyril Norton." "Yes, I rather like the lad. He's a rackety, wild young dog, but there's a good deal of the gentleman about him. But what do you mean! You said you did not want to stay here." "Yes, father, but he wants to stay with us." "Stay with us? We're not going to stay here." "I mean, go with us. He is wild to go. Take him with us, father. I should like it so much." "Why, Perry, my boy, you're mad," said the colonel. "If the journey is so risky that Captain Norton wishes me to leave you here, do you think it likely that he will let his son go?" "Perhaps he would with you, father. He trusts you." "Not to that extent." "Try him, father. It would be so nice to have Cil with us." "Nice for you, sir--double responsibility for me." "You wouldn't mind that, father, and we would help you so." "Yes, nice lot of help I should get from you." "You don't know, father; but, I say, you will ask him?" "Ask him yourself, sir," said the colonel firmly; "here he is." For at that moment steps were heard in the veranda, and Captain Norton appeared. "Don't let me disturb you," he said; "I came back for some bills of lading.--Well, Perry, you're going to stop and keep Cil company, eh? I'll have the big boat out and newly rigged for you boys. You can fish, and sail, and--" "But I'm not going to stay, sir," said Perry quietly. "Not going to stay! I'm very sorry. But you must think better of it. Sleep on it, my lad. That journey in the mountains will be too arduous for a lad like you." "Oh no, sir. I'm light and strong, and--" "Yes? And what? You are afraid of outstaying your welcome? Nonsense, boy; you'll be conferring a favour upon us. I shall be glad for Cil to have your company. He likes you." Perry exchanged glances with his father, who nodded, and his eyes seemed to say, "Now's your time." "Yes, sir, and I like Cil. We get on together, and--and he wants to go with us!" Perry uttered the last words hurriedly, and then wished that he had not said them, for the captain looked at him quite fiercely. "What!" he exclaimed. "Cil said he would give anything to go with us, sir, and I promised to ask my father if he would take him." "Well," said Captain Norton sternly, "and have you asked him?" "Yes, sir." "What does he say?" "He says no," said the colonel firmly. "There is no doubt, I suppose, that I am going to run some risks, and I begin to feel now that I am hardly warranted in exposing my own son to these dangers. I should certainly not be right in exposing the son of a friend to them, even if that friend consented, which he would not. Am I right, Norton?" "Quite right," said the gentleman addressed. "Then we need say no more about it," cried the colonel. "Pray, my boy, help us by dissuading your new friend from thinking about so mad a project. We must not make Captain and Mrs Norton regret their kindness to us." "No, father. I understand," said Perry. "Then there is an end of the matter," said the colonel. "Not quite," said their host, smiling, "I am still hoping that you will stay with us, Perry." "No, sir," said the boy, very firmly now, "I am going with my father. I wish, though, you would let Cil come too." "Impossible, my lad," said the captain. "Then now let's change the subject," said the colonel. "I do not start yet for a week, and plenty of things may occur to alter all our opinions and determinations." "They will not alter mine," said the captain firmly. "If you both alter yours, I shall be very glad. There, I must go now." Captain Norton gave Perry a friendly nod, and left them once more. "There, Perry, you hear?" "Yes, father, but he may alter his mind." "Don't expect it, my lad; Captain Norton is firm as a rock in all he decides upon." "So is Cyril, father." "Not quite," said the colonel, smiling; "the stuff is soft yet, and will have to yield. There, go and tell him you have failed." "Yes, father," said Perry sadly. "And you mean to go with me?" "Of course, father." "Very well," said the colonel, and Perry left the room. CHAPTER THREE. PREPARING TO START. "Well, did you ask him?" cried Cyril eagerly, as Perry went out into the parched garden, the boy pouncing out upon him from behind a patch of dry-looking shrubs. "Yes, I asked him, and then your father came in." "Yes," said Cyril eagerly, "I saw him, and kept in hiding, because I thought it best to leave it for you to do. Well, what did your father say?" "He as good as said no." "Yes, at first," cried Cyril. "I knew he would. But he came round." "And then your father came in." "Yes?" "And my father made me ask him what he had to say about it." "Yes? Do go on, old chap. You are so slow." "The captain was quite angry, and wouldn't listen to the idea for a moment." "That was because he had made his plans for you to stay with me. But he came round, didn't he?" "No," said Perry sadly. "He was firm as a rock, and they are both dead against it. I should have liked for you to come, Cil." There was a dead silence; and as Perry looked at his companion, he saw that his brow was full of deep lines, and that the boy's face looked hard and set, the eyes fixed, and the lips tightened together into quite a hard crease. Perry looked at him for a few moments, feeling pained to see the way in which the lad took his disappointment. "I'm so sorry, Cil," he said at last. Cyril did not seem to have heard him, and after a pause Perry spoke again. "Perhaps your father will give way before we go." "What?" Perry started, the word sounded so sharp and harsh. "I say perhaps he'll give way before we go." "No, he won't. He never does. Father says a thing, and means it." "It's very disappointing," said Perry, "but it's of no use to fret." Cyril laughed bitterly. "You're going," he said sharply. "It can't disappoint you." "Yes, it can. I am disappointed. I don't care about going so much now without you." "Then stop here with me," cried Cyril sharply. "I can't," was the reply. "You wouldn't give up going if you were me. Don't let's think any more about it now, but go and do something." Cyril made no reply, but walked straight away out of the garden and then down towards the harbour, while Perry watched him for a few minutes sadly, and then followed slowly, missed sight of him, and after quite a long search found him sitting on the edge of his wharf, where the sun beat down most fiercely, and staring straight out to sea. "Cil!" said Perry, after going close up, but without exciting the slightest notice of his presence. There was no reply. "Cil--don't be sulky with me." "Not sulky," came with quite a snap. "Well, angry then. It isn't my fault. I wish you could come." "Didn't say it was your fault." "Then why do you take it like that?" Cyril turned upon him quite fiercely. "What's the good of talking?" he cried. "You can't understand. You go sailing about with your father and seeing things everywhere. I never go even into the forest. It's horrible always shut up here with book-keeping and classics. I wish sometimes I was only one of the Indians, like that one yonder." Perry felt disposed to say, which one? for there was a second Indian close by; but wishing to brighten his companion, and turn the current of his thoughts, he merely said: "Well, I shouldn't wish to be a she Indian." "Those are not shes--they're both men," said Cyril sharply. Perry looked at the pair incredulously, for they certainly had a most feminine aspect, being broad of figure and face, plump-cheeked, and with thick long hair cut square across the forehead and allowed to hang down behind. Their eyes were dreamy-looking and oblique, their faces perfectly devoid of hair, and to add to their womanish look, they wore a loose kind of cotton garment, which hung down from their shoulders nearly to their ankles. "I say, what are they doing?" said Perry, as he stared at the pair. "Taking snuff. That's their way. They carry some in a little bag, and when they want to take any, they put the powder in that little siphon-like pipe, and hold it to their nose, and another one blows it up. That one sitting down's the guide father is getting for you.--Here, hi!" The Indians looked round, nodded, finished the snuff-taking business, and then came deliberately toward the boys. "They're Antis," said Cyril, as Perry watched the two sleepy-looking Indians curiously, and noted that they were both about his own height. The men came close up, and stood there smiling, waiting to be spoken to; and as Perry had hoped, their presence took Cyril out of himself for the time. "Been to see my father?" said Cyril in a mongrel kind of Spanish. One of the Indians nodded. "And his father too?" The man replied that he was going now. So Cyril interpreted the few words. "That's the worst of them; and it's so hard to make them understand exactly what you mean. He didn't know what I meant, and had not been-- What say?" For the Indian had muttered something which he repeated. "Wants to know if I'm going too," said Cyril bitterly; and he shook his head at the Indian, when both smiled and looked pleased. Cyril gave his teeth a grind. "You beggars," he cried in English, "looking glad because I'm disappointed.--And I've given that first chap many a good tuck out, and lots of tobacco dust for snuff, and paid him no end of times for birds he has shot with his blowpipe, besides buying butterflies and eggs he has brought down out of the mountains. All right, though; I'll serve them out.--I say," cried the boy, and a complete change came over him, "can you speak Spanish?" "I? No, not a word." "That's a pity. You'll have to learn a few words, so as to be able to talk to these chaps. But you'll soon pick them up--some Indian, some Spanish, and some half-and-half. Wait a moment; I want to talk to this chap about--about your going." He began to speak to the man in a low voice, and then grew more and more eager, while the Indian began by smiling and looking amused, but, directly after, shook his head, and seemed to be refusing something which Cyril was asking. Then Perry saw the lad put his hand in his pocket and give the Indian a good two-bladed pocket-knife, whose keenness he demonstrated to the great interest of the Indian, who tried it on one of the heavy posts by the wharf, and then transferred it to his pocket with a smile of satisfaction, nodding his head now to everything Cyril said. Their conversation lasted for some time, and Perry began to grow impatient after he had satisfied his scrutiny of the two Indians' appearance, and wondered why they should disfigure themselves by painting horizontal lines from their noses across their cheeks. "There," cried Cyril, speaking rather excitedly, "it's all right now. He says he'll take great care of you, and wait upon you as if you were his father, and always find the best places for sleeping, and mind you don't tumble down into any of the great gaps. But, I say, Perry, old chap, you do wish I was going, don't you?" "Of course I do." "Ah, well, I suppose I must give in and make the best of it, mustn't I?" "I'm afraid so." "And you can't write to me and tell me how you are getting on. There are no post-offices up there." "No, I suppose not." "You suppose not!" cried Cyril, laughing, and looking as if his bitter fit had quite passed away. "Why, you're going where you'll hardly see a soul, unless you meet a party coming down from the mines, or bringing bales of bark. There, I'm not going to look grumpy any more, but I did feel savage for a bit." "That's right. Let's make the best of it while we're together, and do some more fishing, or have a mule ride or two." "No," said Cyril decisively, "that's all over now. Father told me this morning that I should have to work and help you make all your preparations, for there would be no end to do. Come along. They're going up to see your father now." The two Indians were both moving off, and the boys followed to the house, where they were witnesses to the meeting, Captain Norton having followed shortly, and acting as interpreter between the parties. "It is rather awkward," he said, "but I daresay you will soon pick up enough of their jargon to make them understand." "Oh yes," said the colonel. "I could gather the man's meaning from the Spanish words he used." "Then you will soon manage. Of course, if you had been a Spaniard, it would have been easy enough." "I shall not worry about that part of the business," said the colonel, "so long as the man is willing, and will do his best. But we shall want two others to attend to the mules." "He understands that. He is going to bring another trustworthy fellow. He proposed doing so himself." "And they can manage the mules?" "Oh yes, you may trust them. This man, Diego, as we call him, has been in the habit of coming down from the mountains for years to trade and sell. I consider that I was very lucky in getting him for you. When will you start, shall I tell him?" "On the sixth day from now." "That is soon, is it not?" "No; that ought to be time enough to get our mule-packs ready, and a sufficiency of stores. I have everything else." "Don't hurry," said Captain Norton. "You are very welcome here, and I shall regret your going." "I know that," said the colonel warmly, "but I am eager to begin, and shall be restless till I start." The captain nodded, and said a few words to the Indians, who replied, and then took their departure, it being fully understood that they would be there, ready, on the sixth morning. "Ha!" exclaimed the colonel, "that is satisfactory.--Now then, Perry, my boy, call up John Manning to unpack the luggage, and we'll make our selection of what we mean to take. Captain Norton will keep in store for us all that we decide to leave, and he will help us with his experience in making our selection.--And you will help too, Cyril, will you not?" "Of course, sir." "Thanks. Sorry I can't take you, my lad, but your father is right." Those next five days passed almost like magic. Six highly-bred mules were selected by Captain Norton's help, and furnished with packages and hide ropes, besides more for riding purposes. "But we shan't be able to manage so many, sir," said John Manning, a lithe, dry-looking man of about forty, who had been the colonel's servant when he was in the army, and had stayed with him ever since, to Perry's great disgust; for the lad declared that he was the most disagreeable fellow under the sun, since he was always grumbling. It was quite true, for he found fault with everything to the two boys; though silent, as if he were still in the ranks, in the presence of the colonel. But he quite won Cyril's heart in one of his grumbles, and always after, during their preparations, the boy declared that he was capital fun, and that he liked him. "There, young gentlemen," said John, "that's as much toggery as I can get in the colonel's soft portmanter, and you'll have to make shift, Master Perry, if you want any more flannels and things." "Oh, there'll be enough, John," said Perry. "A fellow don't want collars and cuffs up in the mountains." "But there ain't enough, sir. The man must ha' been a hijot as made that portmanter. If it had been six inches longer, it would have held ever so much more." "Why, of course it would," said Cyril contemptuously. "It ain't my business," continued the man; "I'm only a servant. But what ought to ha' been done was to have had Mr Cyril here with us, and filled a portmanter up with his things. Then they'd ha' balanced quite easy on the mule's back." "Yes, that's what ought to have been done," said Cyril excitedly. "I wish you'd hold your tongue, John," cried Perry angrily. "All right, sir. Cut it out, if you like. We're in savage lands, and there's no magistrates to stop it, for all I know. But there, sir, that's all I can do as I see." "How are you getting on?" cried the colonel, joining them. "All packed now?" "Yes, sir," said John Manning, drawing himself up stiffly. "Did you oil the rifles and pistols?" "Oh yes, sir; I went all over the armoury. Everything's in perfect order." "And the cartridges?" "Some in every package, sir; so that you can always get a few." "That's right." By this time the captain had had an abundance of the most portable and useful provisions packed, simplicity having been especially studied; and on the evening of that fifth day, it was felt that nothing more could be done. "I can think of nothing else to help you, Campion," said Captain Norton. "No, you have done wonders for me. There's only one thing I wish." "What is it?" "That you were coming too." "Colonel Campion!" cried Mrs Norton, as the boys exchanged glances. "I beg your pardon, madam," said the colonel. "I will not be so selfish. No, I do not wish that.--Come, boys, make the most of your last hours together. Shall you be up to see us off in the morning, Cyril?" "Of course," said the boy with a sigh. "To be sure," said the captain; "and we'll ride a few miles with you-- eh, Cil?" "No, thank you father, I'd rather not," said the lad dolefully. "I'll bid them good-bye here.--Coming out, Perry?" "Yes," said the latter. "Don't be long, my lad," said the colonel. "I want you to get to bed in good time. You must be up by four." "Breakfast will be ready by then," said Mrs Norton. "All right, father," said Perry, and the two lads went out into the soft moonlight, to be accosted directly by John Manning. "I was looking for you, Master Perry, sir," he said. "I've been a-making of my will, and want you to see me sign it, and witness it." "You want to sign your will?" cried Perry, laughing. "Yes, sir; this here's going to be my last journey, I'm afraid, for one o' them mules has marked me down. He means to kick me over the first pressy pass we comes to." "Don't let him," cried Cyril. "If he's going to, shove him over instead." John Manning stared. "Thankye, sir, I will. Now, do you know, I never thought o' that." "Come along, Cil," said Perry, laying his hand upon his companion's shoulder, and they strolled along to where they could look over the sparkling lights of the town, away across the glittering ocean, with its broad path of silver, and then back up to the huge mountain, whose icy top flashed in the brilliant moonbeams, while every here and there the deep ravines marked the sides with an intense black. They neither of them spoke, both feeling too sad at heart, but stood there, rapt in thought about the coming morrow, till they were interrupted by the coming of John Manning. "Colonel says it's lights out, young gentlemen," he said respectfully. "There's allers something wrong in this world.--You ought to ha' been with us, Master Cyril, sir, in this forlorn-hope job. But, I suppose, we must make the best of it." "Yes," said Cyril bitterly. "I suppose we must." A quarter of an hour later the lads were in their bedrooms, listening to the hum of the mosquitoes, and feeling weary, but restless in the heat. Cyril felt as if he could not sleep for thinking of the coming day, but all the same, he went off soundly in spite of his depressing thoughts, and woke up with a start, to find that his father was standing by his bedside. "Half-past three, my lad," he cried. "Up with you, and act like a man. Show our visitors that you can be unselfish, and let's start them happily upon their expedition." Cyril tried to say, "Yes, father," cheerfully, but not a word would come. "Sulky?" said Captain Norton rather sternly. "I'm sorry that you turn like that. I'll talk to you this evening, Cyril, my boy." The boy drew his breath hard, but he said no word, only began hurriedly to dress, as his father left the room. CHAPTER FOUR. THREE SHADOWS. "Hallo, sir," cried Captain Norton, as they stood outside in the enclosure where the mules were being loaded, "where's the a other man?" The Indian guide looked a little troubled, but spoke out quickly in his half-Indian, half-Spanish jargon. "He will come. He will meet us soon in the mountains." "Is that to be depended upon?" said the colonel harshly; for the absence of one man of his force jarred upon his military precision. "Yes. I have always found the Antis trustworthy." "But we shall be a man short for the mule-driving." "No," said Cyril quickly. "They want no driving. All you have to do is to start the leading mule, and the others will follow right enough." "One more thing," said the colonel, who had had many a weary march across the hot dusty plains of India. "Ought we not to take water?" "No; the Indians will take you from spring to spring. They know all the streams and falls in the mountains." The mules were laden after a good deal of squealing and kicking, and, during the process, John Manning shook his head, and confided to Perry that the big leading mule with the bells had squinted round and shaken one hind-leg at him. "He means me, Master Perry, sir. I ought to have got that will done." "Nonsense! it's all right," cried the boy; and soon after, an affectionate farewell was taken of the Nortons, it being decided, at the last moment, that the captain should not accompany them. Then the little mule train started in the darkness up the bridle road leading straight away for the mountains, Cyril sending a cooee-like call after them as they reached the first turn of the zigzag road, and, ten minutes after, they were slowly rising above the town, which still lay in the darkness below. The guide went first quite out of sight with the leading baggage mule, the others following; then the colonel walked next, beside his mule, with John Manning behind him; lastly, followed Perry with his mule, and the second Indian came last of all. The road was fairly wide at first, giving room for three mules to have walked abreast, but their habit was to keep in single file, and, in spite of all efforts on Perry's part, his animal followed the example of others, and walked close to the edge. As the day broke, John Manning noticed the trouble his young master was taking, and he shook his head. "'Tain't no good, sir; I've been a-trying as hard as a man can try to get the crittur to walk like a Christian, and he won't. One of 'em 'll go over the edge directly, and kill hisself, and serve him right." But the mule team plodded on, in their slow patient way, higher and higher, while from time to time the travellers stopped to gaze back away over the town, at the glittering, far-spreading sea, till all at once, after surmounting the last zigzag up the side of the mountain, the leading mule turned a sharp corner and disappeared from Perry's view, the others following, just as if they had entered a door in the side of the mountain. But, upon leaching the spot, Perry found that they had entered a chasm in the slope--a huge rift, not twenty feet wide, and made quite dim by the distance to where it opened upon the sky; while below, it rapidly ran together, and closed some forty feet beneath the ledge along which the path ran, and with a swift gurgling stream hurrying downward to the shore. It was Perry's first sight of a mountain stream whose waters came direct from the melting snow of the heights above, where winter always reigned, but he could see little but an occasional flash as the mules plodded on close to the edge of the path, which, as it rose, grew narrower and more rugged. And, as they still ascended, and the walls on either side of the gorge shut out the light, the boy shuddered, and wondered whether the way would become more dangerous, for, if so, he felt that he dared not mount and ride where a false step on the part of the mule would send him down headlong from the shelf-like track, twenty--forty--why, it must be a hundred feet down to the stream! "Two, I should say, boy," said the colonel, for Perry had involuntarily spoken aloud. "Don't take any notice of the depth; you'll soon get used to it. Look at the mules, how they keep to the very edge." "Yes, it's horrible, father. The guides ought to train them to keep close to the wall." "The mules know best, boy. They are used to carry loads which spread out on either side, and they avoid the wall because it is as dangerous. They might catch their burden against it, and be jerked off." "I don't think I shall ever get used to such paths as this." The colonel laughed. "Not in half a day," he said. "In a short space of time you will run along them as fearlessly as if you were on an English road." "But are there many like this?" "Pooh, this is nothing, Perry. You are going up into a land of wonders, where everything is so vast and grand that you will have no time to feel nervous." "But what are we going for?" asked Perry. The colonel turned and looked his son full in the eye. Then, smiling: "Wait," he said. "You will know in good time." Perry felt abashed, and wished that he had not asked, mentally determining not to question his father again, while, as he recalled his conversations with Cyril, he began to feel that his new friend's ideas must be right. Directly after, he felt sure that they were, for John Manning edged up to him, where the path was a little wider, and said in a whisper: "Master won't tell you, then, Master Perry?" "Won't tell me what?" said Perry rather shortly. "What we're going after. Strikes me as we're going treasure-hunting, and we shall get into one of them wonderful valleys you read of in the _'Rabian Nights_, where the precious stones lies about so thick, you can scoop 'em up." "Oh, nonsense!" "Do you know what the next country is to this?" "Well, I suppose, if you went far enough over the mountains, you'd come to Brazil." "Zackley, sir; and what comes from Brazil?" "Nuts," said Perry, laughing. "Hard-shelled, oily nuts, that are horribly nasty to eat." "Yes, sir, and di'monds. So don't you say it ain't likely that we may come to a valley of precious stones, because it strikes me that's what it means." Onward and upward, along paths partly natural, partly cut in the sides of the gorge where the stream ran, and about mid-day Perry began to realise how high the mountains were, for, upon reaching an opening where he could look up and down, he saw that they had been climbing up and up for about seven hours, and were able to look down at a wonderful panorama of mountain-side and valley; but upon looking upward, the great snowy peak appeared to be as far away as when they started. Just then the guide spoke to the leading mule, his voice echoing back from across the gorge, for they had reached a slope where the sun shone, and there were patches of grass and green shrub which promised pasture for the animals. They all stopped at once, waited patiently to be relieved of their burdens; and then, when the packs were neatly arranged in a circle, the patient beasts threw themselves down, had a good roll, tossing their legs high in the air, so as to balance themselves for a few moments upon their spines, and then rose again, to begin nibbling at such herbage as they could find. John Manning busied himself at once and started a fire, while, taking a tin, the second Indian went down the steep slope to the bottom of the gorge, and toiled up again with his load of clear icily-cold water, into which, when it boiled, a small handful of tea was thrown, the tin removed from the fire, and the provisions the colonel's servant had taken from a basket were served out. The Indians took what was given to them, and sat down by themselves, while the others partook of their portions with great gusto. Then, upon looking round, Perry found that the Indians were fast asleep, and asked his father whether he ought not to go and wake them up. "No, boy; they'll take their mid-day nap and wake up soon." And so it proved, for at the end of a couple of hours, the two men suddenly sprang up, caught the leading mule and led him back to the path, the others following and standing patiently to be laden. Then onward again till dark, when the guides halted at a spot like the last, the fire was lit, the evening meal prepared, and, well tired out, Perry lay down to pass the first night in the awful solitude to which they had climbed, and gazed up at the brilliant stars seen between large walls of rock. He wondered what Cyril was doing; felt that it would be impossible to sleep cushioned on that hard rock, and fell asleep directly, as a matter of course. The night was cold up there beneath the glittering stars, but when Perry woke up, warmly rolled in his blanket, there was a sight before him that was as new to him as it was grand. Right away, apparently at the head of a long narrow valley, and high up toward the heavens, there was a huge peak that might have been the mass of glittering rock from which broke away the diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, rubies, opals, and amethysts, which went to form the valleys of precious stones of which John Manning had spoken. For it was all dark below, but up there one of the gigantic Andean peaks was bathed in the full blaze of the rising sun. The boy lay gazing up, enraptured, thinking of the delight of climbing up into such a world of glory, and then rolling himself out of his blanket, he leaped up, with the stiffness and uneasiness of the past night quite gone, for the colonel's voice reached him: "Now, my lad, jump up; breakfast." At the same moment he heard the crackling sound of burning wood, and in a nook of the great wall of rock, where otherwise it would have been quite dark, the glow of a bright fire shone upon the intent, hard face of John Manning, who was baking a bread cake upon a disc of iron, while the two plump, effeminate-looking Indians watched him complacently. Just below, the mules were cropping the green herbage, and from below them came the rush, roar, and splash of falling water. "That's right," cried the colonel, holding out his hand. "Slept well? Find your bedroom draughty?" "I don't know, father," said Perry. "I was looking at the stars one minute, and the next I was staring at that glorious peak." "Glorious indeed, my boy. Hah! There's nothing like a tramp in the mountains, and a night's rest in the beautiful, crisp, fresh air. Come along down to the dressing-room." "Where?" said Perry, staring. "Down yonder for a wash," said the colonel merrily; and, leading the way, they descended the precipitous slope to where the stream ran thundering by, reaching first a place where it was not above a couple of yards across. "Why, I thought it would be bigger than this," said Perry, "from the noise it makes." "Bigger than you think, my lad," said the colonel. "There is an enormous amount of water going by here. I daresay that crack is a hundred feet deep. Look at the speed at which it runs." "Yes, it seems to run fast." "Seems!" cried the colonel. "Here, give me your hand. Don't be afraid. Stop a moment; roll up your sleeve above your elbow. That's it. Set your feet fast, and trust to me." The boy obeyed, and after making sure of his own footing, the colonel let his son sink down sidewise till he was nearly horizontal, and could plunge his arm right into the stream above the elbow. It was a strange sensation for the boy to be sinking lower and lower, gazing in the gloom at that rushing, glassy water, which, as it darted along, carried with it another stream--one of air, which blew his hair about and felt icily-cold, but nothing to compare with the water into which he plunged his arm. The shock was electric. It was as if he received a blow from a mass of ice which numbed him, and gave his limb a sudden snatch and drag to draw it from the socket. Perry gave a gasp, and pulled his arm out of the torrent. "Ugh!" he ejaculated. "It's freezing." "Yes; would you like a plunge in?" "What! there, father? It would sweep me away." "Yes, if you were a thousand times as strong, my lad. The force is tremendous. Come along here." He led the way upwards to where there was a fall of some few feet, and at the side a shallow pool of the water, wonderfully round, and forming a basin, giving them ample room for their ablutions; after which, fresh and glowing, they climbed up past the mules to where the breakfast was waiting, the hot coffee, bread, and frizzled charqui, or dried beef, being partaken of with an appetite Perry had never felt before. Then the remains were packed up, the squealing mules loaded, and they started once more; now rising a thousand feet, now descending, but always following the stream deeper and deeper into the mountains, till the grandeur and weird sternness of the gorge's defiles through which they passed grew monotonous, so that at the end of two days Perry began to long for some change and the open sunshine, away from the tremendous precipices which closed them in, and, in spite of the elasticity of the air, had sometimes a strangely depressing effect. John Manning felt it, evidently, and sought every opportunity of keeping Perry by his side, so as to have a good grumble about the colonel. "I don't know what he could be thinking about, Master Perry, to come to such a place as this. It's the world's end, I say. We shan't have a bit o' shoe to our foot when we've gone a bit farther." "Why don't you ride more, then?" said Perry. "You've got a mule on purpose." "What!" said John Manning, turning sharply round, "ride that mule? No, thankye, sir. I've seen him kick. I'm not going to give him a chance to send me over his head down into one of them cracks. I believe some of them go right through the world. Look at this one now. I can't see no bottom to it--can you?" He pointed down into the deep chasm along one of whose sides the rough path led. "No, not from here," said Perry, glancing down, and wondering at the absence of giddiness. "Nor from anywhere else, sir," grumbled the man. "Why, if any one told me that if you dropped down there, you'd come out somewhere by Simla, I should believe him, for I know they go right through." "Nonsense!" said Perry, laughing. "There, father's beckoning to me." It was evening once more, and they were coming again to an opening among the lower mountains, where they would halt for the night. In fact, half an hour later the leading Indian checked his mule in a bowl-shaped hollow, where there was a dense little wood of goodly-sized trees, and a thread-like fall of water came curving down into a mossy basin, while the whole place was brightened by the reflection from the mountains, made dazzling now by the setting sun. The preparations were made for the evening meal with quite military precision; the arms were placed near the fire, and, as if in imitation, the two Indians placed together their long stave-like blowpipes and bows and arrows, before helping to unload the mules, and then sitting down patiently to administer snuff to each other, and wait to be asked to join the meal. "It's very awkward, Perry, my lad," said the colonel suddenly. "We ought to have had a guide who could understand us more easily." "It _is_ awkward, father," said Perry. "Come and help me now, and between us we may make the man comprehend." Perry followed to where the Indians were squatting down in their loose cotton smock-frock-like garments, and at a sign the leader rose. "The other man--where is the other man?" said the colonel in Spanish; but the Indian gazed at him vacantly, till in a fit of inspiration Perry repeated his father's words as nearly as he could, and then began to count, laughing as he said in Spanish, "One--two"--and gave an inquiring tone to the word "three," as if asking for it. The man smiled and pointed to the ground as he answered, and then closed his eyes and let his head fall over upon one hand. "What does he mean by that, father?" said Perry. "I can't tell, my boy, unless he wants to show us that the other man is coming while we sleep." They tried again, but could get no farther. The Indian grew excited at last and voluble, making gestures too, pointing forward and then at the ground, ending by pointing at them in turn, throwing himself down and pretending to sleep. "I give it up," said the colonel, turning away towards the fire; "but we must try to learn their language as fast as we can, or we shall never get through our journey." A good meal near the fire, whose glow was comfortable enough up at the height they now were, and then father and son strolled a little way about their camp, the wood proving very attractive; but the darkness soon closed in, and they began to return toward the fire, which glowed brightly and cast the shadows of the Indians against the rock-wall as they sat prolonging their meal. "What is John Manning doing eating with them?" said the colonel suddenly. "I told him he was to keep those men in their places. They are my paid servants while--" "He's over yonder," said Perry, interrupting his father, "stacking guns together, I think." "Nonsense!" said the colonel; "there he is, sitting with the Indians, eating." "He can't be, father; I can see him over there." "But look, boy, there are three shadows against the cliff." "One--two--yes, there are three shadows," said Perry dubiously; "but it is something to do with the fire." "Absurd, my lad; there are three shadows cast by three men sitting there." "I know," cried Perry excitedly; "that is what the Indian meant--that the third fellow would be here to-night to sleep, or while we slept." "To be sure," cried the colonel, in a tone full of satisfaction. "I'm glad of it, not but what we could have got on without him, for the mules go well enough, but because it proves the guide to be trusty and a man of his word." CHAPTER FIVE. PERRY IS STARTLED. The guide came to the colonel smiling as soon as he saw him seated, and pointed to; the other side of the fire, as he spoke words which evidently announced the coming of the promised assistant. The colonel replied in Spanish, and the Indian went back to his companions. Soon after, the smell from John Manning's pipe rose on the cool night-air, and Perry sat talking to his father in a questioning mood. "When are we going over the top of one of the snow-mountains, father?" he said. "I have no intention of going over the top of either of the mountains," replied the colonel. "We have nothing to gain but hard labour up there. We want to get through the first ridge, and on to the rich tablelands, or among the beautiful valleys." Perry said "Oh!" in a tone of voice which suggested "Do we? I did not know." Then aloud: "How high up are we now?" "About eight thousand feet, I should say; perhaps a little more, for it is rather cold. There, let's get to sleep; I want to start early and be well on our way soon after sunrise." The colonel had his desire, for, long before the lower part of the ridge was quite light, the mules were all loaded, and the party made their start, with Diego the Indian leading, the new arrival second, and the other man right in the rear as before. Perry had one glance at the new-comer, and made out that he was a more stunted fellow than the others. In other respects he seemed to be similar in aspect, but wore a good deal of radiating paint upon his cheeks, from which it was drawn along in lines right up to his brows, and downward toward the jaws. He wore the same loose, many-folded gown, reaching just to his knees, and carried a bow, arrows, and a long blowpipe, but he was wanting in his friends' plumpness and breadth of shoulder. "Looking at the new mule-driver, Perry?" said the colonel. "Yes? Seems to be quite a stripling. But so long as he does his work well enough, it does not matter." He did do his work and well, as it proved, trudging along by the mules, helping to unload and load again, managing those under his charge admirably, and proving to be most industrious in fetching water. But he was timid and distant to a degree, shrinking away when either of the English party approached him, and on one occasion showing so evident an intention to hurry away into the mountains, that the colonel checked his son when next he saw him making for the Indian lad. "Let him be," said the colonel; "he's wild as a hawk, and he doesn't look particularly clean." "No," said Perry, laughing, "he is a grub. Those fellows don't wash, I suppose, for fear of spoiling their paint." They ceased then to take much notice of their fresh follower all through that day and the next; and the Indian trudged on beside the luggage mules, with his shoulders up and his head bent, as if he were carefully watching where he should next place his feet, speaking to nobody but Diego, when the guide left the leading mule for a few minutes to stop and look right along the line, inspecting the loads as the mules passed him, smiling at the colonel and Perry, and exchanging rather a fierce look with John Manning; for, somehow, these two did not seem to be the best of friends. Then he would let his companion who guarded the rear come right up, walk beside him, talking for a few minutes, and then start forward again at a trot, passing them once more till he had reached the leading mule. There was little change that day, always a constant succession of precipitous walls to right and left, their way being along a narrow shelf, with the stream they followed thundering beneath them, sometimes a hundred feet beneath, at others perhaps a thousand, and quite invisible, but making itself evident by the echoing roar of the rushing waters. They passed nobody, neither did they see a single animal to tempt them to use rifle or gun that hung by its sling across their backs, till late in the afternoon, when, just as they turned the corner of a great buttress of rock, a huge bird suddenly swept by, gazing wonderingly at them. By one consent, father and son paused to watch the ease with which the great-winged creature glided along the gorge, half-way between the top and the stream below, turned suddenly and came back, as if to renew their acquaintance, and then curved round again, sweeping along for a short distance, and again wheeling round, not in a series of circles, but ellipses, each turn sending it almost without effort higher and higher, till it had reached a sufficient elevation, when it passed out of sight over the wall on their left. "Eagle?" said Perry. "Vulture," replied the colonel. "There you have seen one of the biggest birds that fly. Didn't you notice its naked head?" "Yes; and it had quite a comb over the top, and a ruff round its neck. I thought it was an eagle from its great hooked beak." "The featherless head is a general mark of the vultures," said the colonel. "I wish I had had a shot at it; but I don't know: I don't want to be burdened with bird-skins, especially of such a size as that." "What a monster to skin!" said Perry thoughtfully. "Why, its wings must have been six or seven feet from point to point." "Double the length--say fourteen or fifteen, my boy," replied the colonel. "It must have been that. Old travellers used to make them out to be twenty-five or thirty feet from wing-tip to wing-tip; but they do reach the size I say. Hallo! what are we stopping for?" "Why, there's a bridge," cried Perry; "and the path goes along on the other side of the gorge." "And what a bridge," muttered the colonel. He might well exclaim, for it was formed in the narrowest part of the gloomy gorge, and though not more than five-and-thirty feet in length, it looked perilous in the extreme, being formed merely of a couple of thick ropes of twisted fibre, secured at either side round masses of rock, and with a roadway made by rough pieces of wood laid across and firmly bound to the ropes. "A suspension bridge with a vengeance," continued the colonel. "We shall never get the mules to cross that." And he had perfect warrant for his words. For some forty yards below, the water foamed along in a perfect torrent, falling heavily from a shelf above, and sending up quite a thick mist, which magnified the surrounding objects and added to the gloom of the place. Perry felt appalled, but the halt was of short duration, for after turning to them and shouting something which was almost inaudible in the roar of the torrent, the Indian stepped on to the bridge, and walked coolly across, half hidden by the mist; while the mule which played the part of leader bent its head, sniffed at the stout boards which formed the flooring, stepped on and walked carefully across, with the bridge swaying heavily beneath its weight. "Not so bad as it looked, my lad," said the colonel, as the next mule followed without hesitation. Then, after a pause, their new Indian crossed, followed with the mule by which he had walked, and then the rest, including those from which the travellers had dismounted, for no one thought of venturing to ride across the chasm. "Our turns now, Perry," said the colonel. "How do you feel?" "Don't like it," said Perry huskily. "Summon up your nerve, my lad; forget that there is any torrent beneath you, and walk boldly across. Here, I'll go first." "No, no, please don't," cried Perry, setting his teeth. "I'll go." "Go on, then," said the colonel. The boy descended from the few yards of loose stony way to where the wet rough-hewn boards began, drew a deep breath, and stepped on to the bridge, conscious that the guide was looking back, and that the new Indian was at the other end, watching him earnestly, with his lips slightly parted and his teeth bared. To Perry it was a sign that their attendant felt the danger of the place, and was watching to see him fall. And if he did, he felt nothing could save him, for he would be swept away in an instant down that narrow chasm full of rushing water, where it was impossible for any one to climb down and stretch out a helping hand. One step, two steps, three steps, all descending, for the middle of the bridge hung far lower than the ends, and Perry could feel it vibrato beneath him, and his nervous dread increased. And yet it was so short a distance to where the Indians were waiting, as he stepped cautiously on till he was well past the middle, when all at once the sky above him seemed to be darkened over his head, there was a peculiar, whistling, rushing sound, and looking up sharply, Perry saw that the huge bird which had passed out of sight had wheeled round and was flying so close above him, that it seemed as if its object were to strike at him with its powerful talons. As a matter of fact, the bird swept by five-and-twenty feet above his head, but it was near enough to destroy the lad's balance as he started and bent down to avoid the fancied blow. The colonel uttered a loud cry of warning, and Perry made an effort to recover himself, but this stagger caused the bridge to sway, and in another moment or two he would have been over into the torrent had not the bridge vibrated more heavily as a guttural voice whispered to him: "Quick! _mano_--hand!" It was accompanied by a sharp drag as his own was seized, and, recovering his balance, he half ran--was half pulled--up the slope into safety on the other side. Perry felt giddy and dazed as the Indian loosed his hold and hurried away among the mules, while before he had half recovered himself, his father had crossed and was at his side. "Perry, my lad, you sent my heart into my mouth." "Yes," faltered the boy. "It was very horrid. That bird." "It was startling, my lad, but you ought to be able to walk boldly across a place like that." "Ahoy! colonel!" came from the other side, as John Manning hailed them. "What is it?" shouted back the colonel. "Hadn't I better go back, sir?" "Back? No. Come over!" John Manning took off his hat and scratched his head, looking down at the hanging bridge and then up at his master. Just then there was a shout from Diego and some words in the Indian tongue, which resulted in the other Indian offering his hand to the colonel's servant, who resented it directly. "No," he growled; "I'll do it alone. One must be safer by one's self;" and stretching out his arms like a tight-rope dancer, he came down cautiously, stepped on to the bridge and slowly walked across, the Indian following at a trot, as if astonished at any body finding so good a pathway difficult. "I hope there ain't many more o' them spring playthings, sir," said John Manning gruffly. "I thought Master Perry was gone." "Nonsense!" said the colonel shortly. "That great bird startled him. Forward again; the men are going on.--Perry, my boy, you must give that Indian lad a knife, or something as a present: he saved your life." "Yes, father," said the boy, looking dazed and strange. "I--I'm better now." "Yes, of course you are. Pish! we mustn't dwell upon every slip we have. There, think no more about it," he continued, as he noticed the boy's blank, pale face. "Go on, and mount your mule." "I think I would rather walk," said Perry. "Walk, then," said the colonel shortly, and he went on and mounted his mule. "Quick! _mano_--hand!" buzzed in Perry's ear, and at the same time he seemed to hear the booming roar of the torrent beneath his feet, and the rush of the huge bird's wings just above his head--"Quick! _mano_-- hand!" "I say, Master Perry, sir, don't look that how," said John Manning in a low voice; "you're as white as taller candle. You're all right now." "Yes," said Perry, trying hard to recover his natural balance. "I'm all right now." "You've made the colonel look as black as thunder, and it wasn't our fault. They've no business to have such bridges in a Christian country. But it was enough to scare any one, my lad. I thought that there bird meant to have you." "That was fancy," said Perry hastily. "I ought to have known better." "No, it wasn't fancy, my lad. I think he'd have had you, only seeing us all about made him give you up. But it's all right." "All right?" "Yes, sir, we're on the c'rect track." "Of course we are," said Perry, as they marched on once more behind the mules, followed by the Indian. "You dunno what I mean, sir," said John Manning testily. "I meant on the track for one o' them di'mond valleys. Know what that bird was?" "Yes; a condor." "Con grandmother, sir. It was a roc, one o' them birds as carried Sindbad out o' the valley. This was only a chicken, I should say; but it was a roc, all the same." "What nonsense!" said Perry. "That was all fancy tale and romance." "Not it, sir. I might have thought so once, but I don't now. Let me ask you this, sir," said Manning: "suppose there was no way out or no way into the valleys we've come along, could you climb up the sides?" "No, of course not." "And if you'd heard tell of birds with wings thirty foot across before you'd seen 'em, would you have believed in them?" "No, and I don't now." "What! after one of 'em come down to attack you, and we scared it away." "That was only about half the size." "Oh, come, Master Perry, sir, don't get a haggling about trifles; there ain't much difference between fifteen foot and thirty. You mark my words, sir, the colonel's been studying up his _'Rabian Nights_, and he's on the right track now for one of them valleys, and we shall go back to San-what's-its-name with these ugly-looking donkey mules loaded up with all kinds of precious stones. You're a lucky one, Master Perry, sir, and your fortune's about made." "Think so?" said Perry, for the sake of speaking, for he was very thoughtful. "Yes, sir, I just do; and as for me, I hope it's going to be my luck to get just a few nubbly bits for myself, so as I can buy myself a cottage and a bit o' garden, and keep a pig, so as to live retired. You'll come and see me, Master Perry, then, won't you?" "Of course," said the boy, and then, making a trivial excuse to get away, he hurried along the line of slow-going mules to see that his father was right in front before their guide, who walked by the first mule; then there were three more plodding along, just far enough behind each other to be safe from any playful kick. By the head of the third mule their new Indian driver was walking with his bow over his shoulder, a handful of long arrows tucked under his arm, and his head bent down watching his footsteps. Perry kept behind at some distance, watching the Indian's every gesture, till he saw his father returning, for the track had become wider, and the boy watched intently; for he saw the colonel bend down from his mule and tap the Indian on the shoulders as he said a few words in Spanish. But what they were Perry was too far off to hear, the mules too making a good deal of clattering on the rocky track, which noise was echoed all around in a wonderful way. "It must have been my fancy, but I could have been sure he said something to me in English," muttered Perry. "I was so excited, I suppose." CHAPTER SIX. A NIGHT ALARM. "Did you give the Indian lad the knife?" said the colonel as they came abreast. "No, father." "Go and do it at once, and mind how you give it; the fellow's as wild as a hawk. I thought he was going to spring over the precipice as soon as I touched him." Perry took out the pocket-knife he had with him, and stepped forward; but a word from his father checked him. "I don't want to make too much fuss over this, Perry, my lad," he said, "but you displayed a great want of nerve. You did not act like a healthy, sturdy, English boy, and but for that Indian's quick decision, you would have lost your life." "Yes, father, I'm afraid so." "Then, for goodness' sake, my lad, try to shake off this girlish cowardice, or you'll make me regret bringing you." "I'll try, father," said the boy, his face flushing hotly. "That's right. I'm sure Captain Norton's son would have cut a better figure." Perry's face grew hotter, and he felt a bitter feeling of annoyance at being compared so unfavourably with the lad who had been his companion. The feeling was only momentary, though, and he went on and overtook the Indian, with the knife in his hand. He was going to give it without a word, but the idea that, perhaps, after all, the half-savage being might understand a few words of English, flashed into his mind, and he said: "This is not worth much, but I hope you'll keep it in memory of my gratitude for your bravery to-day." To his disgust, the Indian paid not the slightest attention, but trudged on barefooted beside the mule, as if perfectly unconscious of any one beside him, and Perry's nerves being all on the jar, he felt irritated at giving, un-noticed, a pretty speech. "Here, catch hold," he said. "This is for you." He thrust the knife into the Indian's grimy hand as he spoke, and then walked on to where Diego received him with a smile of welcome, and began talking directly in his mongrel tongue, perfectly content if the boy seemed to understand a word here and there, when he pointed to cavernous-looking holes in the cliff face opposite to him, to some brighter and greener spot in the gorge, or to some distant fall which glittered in the sunshine which came obliquely down into the narrow vale. All at once there was a beating of wings, and one of the huge condors, startled from the eyrie it occupied high up above their heads, suddenly threw itself off, and began to fly round, rising higher and higher, while the Indian rapidly fitted one of the long feathered arrows be carried to the string of his bow, waited till the great bird was gliding by, and then loosed the shaft. The arrow struck the condor in the wing, and made the huge bird give itself an angry jerk, as if it were disposed to turn upon its aggressor; but as Perry watched, the bird gave a few rapid beats with its pinions, shooting upwards rapidly, and though it was some distance away, the air was so clear that Perry distinctly saw the long feathered arrow shaken out of the condor's white wing, and fall slowly down into the depths of the gorge, while the great bird literally shot up for some distance, and then glided over a shoulder of the mountain they were flanking, and disappeared. The Indian looked at Perry and shook his head, as he muttered some words which were easily interpreted. "Lost my arrow, and did not get my bird." "And a good thing too," said Perry. "It would have been of no use, and only wanton destruction." The man nodded and smiled as if Perry's words were full of sympathy for his loss. But they fell upon other ears as well, for the colonel was close behind. "Rather misdirected sympathy, I'm afraid, Perry, my lad," he said. "The bird would have been no use to us, but I dare say its death would have saved the lives of a good many young vicunas and llamas." Perry stared for a moment or two, and then: "Oh yes, I know. Do they live up in these mountains?" "Yes, you'll see plenty by-and-by." "Sort of goats, aren't they, father?" "Well, my boy, they partake more of the nature of a camel or sheep, as you'll say whenever you see the long-necked, flat-backed creatures. But it's getting time for camping. The mules are growing sluggish, and sniffing about for food." "I hope we shan't camp here," said Perry with a shiver. "Not an attractive place, but I daresay Diego has some spot marked out in his eye, for he has evidently been along here a good many times before." Ten minutes later, as the snowy peaks which came into view began to grow of a bright orange in the western sunshine, one of the mules in front uttered a whinnying squeal, and the rest pricked up their ears and increased their pace. "Steady there! Wo-ho!" shouted John Manning. "Hadn't we better sound a halt, sir, or some of 'em 'll be over the side of the path." "I think we may trust them; they smell grass or something ahead, and know it is their halting-place." "But look at that brown 'un, sir; he's walking right out from under his load." A few hitches, though, and a tightening of the hide ropes, kept the loosened pack in its place; and soon after, to Perry's great delight, the gorge opened out into a bright green valley, where, a snug, well-sheltered nook being selected, the mules were once more unloaded, and a fire lit. Then, thanks to John Manning's campaigning cleverness, before the light on the mountain tops quite died out, they were seated at a comfortable meal, with a good fire crackling and burning between them and the Indians, wood for once in a way being fairly plentiful, there being a little forest of dense scrubby trees low down by the stream which coursed through the bottom of the valley. "Not quite such a savage-looking place, Master Perry," said John Manning, when the colonel had taken his gun and gone for a final look round before they retired to their blankets on the hard ground. "Savage! Why, it's beautiful," cried Perry, who had been watching the colours die out on one snowy peak. "Yes, sir, I suppose it is," said the man, shaking his head; "but we didn't take all the trouble to see things look beautiful. We can do that at home. What I'm thinking is that the place don't look healthy." "Not healthy? Up here in the mountains?" "Tchah! I don't mean that way, sir; I mean healthy for your pocket. This looks like a place where you might have a farm and gardens, and keep sheep. You'd never come here to search for di'monds, and sapphires, and things." "N-no," assented Perry. "O' course not. We want good wild broken stone muddle over rocky places, where you have to let yourselves down with ropes." "Or ride down on rocs' backs, eh, John?" "Yes, sir, that's your sort. We've passed several good wholesome-looking places that I should have liked to have hunted over; but of course the colonel knows best, and he is leading us somewhere for us to have a regular good haul. Tired, sir?" "Yes, pretty well, but one feels as if one could go on walking a long way up in these mountains." "Well, sir, we've got every chance, and I'd just as soon walk as get across one of these mules, with your legs swinging, and the thin, wiry-boned crittur wriggling about under you. I always feel as if my one was groaning to himself, and looking out for a good place where he could thrust his hind-legs up and send me flying over his head into the air, where he could watch me turn somersaults till I got to the bottom." "Oh, they're quiet enough," said Perry. "Oh, are they, sir? Don't you tell me. My one never misses a chance of rubbing my leg up against a corner, and when he has done there, he goes to the other extreme and walks right along the edge, so that my other leg is hanging over the side; and if I look down, I get giddy, and expect that every moment over we shall both go." "I tell you, they don't mean anything," cried Perry. "Then why does my one, as soon as he knows he has frightened me, begin to show his teeth, and laugh and wriggle his ears about, as if he were enjoying himself right down to the roots. I don't believe these mules are any good, Master Perry, that I don't, and as aforesaid, I always feel as if I'd rather walk." Further conversation was put an end to by the return of the colonel, and soon after, leaving the Indians crouching near the fire, which they seemed reluctant to leave, the English party sought the corner which had been selected for their sleeping-place, rolled themselves in their blankets, and with valises for pillows, and their stores piled up for a shelter from the wind, they were not long in dropping off to sleep. Perry's was sound enough at first, but after a time he began to dream and go through the troubles connected with crossing the swinging bridge again. He found himself half-way across, and then he could go no farther in spite of all his efforts, till, just as the condor was about to take advantage of his helplessness, and descend to fix its talons in the sides of his head and pick out his eyes, the Indian made a snatch at him, and dragged him across for him to awake with a start. It was all so real that his brow was wet with perspiration, but he settled what was the cause, and changed his position peevishly. "That comes of eating charqui late at night, and then lying on one's back," he muttered, and dropped off to sleep again directly. But only to begin dreaming again of the condor, which was floating overhead, spreading its wings quite thirty feet now; and there was the scene of the day repeated with exaggerations. For the Indian guide bent an immense bow, and sent an arrow as big as a spear whizzing through the air, to strike the huge bird, which swooped down close by, and looked at him reproachfully, as it said in a whisper: "I only came to bring back your knife." Perry lay bound in the fetters of sleep, but all the same, his ears seemed to be open to outer impressions, for the words were repeated close to him, and he started up on to his elbow. "Who's there? who spoke?" said a low firm voice close to him. "That you, Perry?" "Yes, father," replied the boy, as he heard the ominous _click-click_ of the double gun that lay by the colonel's side. "What were you doing?" "Nothing, father. I just woke up and fancied I heard some one speak." "There was a whisper, and some one brushed against me just before. Did you move from your place?" "No, father," said Perry, feeling startled now. "Manning!" "Sir!" "Have you been moving?" "No, sir; fast asleep till you woke me, talking." "Then some one has been visiting us," whispered the colonel. "Hah! what's that?" "Something rustling along yonder, sir." _Bang! bang_! Both barrels were discharged with a noise which seemed to have awakened all the sleeping echoes of the mountains around their camp. Then, as the colonel hastily reloaded his piece, Perry and John Manning sprang up, each seizing his gun, and waited. "I missed him; but, whoever it is, he won't come prowling about again. Follow me quickly. Stoop." Bending down, they hurried across the few yards which intervened between them and the smouldering ashes of the fire, which, fanned now and then by the breeze sweeping along the valley, gave forth a faint phosphorescent-looking light, by which they could just make out the figures of the three Indians standing with their bows and arrows ready, as if about to shoot. "Which of you came over to us?" said the colonel in Spanish; but there was no reply, and the speaker stamped his foot in anger. "What folly," he cried, "not to be able to communicate with one's guide!" "Could it have been some one from the valley lower down?" whispered Perry, who then felt a curious startled sensation, for he recalled perfectly the words he had heard while asleep, or nearly so: "I only came to bring back your knife." "Then it must have been the little Indian, and he could speak English after all." Accusatory words rose to Perry's lips, but he did not speak them. A strange reluctance came over him, and he shrank from getting the poor fellow into trouble, knowing, as he did, that his father would be very severe on the intruder upon their little camp. For it was a fact that the little Indian had crept up to where they slept and spoken to him. The excitement had prevented him from noticing it before, but he held in his hand the proof of the visit, tightly, nervously clutched: the knife was in his left hand, just as it had been thrust there while he slept. "Attend here," said the colonel. Then very sternly: "You cannot understand my words, perhaps, but you know what I mean by my actions. One of you came for some dishonest purpose to where we lay sleeping, and I wonder I did not hit whoever it was as he ran.--Give me your hand, sir," he cried; and he seized and held Diego's right hand for a few moments. Then dropping it, he held out his hand to the other Indian, who eagerly placed his in the colonel's palm. "An outside enemy, I'm afraid," muttered the colonel; "they are both perfectly calm.--Now you, sir," he continued, turning to the last comer, who hesitated for a moment, and then held out his hand. This was all in the dim starlight, the figures of the men being made plainer from time to time by the faint glow from the fire; but their faces were quite in the shade as the colonel took the last comer's hand and grasped it tightly, while Perry's heart began to beat, for he felt that the discovery was coming; and hence he was not surprised at the colonel's fierce and decided action. "Your pulse galloping," he cried angrily, as he dragged the dimly-seen figure forward. "Perry, Manning, cover those two men, and if they make a gesture to draw their bows, fire at once.--Now, you scoundrel, it was you, and you had come to steal." "No, he had not, father; he came to give me back my knife." "What!" cried the colonel angrily. "It's a fact; he put it in my hand while I slept; and here it is." "Then--" "It's quite true, sir, and no good to keep it up any longer." "Cil!" cried Perry in astonishment. "Yes. Don't be very angry with me, Colonel Campion. I felt obliged to come; I couldn't stop away." "Why, you treacherous young rascal," cried the colonel, shaking him violently. "Don't, sir, please; you hurt!" cried Cyril half angrily. "How dare you mutiny against your father's commands, and come after us like--?" "I dunno," said Cyril mournfully. "I felt obliged; I wanted to be with Perry there." "But to come masquerading like this, sir! How dare you?" "I dunno, I tell you," said the boy petulantly. "It isn't so very nice to come over the stones without shoes or stockings, and only in this thing. It's as cold as cold, besides being painted and dirtied up as I am. My feet are as sore as sore." "And serve you right, you young dog. What will your father say?" "I don't know what he'd have said if you'd shot me," grumbled Cyril. The colonel coughed. "You precious nearly did, you know," continued Cyril querulously. "I heard the shots go crashing in among the bushes as I ran." "Then you shouldn't have come prowling about the camp in the middle of the night," cried the colonel. "Of course, sir, I took you for some wild beast or marauding Indian." "Well," said Cyril, "now you know, sir, and I suppose I can go back and try to sleep." "Go back? Yes, sir, first thing--to your father," cried the colonel fiercely. "I suppose he does not know you have come?" "No, sir." "Of course not. A pretty disgraceful escapade, upon my word, sir! I only wish I were back in my regiment, and you were one of my subalterns. I'd punish you pretty severely for this, I promise you." "Would you, sir?" said Cyril drearily. "I thought I was getting punished enough. I'm sorry I disturbed you, sir; I only wanted to get close up, and touch Perry's hand." "Bah!" cried the colonel. "Why did you want to touch Perry's hand?" "Because I was so lonely and miserable, lying there with my feet sore. I couldn't sleep, sir. The stones have cut them, and I was afraid to wash them, for fear you should see how white my legs were." The colonel coughed. "Here; stop a moment, sir," he said, in rather a different tone. "You see, I might have shot you." "Yes, sir," said Cyril dolefully. "And it did seem hard to be shot at, because I felt glad the poor fellow didn't go off the bridge." The colonel coughed again. "Hum, ha, yes," he said, a little huskily. "It was a very narrow escape, of course, and you behaved very well. You--er--yes, of course, you quite saved his life. But I shall say no more about that now.-- Here, Manning, get Mr Cyril Norton a couple of blankets.--And you'll come and lie down by us, sir; and mind this: no more evasions, no attempts to escape." "I shan't try to escape in the dark," said Cyril drearily. "Where should I escape to, sir?" "Ah! of course. Where to, indeed! So recollect you are a prisoner, till I place you back safely in your father's hands.--Stop! Halt! What are you doing, Perry?" "Only shaking hands with him, father," said the lad. "Then don't shake hands with him, sir. Shake hands with gentlemen, and not with lads who disgrace themselves by disobeying their father's orders, and satisfying their own selfishness by causing others intense anxiety." Perry drew in a long, deep breath, which did not go down into his lungs properly, but seemed to catch here and there. "One moment," said the colonel; "can you make that man Diego understand?" "Yes, sir." "Then tell him and his companion to go to sleep again." Cyril said a few words to the guide, and the two Indians dropped down at once, close to the warm ashes. "I suppose, then, he knew all about your escapade, sir, eh?" cried the colonel. "Of course, he must have got you the Indian clothes and paint." "It was all my fault, sir; don't blame him," said Cyril humbly. "I'm very sorry I did it now. It seemed--" "Seemed? Well, what did it seem, eh? There, hold your tongue now, and go and lie down by Perry. Recollect you are in an old soldier's camp, and I forbid all talking now. Stop!--er--are you hungry?" "No, sir; I can't eat," said Cyril bitterly. "Humph! There, go and lie down, both of you, and get to sleep.--Once more, no talking, Perry; not till to-morrow morning.--Good-night, both of you." By this time John Manning had taken two soft blankets out of one of the packs, and handed them to the prisoner with a very unmilitary whisper. "My!" he said, "what a game, Mr Cyril." But neither of the boys smiled. They lay down in Perry's old place, and Cyril uttered a sigh of content, and then a stifled sob, as he felt Perry's hand seeking for his to hold it tightly. "Good-night," he whispered, as Perry bent over him, and then there was another whisper. "Can father send you back, Cil?" and the answer came: "It's too late now. No." Just then the colonel lay down again in his old place, and another rustling told that John Manning was curling up in his. "Good-night, Perry, my boy," said the colonel. "Good-night, father," replied Perry, and then to himself, "Oh, I hope he'll say good-night to poor old Cil." He had his wish. "Good-night, Cyril," came rather huskily. "Good-night, sir," said the boy, in a voice he could hardly keep steady. And then came: "Thank God I did not hit you when I fired, my lad." Then there was nothing heard but the whispering of the wind below them among the trees. CHAPTER SEVEN. THE SLIPPERY WAY. "Awake, Cil?" whispered Perry, just as daylight was making its way down into the depths of the valley, and a faint glow became visible on one of the snow peaks. "Yes," was whispered back, "these two hours." "Couldn't you sleep?" "No; not for thinking. It's all very well for you, but I've got to hear what your father _says_ this morning." This was unanswerable, and Perry remained silent for a few minutes, wondering what he had better say next. Then the inspiration came. "Look here, Cil," he said; "you won't get on any the better for having a painted and dirty face. I'll get a bit of soap, and we'll go down and have a good wash." "What's the good?" said Cyril. "Dirty painted face goes best with things like this." "Yes, but you're not going like this," said Perry. "You must put on decent clothes." "Haven't got any," said Cyril sourly. "No, but I have--two spare suits, and you shall have one." Cyril gave a start. "I say, Per," he whispered excitedly, "do you mean that?" "Of course I do. My things will fit you, and you can have a regular rig-out." "Oh!" ejaculated Cyril. "Come on then, quick." They stole out of their corner to the baggage pile, where Perry pointed to the portmanteau containing his kit, signing to Cyril to take one end and help him to bear it a dozen yards away to where a huge mass of rock had fallen from above. "Here we are," cried Perry, dragging out one of the suits that had been made expressly for the journey. "They'll fit you, I know." "Fit!" cried Cyril excitedly; "of course they will. Once get myself decent, I shan't so much mind what the colonel says--I mean, I can bear it better. I did feel such a poor miserable wretch when he was talking to me in the night. It all seemed so easy just to dress like one of the Indians; but as soon as I was in that long shirt thing, with my bare legs and feet, I felt as if I'd suddenly turned into a savage, and daren't look any one in the face." "And I don't wonder at it," growled a deep voice. "Here, what game's this, young gents?" The boys looked up to see that John Manning was peering over the rock, and they were so startled for a few moments that neither spoke. "Going off again, and you with him, Master Perry? Well, you don't do that while I'm here." "Don't be so stupid, John," cried Perry, recovering himself. "Can't you see what we're doing?" "Yes, that's what I can see, making of yourselves a little kit apiece, ready to desert, both of you." "Rubbish!" cried Perry.--"That's all, isn't it, Cyril?" "Boots!" said Cyril dolefully; "but I don't know how I am going to get them on." "Oh, a good bathing will do that. Here you are.--Now, John Manning, fasten this up again, and take it back." "Honour, Master Perry?" "Honour what?" "You're not going to desert?" "You go and light a good fire and get breakfast ready; we're going down to have a bathe." "Oh, that's it, is it?" said the old soldier, chuckling. "Well, a bath would improve Master Cyril. Shall I bring you down a tin of hot water, gentlemen." "You be off, and hold your tongue. I don't want my father to know until we get back." "All right, gentlemen," said John Manning, grinning; "but I say, Master Cyril, there'll be court-martial on you arter breakfast." "Come along, and don't mind him," whispered Perry, and they hurried down to the side of the torrent, where they had to spend some time before a suitable place was found where they could bathe without being washed away, for the water ran with tremendous force. But at length a safe spot was hit upon, where the stream eddied round and round; and here Perry's tin of soap was brought into play with plenty of vigour, there being no temptation to prolong their stay in water which had come freshly down from the snow, and which turned their skins of a bluish scarlet by the time they were dressed. "Shall I pitch this smock-frock thing into the stream?" said Perry, with a look of satisfaction at his companion. "Throw it away? No. Perhaps your father will order me to keep it to wear, and make me give back your clothes." "I know my father better than that," cried Perry warmly. "But see how he went on at me last night, and how he'll go on at me again to-day. I wish I hadn't done it." "I'm glad you are come, Cil," said Perry; "but it does seem a pity. Whatever made you do it?" "I hardly know," said the boy sadly. "I was so down in the dumps because I couldn't come with you, and I did so long, for it seemed as if you were going to have all the fun, and I was to be left drudging away at home, where it was going to be as dull as dull without you. And then I got talking to Diego, and when he heard that I was not coming too, he said he should give it up. He wasn't coming with three strangers, he said, for how did he know how people with plenty of guns and powder and shot would behave to him." "He said that?" cried Perry. "Yes, and a lot more about it, and he wanted me to ask father again to let me come." "And did you?" "No; where would have been the use? When father says a thing, he means it. Then Diego turned quite sulky, and I thought he was going to give up altogether. That was two days before you were going to start, and I begged him not to throw you over, and he said he wouldn't if I came too; and when I told him my father wouldn't let me, he said why not come without leave? And after a great deal of talking, in which he always had the best of me, because I wanted to do as he proposed, at last I said I would, and he got me the Indian dress and the bow and arrows." "And when did you start?" "That same night, after they'd gone to bed at home. I'd got the things all ready, and I soon dressed and locked up the clothes I took off in a drawer they weren't likely to look into, so that they might keep on expecting to see me back, thinking I'd gone out next morning early, and that would give me a start of all that night and all next day." "What a thing to do!" said Perry. "Yes; wasn't it? Didn't seem so bad in the hurry and worry of getting off I didn't think about anything but hurrying on after you, and then I got very tired and hot, and that kept me too from thinking about anything but catching up to you." "But how did you know the way?" said Perry. "Oh, that was easy enough. Diego told me which road he should take, and I'd been along there before as far as the place where he said he would wait for me." "Yes, he said when you would come." "And when at last I was getting nearer to you, I began to lose heart altogether, and I'd eaten all the food I brought with me; and I'd had so little sleep, because I was obliged to overtake you before you started. If I had not--" He stopped short, and Perry stared at him. "Go on," he said at last. "If you hadn't what?" "If I hadn't caught up to you, it would have been all over." "Nonsense! Why? You'd have gone back." "No. I'd been one whole day without anything to eat, and I couldn't have got back, tired as I was, in less than four days. I should have lain down and died." "But you'd have met somebody," said Perry. "Up here? No. There's a caravan of llamas comes down about twice a year, and now and then a traveller comes along, but very seldom. How many people did you meet?" "Not one." "No, and you were not likely to. I knew this, and it made me keep on walking to overtake you, for it was my only chance." "But did you think about what a risky thing you were going to do before you started?" "No," said Cyril sadly; "all that came after, and there was no going back." "But what a way your father and mother must be in. What will they think?" "Oh, don't, don't, don't!" groaned Cyril. "Think I haven't gone over it all, times enough? I never thought how much there was in it, or what trouble it would make till it was too late. Do you think I'd have come to be near you for a minute last night, if I'd known that the colonel was going to shoot at me?" "Of course not." "And that's the way with lots of things: one don't think about them till it's too late. Hush, here he comes." For while the boys were busy talking, they had climbed up the side of the valley, and come close up to the fire before they were aware of it. "Humph!" ejaculated the colonel sternly. "So you've given up being a savage then, young fellow, eh?" "Yes, sir," said Cyril humbly. "You'll join us at breakfast, then, eh?" "I don't feel as if I could eat anything, thank you, sir." "No, I shouldn't think you did; I don't think I should have much of an appetite if I had behaved to my father and mother as you have behaved to yours. But there, you are my friend's son, and I must be hospitable, I suppose. Come and have breakfast, and then the sooner you are off back, the better." Perry stared at his father so hard that the colonel noticed it. "Well, boy," he said, "what is it?" "I was thinking about what you said, father." "About his going back? Well, what about it?" "How is he to go all the way back by himself?" "The same way as he came, sir, of course." "He couldn't do it, father. His feet are sore, and he'd have to carry all the provisions he'd want on the way." "Provisions! To carry? Why, he hasn't got any.--Have you, sir?" Cyril shook his head. "Then how do you expect to get back?" "I don't know," said the boy sadly. "No!" thundered the colonel. "Of course you don't know. Nice sort of a young scoundrel you've proved yourself. Scoundrel? No: lunatic. You can't go on with us, because, out of respect for your father, I won't have you; and you can't go back alone, because you have no stores. What do you mean to do--lie down and die?" "Perhaps I'd better," said Cyril bitterly; "there seems to be nothing else I can do." "Well, don't lie down and die anywhere near where I'm camping, sir, because it would be very unpleasant, and spoil my journey. What time do you start back, now you can go decently?" "Now, sir," said Cyril, and he turned sharply and took a step to go, but the colonel caught him by the shoulder. "Come and have your breakfast first, sir. If you can behave badly to your father and mother, I cannot, by ill-treating their son. No nonsense: come and sit down, and I'm very glad to see that you are beginning to realise what a mad trick it is of which you have been guilty.--Ready, Manning?" "Yes, sir," came back from the fire, and a minute later they were all seated in silence, partaking of the hot coffee and fried bacon made ready for them by Manning, who gave Cyril a bit of a grin as he saw the change in his appearance. The colonel ate heartily, but Perry's appetite was very poor; and Cyril could hardly master a morsel, in spite of the colonel's manner becoming less harsh. "Come, boy," he said, "eat. You've a long journey back, and you'd better make much of the provisions, now you have a chance. I'll send your father a line in pencil for you to bear, and to exonerate me from causing him so much uneasiness. By the way, how many days do you think it will take you to get back?" Cyril tried to answer indignantly, but the words seemed to stick in his throat; and Perry's face grew red at what he considered to be his father's harsh treatment of the lad whom he looked upon as his friend. There was a painful silence, then, for some minutes, during which the colonel went on with his breakfast, and Perry sat with his eyes dropped, unable to get any farther. All at once, Cyril spoke out in a half-suffocated voice, as he looked up indignantly at the colonel. "Isn't it too hard upon me, sir," he cried, "to keep on punishing me like this? You know I cannot go back, or I should have gone long ago." "I want to punish you, sir, because I want to make you feel what a mad thing you have done, and how bitterly cruel you have been to a father who trusted in your honour as a gentleman, and a mother whose affection for you was without bounds." "But, don't I know all that?" cried Cyril, springing up and speaking passionately now. "Hasn't it been torturing me for days past; and wouldn't I have gone back if I could, and owned how wrong I had been?" "Only you had found that, when once you had foolishly put your foot on the slippery decline, you could not get back to the starting-point, and have gone on gliding down ever since," said the colonel, speaking quietly. "Yes, my lad, I believe you have been bitterly sorry for your foolish escapade since you started, and you have been severely punished. There, I will say no more about it." "And you will help me to get back, sir?" "If an opportunity occurs. As soon as we meet an Indian who can be trusted, you can take two of the mules, and a sufficiency of provisions to last till you get back. I am a man short now, or one of these should return with you at once. I am sorry for your people, but I cannot turn back now, and I'm sure your father would not ask it of me." "Thank you, sir," said Cyril humbly. "There," cried the colonel, "I have done my duty by you, boy. You have had your punishment, and you have taken it bravely. I have no more to say, especially as you are not yet out of the wood, but have your father to meet." "Yes, sir, I have my father to meet," said Cyril. "Then, now eat your breakfast, and let's get on again. Take off that miserable face, for I shall not refer to the trouble again." He held out his hand. Something very like a sob escaped from Cyril's lips, as the boy made a quick snatch at his hand, and held it in his for a moment or two. Then the breakfast went on in silence, and Perry's appetite suddenly returned; while Cyril did not do so very badly after all. CHAPTER EIGHT. SIGNS OF SUSPICION. Half an hour later, the little caravan was in motion, and, for the first time the preparations were delightfully easy. Eager to be of some service, and to try to make up for what he had done, Cyril began to help to load the mules, and above all, helped the colonel. For the latter was trying hard to make the guide understand that he would like to pass through the patch of forest below them, before they ascended the mountain path visible away to their left; and the man stared at him in the most blank way possible, and then kept on pointing to a couple of great fagots which lay tightly bound upon one of the mules' backs. "It's all right, sir; let me speak to him," cried Cyril eagerly. "He thinks you keep on telling him you want wood for the next fire we make, and he says he has got plenty." Then, turning to the guide, he rapidly said a few words in the rough dialect of Indian and Spanish, with the result that the man gave the colonel a sharp look, and then nodded his head, and went off with the leading mule. Perry gave his father an eager look, and the colonel, who was smiling with satisfaction at the ease with which a difficulty had been smoothed away, frowned. "Oh yes, it's very nice," he said; "but I cannot afford to have an intelligent interpreter on such terms as these, Master Perry. There, get on; I said I would not refer to the trouble any more.--Hi! Cyril, my lad, you'd better ride that black mule." "Ride--the mule, sir?" said the boy hesitatingly. "Yes; your feet are cut and sore. Rest till they are better." "Hurrah!" whispered Perry. "Jump up, old chap. Here, I'll give you a leg. I shall ride, too, to-day." The next minute, both boys were mounted, and following the last mule with the second Indian. That patch of scrubby forest looked to be close at hand, but it took them nearly an hour to reach it, everything being on so grand a scale among the mountains; but at last they began to thread their way through, with the colonel eagerly examining the different trees, the Indians noting his actions curiously, but always hanging their heads again if they thought that they were observed. The colonel kept up his examination, but did not seem very well satisfied; and soon after, the bushy trees with their shining green leaves were left behind, and they journeyed on through what had looked at a distance like fields of buttercups, but which proved to be a large tract covered with golden calceolaria, whose rounded turban-like flowers glistened in the sun. This looked the more beautiful from the abundance of grass, at which the mules sniffed carelessly, for they had passed the night eating. Then before starting upward, there was the rapid stream to cross at a spot where the rocks had fallen in a perfect chaos from the mountain-side, completely filling up the chasm along which the water ran; and here they could hear it rushing, gurgling, and trickling down a hundred channels far below, in and out amongst the rugged masses of rock which dammed it back. The mules made no difficulty about going over here, merely lowering their muzzles, and sniffing at the cracks and holes as they felt about with their forefeet, and climbed more than walked across to the solid rock and the bare, very faintly marked, stony track, which led up and up to a narrow gap in the mountains, evidently a pass. Steeper and steeper grew the way, now zigzagging along a stiff slope, now making a bold dash at the mountain-side, over loose stones which went rolling down, setting others in motion till regular avalanches rolled down into the valley hundreds of feet beneath. "Have you ever been here before, Cil?" said Perry, who now rode close behind his friend. "No. Never any farther than the place where I overtook you." "Isn't this very dangerous?" continued Perry, as the mules climbed up, sending the loose stones rattling down to their right. "Eh? Dangerous? I don't know. I was wondering what they are thinking at home. Yes, I suppose it is dangerous." "Then hadn't we better get down and walk?" "What for? We couldn't walk up so well as the mules. They've got four legs to our two. They're a deal more clever and sure-footed than we should be." Perry kept his seat, fully expecting to have the mule make a slip, and then for them to go rolling down hundreds of feet into the valley; but in due time the gap-like opening was reached, and through this place, with the walls on either side so steep that they looked an if they had been cut, they passed into a narrow valley, or rather chasm, looking as if the mountains had been split down to their roots by some earthquake; and a chill of horror ran through Perry, as he checked his mule where the rest were panting and recovering their breath. "Not a very cheerful-looking place, boys," said the colonel, as he surveyed the great chasm, running apparently for miles through the mountains, zigzagging, returning upon itself, and always dark and profound in its lower part; so deep, in fact, that from where they stood it might have gone right down to the centre of the earth, while upward the sides rose, wall-like, toward three huge peaks, which looked dazzlingly white. All at once Perry started, and it seemed as if an electric shock had passed through the mules. For there was a tremendous booming roar some distance away, followed by peal after peal, as if of thunder running for miles amongst the mountains, and not dying away till quite a couple of minutes had elapsed. "Thunder," whispered Perry. "No, I think not," said Cyril below his breath.--"What was that, Diego?" he said in the man's tongue. The answer was laconic, and accompanied by a smile. "He says some of the snow fell over yonder, out of sight." _Crash_! There was another roar, followed by its echoes. "Look! look!" cried Cyril excitedly. "There, just below that place where the sun shines on the ice." "Yes, I see it," said Perry; "a waterfall." And he shaded his eyes to gaze at the glittering appearance of a cascade pouring over a shelf of ice into the depths below. "Waterfall!" said the colonel, smiling. "There is no water up there to fall. It is a cataract of pieces of ice and solidified snow, thousands of tons of it broken away through the weight and the mass being loosened by the heat of the sun." "Gone!" cried Cyril. "To appear again, lower down," said the colonel, and they watched the glittering curve of dazzling ice as it reappeared and made another leap, and again another and another, lower down, till it finally disappeared by falling into some chasm behind a fold of the mountain. But the roar of the ice was continued like distant thunder, telling how enormous the fall must have been, though dwarfed by the distance into a size that appeared trifling. Then the boys sat gazing at the black gulf before them, with its huge walls, which were nearly perpendicular in places. "I say, of course, we're not going along that way?" said Perry nervously. "I don't know," replied Cyril; "the tracks generally do go along the worst-looking places." "But how can they have been so stupid as to pick those?" said Perry petulantly. "They don't pick them," replied Cyril. "Only they are obliged to go along any places there are. Yes, we shall have to go along yonder." "Impossible." "How would you go, then?" said Cyril. "We're not flies; we can't climb up those walls; and you couldn't go over the mountains if you wished, because of the ice and snow. You must go in and out round them where the valleys are open, and this is open enough. There is no other way." "But, I say, shan't you be--er--just a little afraid to go down there?" "No," said Cyril quietly. "I don't feel afraid a bit. There's only one thing I feel afraid of now." "What's that? Falling off one of the precipices?" "No," said Cyril sadly. "Meeting my father." Perry was silent, and his friend turned to Diego, who was going from mule to mule, examining the knots in the hide ropes by which the baggage was secured to the pack-saddles. "Which way does the road go now?" he asked. The man pointed straight along the black chasm running from below them away into the distance. "Along there?" whispered Perry, as he comprehended the gesture. "Yes, I thought so," said Cyril coolly. "There can be no other way." "But what else did he say?" asked Perry breathlessly. "He said, did your father want to go on any more." "What's that?" cried the colonel. Cyril repeated the man's remark. "Tell him of course, till I wish him to stop." Cyril delivered the message, and the man spoke again, gesticulating and pointing along the deep valley. "He says, sir, that there is no place farther on where you will get a bigger valley, and that there are plenty of snow-mountains farther back." The colonel made a gesture full of impatience. "What does he mean, Cyril? Doesn't he want to go any farther?" "I think that's it, sir. I'll ask him what he means." Cyril turned to the guide again, and there was a short, eager conversation, carried on for a minute or so. "He says, sir, that the way along the track is very dangerous. It goes along that side, to the left, and the path is very narrow. If any one slipped, he would fall right to the bottom." "It must be the regular way across the mountains, where mules are accustomed to go, and he undertook to guide me; so tell him I go on." Cyril conveyed the colonel's words to the man, who looked annoyed, and glanced suspiciously at the colonel as he said a few words, to which the boy replied angrily. "What's that? what's that?" cried the colonel. Cyril hesitated. "Speak out, sir; what is it? Why don't you speak?" "He said he wanted to know where you wanted to go, and what for?" said Cyril, watching the colonel rather anxiously. "Tell him as far as I please, and where I please," said the colonel sternly. "Now then, at once; and tell him I should advise him not to ask me any more questions. Forward!" Cyril interpreted the words, and the Indian looked sharply at his employer, to see in his eyes the glances of a man accustomed to command, and without a word he took the rein of the leading mule, and went away to the left, seeming to Perry as if he were passing over the edge of a precipice, so suddenly the descent began, a dozen yards away. But, as is often the case among the mountains, that which had looked so terrible at a little distance, last its dangerous aspect when boldly approached, for, following closely upon the luggage mules, Perry reached the edge of that which he had supposed to be a precipice, and found that it was only a slope, going downward; but it was quite steep enough to require great care in crossing it, and the mules showed their comprehension of the fact that it must not be attacked lightly, by the way in which they walked, slowly and carefully, making sure of every step they took, till they were well across the green slope, and on to solid rock once more. And now it was plain that the man had not exaggerated, for their path lay along what is known to geologists as a fault in the rock of which the side of the valley was composed--that is to say, the upper part of the huge mass appeared to have slipped sidewise, leaving four or five feet of the lower part of the valley wall like a shelf, and along this the mules began to walk cautiously, taking the greatest care that their loads did not touch the side of the rock, and consequently walking as close to the edge as possible. The man had not exaggerated in the least. The shelf-like paths they had previously traversed were in places perilous enough, but here the bottom of the chasm-like valley was quite hidden from the travellers, and imagination added largely to the depth whenever either of the boys stole a glance downward. No one spoke, but they rode on in single line, feeling appalled by the awful nature of the place, hour after hour, for the path wound and zigzagged, and seemed without end. At every slip of a mule's hoof, at every kick against a loose stone, Cyril felt his pulses leap, and Perry turned cold with apprehension; while, whenever Cyril turned to look round at his friend, each saw in the other's face a hard set look, and a strange, almost despairing stare in his eyes. They were conscious of there being a rushing torrent somewhere far below, but it was down in the region of gloom, and they went on for hours without once catching even a gleam of the water, which at times sent up a dull thunderous roar, at others died away into a faint murmuring vibration, as if it were making for itself a subterranean channel through the bottom of the chasm. But little attention was paid to that, each of the travellers keeping his eyes fixed upon the narrow path in front, and rarely glancing up at the rocky wall on their left, or down into the profound gulf upon their right. It was well on in the afternoon when, in turning an angle where the path shot off suddenly to their left, they came upon a wide opening lit up by the sun; but, saving that it was light, it was more repellent to the eye than the path along which they had come. For it was one wild chaos of tumbled-together rocks, looking as if, by some convulsion of nature, the whole of that portion of the valley side had been shattered and tumbled down from the shoulder of a huge mountain, destroying the pathway, and leaving in its place a broad stretch of masses of rocks, from pieces hundreds of tons in weight, to fragments not larger than a man's head. Progress across this appeared impossible, but the guide went on for a few minutes and then stopped; for rugged as the place was, it possessed the quality of being level enough to enable them to make a halt for refreshments, without being on a narrow shelf where there was not room for a mule to be turned. Hideous as the place was, every face brightened, for the strain of feeling in great peril was for the time removed, and even the mules showed their satisfaction by whinnying to each other, and giving themselves a shake, as they began to sniff about and browse upon the dry vegetation which grew amongst the fallen stones. "Hah!" ejaculated the colonel, as he got off his mule, and looked round and above at the pure blue sky. "One feels as if one could breathe and move now." "Yes," said Perry, with a shudder; "it was horrible." "Nonsense, boy," cried the colonel. "It was not a place one would select for a nice walk, but I should not have liked to miss such a journey. People at home do not know there are such wildly-grand places in the world--eh, Cyril?" "No, sir," replied the latter eagerly, for a pleasant word or two from the colonel was like a gleam of sunshine in his breast; "but it was dangerous. I should not have liked to get off my mule on that shelf." "Not on the precipice side, certainly," said the colonel. "Why, there wasn't any room on the other," cried Perry; "and if one had turned giddy, one would have gone down, down--ugh!" "Yes, the place did look deep," said the colonel, "but no one did turn giddy, and the mules went along as steadily as if they had been on a turnpike road.--Well, Manning, what's the matter?" "I was thinking about our having to go back along that there path, sir." "Well, I daresay we shall," replied the colonel, "but you don't mind." "Not mind, sir?" cried the old soldier gloomily. "Not you, my man. I grant it is a little dangerous, but not so bad as walking along a shelf in the Nagari pass, with a Belooch behind every stone, taking aim at one with his long matchlock." John Manning grinned, took off his hat, and scratched his head. "You did not complain about the danger then," continued the colonel. "No, sir, I didn't, did I!" said the man, wrinkling up his face a little more; "and I ain't going to grumble about this neither. I'll go wherever you lead, colonel, like a soldier should." "Yes; I knew that when I chose you to come with us, Manning," said the colonel quietly. "Well, what about dinner? We had better have it upon that flat-topped stone." "I shan't be five minutes, sir; but I was hesitating about that stone. It's just in the hot sunshine, and if there are any snakes about here, that seems a likely place." "Any snakes about here, Diego?" asked Cyril, and the man shook his head, and replied that it was too cold. A few minutes later they were enjoying a hearty meal, and the mules were revelling in their freedom from their loads, while the two Indians sat munching their sun-dried strips of meat, and talking together in a low voice. "All these stones and rocks tumbled down from above, I suppose, sir?" said Cyril, after a prolonged look upward at the peak which rose high above them, with its smooth sides glittering with snow, and a thin, white, gauzy cloud just hiding the extreme point. "Yes, my lad," said the colonel, shading his eyes, and looking up. "The snow hides the old scar, but I should say that during some eruption the whole side of the crater fell outward, and crumbled down to here, as you say." "Crater?" cried Cyril. "Yes; don't you see that it is a volcano?" "I did not, sir. Then those clouds up there are smoke?" "More likely steam." "Steam? Those clouds?" cried Perry, gazing up. "And is this a burning mountain?" "Yes. You will be able to say you have been on the side of a volcano," said the colonel quietly. "Look at all this broken stone about; how glistening a great deal is, as if it had been molten. That piece, too, looks like scoria." "Then hadn't we better go on at once?" cried Perry, getting up from the stone on which he was seated. "What for? Are you afraid of an eruption?" said the colonel, with a shade of contempt in his voice.--"Feel that stone where he was sitting, Cyril; perhaps it is warm." "Yes, it was quite warm when I sat down upon it," said Perry hastily. "All the stones about here are nearly hot." "Of course they are, sir," cried his father. "Have they not been baking in this hot sunshine? There, sit down and finish your dinner. Mountains don't break out into eruption without giving some warning." "But this must have been quite lately, sir," said Cyril, to turn the colonel's fire. "Geologically lately, my lad," he said, picking up and examining a stone, "but not in our time, nor our grandfathers'. In all probability these stones came crumbling down some hundreds of years ago." "Then you think there is no fear of another eruption, father?" "If I did think there was, do you think I should be sitting here so calmly?" replied the colonel. Perry had nothing to say to this, and he soon after became interested in a conversation which took place between Cyril and the guide, waiting impatiently until it was at an end. "What does he say?" asked Perry, as Cyril turned away. "That as soon as we've passed this rough place there's another path, like the one we've come by, and he wants to know if your father means to risk it." Perry felt a shrinking sensation, but he said nothing, knowing how determined his father was when he had set his mind upon a thing. "I told him we were going, of course. But, I say, Perry," whispered Cyril, "how far does he mean to go?" Perry shook his head. "Is it any use to ask him where he means to stop?" whispered Cyril. "No; not a bit." "Hallo! Look here!" cried Cyril, and Perry snatched up his piece from where it lay. "Look out, father!" he cried, as one by one, with solemn, slow stride, some half-dozen peculiar-looking, flat-backed, long-necked animals came into sight round an angle of the valley at the far side of the chaos of stones amongst which they had made their halt. "Put down that gun. Don't be stupid," cried Cyril. "Can't you see they are llamas?" "What if they are? I suppose they are good to eat." "I shouldn't like to try one," cried Cyril, laughing. The colonel had now caught sight of the animals, which kept on coming round the corner in regular file, with their long necks held up stiffly. "Quite a caravan," the colonel said. "Ask Diego what they are carrying." "I know, without asking, sir," said Cyril eagerly. "They're bringing down Quinquina--kina, as they call it. You know, sir--bark." "Hah!" ejaculated the colonel eagerly, and he took out the little double glass he carried to examine the train of animals, which had evidently come from the track that they were to pursue after their halt. "You're wrong, I think, my lad," said the colonel, after a long examination through his glass. "They have all got bales of something on their backs, and, judging from the outside, I think they are skins or hides." "Yes, sir, that's right," cried Cyril, "but it is bark inside. They make the bark up into bales, and cover them with hides before binding them up. I know; I've seen them before." The colonel continued his inspection, and Cyril hurriedly questioned the guide before speaking to the former again. "He says they are taking the kina down to the port, and that they will halt here to rest." "Then we'll stay a little longer and see them," said the colonel, closing his glass after seeing several armed men turn the corner and begin to climb beside the llamas over the rugged stones. CHAPTER NINE. CYRIL SCENTS DANGER. As the men in charge of the llamas came in sight of the colonel and his party, they waited for more and more to join them, and it soon became plain that they expected or meditated an attack; but a peaceful message sent on by the colonel gave them confidence, and the swarthy men, for the most part armed, came on, followed now by their charge, till the great opening in the rock-wall was filled by the drove of rough, woolly-looking animals; there being over five hundred in the caravan, and each bearing about a hundredweight of the precious fever-averting bark. Diego and Cyril's powers were soon brought into requisition for interpreting; the strangers willingly stating where they were going, but proving themselves as eager to know the colonel's business as he showed himself about the bark bales, before the mules were once more loaded, and the English party started again, so as to get to the end of the valley before dark. The coming of the caravan had given the boys encouragement, for, as Cyril argued to Perry, the track could not be so very bad if that drove of animals bearing loads could come along it in safety. "I don't know about that," replied Perry. "I had a good look at them. Short-legged, broad things like these, with soft spongy feet like camels, seem made for walking up here among the rocks; while the mules, with their long legs and hard hoofs, look as if they might slip and go over at any time." This was just after they had started, and found, as soon as they had cleared the rocky chaos, that the shelf path was so wide that the lads were able to ride abreast; and as the colonel had gone right in front with the guide, the boys began talking about the men with the llamas. "Any one would think your father wanted to go into the kina trade," said Cyril, who was rapidly recovering his spirits. "Did you notice how the Indian frowned when Diego kept on talking to him, and I asked all those questions for your father?" "I thought he seemed impatient and tired, and as if he wanted to sit down and rest." "Oh, it wasn't that," said Cyril quietly; "it's because they want to keep all about the bark trees very secret, so that no one else shall be able to grow it and supply it for sale. You heard my father say how the people who went in search of the trees never came back again. Father feels sure that they were murdered." "No; that was the people who went after the treasures." "Oh, was it? I forget. Perhaps it was both," said Cyril. "My head got in such a muddle over my coming after you, that things are mixed. I suppose it was because Colonel Campion asked so much about the kina." "Father takes a great interest in everything; that's why he travels and has come here," said Perry. "Look, there goes a condor." "Well, let him go," said Cyril. "He isn't good to eat, and you've got plenty of provisions to last till you get to some village on the other side of the mountains. But, I say, it does seem strange that you people should come here of all places in the world." "I don't see it," replied Perry. "It's a very wonderful place to come to, but I wish it wasn't quite so dangerous. I keep feeling afraid of turning giddy." "Yes, it's a wonderful place to come to, and I had no idea that the valleys were so awful and deep; but I should enjoy it if it wasn't for thinking of them at home. I hope they believe I've come after you. Wish I'd left a line to say where I had gone." "It's too late to wish that now," said Perry. "Yes, but one can't help wishing it all the same. I wish I knew why your father has come up here." At that moment there was a warning shout from forward, and another from John Manning in the rear, for the boys had been so wrapped in their thoughts that they had not noticed how rapidly the path was narrowing. They had, however, another hint, and that was from Cyril's mule, which, from long training on similar paths, knew exactly what to do, and went on ahead, while Perry's stopped short on the narrowing shelf which followed all the windings and angles of the rocky wall, and had become so strait that Perry shrank from watching the laden mules, whose loads every now and then brushed against the stones, and one completely caught against a rough projection, making the intelligent animal that bore it stop and ease away a little, leaning more and more over the precipice till Perry's hands turned cold and wet, and he held his breath. Just, though, as he was about to close his eyes, so as not to see the poor brute plunge headlong down to where it would certainly be dashed to pieces, the load escaped from the awkward corner, and the mule trudged on just as before, while Perry heard a deeply-drawn sigh just behind him. "I thought he'd have gone, Master Perry," said John Manning. "Mules ain't got no nerves, that's for certain, and if ever you hear any one say in the future as a donkey's a stupid animal, you tell him he don't know what he's talking about." "That mule's sensible enough, at all events," said Perry, without venturing to turn his head, lest he should have to look down into the gulf. "Sensible, sir? Why, he acted just as a human being would. I call it wonderful. I say, Master Perry, though." "Yes? But I wish you wouldn't talk to me so, while we are going along a place like this." "Don't say so, Master Perry, because I want to talk. It keeps one from feeling a bit skeary, because this is a place, sir, really." "Well, what do you want to say? Speak loud, for I can't turn round to listen." "But if I speak loud, the colonel will hear me, sir, and I want to talk about him." "Well, go on then; what is it?" "Can't you tell me, sir, where we're going to, and what we're going for?" "We're going over the mountains, John." "Well, sir, I know that; but what are we going for?" "To find the valley of diamonds, and throw down lumps of meat for the rocs to fetch out." "No, no, sir, that won't do," said John Manning, shaking his head. "As you said to me the other day, that's only a story out of the _'Rabian Nights_, and not real truth, though these places might just as well be something of the kind, from the looks of them. But, I say, sir, you do know where we're going, and what for, don't you?" "No, I have not the slightest idea. Ask my father yourself." "What, sir! Me ask the colonel about the plan of his campaign? Why, I should as soon have thought of asking the Dook o' Wellington." "We shall know in good time, I daresay," said Perry; and then a slip on the part of one of the mules ahead made them turn cold once more. But the clever animal recovered itself on the instant, and for hours they kept on along this path, till the boys despaired of reaching its end, and began to calculate on the possibility of having to encamp on a place like that for the night. But it is a long lane that has no turning, and just when there was a sensible deepening of the gloom, and the peeps they had of the sky overhead were of a golden amber, they turned an angle and became aware of an increase in the murmuring sound of water, which thenceforth grew louder and louder, till it was evident that they were approaching some extensive fall. An hour later they were in full sight of where it came thundering down hundreds of feet, spouting forth from a gap, and plunging down on to a huge buttress of rock, which shot it off again far into the air, distributing it so that it went on down into the valley like a misty rain, and without a sound arising from below. The fall was magnificent, for, as they approached, the upper part was turned to gold by the setting sun, and to add to the beauty of the scene, there was a patch of forest on either side, and the narrow shelf was broadening out to where it ran into a side valley, all golden green and darkened shadow. For they had reached the end of the terrific gorge, and there were scores of places just in front ready for the formation of ideal camps, without the risk of an incautious step sending its unhappy author thousands of feet down into the depths below. In another half-hour they were in a place which, by comparison with the sterile defile of darkness and depression, seemed to the lads beautiful in the extreme; and after a hearty meal, while the colonel was looking round the camp, as he called it, and having a farewell glance for the night at the mules, which were thoroughly enjoying the abundance of grass, Cyril sat looking very thoughtful and depressed. "He's thinking of home and his people," said Perry to himself, and then, on the impulse of the moment: "I say," he cried, "why didn't my father send you back along with the llama train? I never thought of that before." "Are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?" said Cyril bitterly. "No, of course not; but as he said he should send you home by the first, I thought it strange that he had not done so." "Because they were not going to San Geronimo," said Cyril quietly. "They would turn off to the north, just where I first joined you, and I suppose he thought, after what I had suffered, it would be too cruel to send me to find a great deal of my way back with people like that." They relapsed into silence for a time, during which period John Manning cleared away and washed up as methodically as if he were at home, while the two Indians sat by the fire munching away at the supply of biscuit given to them. "What are you thinking about, Perry?" said Cyril at last. "The stars. How big and bright they are up here. What were you thinking about?" "Diego, our guide." "What about him?--that he ought to be fonder of water, even if it is icily-cold?" "No," said Cyril seriously. "I want to know why he has turned so quiet and serious, and why he seems to be always watching your father in such a peculiar way." "Father was sharp with him, and ordered him to go on, when he seemed to want to go back." "Yes, and I suppose he did not quite like it; but that isn't all." "What is all, then?" said Perry. "Ah, that's what I want to find out. He puzzles me. He's thinking about something, and I shouldn't wonder if he has taken it into his head that your father has come up here to look for the Incas' treasures." "Pooh! Why should he think that?" returned Perry. "Because these Indian chaps are horribly suspicious as well as superstitious. They would think it a horrible sin to touch the gold if there is any; and if it is found, they would be ready to defend it." "What with? Bows and arrows?" cried Perry, laughing. "Yes, and blowpipes." "Why don't you introduce pop-guns as well?" "Because they are toys," said Cyril seriously, "and blowpipes are not. Don't you know the tiny darts they send out are poisoned, and that one will kill anything it hits?" "Is that true?" said Perry, whose eyes dilated at the idea. "Quite true. I saw a man kill several birds with the darts. They died almost directly they were struck, and I have been told by father that he has seen small animals die in a few minutes after being scratched." "But do you think--Oh, what nonsense! You have got your head crammed with that idea about the gold." "Perhaps so," said Cyril thoughtfully, "and maybe I'm wrong. But I don't like to see old Diego turn so gruff and distant, and it seemed strange for him to go and talk for a long time with the Indians in charge of the llamas. I saw them look very strangely and suspiciously at your father afterwards." "Those Indians? Why, what could it be to them? Ah, the Peruvian Indians are said to be joined together to protect everything belonging to the old days when they were a great nation, and keep it for the time when the Incas come back to rule over them again." "Say, Master Perry," said John Manning in a low voice, "your eyes are younger than mine. Just cast 'em along the rock path we come to-day." "Yes, what for?" "Are you looking straight along, sir?" "Yes." "Well, what do you see?" "Nothing at all." "Try again, sir." Both Perry and Cyril looked along the path, tracing it faintly in the coming night for some distance along, beyond where the great fall came thundering down. "I can't see anything," said Perry. "Nor I," said Cyril. "Yes, I can. There's something that looks like shadows moving." "Steady, sir; don't seem as if you were noticing it, but notice it all the same. It struck me as strange ten minutes ago, but I thought it was fancy. But you see it, sir, and it must be right. Now then, sir, what do you make that to be?" "Indians," said Cyril promptly. "That's right, sir--what I thought; and they're watching us, and after no good." "What! Do you think they are hanging round the camp to try to steal?" "Don't know, sir," said John Manning gruffly. "I hope that's the worst." CHAPTER TEN. JOHN MANNING THINKS. John Manning's curious remark sent a thrill through Cyril, and, trying hard not to appear as if watching, he strained his eyes in the direction indicated, but the gloom had increased, and neither he nor Perry could make out anything more. "What do you mean by `you hope that's the worst?'" said Perry. "Well, sir, I hardly know how to tell you." "Speak out," said Cyril rather huskily. "If you think there's danger, tell us, so that we can tell the colonel, and put him on his guard." "Well, young gents, I did give him a hint once, but he nearly jumped down my throat," said John Manning. "What!" cried the boys in a breath. "Well, sir, that's what you clever folk call methy-physical. I told him I didn't think the Indians was to be trusted, and that I fancied they were keeping an eye upon everything he did, and he insulted me, sir." "Nonsense, John," said Perry. "My father wouldn't insult you." "O' course you stick up for your dad, Master Perry, as is quite right natural, and your duty to. But I put it to you, Master Cyril: he's a soldier, and I'm a soldier, and if one soldier calls another a stoopid old woman, with no more pluck than a quill pen, isn't that an insult?" "But Colonel Campion did not mean it, I'm sure," said Cyril impatiently. "Now then, don't waste time. What is it you think?" "Well, sir, I think our Indians said something to those Indians who were with the llamas, and three or four turned back and followed after us." "Are you sure?" said Cyril anxiously. "Well, sir, I'm sure I saw some of them dodging us and following. I wasn't very sure at first, for I thought p'raps the colonel was right, and I was a bit of an old woman growing scared at shadows; but I feel pretty sure now." "But why should they follow us?" asked Cyril tentatively. "You have some idea in your head." "Well, sir, I have; and whether it's right or wrong I can't say, but it seems to me as these people are all in league together, and they don't want anybody to come up in the mountains. They want to know what we're about." "But don't you fancy that, because it is what you have been thinking, John," said Perry. "You have been wonderfully anxious to know where we were going, and what for." "That's a true word, sir," replied the man, "but I think they want to know too. It seems to me they're afraid we want to take something out of their country." "Nonsense," said Perry. "Nonsense!" said Cyril sharply. "He's right, Perry. It's just what I told you, and--" "Now, quick, Mr Cyril!" whispered John. "Turn towards me, as if you were going to speak, and look toward the path we came by." Cyril responded quickly, and saw by the light of the fire, which had just then blazed up brightly, a dark face peering at them over a great piece of rock. He even saw the flash of the fire in the watcher's eyes, and then, as he pretended to hand something to Manning, his look was averted for a moment, and when he glanced again in the same direction, the face was gone. Cyril responded quickly, and saw a dark face peering at them over a great piece of rock. "Now, Master Cyril, what do you say?" whispered John Manning. "I say it may only be curiosity," replied Cyril, "but certainly we are being watched, and the colonel ought to know directly." "Hah!" ejaculated the old soldier, with a sigh of satisfaction, "this puts one in mind of old times up in the hill-country, with the niggers waiting to go at you with matchlock or knife. I didn't think I was ever going to have the luck to see a bit of fighting again." Perry started, and Cyril's face looked in the firelight as if it was flushed. "Where's the colonel?" he said quickly. "Be steady, Perry, old chap. There's nothing to be frightened about. Don't look as if anything was the matter. Come and find your father, and let's go and speak to Diego and the other man." "But I can't speak to them," said Perry excitedly. "Never mind, I will. Come along." "And suppose they shoot at us," whispered Perry, "with an arrow or blowpipe?" "They'd better!" said Cyril grimly. "But they won't do that. Come on." He walked on toward the fire, behind which the two Indians were crouched, apparently enjoying the warmth and the charqui they were munching; but they gazed furtively up at the two boys as they came up, and one of them started slightly as Cyril made a sudden stoop, but became impassive directly when the boy picked up two or three half-burned brands and threw them into the middle of the fire before holding his hands out to the flame. "The waterfall makes it feel cold up here, and damp," he said to the guide in his patois, and the man smiled as he spoke, and then pointed up a defile away above them as he replied. "What does he say?" asked Perry. "That the wind comes down that narrow rift from the snow, and it is that which makes it cold. I only half understand him." He turned laughingly to the guide, and said a few words to that effect, and the man laughed and nodded as he replied. "Oh, what a big fib!" said Cyril merrily. "He says I speak his tongue beautifully.--Oh, there's the colonel looking round at the mules. They're having a beautiful feed here. Plenty of grass for the mules," he said to the Indian, and the man nodded again, and said it was good. The colonel said something very similar, as the boys strolled carelessly up, at a time when Perry felt as if he must run to his father, shouting: "Look out! Danger!" "We must stay here two or three days, boys," the colonel said. "The mules will revel in this grass and fresh water, and make up for their fasting lately." "I think not, sir," said Cyril, speaking carelessly, and making believe to pat one of the mules, which turned sharply round and showed him its heels. "What do you mean, sir?" Cyril told him quickly; and as he spoke, the colonel's hand twitched, and went involuntarily to his side, as if he were seeking a sword. "Humph!" he ejaculated. Then quietly, and looking at the mules: "That's right, lads; don't make a sign. I daresay John Manning is right. He has eyes like a hawk, and he is true as steel. Well, I'm not surprised. I half expected it, though not quite so soon." "What shall we do then, father?" said Perry anxiously. "Go back?" "Englishmen don't go back, Perry," said his father gravely. "They would not have colonised the whole world if they did. No, boy, we are going on, and I don't think there is anything to fear. These people are all joined together to watch every stranger who comes into their country, in dread lest they should be in search of the Incas' treasures, and they would be ready to fight in defence." "And kill us, father," said Perry, with his lips paling in the firelight. "If we let them, boy. But we are well-armed, John Manning and I, and know how to use our weapons if it should come to a struggle, which I doubt." "Then you have come in search of something, sir! I knew it," cried Cyril. "Yes, I have come in search of something, boy, and I mean to find it and take it away out of the country in spite of all their watchfulness and care. Now, then, what do you say to that? Are you afraid, and do you want to get back?" "I don't know, sir," said Cyril quietly. "Yes, I do. I can't help feeling a bit frightened like. I don't want to, but I do." "And you wish to go back? For I warn you I am going on in spite of all obstacles." "No, I don't," said Cyril quietly. "I shall go with you. I'm not going to leave Perry in the lurch." "There's a coward for you, Perry, my boy," said the colonel, laughing. "You must be a very good sort of a fellow to have made a friend like that; one who risks his father's anger to come with you, and who is now ready to run more risks for your sake." "I'm afraid it isn't that, sir," said Cyril frankly. "I wanted to come because I thought it was going to be a great treat." "There, say no more now. Listen to me. I shall take it for granted that we have spies in the camp, and that, consequent upon their communication to the men of the llama caravan, some of that party are following us. Of course the poor fellows consider that they are performing a religious duty, so I shall not charge them with their action. They will go on watching us till they find I have done something which calls for immediate action. Till then we are safe." "Then you will not do anything, sir?" said Cyril, looking quite aghast. "Oh yes, I shall be upon my guard. From now there will be watch set every night in camp, and we shall sleep with our arms charged and ready for action at a moment's notice." "Yes," said Cyril, with a sigh of satisfaction. "You can handle a gun, Cyril?" "Yes, sir, after a fashion. I have often been up in the hills with my father, shooting." "That will do," said the colonel. "Now let's go and have a look at the falls before setting watch and going to our blankets. Tell the men to keep up a pretty good fire, Cyril." He led the way to where the Indians were seated as he spoke, and nodded to them smilingly as Cyril gave his orders; and then, as the men quickly obeyed them, the colonel led the way to the edge of a cliff! From here they could see the large body of water come gliding down in a curve from far away up in the darkness, to gleam in the firelight as it passed them, and then dive down into the deeper darkness below. "An awful-looking place, boys, in the darkness," said the colonel quietly. "There now, we'll seek our blankets--at least you shall, for I shall take the first watch; John Manning will take the second." "Shall I sit up with you, father?" said Perry. "No, my lad, we must husband our resources. Your turn will come to-morrow night. Remember what I said about the guns. Make no show, but have your ammunition ready for use at a moment's notice. The Indians will see that, you may depend upon it, and act accordingly." Half an hour later the two boys were lying inside a little shelter formed of the mules' packs and a wall-like mass of rock, listening to the roar of the falls, and watching the figure of the colonel standing gazing out into the night, as he rested his chin upon the barrel of his piece. "I shan't go to sleep to-night," said Perry in a whisper. "Oh yes, you will. I shall," replied Cyril. Just then John Manning came close up, with his gun in his hand. "Good-night, gentlemen," he said. "Colonel says I'm to come and lie in the shelter here. Don't kick in the night, please, because I'm going to be at your feet. I had a messmate once out in India, who, when we were in barracks, used to sleep like a lamb, but so sure as we were on the march and had to share a tent, which meant he slept in his boots, you might just as well have gone to sleep with a pack of commissariat mules, for the way in which he'd let go with his heels was a wonder. Good-night, gentlemen, good-night." CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE PERIL THICKENS. There must have been something wonderfully lulling in the roar of that fall, and a feeling of great confidence in the fact that the colonel would keep watch over them half the night, and John Manning, stern, tried, old soldier that he was, for the second half; for, though the boys lay there, fully convinced that they would not be able to sleep, and had visions of knife-armed Indians creeping toward them through the darkness, they soon dropped off, and rested uninterruptedly for eight hours, when they sprang up at a touch from John Manning. "If you gentlemen will relieve guard," he said quietly, "I'll see about breakfast." Soon after, as if nothing whatever had happened, they all sat down to a hearty meal, and that over, once more started upon their journey through the mountains; the Indians seeming more willing, and at the suggestion that the mules should rest for a day or two in that luxuriant pasturage, eagerly assuring the colonel, through Cyril, that for days to come they would find plenty, and that the road would be easier. On hearing this, the colonel decided to go on, and soon found that the guide's words were correct; for, during the next six days, they traversed smiling valleys, with grass and trees in abundance. Snowcapped hills rose high above them; but where they journeyed, they were in a beautiful temperate climate, with rich soil and abundance of flowers. This part of their journey was delightful; for the way along the passes was easy, and the colonel, who was a dead shot, several times over added to their larder with his gun. But they went on in no false security; for several times over they passed Indians, and were made fully aware of the fact that every mile they took was carefully watched, and that the leader of the expedition inspected no mountain shelf, cave, or patch of dwarf forest, without his acts being duly noted, though in no observant way. Diego proved to be a perfect guide; and, making no objections now, he led them steadily on in a way which would have disarmed suspicion with some people; but the colonel was quietly on the alert, and went on examining plant, flower, and tree, at one time with all the patient care of a botanist; and at another time, when they were climbing some rugged shelf in a ravine, letting no mineral escape his observation. And all the while the little party, though they made no sign, were perfectly well aware that they were being watched. "Strikes me that when we've got it, they won't let us take a simple lump of gold out of the place, Master Cyril." "No," said the boy drily. "But I mean some of the precious stones, Master Perry. I shall have them." "How?" "Swaller 'em, sir, if I can manage it without being seen. Why, do you know I went down by that bit o' stream, last night, to bathe my feet, and before I got there, I stopped short and sneezed, and before I had time to say, `Bless me!' there was an Indian's head popped up over a bush, and another from behind a stone, to see what was the matter." "Yes; I've noticed something of the kind," said Cyril thoughtfully. "But I shouldn't advise you to swallow any stones you find." "Why, sir?" "Because they won't agree with you." "They agree with chickens," said Manning, grinning, "and make their hard food digest, so I don't see why they shouldn't agree with me, sir. But, I say, Master Perry, let it out now; I'm sure you'd feel a deal happier if you told us what the colonel's hunting for." "I shall not tell you, because I don't know. My father knows best about what he's doing, I daresay. We thought, the other day, that we were in great danger; but you saw how quietly he took it, and how it all came to nothing." "Perhaps the time has not come yet," said Cyril rather seriously; "don't let's talk too soon." No more was said then; but a few days later, the others thought of how prophetic the boy's words had proved. But it was not until another fortnight had passed, and a day had arrived when, after journeying through a deep defile of a similar character to that which they had threaded upon the day when they met the llama caravan, they reached a point upon the slope of a huge mountain, from which they looked down over a glorious picture of hill and dale, verdant forest and wide-reaching plain, with, in two places, thin serpentine threads of water glistening in the sun. "At last," said the colonel gravely. "It has been a long journey, boys, but we have reached the point I sought." Cyril looked at him inquiringly; and Perry, who felt that he was expected to speak, said: "Yes; it's very grand. How different to being in amongst the mountains!" "Yes, boy; we can breathe out here. Did you notice the water in the last two streams we passed?" "Yes; very beautiful with the overhanging trees, father." "Yes; but the way they ran?" "No," said Perry. "Look yonder, then," said the colonel, pointing to a little rivulet which leaped out from between two masses of rock. "Where is that going?" "Into another stream, I suppose," said Perry, "and that will run into another, and so on, till they all together form a big river, and run into the ocean." "Yes; but what ocean, my boy? Don't you see that we have crossed the watershed? Till the last day or two, all the streams we passed have been going constantly west into the Pacific. Now we have passed through the mountains, and found the eastern slope, where all run down to make the vast rivers which flow into the Atlantic." "I should not have known," said Perry. "Nor I," said Cyril; "but its much fresher out here." "Yes, we have left the dry region behind, to get into the land of rains and many waters. We saw no such forests as those which are spread before us even at this height." "Is this high, sir?" asked Cyril. "Yes, my lad, about nine thousand feet." "And shall we go back the same way?" asked Perry. "Possibly, my lad, but more probably not. It depends upon the way the Indians treat us." "But we can never find our way back any other way," cried Cyril. "Don't think about it. We should be lost up here in these mountains." "No, because we have a guide with us, my boy, and if I can help it, he will not leave us till he has seen us safely back." Cyril said nothing, but the thought occurred to him: "Suppose we wake some fine morning, and the guides are gone." They camped that night on the slope of the hill, and till it was growing dark, the colonel busied himself with his glass, carefully, as it seemed to the boys, inspecting the forest in every direction, and ending by closing the telescope with a satisfied smile, which was not lost upon Cyril. "He has found it," he said to Perry, as soon as they were alone. "Found what?" "What he has come after." Perry looked at him wonderingly. "You have found out?" he said. "No, I wish I had; but didn't you see how pleased he seemed when he came back to supper, and said that we should camp here for a few days?" "Yes, I noticed that." "Well, doesn't it mean that we have got to the spot at last that he was in search of?" Perry shook his head. "Well, you see if we don't find out something to-morrow." Perry had almost forgotten his companion's words at breakfast-time the next morning, but they came to his memory as soon as they had done, for the colonel said: "Now, boys, we'll make a little expedition along the edge of the forest here this morning. Cyril, tell the men to mind the mules don't stray too far, and keep up the fire." John Manning looked sharply at the colonel, as much as to say: "Then you mean me to come also, sir?" "Yes, I want you to carry spare ammunition and the game-bag. I hope we shall have some sport along here," said the colonel, who had caught the old soldier's inquiring gaze. Half an hour later, they were tramping along the mountain-slope, through open woods that were quite park-like, and gave them glimpses of the far-spreading region below, all vested in a delicate bluish mist, while where they journeyed all was brilliant sunshine. There was a delicious feeling of spring in the air, for though the sun was hot, the air was crisp and cool, making the task of walking easy, and giving the travellers a feeling of elasticity, wanting when passing through the gloomy gorges of the huge mountain-chain. The colonel led off as if he were quite accustomed to the place, though there was no sign of a track, and before they had gone far, Perry whispered a hope that they would not lose their way. "No fear," said Cyril. "We are keeping the mountains on our left, and we must keep them on our right as we go back. We have only to keep along till we strike the stream, and follow it up or down till we reach our fire. I daresay we shall see it long before we are near, by the smoke." They had gone quite a couple of miles without seeing any trace of game, the woods being wonderfully silent. The colonel was on in front, and the two boys about twenty yards behind, each bearing a gun, when Perry suddenly paused. "Where's John Manning?" he said. "I thought he was close up." They waited, and then whistled several times, but there was no response, and then Cyril ran back to where the land was more open, but still there was no sign; and he was about to run forward again, and signal to the colonel to stop, when the missing man suddenly appeared with his piece at the trail, running hard, but keeping himself bent down, to avoid being seen. "What's the matter?" said Cyril, as the old soldier came up. "Seen a deer?" "No, sir; I only had a suspicion." "What of?" "Struck me that Master Diego would come after us to see which way we went." "Well?" "Yes, I hung back to watch, and he's half a mile behind, tracking us by our footmarks, with his head down, or else he'd have seen me." "Come on, and tell the colonel." They hurried forward, and joined Perry, waiting for them anxiously. "At last," he said excitedly. "Did you see?" "See what?" "Those Indians." "No. Where?" said Cyril. "On both sides, among the trees. They are watching us. What ought we to do?" "Rearguard closes up on the main body," said John Manning quickly. "Single file, and at the double. Now, sir, you head the advance. March." Cyril sprang forward to overtake the colonel, looking down as he trotted forward in search of trampled-down grass and broken twigs; but from the first he saw nothing, neither could he hear a sound, and after some minutes' progress, he pulled up short, and breathing hard. "We had better spread out now," he said, "or we shall overlook him." "Didn't you see which way he went?" said John Manning. "Out this way somewhere," said Perry. "He can't be far away." "Enemy closing in," said the old soldier in a low voice. "Forward, my lads. We must find him now." Those last words sent a chill through Cyril, who sprang forward again, and then nearly uttered a shout; for, about fifty yards in front, he caught sight of the colonel standing half hidden by the thick growth at the edge of a clearing, where some dozen or so of men were busy apparently cutting wood. Beyond them were two rough huts thatched with boughs, and piled up in little stacks were fagots of the wood which the men had cut down. They were so busy over their task, that they had not noticed the presence of the colonel, neither did they hear the approaching footsteps as they worked on. But the colonel did, and turned and hurried back to meet the boys, holding up his hand to command silence. His eyes were flashing with satisfaction as they came up, and he had a branch of one of the trees about them in his hand. "We thought we had lost you," said Perry excitedly. "What's that?" "The magic tree I have come all these thousands of miles to seek, boy, and now--" "Will you cast your eye this way, sir?" said John Manning, in a hoarse low voice of warning. "Indians all around. Do it mean mischief, or are they only friends?" He gave his head a backward wag as he spoke, and as Cyril looked excitedly in the indicated direction, he saw that which made him thrust his hand into his pouch to count the cartridges; for if the coming Indians meant offence, they as travellers were in mortal peril of losing their lives. CHAPTER TWELVE. AT BAY. To have attempted to escape, the colonel said, would be madness, for it would have suggested fear of the approaching Indians, and made them think at once that the visit to their secluded haunts meant no good to them; so throwing his piece into the hollow of his left arm, and bidding the others do as he did, Colonel Campion took a few steps forward to meet the Indians, and held out his hand. This had the effect of making them halt a few yards from them, and keeping their faces fixed upon the English party, they talked rapidly among themselves. At that moment Cyril caught sight of Diego hanging back among the men in the rear. "There's our guide, sir," he said hurriedly. "Shall I call him?" "He there?" said the colonel sharply. "Yes, call him. No: go through them, and fetch him, boy." Cyril hesitated for a moment or two, and his heart beat high; but the order had been given in true military style, and it had its influence. The boy felt that he would be backed up by the colonel in all he did, and throwing his gun over his right shoulder, he stepped boldly forward, finding that the white was master even here; for the Indians, taken by surprise at his firmness, parted at once to let him pass, and then Cyril's pulses beat a little more rapidly, for the men closed up again, shutting him off from his friends. The boy felt this, but he knew that he must not show fear, and without a moment's hesitation, he walked on up to where Diego stood half hidden behind a couple of the Indians, and clapping his hand upon the man's shoulder, "Come," he said, "the colonel wants you." The guide shrank at Cyril's touch, and looked at his fellows for support, but no one stirred, and uttering a low sigh, the man allowed himself to be marched away to where the colonel stood, the Indians giving way on either side, and then closing up again in silence, and without the slightest show of menace. For to them it was as if a superior being had calmly passed among them and fetched one, each man feeling relieved that he was not the one selected, and that, had he been, he would have felt compelled to go. "Well done, British boy," said the colonel to Cyril, as he stopped before him with the guide, who looked of a curious dusky colour now; his eyes showing the whites around the iris, and his lips seeming parched as he moistened them hastily with his tongue from time to time. "Now then," continued the colonel sharply, as if he were addressing a delegate from a mutinous company of his old regiment, "why have you brought all these men after me, sir?--Interpret quickly, Cyril." This was done, and the man's voice trembled as he answered. "He says they made him come, sir," said Cyril. "Which is a lie," cried John Manning; "for he has been dodging us all the time." "Silence there. 'Tention!" cried the colonel harshly, and the old soldier drew himself up smartly, lowered and then shouldered arms, just as if he had been on parade. It was a trifle, but it had its effect upon the Indians, giving them a great idea of the importance of the colonel, who stood there, erect and stern, issuing his orders; and in their eyes he was a great white chief, if not a king. "Now," he said sharply, "let that boy ask him what these people want." Cyril interpreted and obtained his answer, the peril of their position sharpening the boy's faculties, and making him snatch at words of which he was in doubt. "They have come," said Cyril, "to see why you are here. They say you have no right to come amongst the kina gatherers, and that you must go back to the coast at once." "Indeed!" said the colonel haughtily. "We shall see about that. Tell them, boy, that I am the English chief of a great white queen; that I have come into this country to examine it and its products, and that I will shoot dead with this piece the first man who dares to interfere with me and mine." "Hear, hear!" growled John Manning. "Silence in the ranks," cried the colonel sharply; while, gaining confidence, Cyril's voice partook somewhat of his leader's imperious command, as he repeated the words as loudly as he could, so that all might hear. There was a low fierce murmur from the little crowd, which was now augmented by the bark peelers, who closed the English party up from the rear. "What do they say?" cried the colonel, taking a step forward, and cocking his piece at the same moment. "That they will make us prisoners, sir," said Cyril. "Who dared say that?" roared the colonel, and taking another step forward, he looked fiercely round, with the result that to a man the Indians bent their heads before him, and not one dared look him in the face. "Hah!" he ejaculated, "that is better. Now tell them I wish to see the kina gathered and prepared." Cyril gave the interpretation of his words, and Diego and an old Indian came humbly forward and laid down their bows and arrows at his feet. The colonel took a step and planted his foot upon the weapons. Then drawing back, he pointed down. "Pick them up!" he said sternly in English, and repeated the words in Spanish, when a low murmur of satisfaction arose, and the men stooped, lifted their weapons, and then making deprecating signs, they led the way into the clearing where the cinchona trees had been cut down, and the people had been busy collecting and drying the bark. The colonel went on first, and Cyril and John Manning next, followed by Perry and Diego. "It does one good, Master Cyril," whispered John Manning, "it does one good again, my lad. That's the sort of man the colonel is. Fit for a king, every inch of him. There ain't many men as would have faced a body of savage Indians with their bows and arrows like that. He's the right sort of stuff, ain't he? and yet they let him leave the army and go on half-pay." "Yes, but do you think there will be any treachery?" replied Cyril. "No, sir, I don't, so long as we show 'em we mean to keep the upper hand of 'em. They daren't. They know the colonel meant what he said, and felt that every word he said was true, and that a big chief had come among 'em." "Yes, I could see that," said Cyril. "My word, he was like a lion among a lot o' them big, long-necked sheep, sir; and you did your part of it splendidly." "I did?" said Cyril, looking at the man in wonder. "Yes, you, sir. I only wish our Master Perry would speak up as bold." "Why, John Manning," said Cyril, half laughing, "if you only knew how I felt." "I do, sir." "Not you, or you would not talk like that." "I tell you I do, sir. You felt just as I did first time I went into action, and heard the bullets go whizzing by like bees in the air, and saw some of them sting the poor fellows, who kept on dropping here and there, many of 'em never to get up again. I thought I was in a terrible fright, and that I was such a miserable coward I ought to be drummed out of the regiment; but it couldn't have been fright, only not being used to it; and I couldn't have been a coward, because I was in the front rank all the time, close alongside of your father; and when we'd charged and driven the enemy flying, the colonel clapped me on the shoulder and said he'd never seen a braver bit of work in his life, and of course he ought to know." "I did feel horribly frightened, though," said Cyril. "Thought you did, sir, that was all. You couldn't have done it better." "I don't know," said the boy, smiling. "Suppose the Indians had found me out?" "Found you out, sir? Bah! If it comes to the worst, they'll find out you can fight as well as talk. Now, just look here, sir; didn't you ever have a set to at school, when you were at home in England?" "Yes, two or three." "And didn't you feel shimmery-whimmery before you began?" "Yes." "And as soon as you were hurt, forgot all that, and went in and whipped." "Well, yes, I suppose so." "Of course you did, sir. That's human nature, that is. But, I say, Mr Cyril, sir, what does it all mean? Why has the colonel come out here? He can't have come just to see people cut down a few trees and peel off the bark." "I begin to think he has." "But I could have taken him down in Surrey, sir, and showed him into woods where they were doing all that to the oak trees, without coming out here, or running any risks of getting an arrow sent through you, just as if you was a chicken got ready to roast." "I don't quite understand it yet," said Cyril; "but don't talk any more now. Look, look! what is he going to do?" CHAPTER THIRTEEN. IN TREASURE LAND. They were by this time close up in front of the huts of the bark gatherers, when all at once one of the huge condors came swooping along overhead, looking gigantic up against the sky. And then it was as if a sudden idea had struck the colonel, who raised his piece, took aim, lowered it, and hesitated; for the huge bird was at a great distance, and the people looked at him wonderingly. The next moment his rifle was at his shoulder again, there was the flash and puff of white smoke, the sharp crack, and the rumbling echoing roar in the mountains, as the condor was seen to swerve and then dart straight upward. "Missed!" muttered John Manning, "but he felt the bullet." "Hit!" cried Cyril excitedly, for all at once the bird's wings closed, and it fell over and over and then dropped like a stone, crashing in among the trees about a hundred yards away. The Indians had looked on at first incredulously, and several of them exchanged glances as the condor shot upward as if to escape unharmed; but the moment it turned over and began to fall, they set up a loud shout and rushed off to pick up the fallen bird, the whole crowd making for the dense patch of forest, and then walking back steadily, bearing the bird in triumph. "Rather a risky thing to do, boys," said the colonel, reloading as he spoke. "If I had missed, I should have done harm to the position we have made in these people's estimation. But I felt that I could hit the bird, and now they will believe that I may prove a terrible enemy in anger." "Do it? Of course he could," whispered John Manning. "I've known him take a rifle from one of our men lots of times, and pick off one of the Beloochees who was doing no end of mischief in our ranks up in the mountains." By this time the Indians were back, looking full of excitement, and ready almost to worship the white chief who had come amongst them, with such power of life and death in his hands--powers beside which their bows and arrows and poison-dealing blowpipes seemed to them to be pitiful in the extreme. They laid the body of the great bird, which was stone-dead, at his feet, and then looked at him wonderingly, as if to say, "What next?" That shot had the effect which the colonel had intended to produce, for to a man the Indians felt the terrible power their white visitor held in his hand, and each felt that he might be the object of his vengeance if any attack was made. But Colonel Campion felt that the effect was only likely to be temporary, and that he must gain the object for which he had made his perilous journey as quickly as possible, and begin to return before the impression had worn off. Bidding Cyril then tell their guide that he should camp there for a few days, he sent the two men back for the mules, giving orders that they should take a couple of the Indians who had followed them to help. His manner carried the day, and the party of four departed. "I suppose it's all right, Master Cyril," whispered John Manning; "but I should have thought we'd ha' done better by fortifying our own camp, and not running our heads right into the lion's mouth; but the colonel knows best, and we've only got to obey orders." Certainly that seemed to be the safest course to pursue--a bold one; so in this spirit, and as if the colonel felt that there was nothing whatever to be feared from the people, the mules and packages were brought up. A snugly-sheltered spot was selected, close to a spring which came gushing from the rock, and a fresh camp made; the party going and coming among the cinchona gatherers as if they were invited visitors; while the Indians themselves looked puzzled, and watched every action from a distance. That night, beside the fire, surrounded by the dense growth of the life-preserving trees he had sought, the colonel became more communicative. "You boys have, I daresay, canvassed why I undertook this expedition," he said, "and, I suppose, took it for granted that I came in search of the gold supposed to be hidden by the Peruvians, to save it from the rapacity of the Spaniards." "Yes, sir; that's what I thought," said Cyril. "Or else to find one of the di'mond walleys," growled John Manning. "This is not the right direction for them, my man," said the colonel, smiling. "You have to seek for them between the leaves of books. No, boys; I came to seek something of far greater value to my fellow-creatures than a buried store of yellow metal, which may or may not exist. It is possible that a number of the sacred vessels from some of the old temples may have been hidden by the priests, who, at their death, handed down the secret to their successors; but I think it is far more likely to be a fable. Still, the Indians believe in it, and if they knew that a discovery had been made, they would destroy the lives of the finders, sooner than that the gold should be taken out of the country." "Then you have not come to find the gold, sir?" said Cyril; while Perry lay there upon his chest, resting his chin upon his hands, and elbows on the earth, gazing up in his father's face. "No, boy; I have come, and I am running some risks, I know, to drag out into the light of day the wondrous medicine which has saved the lives of hundreds of thousands, and made it possible for men to exist in the fever-haunted countries spread around the globe." "You mean quinine," said Cyril. "Father always keeps a bottle in his desk." "Yes, I mean quinine, the beautiful crystals obtained from the bark of these trees, boy; the medicine kept so jealously guarded here, the only place where it is produced, high up on the eastern slope of these mountains. I have come to seek it, and have found it far more easily than I expected: we are sitting and lying here right in the middle of one of the cinchona groves." "But we can't take away much, father, even if they will let us," said Perry. "Wrong, boy. I hope that we shall be able to bear away, unseen, enough to stock the world, and to make the drug, which is a blessing to humanity, plentiful, instead of civilised Europe having to depend upon the supply from here--from this carefully-guarded place." "You mean to take away some young trees," said Cyril excitedly. "I should like to do so, but that is a doubtful way, my boy. The young trees would be awkward to carry, and transplanting trees often means killing them. We must try something better than that, though. I shall see what I can do in making one bundle, with the roots carefully bound up in damp moss." "Yes, we might do that," assented Cyril, "but we didn't bring a spade." "Let us find some tiny trees, and we'll do without a spade," said the colonel quietly. "But I am in this position, boys. I know very little about the trees we see around us. That they are the right ones there can be no doubt, for the Indians are camped here, cutting them down, and peeling off and drying the bark. There are several kinds which produce inferior kinds of quinine; but these laurel-like evergreen trees produce the true, the best Peruvian bark; and it is to take away the means of propagating these trees in suitable hot mountainous colonies of our own, that we are here. Now, how is it to be done?" "Indians won't let it be done, sir," said Manning. "Here, I know lots o' places up Simla way where it would grow fine. Up there, north o' Calcutta, sir." "Yes; there are spots there where it might be grown, or in the mountains of Ceylon," said the colonel; "but we have to get it there." "I know," said Cyril. "Let's get heaps of seed. Why, we might till our pockets that way." "Yes; that is my great hope, boys; so, whenever you see seed-pods or berries nearly ripe, secure them. But we are surrounded by difficulties. We may be here at the wrong time of year, though I calculated that as well as I could; and now that we are here, I have been terribly disappointed, for so far, instead of seeing seed, I have noted nothing but the blossoms. It is as if we are too early, though I hope these are only a second crop of flowers, and that we may find seed after all." "But these sweet-smelling flowers, something like small lilac, are not the blossoms of the trees, are they?" said Perry. "Yes, those are they," said the colonel. "Now my secret is out, and you know what we have to do.--Well, Manning, what is it?" "My old father had a garden, sir, and he used to grow little shrubs by cutting up roots in little bits, which were often dry as a bone when he put them in, but they used to grow." "Yes," said the colonel. "Quite right; and now we are here, in spite of all opposition, we must take away with us seeds, cuttings of twigs, and roots, and if possible, and we can find them, a number of the tiny seedlings which spring up beneath the old trees from the scattered seed. There, that is our work, and all must help.--Do you hear, Manning?" "Oh yes, sir, I hear, and if you show me exactly what you want, I'll do my best; but, begging your pardon, sir, ain't it taking a deal o' trouble for very small gains?" "No, my man, the reward will be incalculable." "All right, sir, you know best. I'll do what you tell me, and when we've got what we want, I'll fight for it. That's more in my way. But, begging your pardon once more, wouldn't it be better for you to go to the head-man, and say, through Master Cyril here: `Look here, young fellow, we've come a long journey to get some seed and young plants of this stuff; can't you make a sort of trade of it, and sell us a few pen'orth civilly.'" The colonel laughed. "No. They will not let us take a seed out of the country if they can prevent it. I will tell you all the worst at once. They will make a bold effort to master the dread with which I have succeeded in inspiring them, and fight desperately to stop us when we get our little store." "Then, begging your pardon again, colonel, wouldn't it ha' been better to have come with a couple of companies of foot, and marched up with fixed bayonets, and told him that you didn't mean to stand any nonsense, but were going to take as much seed as you liked?" "Invited the rulers of the country to send a little army after us?" "Yes, of course, sir; but they've got no soldiers out here as could face British Grenadiers." The colonel was ready to listen to every opinion that night, and he replied quietly: "I thought it all out before I started, and this was the only way--to come up into the mountains as simple travellers, reach the hot slopes and valley regions where the cinchona grows, and then trust to our good fortune to get a good supply of the seed. But, even now, from our start from San Geronimo we have been watched. You have noticed it too, boys. Even the guide we took has arrayed himself against us from the first, and, while seeming to obey my orders, has taken care to communicate with every one we passed that he was suspicious of my motives. Every mile we have come through the mountain-range has been noted, and will be noted, till we get back." "Why not go back, then, some other way, sir?" "Because we cannot cross the mountains where we please. The road we followed is one which, no doubt, dates from the days when the Incas ruled, and there are others here and there at intervals, but they will be of no use to us. Somehow or other, we must go back by the way we came, and I hope to take at least one mule-load with us to get safely to England. There, that is enough for to-night. Now for a good rest and we shall see what to-morrow brings forth. Cyril and Perry, you will be on sentry till as near midnight as you can guess, and then rouse me. I'm going now to take a look round at the mules, and then I shall lie down." He rose and walked away to where the mules were cropping the grass, which grew abundantly in the open places, and as soon as he was out of hearing, John Manning began to growl. "All right, young gentlemen," he said, "I'm ready for anything; but, of all the wild scarum-harum games I was ever in, this is about the wildest. Come up here to steal stuff! for that's what it is, and you can't call it anything else. I've know'd people steal every mortal thing nearly, from a horse down to a pocket-knife. I've been where the niggers tickled you when you was asleep and made you roll over, so that they could steal the blanket you lay upon. I've seen the crows in Indy steal the food out of the dogs' mouths; but this beats everything." "Why?" said Perry shortly. "Why, sir? Because physic's a thing as everybody's willing enough to give to someone else; I didn't think it was a thing as anybody would ever dream o' stealing. As you may say, it's a thing as couldn't be stole." "Father knows what he is about," said Perry shortly. "Course he does, sir. Nobody denies that. We've got to begin taking physic with a vengeance. All right: I'm ready. And I was thinking all the time as we should bring back those four-legged jackasses loaded with gold and precious stones. All right, gentlemen. As I said before, I'm ready; and it's a good beginning for me, for I shall get a long night's rest; so here goes." He rolled himself in his blanket, then lay down with his feet near the fire, and began to breathe the heavy breath of a sleeper the next minute. "Well, Cil," said Perry, "what do you think of it?" "Don't know," said Cyril. "Yes, I do. They're wonderfully watchful over the bark, and as soon as they know what we are after, they'll stop us." "Then we must not let them see what we are after, my lad," said the colonel, who had returned unseen. "We must collect plants and flowers of all kinds, and load a couple of the mules. That will help to disarm suspicion.--Pieces loaded?" "Yes, sir." "That's right. We must keep military watch now regularly; but there will be nothing to fear to-night." CHAPTER FOURTEEN. THE NIGHT-WATCH. Those were very encouraging words, and they seemed to tingle in the boys' ears as the colonel followed his servant's example, rolled a blanket about his shoulders, and lay down with his head resting on one of the mules' loads; but the impression soon died away, leaving the lads close together, with their guns resting on the grass, listening in the deep silence of the starlit night, and for some time without speaking a word. "Come a little farther away," whispered Perry at last. "I want to talk." They moved a few yards away from the sleepers, and stopped beneath a great spreading tree at about equal distance from the colonel and the fire, which glowed faintly, but gave sufficient light for them to see Diego and the other Indian squatted down, making tents of their long garments, and with their chins bent down upon their breasts; but whether asleep, or waking and watchful, it was impossible to say. "Well?" said Perry at last, after they had been straining their ears to catch different sounds, now the trickling murmur of falling water, now some strange cry from far away in the woods, or the whisper of a breeze which came down from the mountains to pass away among the trees. "Well?" said Cyril. "Isn't it awfully quiet?" "Yes." "Look over there, just to the left of the fire. Isn't that some one watching us?" "Tree trunk," said Cyril laconically. There was a pause, and then Perry whispered again. "I say, I don't want to be cowardly, but there's some one coming slowly through the trees. I caught a glimpse of his back. He's stooping down--there, between those two big trunks, where it's open. Don't you see--stooping?" "Yes, I see, and nibbling the grass as he comes. One of the mules." Perry shaded his eyes--needlessly, for there was no glare to shut out-- and he soon convinced himself that his companion was right. But he felt annoyed, and said testily: "I wish you wouldn't be so ready to contradict everything I say." Cyril laughed softly. "Why, you didn't want it to be an enemy, did you?" Perry made no reply, and they stood for some time together in silence, listening to the _crop, crop_ sound made by the mules, and the whispering sighs of the wind, which came down sharp and chill from the mountains. At last Cyril spoke again. "Let's walk round the camp." "You can't for the trees." "Oh yes, we can. It's cold standing here. We'll work in and out of the trees, and make a regular path round. It will be better than standing still." "Very well," said Perry shortly. "Go on first." Cyril shouldered his piece and stepped off cautiously for a couple of dozen yards, and then struck off to the left, meaning to make the fire act as a centre round which they could walk, keeping guard and themselves warm; but before he had gone many steps he stopped short. "Look here," he whispered, "you are a soldier's son, and ought to teach me what to do in keeping guard." "There's nothing to teach," said Perry. "All you've got to do is to keep a sharp lookout." "Yes, there is. If we keep together like this, we leave a lot of the camp exposed. What we ought to do is for one to go one way, and one the other; then meet, cross, and go on again. It would be far better." "But then we should be alone so long. We had better keep together." "Very well," said Cyril shortly; but he owned to himself that he felt better satisfied, for it was lonely, depressing work there in the darkness. Cyril stepped forward again, going slowly and carefully through the thick growth, making as little noise as possible, and trying to keep as nearly as possible to the same distance from the fire--no easy task, by the way--but he had not gone far before he stopped short and started aside, bringing his gun down to the present. For, all at once, from out of the darkness, some one seemed to strike at him, the blow cutting through the twigs and leaves by which he was surrounded with a loud whistling noise, while the stroke was so near, that he felt the air move close to his face. "Fire--fire!" whispered Perry excitedly. "What at? I can't see any one," replied Cyril, as he stood with his finger on the trigger. He felt his heart beat with a heavy throb, and his hands grew moist, as he tried hard to pierce the darkness, and fix his eyes upon the enemy who had made so cowardly a blow at him; but the thick branches shut out every ray of light, and the silence was now painful in the extreme. The position was the more startling from the fact that neither could tell from which side the next blow would come. But still that blow did not fall, and it seemed to Cyril, as he stood there holding his breath, that the Indian who had struck at him so treacherously was waiting until he moved, so as to make sure before striking again. At last the painful tension came to an end, for suddenly, from just in front, there was a heavy sigh, and _crop, crop, crop_, followed by a burst of laughter from the boy. "Oh, I say, Perry," he cried, "what a game! Fancy being scared like that by a mule." "Then it was one of the mules?" "Of course; we frightened the poor thing, and it kicked out at us. Come along." He bore off a little to one side, and they passed the browsing animal, and, though describing rather an irregular circle, made their way round the fire, getting back pretty exactly to the place from which they started. This was repeated several times, and then, for a change, Cyril proposed that they should strike off a little, straight away from the camp. Perry was willing, and they put their plan in operation, for no special reason other than that of seeing the ground was clear in different directions, and to relieve the monotony of the watch. "You lead now," said Cyril, in a low voice, so as not to disturb the others, who, in thorough confidence that a good watch would be kept, and that there was no fear of any danger, were sound asleep. Perry led on, finding the way more open a short distance from the camp, but he had not led thirty yards when he stopped short. "Hallo! another mule?" said Cyril. "Indian!" said Perry huskily; and, as Cyril pressed forward to his companion's side, there, hard to define, but plain at last, stood one of the Indians, who raised his arm and pointed back, uttering two or three words in a guttural tone. "What does he say?" "That we must go back to the fire. Perhaps we had better," said Cyril. "I don't like his being there, though. Look here," he said quickly; "let's make haste back, and go right out the other way." "What for?" said Perry, following his companion. "I'll tell you directly." Five minutes later they were checked just on the other side by another Indian who started up right in their path. "Come and warn my father," said Perry excitedly. "They're going to attack us." "No; I think not," replied Cyril decisively. "They're sentries. Come and try another way." He led off again, after they had returned to the fire, finding that they were not followed, and that all was still; and again they were stopped by an Indian starting up and ordering them back. "That's it," said Cyril quietly; "they've surrounded us with sentries." "To attack us?" "No; to see that we don't escape; and while we were walking round and round, they were within a few yards of us, listening to all our movements." "But they couldn't have been there then, or they would have started up as they did just now." "No; we weren't doing anything they minded; but as soon as we tried to go straight away, they stopped us. Let's try once more." He led off quickly again, with the same result; and then Perry turned back to where his father lay asleep. "What are you going to do?" whispered Cyril. "Wake up my father, of course. We are attacked." "Don't do that," said Cyril decisively. "We are not attacked, or they would have seized us at once. I'm sure they are only guarding us, to make sure that we don't try to escape. It's of no use to wake him till the proper time." Perry hesitated. "But we are in danger." "No; I don't think we are. They are watching us, but they don't mean to attack us, or they would do so. You'll see now. We've come among them, and they'll keep us under their eye, and perhaps will not let us go again. Look here: let's go and speak to Diego." Perry was easily led, and yielding to his companion's decisive manner, he followed to the fire and then round to the other side, where the Indian guide and his companion were squatted down with their chins resting upon their chests. They made no sign as the boys came silently up, and appeared to be fast asleep; but Cyril knew better, for he saw in the dim glow shed by the fire, a slight tightening of the man's hand upon his bow. "They're asleep," whispered Perry. "Better come to my father." "Asleep with one eye open, and on the watch," said Cyril quietly, and he bent down and whispered a few words. They were electric in their effect, for both men raised their heads, and their eyes glittered in the faint light from the fire. "Didn't take much waking," said Cyril, with a little laugh. Then turning to Diego, he said, in the man's half-Spanish jargon: "Why are the Indians on the watch all round here?" The man looked at the speaker intently. "Are the Indians watching all round?" he said quietly. "You know they are. Why is it? To keep us from going away?" The man looked at him intently, and then nodded his head. "And suppose we try to go away, what then? Would they fight?" "Yes," said the guide gravely. "And try to kill us?" "Yes, they would kill you." "Try to, you mean." "No," said the man gravely. "Kill you. You are few, they are many." "Stop a moment," said Cyril, as the man turned his head aside wearily. "Will they try to kill us if we stay?" "No." Cyril tried to get more information from the man, but he shook his head, and made a pretence of being so lazy and unable to comprehend the boy's words, that Cyril gave up in disgust, and turned impatiently away. "It's of no good to-night," he said. "We heard all that he is likely to know. Let's walk round again." "But they may strike at us in the dark." "No, they will not do that. I'm not afraid. Let's go through with our watching, till we think it's midnight, and then wake up the colonel." "We'd better call him now." "No; if we did, it would only be giving a false alarm, when we know that there is no danger. Come along." The weaker mind yielded to the stronger, and the march round was begun again, one which required no little courage, knowing, as the boys did, that there must be quite a dozen Indians within striking distance, and every rustle they heard, made probably by one of the grazing mules, might be caused by an enemy creeping forward to strike a blow. At last, when they felt that it must be getting toward midnight, Cyril proposed that they should go back close to where the colonel lay asleep, and they had not been standing near him ten minutes, hesitating to call him for fear he should be awakened too soon, when he suddenly made a hasty movement, opened his eyes, looked round, and sprang to his feet. "Midnight, boys," he said, "is it not?" "We don't know, father, and did not like to call you too soon." "Yes, it must be about midnight," he said decisively, "or I should not have woke up. Well, is all right?" "No, father," whispered Perry. "Oh yes; there's nothing to mind," said Cyril hastily. "We only found that there are a lot of Indians round about the camp." "You saw them?" "Yes, sir. So soon as we moved a little way, a man rose up and stopped us." "On one side?" said the colonel. "All round, sir." "On guard, then, in case we wished to escape. We're prisoners, my lad, for the present. However, they will not venture to hurt us, unless we give them good reason, by loading up the mules to take away something they consider ought to be kept here, and that we shall not be ready to do for some days to come." "That's what I wanted Perry to feel sir," said Cyril, "but he would have it that they were going to attack us to-night." "There is no fear of that, my boy," said the colonel firmly. "There, lie down, and sleep till breakfast-time; there is nothing to fear." "But are you going to watch alone, sir?" "Yes, quite alone, my lad," said the colonel, smiling. "There, take my place; I'm rested now, and you have nothing to mind. Don't meet perils half-way; its bad enough when they come. Till they do, it is our duty to be patient and watch. Afterwards we must fight--if it is necessary. Now--to bed." The boys obeyed, and the colonel commenced his solitary watch. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. COLLECTING THE GOLD. "Ever see 'em ketch eels at home, Master Cyril?" said John Manning one morning. "We used to set night lines in the lake at school," said Cyril. "We threw the bait out ever so far, and tied the other end to a brick sunk in the water." "Oh yes: but I don't mean that way, where every twopenny eel spoils four pen'orth o' good line and hooks. I mean with an eel-trap, one of those made of osiers, so that it's very easy to get in, but very hard to get out." "Yes; I saw some of those once," cried Perry, "up by a weir. But why? There are no eels here." John Manning chuckled, and shook all over, as if he enjoyed what he was saying. "Not many, sir, but quite enough. We're the eels, and we've wriggled ourselves right into a trap, and there's no getting out again." "It doesn't seem as if there were," said Cyril thoughtfully; "but we're getting what the colonel wanted, and I don't think the Indians have noticed it yet." "'Tain't for want of looking, sir," said the old soldier. "I go for a bit of a walk in one direction, and begin picking something, and feel a tickling about the back. `Some one's eyes on me,' I says to myself, and I go a bit farther, and feel the same tickling in front. Then one side, then t'other, and it's always eyes watching." "Yes," said Perry. "We've been a week here, and I get so sick of it: I never move without there being some one after me; and the worst of it is, you don't see him coming, but find him watching you from behind a rock, or out of a bush." "Yes," said Cyril, "it isn't nice. They crawl about like snakes, and almost as quietly." "Don't matter," said John Manning, with another chuckle. "We can be as cunning as they. How have you young gents got on since the colonel give his orders?" "Pretty well," said Cyril. "Of course it's of no use to try and get roots or cuttings, they look too sharp after us; but I've found some seed, and he has got more than I have." "How much have you got, both of you together?" asked the old soldier, with his eyes twinkling. "Nearly a handful, I should say," replied Cyril. "A handful, sir! Why, what's that? I've got quite half a gallon." "You have?" cried Perry. "Father will be so pleased." "Course he will, sir," said John Manning, with a self-satisfied smile. "`Get every seed you can,' he says, `and they'll hardly notice you.' "`Right, sir,' I says, and I set to work quietly, going a bit here, and a bit there, in among the trees, making believe I was making for them cocoa-nut leaves as the Indians chew; and whenever I caught one of the Injuns watching me, I picked a leaf, and began to chew it, and nodded at him, and said _bono, bono_. You should have seen how he grinned and showed his teeth at me, Master Cyril, and I could see he was thinking what a fool this Englishman was. But I wasn't quite so stupid as he thought, eh?" "But that's not cocoa-nut leaf," said Cyril, "but the leaf of the coca." "Well, sir, that's what I say. I know it isn't the nuts but the leaves they chew." "But the coca leaf's a different thing." "Course it is, sir; one's a leaf and t'other's a nut." "But, don't you see, cocoa-nut leaf and coca leaf are different things?" "No, sir; but it don't matter. They think I'm hunting for them leaves to chew, and they laugh at me, and all the time I'm getting a good heap of the seeds the colonel wants. 'Tain't the first time he's sent me to forage." "But where are the seeds?" said Cyril. "All right, sir," said John Manning, with a look full of cunning. "Never you put all your eggs in one basket, sir." "Of course not; but I hope you've put them in a dry place. Seeds are no use if they're not kept dry." "They're all right, sir. I've got some in each of my pockets, and some along with my cartridges in my satchel, and some inside the lining of my coat, and a lot more round my waist." "Round your waist?" cried Cyril. "You can't wear seeds round your waist." John Manning chuckled once more. "Can, if you put 'em in an old stocking first, sir," he said. "But look here, young gents, as I'm so much more lucky than you are, and know better where to go for 'em, you'd better take part o' mine, and leave me free to fill up again." "Yes, that will be best," assented Perry. "I can take a lot in my pockets." "Any one looking, sir?" "Very likely; but I shall take no notice. They won't know what we're changing from one pocket to the other, so let them watch." "All right, sir; then here goes," said the old soldier, thrusting a hand deep down into his trousers pocket, and drawing out a quantity of seed. "Here you are, sir; and I'd make believe to eat a bit in case any one is watching." But as they were seated out of the sun, in the shade of the rough hut that had originally been put up for drying the kina bark, they were pretty well hidden from watchers, and able to carry on the transfer in comparative secrecy. "But this isn't seed of the cinchona tree," cried Cyril excitedly. "What!" said the old soldier sharply, and as if startled. Then altering his tone to one of easy confidence, with a dash of the supercilious. "Don't you talk about what you can't understand, sir. These here are what the colonel showed me, and told me to pick for him." "They're not the same as my father told me to pick," cried Perry. "Well, seeing as you're young gents, and I'm only a sarvant," grumbled the man, "it ain't for me to contradict, and I won't; but I will say them's the seeds the colonel told me to pick, and there they are, and you'd better put 'em away." "I'm not going to put these in my pocket," said Cyril, "for I know they're wrong." "And I certainly shan't put them in mine," said Perry. "Look here, young gents, ain't this a bit mutinous?" said John Manning. "Colonel's orders were that we should collect them seeds, and if you'd got the best lot, I should have helped you; but as you haven't got the best lot, and I have, ain't it your duty to help me?" "Yes; and so we should, if you hadn't made a blunder." "But I ain't, young gents; these here are right." "No," said Perry. "These are right," and he took a few seeds from his pocket. "And these," said Cyril, following his companion's example. "Not they," cried John Manning warmly. "They ain't a bit like mine." "No, not a bit," said Cyril triumphantly. "No, nor his ain't like yours, Master Perry." The boys stared, for this was a new phase of the question, and they eagerly inspected the treasures. "I'm sure I'm right," said Perry confidently. "And I'm sure I'm right," cried Cyril. John Manning put his arms round his knees, as he sat on the ground, and rocked himself to and fro, chuckling softly. At that point the colonel came up, and looked round wonderingly. "You're just in time, father," cried Perry. "Look at this seed John Manning has collected.--Show him, John." The old soldier triumphantly pulled out a handful, and held it under the colonel's nose. "What's that?" said his master. "The seed you told me to forage for, sir." "Absurd! There: throw it away." "Throw it away, sir?" "Of course. It is not what I told you. There, take and throw it away, where the Indians see you do it, and they will pay less attention next time they see you collecting." John Manning said nothing then, but went out of the slight hut frowning, came back, and the colonel turned to the boys. "Well," he said, "what have you got?" They both eagerly showed a little of the seed, and the colonel uttered an ejaculation full of impatience. "No, no," he said; "pray be careful. That is not the same as you got for me the day before yesterday." "Not mine?" cried Perry. "No, sir; nor yours either, Cyril. They are both cinchona, but of the inferior, comparatively useless kinds." John Manning chuckled. "But the seeds are so much alike, sir," said Cyril. "Yes, but the broken capsules with them are not, boy. The good splits down one way, the inferior the other. There, I suppose I must give you all another lesson. Come and have a walk at once." He led the way out, all taking their guns, in the hope of getting a little fresh provision, as well as to throw off the attention of the Indians, who smiled at them pleasantly enough, as they looked up from their tasks of cutting and peeling the bark from the trunks and branches, most of the men with their jaws working, as they chewed away at the coca leaf, which every one seemed to carry in a little pouch attached to the waist. No one seemed to pay further heed to them, but they were soon conscious that they were being watched, for an Indian was visible, when they went past the spot where their two guides were watching the browsing mules; and then, as they plunged into the forest, from time to time there was an indication that they were being well guarded, and that any attempt at evasion would result in an alarm being spread at once. Once well out among the trees, the colonel began picking leaf and flower indiscriminately, to take off the watcher's attention; but he contrived, at the same time, to rivet the boys' attention upon the flower and seed of the most valuable of the cinchona trees, indicating the colour of the blossom, and the peculiarities of the seed-vessels, till even John Manning declared himself perfect. "Seeds only," said the colonel. "I give up all thought of trying to take plants. We must depend upon the seeds alone, and we ought to get a good collection before we have done." "And then, father?" asked Perry. "Then we go back as fast as we can, if--" "If what?" asked Perry. "The Indians will let us depart." "That's it, sir," put in John Manning. "What I was saying to the young gentleman this morning. They don't mean to let us go. We've regularly walked into a trap." There was silence for a few moments, the colonel frowning, as if resenting the interference of his servant, but directly after he said quietly: "I'm afraid you are right, John Manning, but we must set our wits against theirs. In another week we shall have quite sufficient of the treasured seed to satisfy me--that is, if you three are more careful-- then we must start back, before our stores begin to fail." "What about the guides, sir?" said Cyril. "They will not help us." "No," said the colonel. "Not the Indian guides, but I have a little English guide here, upon which we shall have to depend. There must be other passes through the mountains, and we know that our course is due west. We shall have to trust to this." He held out a little pocket-compass as he spoke, and then, after they had added somewhat to the store of seed already collected, both boys this time making the proper selection of tree from which to gather the reproductive seeds, they walked slowly back toward the camp. But not alone: the Indians who had followed them outward, returning slowly behind them, carefully keeping far in the background, and trying to conceal the fact that they were on the watch; but it was only too plain to all that it would require a great deal of ingenuity to escape notice and get a fair start when the time came for making their escape. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. PREPARING FOR FLIGHT. "I say, Cil, I don't quite know what to make of it," said Perry, a few days later. "These people are as civil and amiable as can be; they surely won't try to stop us when we want to go?" "You wait and see," was the reply. "They will. I know them better than you do." "But they don't think we have got anything to take away." "Perhaps not; but they will think that as soon as we are out of their sight we shall be searching for and taking something away that they want to preserve, and if we do get away unseen, they will be after us directly." "Well, we shall soon see," said Perry rather gloomily, as he sat gazing down into a deep valley running due south, in whose depths a bright gleam here and there told of the presence of water. "Yes, we shall soon know now. Your father and John Manning have been carefully examining the mules, and going over the stores and packages." "Have they? I didn't know." "I did, and then they came out here and sat for some time over their guns." "On the lookout for birds?" "On the lookout to see if this way would do for us to escape." Perry whistled. "Did they tell you so?" "No; but I put that and that together." "Put why go this way? This does not lead over the mountains." "Because the Indians will not think we should choose this route." "But we couldn't get over the mountains from down there." "We must," said Cyril quietly. "But," said Perry, "we can't get the mules and their loads away without Diego knowing." "Must again," replied Cyril. "We can't escape without a supply of food, and we must have the mules to carry it, for we may be weeks wandering about in the gorges of the mountains. So it's must, must, must, my lad. We've got it to do, and we're going to do it." "I say." "Well--what?" "Do you think it will come to a fight?" "Not if your father can help it; but if it does, we shall have to do some shooting." Perry drew his breath hard. "Don't stare down the valley any more," said Cyril, after a pause. "Why? It's very beautiful." "Because you're watched. We're watched always, sleeping or waking." "Then we shall never be able to get away," said Perry despondently. "Must, my lad. Why, we're not going to let a pack of half-savage Indians prove too clever for us. What are you thinking about? There, let's get back at once, or they'll be thinking we mean something by sitting here." Perry rose and followed his companion, who made several halts in the forest before they reached the shelter-hut, to find the colonel and John Manning away; but they returned soon after, each carrying a couple of good-sized birds, which gave a colour to their morning's walk. This game John Manning bore off to prepare by the fire which Diego and his companion kept going night and day; and as soon as he had gone, the colonel seated himself, and looked curiously from one boy to the other. "Well Cyril," he said sharply, "ready to go home and meet your father?" "Yes, sir," replied the boy promptly. "I want to get it over." "And you, Perry, ready to go back to where you can sleep in a decent bed again?" "Yes, father," replied Perry; but there was a dubious tone to his words. "That's right. Listen, then, both of you. I trust to you to make no sign whatever, but to go on precisely the same as usual, so as to keep the Indians in ignorance of our intentions." "Then you are going to make a start, sir?" said Cyril eagerly. "All being well, very soon, my lad." "But the mules, sir?" "Ah, we shall see about that," said the colonel. "I have now got together quite as much of the seed as I dared to hope for, and it would be foolish to delay longer. These Indian labourers are only working for somebody of importance, and if whoever he may be comes and finds us here, our position may be made very unpleasant, so I have decided for us to start at dark, to-morrow evening." This announcement caused a peculiar fluttering in the breasts of both lads, for they felt that they would not be able to get away without a struggle, since that they were detained here until some one in authority arrived, seemed certain; and they well understood how necessary it was for them to get away if possible. The rest of the day passed like a feverish dream to Cyril, whose thoughts were of a very mingled nature. On the one hand, there was the risk to be run in making their escape, and the long perilous journey before them; on the other hand, there was home at San Geronimo, and his father's stern face rose before him, full of reproach for his conduct; and now, more than ever, he asked himself how he could have been so mad and so cruel to those who loved him, as to leave in the way he had. Too late for repentance then, as he knew, and he had to face the inevitable, and take the punishment he deserved as patiently as he could. Toward dark the boys found themselves alone with John Manning, who whispered: "Been over the arms and ammunition, gentlemen, and they're in splendid order. Bit touched with rust, but that won't interfere with their shooting." "Don't talk about it," said Perry petulantly. "Can't help it, sir. We're off to-morrow night, and some of us may have to cover the retreat. You can't do that sort o' work without tools." "Look here," said Cyril eagerly. "How about the mules?" "I don't know, sir," replied the old soldier. "That's the puzzle of it. But the colonel knows what he means to do, of course. I've been with him before, when he was going to make an advance." "But this is a retreat," said Cyril sharply. "What, sir? Retreat? British soldiers don't retreat. Of course they have to make an advance the other way on sometimes. You can't always be going in one direction; but they don't retreat. It'll be all right, though, sir. You'll see: for following orders, I've got all the packs ready to stow on the saddles at a moment's notice, and we shan't leave nothing behind." They had a hint soon after of there being a plan all ready, for the colonel came and hunted Cyril out to act as interpreter, and walked down with him to where Diego and his companion were seated, while the mules were browsing here and there, some fifty yards away. "Now, interpret as well as you can," said the colonel. "Tell him that I am very angry about the state of the mules, which look half-starved. The feed about here is disgraceful, and all the time there is a splendid supply on the other side of the clearing, beyond where the Indians are cutting and stacking the bark." Cyril's voice shook a little from anxiety as he began his interpretation, but it soon grew stronger, and he gave the colonel's wishes with so much energy that the guide looked terribly disturbed as he replied. "What does he say?" cried the colonel angrily. "That the head-man of the kina gatherers gave orders that they were to be pastured here." "Then tell him to go to the head-man, and say I order them to be moved at once over to the other side of the huts, ready for me when I wish to go on." Diego started off at once, and returned soon after with the head-man and about a dozen of the Indians, to whom the colonel's wishes were repeated; and then came quite a deprecating reply that it was impossible, for the woodcutters were going in that direction the very next day, and the mules would be disturbed again. "Tell him my mules are of more consequence than his bark gatherers," said the colonel, "and that I insist upon the mules being moved." There was a laboured interpretation, a short buzz of conversation, and then a reply came through Diego that the head-man would obey the white chief's orders, and remove the mules to better pasture; but it could not be there, in the place he wished. "Tell him anywhere, so long as the poor beasts are properly fed." The colonel stalked away, with his rifle in the hollow of his arm, the Indians giving place obsequiously; but he turned back to Cyril. "Tell John Manning to stop and see where they are driven, and then come and report to me.--You two follow." Cyril gave the colonel's orders, and then went after him to the hut, where they sat waiting for nearly an hour before Manning arrived. "Well, where are the mules?" "They've driven 'em out of the bit of forest, sir, and down on the other side toward the slope of that big valley." "Hah!" ejaculated the colonel; and then, after a pause, "The very spot." "But you said the other side," said Cyril; "at the back of their huts." "Where I knew they would not have them," said the colonel. "It looked to them, in their childish cunning, like an attempt on my part to get the animals down toward the point from which we came; and, of course, they would not do that. I hardly expected such good fortune, boys; but the mules are in the very place I wish. Now we have to devise a means of getting those mules loaded unseen, and then starting off down the valley as soon after dark to-morrow night as possible." A long conversation followed as to those best means, and the colonel heard each one's proposal impatiently. Perry said it was impossible, and that they must all take as much provision as they could carry, and leave the mules behind. John Manning said there was only one way of doing it, and that was for him to take the stock off one of the guns, and as soon as it was dusk creep round the camp, and catch every one of the sentries by surprise, and then club him, and bind his hands and feet. "I could stun 'em, sir, and then they couldn't give no alarm." "You mean, murder the poor wretches," said the colonel quietly. "No, no, sir; not so bad as that," grumbled the man. "These Injuns have got heads as thick as rams. More likely to spoil the gun." "Now you, Cyril," said the colonel quietly. "I can't propose anything, sir," said Cyril frankly. "It seems to me that we might pass one or two of the Indians, but the others would see or hear the mules." "And you can propose nothing else?" Cyril shook his head, and the colonel got up and went out of the hut, to go and walk up and down where the Indians were busy, giving first one a friendly nod, and then another, evidently to their great satisfaction. The party in the hut watched him for a few moments, and then John Manning said: "There aren't no better way, gentlemen, than mine. I don't want to kill none of 'em, so long as they don't try to kill me, or any of you. If they do, why, of course, it makes me feel nasty, and as if I could do anything to stop 'em." "It's too horrid and butcher like," said Cyril firmly. "Yes," assented Perry. "Very well, then, gentlemen, suppose you propose a better way. It's of no use to go an' say, `Please we're tired of staying here, and want to go,' because that only would be waste of breath." "Yes," said Perry sadly. "We shall never get away till they give us leave." "Hear that, Mr Cyril, sir; that's my young master, and the son of a stout soldier as never turned his back on an enemy in his life. Don't say you're going to give up like that, sir." "No," said Cyril, setting his teeth. "I'm not going to give up, and he is not going to give up either. We'll get away somehow, though we can't see the way just now." "That we will, sir," cried John Manning excitedly. "Bri'sh wits again' Injun wits. Bah! who says we can't beat them? It's all right, gentlemen. I know the colonel, and have known him since he was a slip of an ensign, and I was not much more than a raw Johnny of a boy fresh from the awkward squad. I say I know the colonel, and he's only been leading us on. Wait till to-morrow night. He's got some dodge or another ready to fire off, and this time two days we shall be on our way back, and the Injuns'll be howling like mad, because they can't make out which way we've gone." CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. PERRY'S HORROR. "How do you feel, Cil?" said Perry, in the middle of that same night. "Horrible. Can't sleep. I am hot and itchy, and all of a fidget about things." "Father said we were to take things coolly, when he said good-night." "Didn't say how, did he?" whispered Cyril. "I shall be so glad when we begin doing something. Anything's better than this waiting to begin. I say--" "Yes." "Isn't it near morning?" "No, it ain't," said a gruff voice in an ill-used tone. "How's a man to get a good sleep before he relieves the colonel, if you two young gents keep on twisting about and talking?" "All right, we'll be quiet now." "Ay, do, my lads. Get a good sleep, and have a nap or two to-morrow, for we shall be travelling all night." There was silence for the rest of the time in the little camp, broken only by a weary sigh or two, for no sleep came to the restless lads; and the next morning found them red-eyed and feverish in spite of the bathe they had in the intensely cold water of the neighbouring mountain rill. And all that day they were on the strain, and constantly on the watch for the colonel, hoping that he would become communicative. But he was very quiet, and spent the greater part of the day either sleeping or pretending, and lounging about watching the Indians busy cutting down trees, or peeling the boughs and twigs. John Manning, too, looked wonderfully lazy, and avoided the boys, who at last began to look at each other in despair. "I can't make it out," said Perry at last. "We are not going to-night, or father would have said something--don't you think so?" "Don't know." "But you don't think we can be going?" "I think we are," replied Cyril, "and they are doing all this to throw the Indians off their guard." Dinner-time came, for which meal John Manning had prepared a very satisfactory dish from some charqui flavoured with fruit and vegetables, and the boys anxiously waited again for some communication from the colonel. But he was still reticent, and after the meal was over, Diego and his companion were summoned and left to clear the tin bowl which did duty as a dish, a duty they always carried out to perfection, never leaving it so long as there was a scrap to finish. Then came the long, hot, weary afternoon, which the two boys started to pass under the boughs of a sturdy tree, both feeling their irritability increase as they listened to the crackling and breaking of wood near at hand, and the murmur of voices from the Indians, who kept on busily with their work. There was a humming noise in the air, as the insects darted here and there in the hot afternoon sunshine; and from where the two lads lay, they could see the mountains slope down rapidly into the long deep valley, filled now with a soft golden haze, while the air was delicious with the aromatic perfume shed by the trees around. Cyril felt hot, feverish, and weary still, but at the same time, as he lay there, it seemed as if that valley at his feet was very beautiful with the sun lighting it up from end to end, and that it would be a pity to start that night, before he had had a good restful sleep, and then-- directly after it seemed to him--he felt vexed with Perry for worrying and shaking him. The next moment he started up to find that the valley below looked dark, and the sun was on the other side of the mountains, while the colonel was standing over him, smiling. "That's better, boys," he said. "I'm glad that you have both had a good rest. You will be all the fresher for your walk." "Then you are going to-night, sir?" "Hush! Yes; of course.--Perry." "Yes, father." "Don't go away, either of you, and you must not look excited. Come and have supper--it is ready--and then wait about by the hut while the guides have theirs. You will take no notice of anything, but loiter about outside while John Manning and I act. But be ready to help, if I call upon you." "We'll do all you wish, sir," said Cyril excitedly. "Then do it calmly," said the colonel. "Mind this, the Indians must not have a suggestion that shall make them suspicious. To them everything must seem as if we were patiently submitting to our rather easy captivity. Come." The colonel led the way back to the fire, close to which their meal was spread by John Manning, and as the boys drew nearer, they saw that Diego and his companion were hanging about as if wondering why they had not been summoned sooner to partake of the meal. "Yes, we're late," said the colonel aloud, and setting the example, he took his place and began to eat as calmly as if nothing important was on the way. "Come, boys," he said quietly, "make a good meal, and don't look anxious; there are some of the Indians coming up. Recollect what I said." Cyril tried to act his part, and said something in a laughing way to Perry, but it fell very flat. Still, there was nothing in the scene to attract attention, and though they were all aware that work for the day had long ceased near the huts, and the Indians who were not partaking of their simple meal, were strolling about, and many of them keenly watching the white party, no head was turned. At last the colonel asked if all were done, and then rose and signed to Diego and the other man to come and take their places. This they did eagerly, and from where Cyril stood now in the semi-darkness, he could see the men's faces by the light of the fire, and that they were eating hungrily. "Did you look to the mules?" said the colonel in a low voice. "Yes, sir, all ready." "That's right. Now, boys, the Indians have strolled back, and I don't think they have set any watch yet. Keep on walking to and fro as you do sometimes, with your arms on each other's shoulders. Keep between the fire and the Indians' clearing, and take no notice of anything you see. We shall not leave you behind." Cyril's heart beat violently, and he heard Perry utter a low sigh as he threw his arm over his companion's shoulder and they began walking to and fro about twenty yards from their fire, while the low hum of many voices came from the clearing where the Indians were talking together before settling themselves for the night. Meanwhile Diego and his companion were eating away as if they had suffered a three days' fast, and showed no sign of leaving off, till all at once, just as the boys turned, they became aware of the fact that the colonel had gone from the spot where they had seen him last, and that he and John Manning had suddenly appeared in front of the guides, where they were eating. By the light of the fire they saw that guns were presented at the men's heads, with the effect of making them throw out their arms to seize their weapons, but before they could effect anything for their defence, they were thrust backward, and Cyril at the same moment saw by the firelight Diego lying upon his back, with the colonel's foot upon his chest, and the other man in a similar position, held down by John Manning. "Keep on walking," Cyril said aloud to Perry, for the latter had stopped, panting and startled, and Cyril felt him quiver as he half-forced him along. "What are they going to do? Kill them?" whispered Perry. "They're going to master them," replied Cyril. "Don't speak like that. Recollect our orders. It is to save them from being seen." The boys kept on their walk, watching the proceedings by the fire as much as they could, but in less than five minutes there was nothing to see, for both the guides were bound with a hide rope from the mules' packages; and urged onward by threats from the colonel's and John Manning's pieces, they had passed out of sight among the bushes in an enforced stooping position, a faint crackling telling of the direction in which they had gone, while a louder crackling and snapping told, with the accompanying blaze, that something had been thrown upon the fire. "The bows and arrows," whispered Perry, and they kept up their monotonous tramp to and fro. "What are they doing now?" said Perry suddenly, and then he started, for Cyril burst out into a merry laugh, and gave him a sharp slap on the back, so suddenly, and with such force, that Perry stumbled forward, and nearly fell. "Are you mad?" cried the boy furiously. "Not quite," said Cyril merrily. "Here, give us your hand, old chap: I'll haul up. That's your sort. Ahoy! There you are again." He said all this boisterously, and then in a low whisper: "Keep it up. Hit me, or do something. Two Indians have come up close to watch." Perry trembled violently, but he tried to follow out his companion's plan, and turning upon him, engaged in a mock struggle, each making believe to throw the other for a minute or two, and then laughingly resuming their walk to and fro. Those laughs were very hysterical, though, and Perry's next words came with gasps as he said: "See the Indians now?" "No; they're either gone back or they're hiding." "Which? Let's go and see." "We can't," replied Cyril. "Our orders are to walk up and down here, as if nothing were wrong. Can't you see it will make them believe we are going on as usual?" "Yes," said Perry huskily; "but I wish my father would come now." "So do I." "Those two may have got the better of them." "Not they," said Cyril stoutly. "It would take three Indians to get rid of your John Manning. Your father will take care they do nothing. Don't take any notice. Hear that?" "Yes, some one going away through the bushes. Those two hadn't gone, and they were hiding." "Yes." "But are they both gone now?" "I only heard one," said Cyril, beginning to whistle a merry tune, but before he had got through the first strain, there was another faint rustling among the trees. "There goes the other," said Cyril quietly, and then he broke into a loud yawn. "Heigh--he--ha--hum," he said. "How dark it has grown." "Listen," whispered Perry. "I heard it," said Cyril. "One of the mules squeaking." "No, it was a horrible cry. Some one has been killed." "There goes another then," said Cyril, as a peculiar sound came from the forest. "Yes, they are killing the guides." "I tell you, it was the squeaking of the mules. I know the sound well enough." "I'm sure you're wrong," protested Perry. "And I'm sure _you_ are. If it was the cry of some one being killed, wouldn't there be a rush of the Indians, to see what was the matter?" "If they heard it." "And they would. Trust them for that. The mules are excited and calling to one another. I believe they are being loaded." "Oh, how can you take it all so coolly?" groaned Perry. "My heart beats as if it would break, and I feel a curious choking sensation at the throat, and all the time you take it as if there was nothing the matter." "Do I? You don't know," said Cyril. "I believe I'm worse than you are; but never mind, try to laugh." "Laugh," said Perry piteously. "I feel as if I could sit down and cry." "Leave that to the girls, lad. We've got something else to do. Don't stop. We must keep on, so as to keep the Indians from thinking there's anything wrong. There, cheer up. Can you sing any thing?" "Sing!" cried Perry, in a voice full of reproach. "Very well, then, I must whistle softly." He commenced a tune, and got through a few bare. Then he ceased as suddenly as he had begun, and began talking. "I say it was very plucky of your father, wasn't it? The boldness of the plan has made it do. The Indians could not even think we should make such an attempt." For a full hour the boys kept up that painful tramp up and down, Perry growing more and more silent, and Cyril bursting out from time to time with a little peal of forced laughter. Twice over, they were conscious of the presence of the watchful Indians creeping furtively among the trees; but the actions of the boys allayed their suspicions, and they went back as softly as they came. "Was it never to end?" the lads asked themselves, and though neither made any allusion to their thoughts, they were tortured by fancies of what might have happened, till at last Perry was certain that, instead of the colonel and John Manning killing the two guides, these two men had turned upon them and stabbed them to the heart. At last the boy could bear this thought no longer. He fought hard to keep it to himself, but it would have vent finally, and as they turned to continue their weary tramp, he suddenly caught Cyril fiercely by the arm. "They won't come back to us," he whispered. "They cannot. Diego and the other man turned upon them, killed them, and those were their cries we heard. They're both dead, Cil--they're both dead." "And your father has come to tell us he has been killed," said Cyril, with a forced laugh, which was more like a hoarse cry of agony. "At last," he groaned: "I don't think I could have borne it any longer." "What do you mean?" said Perry. "There--by the fire. Here they come." Perry looked sharply round in the direction pointed out by his companion, and then the pulses of both seemed to stand still, for they heard the approach of Indians from the direction of the clearing. Almost at the same moment, they could plainly see by the faint light of the fire, not the colonel and John Manning coming to fetch them at last, but the figures of the guides bending down, and then beginning to approach, in the soft furtive manner of a couple of wild beasts about to make their fatal spring. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT. "He was right," muttered Cyril, as the blood rushed to his head and made him feel giddy; "and now they mean to have us, but--" He stopped short, and his teeth made a grating sound as he seized Perry by the shoulder. "Can you fight?" he whispered. "I--I don't half know," groaned Perry. "I'll try." "That's right. We must," the boy continued. "They shall find we're English after all." "What are you going to do?" said Perry, holding on by his companion's arm. "Get our guns. They're close by the fire there. What are those two doing?" "I don't know," was the reply, and Perry gazed hard at the two guides, who were stooping about the fire. "Yes, I do; they're putting on more wood." "Then, as soon as they come toward us, we must run round and try to get our guns." They stood in the darkness watching for some moments, while the guides still busied themselves about the fire, wandering here and there, as if busy about something; though, after seeing the flames rise, on the first portion of wood being added, their object appeared vague. All at once the rustling toward the clearing recommenced, and the boys looked sharply in that direction, fully expecting that the first attack would come from there; but the sound grew fainter, and they knew that the Indians must be going back, apparently satisfied with their scrutiny. This meant the danger lessened for the moment by one half; and Cyril now gripped his companion's shoulder more tightly. "Now, then," he said, "let's get round by the trees to the other side." "Too late," said Perry; "they are coming here." Cyril glanced toward the fire, but no one was visible. In the brief moments during which their backs were turned, the guides had disappeared, and all was silent; not a sound suggested the spot from which the enemy would advance. "We must chance it," whispered Cyril. "Quick; come along this way. Quiet." They started away to their right, so as to get round to the back of the fire; but as fate had it, they went right into the arms of those whom they were seeking to avoid. Not forty steps had been taken cautiously through the dark shadows beneath the trees, before Perry uttered a cry as the two guides sprang up in their path. "This way, Cil; run," he whispered. "Hush! Silence!" came in a familiar voice. "Don't you know us, boys?" Both Cyril and Perry were speechless, so great was the emotion caused by the surprise, and they stared at the dimly-seen, bare-headed figures wearing the Indians' long, loose garments. "Now, quick," said the colonel, stripping off the Indian frock, "off with yours, too, Manning." The man obeyed with all a well-drilled soldier's celerity and silence, and, stooping down, the colonel was about to thrust the cotton garments in amongst the undergrowth, when Cyril, who had now recovered himself, whispered a few words to the colonel. "Good! Capital!" he said. "Only quick, and we'll wait here." Cyril snatched at the two frocks, and, stooping down, laid them, well stretched out, at a short distance from the fire, where, in the dim light, they gave a rough idea of covering a couple of Indians stretched out in sleep. It was only the work of a minute, and then Cyril was back to where Perry stood excited and nervous, for the feeling was strong upon him that, after all, his father and Manning had slain the two guides. "Where are the mules?" said Cyril to the colonel. "Silence! Follow. Stoop till we are well beyond the fire." "But our guns, sir?" said Cyril. "I said silence, boy!" replied the colonel, and they went off in single file for about a couple of hundred yards in and out among the trees, till the colonel stopped short, and the boys made out that they were standing by the mules, which were waiting, all ready laden, and with hanging heads, ready to proceed on their journey. Then, without another word, the colonel took the rein of the old leader, started off, and steadily and quietly the others followed, the unladen last, while John Manning and the two boys followed for some time. "Here, take your fireworks, my lads," whispered John Manning at last. "Pouches are fastened to 'em, and well filled with ammunition. I'll help you to put 'em on as we go." All this in a whisper, and then Perry said: "You thought of our wanting them, then?" "Rum sort of soldier if I hadn't, my lad," growled the man. "Steady. Keep on walking. Under your right arm, my lad. That's it.--Now you, Mr Cyril." "Mine's on all right," was the reply; and then it was always onward and downward, in and out among the trees, with all around so dark beneath branches, that, but for the steady, slow pace of the mules, which never hesitated for a moment, the journey would have been next to impossible. And all the time, as the rustling, soft, trampling noise made by the animals' hoofs went on, very few words were spoken, for every ear was attent and strained to catch the first announcement of the pursuit having begun. The two boys felt no inclination to converse, but tramped on silent enough, while, when anything was said, John Manning was the speaker. He would begin by enjoining silence in the ranks, and the minute after, find he had something he must say. "Don't think they've took the alarm yet, gentlemen," he said, after a long time. "That dodge o' yourn with the Injuns' frocks was splendid. When they do come, take your word from me, as I command the rearguard; and fire low, for we must give them a volley." Perry shrank from their old servant involuntarily, for it seemed to him horrible that John Manning should speak in so cheery a tone from time to time, when, only a short time back, he had imbrued his hand in the blood of their two guides. But at last he felt constrained to speak, the words coming forth unbidden. "Those two guides," he said huskily. "Ay, poor chaps, it seemed hard, sir," replied the old soldier; "but it was us or them, and, of course, it had to be them. We was obliged to do it, or else how was I to get the mules loaded?" "But it seems so horrible," said Cyril. "Oh, I don't know, sir. Sort o' tit for tat. They wouldn't ha' been very particular about us, and it was, as you may say, in self-defence. But, I say, Mr Cyril, don't you think I got all those packs down to the mules pretty quick, and the beasts laden?" "Wonderfully quickly," said Cyril. "It was, sir, though I say it as shouldn't say it. I did get warm over the job. Thought I should have had no end o' trouble with 'em, but they took it as quietly as lambs; and as soon as they found out what was going on, the pack-mules all hung together and waited their turns, while the saddle mules seemed to be looking on." "Of course that was after the--after Diego and the other man--" "Of course, sir. There'd ha' been no mule packing if we'd left those two chaps to lift up their lovely voices, and shout to their friends for help. That would not have done, eh, Mr Cyril?" "No; I suppose not, if we were to escape." "And that's what we had to do, sir; for, as the colonel said to me more than once, `We're not safe, John Manning, for sooner or later they'll find out why I have come, and then I would not answer for our lives.' But we're off now in spite of 'em, and well provisioned too. My word, I did get a warming over those mules; but the colonel's wonderful handy at the loading, and helped me well. You see, he superintended a lot out in India, when we had mules and camels to carry our baggage. And we did it all fine. Listen." They paused, but the faint pattering of the mules' hoofs was the only sound; and they followed on again, John Manning keeping silence for a time, and then bursting out with a chuckle. "I told you so yes'day, young gentlemen. The colonel 'll have some dodge to get us off, and there you are! He led, and it was grand the way in which he had worked it out. He didn't tell me till to-night, and when he had done, I laughed out. `Think it will do, John Manning?' he said. `Do, sir?' I says. `Of course it'll do;' and it's done. Don't suppose those two liked it much, poor fellows, but they had to put up with it." "Oh, John Manning," cried Perry excitedly, unable to bear it any longer, "how can you treat it so lightly? If you had tied and bound the poor wretches, it would have been different, but to drag them away and kill them in cold blood! It is horrible." "Well I _am_ blessed!" exclaimed the old soldier, in a tone and with an emphasis that showed how he was startled. "And I'll never believe that my father meant it to be so." John Manning gave Cyril a dig with his elbow, and he winked one eye, but the act was invisible in the darkness. "Why, it was him as 'vented the plan, sir. I only helped carry it out." "Oh!" ejaculated Perry. "Hadn't we got to escape, sir?" "But in such a way!" "Why, it was a splendid way, Master Perry. But I say I am ashamed of you to go private court-martialling your own father in that way, and find such fault with him for helping you to get off!" "I'm not going to judge him," said Perry. "I only say it was horrible." "Well, yes, sir, it was, and is," said the old soldier, giving Cyril another dig. "Can't say as I should like to lie all night on my back with my hands tied behind me to a big pole, and my ankles and knees served the same, just as if I was going to be roasted for a cannibal's dinner, and to make it worse, an old worsted stocking rammed into my mouth, and a cloth tied over it and behind my neck, to make sure I didn't get it out." "What!" cried Perry. "I said a stocking rammed into my month, sir, so as I shouldn't holler, only breathe. It is hard on a man, but what was you to do?" "Then you didn't kill them," cried Perry joyfully. "Kill 'em," said John Manning, in a tone full of disgust. "Did you ever know a British soldier, as was a soldier, go killing folk in that way, sir, when they'd been made prisoners? Master Perry, sir, I'm ashamed o' you for thinking such a thing o' your father, as is as fine an officer as ever stepped." "Not so much ashamed of me as I am of myself," said Perry huskily. "Then Diego and the other man are all right?" "They don't think so," said the old soldier with a chuckle. "They're precious uncomfortable by this time, for I rammed the stockings pretty far, and I tied them knots with those new hide ropes as tight as they'd draw." "Quiet there, quiet," said the colonel sternly, for he had stopped and let the mules pass him. "No more talking for the present. Can you hear anything?" "No, sir, not a sound," said John Manning. But even as he spoke there was a faint cry borne on the night wind from high up the valley, and situated as they were, that sound could only have one meaning--pursuit. CHAPTER NINETEEN. THE DARK WAY. "They've missed us," said Cyril excitedly. "Shall I run to the leader, sir, and hurry him on?" "No, my lad," said the colonel, "we shall do nothing by hurrying. Our retreat must be carried out slowly. We can get on no faster than the mules will walk. Keep on as we are." He left them after listening for a few minutes, and hurried forward to reach his place again by the leading mule, for the sagacious beast had gone steadily on, followed by the others, acting as if it knew its duty as well as a human being--that duty being to follow the easiest course offered by the valley, which ran parallel with one of the outer ranges of foot-hills, there being no track whatever to act as guide. "Sounds quite reviving," said John Manning in a whisper. "We've had so much dull do-nothing times, that it quite freshens one up." "How long will it be before they overtake us?" said Perry anxiously. "How long have we been coming here, sir?" replied the old soldier. "I don't know--an hour, I suppose." "Yes, sir, an hour. Well, if they knew the way we came and followed on, it would take them hours more than it has taken us." "Why?" said Cyril sharply. "Why, sir? because," said John Manning, with one of his dry chuckles, "they'll have to come along very slowly, searching among the trees as they come, for fear of overrunning the scent; for as it's dark, they've got nothing to guide 'em, and I hope they won't find much when it's light, for the sun will soon dry up the dew which shows the marks made by brushing it off. We're all right till they hit the track we've come, and that won't be till some time to-morrow, if they hit it then." "Oh, they'll know the way we've come," said Perry, who was breathing hard from excitement. "They must be very clever then, sir," said John Manning drily. "I should say they'll think we've made for the way we came." "Speak lower," said Cyril. "Why?" "Because, says they, these white fellows haven't got any guides now, and they only know one road, so they're sure to take it." "Yes, that sounds likely," said Perry sharply; "but how was it we could hear them shouting?" "I know that," said Cyril. "The air is so clear right up here in the mountains, and the wind is this way. It's like seeing. You know how close the peaks seem when they're twenty miles away." "Yes, sir, and sounds run along a hollow like this wonderfully. Why, I remember in one of the passes up in India, we in the rearguard could hear the men talking right away in the front as easily as if we were close to them." "But look here," said Cyril. "Diego or the other fellow must have seen which way we came." "They must have been very sharp then, sir, for I took care to tie a little biscuit bag over each of their heads, only I left holes for their noses to come out and breathe. Don't you fret, young gentlemen; we've got the start, and I don't believe the fight 'll begin 'fore to-morrow evening, if it do then." "You know, then, that it will come to a fight," said Perry. "Well, say a skirmish, sir. We in the rearguard 'll have to be divided into three companies, and keep on retiring one after the other, and taking up fresh ground to protect the baggage-train. It's all right, gentlemen, and it'll be quite a new experience for you both. You'll like it as soon as the excitement begins." "Excitement?" cried Perry. "Suppose one of us is shot." "Ah, we don't think of that, sir, in the army," said John Manning. "We think of the enemy getting that. But, if one of us is so unlucky, why, then, he'll be clapped on a mule's back and go on with the baggage-train." The two boys stopped then to listen, but all was silent save the faint rustling made by the mules in front as they went steadily onward in their leader's track. The night was dark, but the stars glittered brilliantly overhead in a broad strip which showed how deep down the valley had grown, and how wall-like the sides rose in their blackness. "I say," whispered Perry, stopping short. "Doesn't it make you feel shivery?" "No," said Cyril. "Shuddery. We seem to be going on, down and down, as if this were a slope leading right underground. I shall be glad when the daylight comes, so that we can see where we are going.--Hear any one coming?" "No, but let's go on, or we may be left behind." "Well, we are left behind now." "But suppose we missed the others. It would be horrible." "No fear," said Cyril; "the valley's getting narrower and narrower, and if we keep on, we're sure to overtake the mules." Cyril was right, for in a few minutes they heard the faint patter of the hoofs again, and were glad to keep close in the rear, for instinctively the patient beasts picked out the easiest way. And now from being a smooth, grassy, park-like, open valley, the route they followed began to contract into a gorge, from whose wall-like sides masses of stone had been tumbled down in the course of ages, till the bottom was growing more difficult to traverse every mile they passed; while, for aught they knew in the darkness, they might be skirting precipice and pitfall of the most dangerous kind, depending, as they were, entirely upon the mules. They had suggestions of there being unknown depths around, for to their left there was the gurgling, rushing sound of water, apparently deep down beneath the fallen stones, sometimes louder, sometimes dying away into a murmur; till all at once, as they turned a corner into sudden, complete darkness--for the long band of starry light overhead was now shut out--they were startled by a deep echoing, booming roar, and a chilling damp air smote them in the face as it came down, evidently from some gorge to their right, which joined the one along which they had travelled. It needed no explanation. Light failed, but they knew as well as if they were in broad sunshine that they were face to face with a huge cascade which came gliding down from far on high into some terrific chasm far below, while the change from the calm silence of the valley they had traversed to the deafening sound which rose from below, was confusing and strange to such a degree, that they came to a stand. It was not that the noise was so great, as that it seemed, paradoxical as it may sound, so huge and soft, and to pervade all space, to the exclusion of everything else. As Cyril said afterwards, it was a noise that did not pierce and ring in your ears, but stopped them up and smothered all speech; while the darkness was so deep, that no one felt the slightest desire to take a step forward. Perry was the first to make any move, for all at once he felt for Cyril, placed his lips close to his ear, and said excitedly: "My father: can you hear him?" "No," replied his companion, after a pause. "I can only hear the water." "Then he must have fallen in.--Here, John Manning. Where is the lantern?" "Tied to the first mule's pack, sir." "Oh!" exclaimed Perry excitedly, and then he shouted "Father!" as loudly as he could, but the cry seemed to be driven back in his face. "I'll light a match, sir," cried Manning, and after a few moments there was a flash, the gleam of a light, and the shape of the old soldier's hands, with the tiny flame gleaming ruddily between his fingers; but, save that the boys saw the familiar rugged features of the man's face for a few moments, they saw nothing more, and the darkness grew painful as the match went out. John Manning struck another light, got the splint well in a blaze, and tossed it from him; but there was nothing to be seen but mist. The boys now shouted together, but without result, and a chilling sensation of dread came over them as they grasped each other's wet cold hand, not daring to stir, and with the horrible feeling increasing upon them that some terrible tragedy must have happened to their leader. Just when the sensation of horror was at its height, John Manning's voice was heard. "What had we best do, gentlemen--go forward or go back?" "We ought to go forward," said Cyril. "Yes, that's what I feel, sir," shouted the man; "but next step may be down into the pit." "We must go on," said Perry excitedly; "my father wants help. He's in danger, I'm sure, or he would have made some sign." As he spoke, he snatched his hand from Cyril's grasp, and took a step or two forward into the black darkness. "Perry!" shouted Cyril, in a voice which sounded like a faint whisper, as he felt himself seized by the shoulder, John Manning's great hand closing upon it like a vice, and holding it firmly. "Where's Master Perry?" No answer escaped Cyril's lips for a minute. He felt suffocated, and it was not until John Manning had shaken him violently and repeated his question twice, that he panted out the single word, "Gone." "Can you see where--has he fallen in?" was panted in his ear. "No; he stepped from me to help the colonel, and then he was gone." John Manning groaned, and Cyril felt the strong man's hand trembling, and the vibration thrilled through the boy's frame until every nerve quivered with the horrible dread which assailed him. All at once he felt the lips at his ear again. "Let's shout together, sir," was whispered, and they tried hard to make their voices heard, calling together with all their strength, but they did not seem to be able to pierce the roar which pressed, as it were, upon them; and though they repeated the cry at intervals and listened for a reply, none came. "It's no good, Mr Cyril, sir," groaned John Manning. "I'm ready, sir, to do anything to try and save my poor colonel and Master Perry; what can I do? It's like chucking away my life and yours, sir, to stir a step." "Yes, and I'd help you," said Cyril despairingly; "but we dare not move in this terrible darkness." "Shall we try to go back, sir?" "No," shouted Cyril firmly. "We must not do that." "What then, sir? What can we do?" "Wait for daylight," Cyril shouted back in the man's ear. Then softly to himself: "And pray." CHAPTER TWENTY. WAITING FOR DAYLIGHT. As John Manning afterwards said, those were hours to make a man's hair turn grey, and to Cyril every minute seemed to be indefinitely prolonged, as he stood till he felt his knees begin to give way beneath him, and finally sank cautiously down upon them--John Manning imitating his movement--till they both rested upon wet, slippery rock. There they crouched with strained ears, waiting for the light which seemed as if it would never come, while the noise was crushing them back, as it were, upon themselves, and dulling their brains till all was to Cyril like some terrible dream. There were moments when he felt as if his senses were leaving him, and the sensation was almost welcome, for the agony at last grew greater than he could bear. He had reached this pitch as he crouched there with his arm drawn tightly through John Manning's, when he felt the man's grasp upon him loosened, and the next moment he felt a thrust. He knew directly what it meant. Following the movement, he became conscious of some pale, bluish-looking smoke on his left, and as this grew clearer, he realised that it was not smoke, but a thick mist between him and the coming light of day; but for a few minutes there was nothing more. Then by slow degrees this dim, grey appearance grew and expanded, till the boy made out that the mist rose out of the depths before them, and at last that he and John Manning were crouching upon a ledge of rock on one side of a great gulf, down into which the waters thundered from their right, while overhead the wall of rock rose up nearly straight, the light of day being shut out by the dense mist which rose from below. This light increased rapidly now in pale gleams from the left, and a faint, soft diffusion from above, showing that they were where a vast rift in the mountain joined at right angles the valley they had descended, while the rocky sides were so close that they nearly met overhead. But some time elapsed before they could make out more, the steamy mist obscuring everything, and preventing them from seeing anything of Perry or the colonel. They had both risen to their feet, and clasping hands, began, as soon as it was possible to see a step or two, to try to penetrate farther in; but before they had gone half-a-dozen steps, John Manning, who looked misty and unsubstantial to Cyril, stopped short and pointed downward in front of him to where the rock looked slippery as glass. "He went down there, sir," he shouted, and loosening his grasp, threw himself down upon his chest, and wormed himself forward, so as to get his head over the gulf and look down. Cyril watched the man in agony, fully expecting to see him glide forward out of sight; but in a few minutes he worked himself back, rose, and placed his lips to the boy's ear again. "Can't see. All one thick cloud of spray." Cyril gave a great start, for at that moment, from out of the misty gloom, the colonel strode forward to meet them. "Thank goodness," he shouted. "I was very nervous about--Where's Perry?" Cyril and John Manning, whose faces had lit up with pleasure, now gave him a despairing look, which made him seize Cyril by both arms. "My boy!" he gasped. "Where's my boy?" There was no reply. There was none needed, for the colonel read in their faces what was wrong. He had seen them, too, trying to look down into the misty gulf below, and there was a horrible look of despair in his countenance as he pointed mutely down into the terrible-looking gloom. Then going right to the edge, he tried to look over, but drew back a little and stretched out his hand to John Manning, hooking his fingers the while. The old soldier stepped forward. Long discipline and training had made him ready to grasp his master's wishes, and planting his right foot against a projecting piece of the rock, he hooked his fingers in the colonel's, and then hung slightly back, giving a little and a little more, till the latter was able to lean right out and gaze down. It was by this time far lighter, and the mist was here and there transparent, as it came eddying up more and more like the clouds of smoke from a fire, but there was no piercing even the lightest parts; and giving this up in despair, Colonel Campion rose up, made a sign to them to stand firm, and then stepped rapidly in the direction from which they had seen him come. One minute they saw his figure growing fainter along by the side of the rock-wall, the next he had disappeared in the gloom and mist. "Let's follow," said Cyril, with his lips to John Manning's ear. The man shook his head. "Soldier never leaves his post without orders," he replied. "Better stay, sir." Cyril hesitated, but stayed; now watching the spot where the colonel had disappeared, now letting his eyes wander round the place, which, as the growing light of day penetrated it more and more, was still awful enough, with its whirling mist, gloom, and deafening roar of invisible water falling behind the pearly veil, but far from being as terrible as when it was all shrouded in deep obscurity. For the light came down softly from high above their heads, showing that though the rocky walls nearly approached, there was a firmly-defined band that would probably be bright and golden when the sun rose, but John Manning's words were justified as he suddenly leaned forward and said: "What a place, sir! It's a wonder there ain't four of us gone for good." Just then the colonel reappeared with half-a-dozen of the raw hide ropes used about the mules for lassoes, tethering, and binding on their loads. These he threw down, and John Manning followed his example as he began to knot them together. "Bear me?" shouted the colonel to the old soldier. "Two of you, sir," said the latter; "but you lower, I'll go." The colonel shook his head angrily--the task of speaking was too much in his state of anguish--and he went on trying the knots he made, while Cyril picked up one end and examined a couple of the knots before making a strong loop, and passing it over his head and shoulders. His action passed un-noticed for a few moments, for he had drawn back; but when the last rope was joined to the others, the colonel turned and grasped the boy's intention. "God bless you, my lad," he cried, "but I cannot let you go." Cyril hardly heard a word in the midst of that deep-toned, booming thunder, but he grasped their import, and stood firm. "Yes," he shouted. "I'm light. Lower me down." A curious sensation attacked him as he spoke, and he knew that he was turning pale, but he faced in the direction of the gulf, and tried hard to pull himself together. "Perry would have gone down after me," he said to himself, "and it isn't so very dangerous after all." But all the while he knew that it was, and also that it was a task calling for nerve, determination, and strength, all three of which he seemed to be wanting in when face to face with the dense, wreathing mist of that terrible gulf. "I don't care. I'm afraid, horribly afraid," he muttered between his teeth. "But I'll go. I'd go if it was twice as dangerous, if it's only to let father know I'm not all bad." Meanwhile, a short discussion, painfully hard, went on between the colonel and John Manning, the former hesitating, the latter insisting. "He's light, and can do it better than you. Perhaps we couldn't pull you up, nor you me." Then the colonel held out his hand to Cyril, who grasped it eagerly, but in an instant the colonel's face began to work, and he drew the lad to his breast, held him there for a brief moment, and then released him. "I'm not afraid now," shouted Cyril, and he stepped at once to the edge, and, as the line was tightened, went down on his face, passed his legs over, and, grasping the line with both hands, glided down; seeing the faces of the two men who held the rope disappear, then the shelf; and the next minute, as he was lowered, he saw nothing but the light mist which closed him in, and struck dank and chilly to his face and hands. He had expected to swing to and fro in the air, and had prepared himself to grasp at the rock, and try to prevent himself from turning round and round; but to his surprise he found that he was on a sharp incline, down which he was sliding easily, for the rock was covered with a slippery mossy growth, over which his hands glided whenever he tried to check his course; for, in spite of his determination, the desire to do this mastered him. Anything to stop himself from going down into that awful place at some terrible depth below, where the water was churning round and round, and tossing up this mist of spray. To go down into that must mean instant death; and after all, what good was he going to do? Poor Perry had slipped, gone over the edge, and then not fallen headlong, but glided down at a terrible rate, with no power to arrest his course; and, if he were not down there below, he must have been swept out by the stream, and be far away down the river by then. These thoughts came quickly as he slipped gently down, keeping his face toward the roaring water and churning mist, but seeing nothing; for the darkness now, as he was lowered more, began to increase. Down, down, down! Was there no end to the rope? How long it seemed before it was checked. Still Cyril tried hard to make out something of the whereabouts of his friend. But no; if he turned to the right, toward where there was the hissing noise of the falling water, all was black, as black as it was below in the fearful hollow into which it plunged, to send up that deafening, reverberating thunder. At last to the left there, where he knew the chasm must open into the valley by which they came, he could see a faint suggestion of light, such light as one sees when looking towards a candle with the eyes tightly closed, and when trying to peer through the veined lids. Then, to his horror, he was being lowered again, for he had believed that the end of the hide rope was reached. It seemed a great depth down before there was another check, though probably it was not more than a dozen or twenty feet; and once more, as he tried to grasp the slimy rock behind him, he peered about vainly, knowing that if poor Perry had once begun to glide down that horrible slope, he must have gone right on down to the bottom. Then there was a heavier strain upon his chest, and to his intense relief, now that he felt how vain his effort had been, he turned his face toward the rocks, and tried to help by climbing, as he was being drawn up. Vain effort. Hands and feet glided over the slippery moss, and he soon subsided, and waited in increasing agony, while he was steadily hauled up. For, in descending, his senses were hard at work, and he was momentarily hoping to rest upon some shelf where he might come upon Perry. But now he had nothing to do but think of himself and his risks, and, in spite of the effort to be brave, he could not keep his mind from dwelling upon the knots of the several ropes, and wondering whether those John Manning tied were as firm as the colonel's, and whether the rope itself might not have been frayed by passing over the rocks, and give way just before he reached the shelf. At last, with head burning, hands and feet like ice, and clothes drenched with the spray, he felt himself seized by John Manning's strong fingers and lifted into safety. It had now become light enough for him to see well around; the mist on high was turning roseate and warm by reflection, for the sun was rising; and the colonel turned from him with a look of agony, and stood with his back to them, while John Manning unloosed the rope. "Nobody could come out of such a place as that, my lad," he said, "alive." CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. THE PURSUIT. "I'll go down again, sir," said Cyril, when the colonel had turned back, and he had tried to make him understand the nature of the place, as far as he had been able to make out. But the colonel shook his head. "We must go back, and try to reach the stream where it flows out, my boy," he said. "We can do no good here.--Come, Manning, and fetch the mules." John Manning stared, and seemed as if he could not understand. "The mules, sir--go back and find the stream? What about the Indians, if they are coming on?" The colonel had forgotten their pursuers. "The mules," he said then; and he led the way on into the mist, Cyril following him wonderingly along the continuation of the rocky shelf for about a hundred yards, and glancing back from time to time to see that John Manning was close behind, untying the knots of the hide ropes as he came. Every step took them nearer to the great waterfall, and in the dim light Cyril now made out that the path was wider; but all at once it seemed to end in front of a gleaming sheet of water reaching from the thick mist below right up to where the rock-walls appeared to give place to the spray-clouded sky. And there, just before them, all huddled together, stood the mules, ready to turn toward them as they approached. "They brought me as far as this last night," said the colonel, "and then stopped. No wonder, poor brutes, they would go no farther; and I was lost in the darkness, and dared not turn back. I stood with them till daybreak, hoping you all were safe, and then--" Cyril uttered a wild cry of joy, one which made itself heard by all, for a bare-headed misty figure, whose presence they had not been aware of as it followed them, suddenly caught the colonel's arm, placed its lips to his ear, and cried: "Quick, father--the Indians; they're coming down the valley fast." In the face of such news as Perry bore, there was no time to ask questions about his escape, but as the colonel grasped the boy's arm, trembling the while with excitement, his heart throbbing with joy, he cried: "How far away?" "Not half a mile. I could see them coming down the valley." "This way," said the colonel promptly, and he supplemented his words with gestures, as, still holding his son's arm tightly, he led them on through the mist of fine spray inward toward where the mules were standing together. And now as they approached the fall, a great deal of the horror caused by the darkness and noise passed away, for the mist grew opalescent from the sunshine far above, and though progress looked terribly perilous, they could see the extent of their danger, and there was no mystery of hidden peril, no constant dread of unknown chasms waiting to engulf them at their next stride. For they knew now that they were in one of Nature's wildest and grandest rifts, where a goodly-sized river, after tearing its way along the profound depths of a narrow gorge, had reached a spot where by some earthquake convulsion this gorge had suddenly, as it were, broken in two. One part had dropped several hundred feet, forming a profound chasm into which the water from above leaped in one great glistening wave, smooth as so much gleaming glass, to be broken up into spray as it reached the jagged rocks below, and there eddy and foam in what was undoubtedly a huge basin, from which the mist arose, while the broken water swept on down into the valley to join the little stream by whose side they had come. The leading mule threw up its head as the colonel approached, and its parted teeth and drawn-back lips suggested that it was whinnying a welcome or a demand for food. But the great fall before them, and the knowledge that at any time the Indians might appear from out of the dense mist and commence their attack, gave the colonel eyes for only one thing, and that a way out of what seemed to be a perfect _cul de sac_. The deafening roar, of course, prevented all consultation, and the mist added to the confusion; but these had their advantages for the fugitives, veiling their actions from their pursuers, and preventing any sound made by the mules from being heard. And as Cyril watched their leader's actions, and then caught an encouraging look from John Manning, who gave his head a jerk in the colonel's direction, as if to say: "It's all right, he'll find his way out," the boy felt in better spirits. The terrors of the night were gone; they were all there safe, and there was the possibility of the Indians feeling as much in awe of the terrible chasm as they had themselves, and hence shrinking from making their way through the mist, and giving them the credit of going on down the valley by the greater stream which issued from beneath the falls. Cyril's thoughts were many, and in the reaction from the terrible despair from which he had suffered, he was ready to accept anything short of the marvellous; and consequently he was in nowise surprised on seeing their leader go right on into the darkness, peering here and there, and the leading mule follow him and Perry, the rest getting in motion directly, and going on into the mist till the last had disappeared. Just then John Manning, who had turned to look back, wiping the moisture from his face, clapped Cyril on the shoulder, and placed his lips close to the boy's ear. "Can't see 'em coming. This'll scare 'em from following. They'll think nobody but mad folk would ever come along here. I say, he's found a way behind the fall." But John Manning was wrong. They followed the direction taken by the last mule, together stepping cautiously onward through the mist, for the rugged shelf they were on was dripping with moisture, and felt slippery beneath their feet, while to their left there was the huge body of water always gliding down into the spray which eddied up to meet it. Then, to their intense astonishment, they stepped right out of the dense, clinging mist, which hid everything, into a clear atmosphere. It was quite in twilight that they stood, but the falling water brought with it a cool current of air; and as they both stopped for a moment to gaze and wonder, there to their left was the great fall rushing down clear of the rock behind, and leaving plenty of room for any one to pass through to the other side, beneath the water, had the shelf been continued there; but it passed round to their right, as if Nature had made a natural staircase, zigzagging up the side of the gorge; and there, some distance above them, were the colonel and Perry, mounting slowly after the leading mule, which showed no hesitation about proceeding now that it was day. John Manning nodded, and they followed up and up the giddy path, now leaving the fall some distance behind, now approaching it again, but always near enough to be terribly impressed by the vast curve of gleaming black water, which, as they rose higher, could be plainly seen plunging down into what appeared to them as a dark grey cloud. From time to time the colonel looked back and waved his hand, stopping at last at a spot where the natural track curved suddenly round a sharp point of rock. The mules followed one by one, their heads right down, and their feet carefully planted at every step, till the last had gone round; and then in turn Cyril and John Manning climbed up, and before passing the sharp rock, stopped to gaze down into the vast rift up whose side they had mounted so far. From this point the whole of the wild zigzag was visible right to where the grey veil of mist shut off the level shelf where they had passed the night, and John Manning's lips had just parted to utter some words about the horrible nature of the place, when Cyril started back and jerked his garment, to make him follow suit. The old soldier was keenly alive to danger, and dropping upon his knees, he joined Cyril in cautiously looking over the edge of the rocks they had just ascended, softly bringing the muzzle of his piece to bear upon what he saw. For, as he gazed down, there in the gloom, not two hundred yards away as an arrow would fly, but at a distance which it had taken them nearly half an hour to climb by the gradual ascent, was the figure of an Indian standing out just clear of the mist, and peering cautiously about, as if searching every rock and crevice around. The next minute another had joined him, coming out of the mist cautiously, and with the tentative motion of one who was on strange ground. Then came another and another, with their figures looking huge and grotesque as they stood in the mist, and then suddenly shrinking into the stature as of dwarfs, as soon as they were clear. One by one they came on, till there were at least thirty collected together, and all gazing about cautiously, as if in dread. As Cyril knew from his own experience, they could only converse with difficulty, so that he was not surprised to see that one of them, who appeared to be the leader, was gesticulating and pointing here and there, and finally upward toward where the two fugitives were watching every act. But, as the boy watched the Indians keenly, it was very evident that they were far from confident, and he soon decided that they were as much panic-stricken by the horror of the place as he and his friends had been overnight. At last, though after a great deal of pointing upward and hesitation, it seemed as if they were all reluctantly about to continue the pursuit, for their leader took a few steps forward and waved them on. But they did not stir, save to crowd together a little more and press toward the wall of rock, away from the fall. "They don't like it," whispered John Manning, for it was becoming possible, where they lay, to make a few words audible without shouting. "Strikes me they're so scared, that if we were to send one of these big pieces of rock rolling down, they'd beat a retreat." "Look, look!" whispered Cyril. "I am," said John Manning, for all at once a couple more of the Indians suddenly appeared from out of the mist, in whom they recognised Diego and his fellow-guide, the former holding something in his hand which he was showing to all in turn with a great deal of gesticulation, accompanied by eager pointings down into the depths below the fall, and back through the mist. "What's he got there?" whispered John Manning. "Something to eat? He wants them to go back." "I know," said Cyril so loudly that his companion caught his arm. "It's Perry's cap." "What!" cried the old soldier. "I know how it is. They've found it somewhere down the stream, where it had been washed, and he's saying that we must all have tumbled in there and been swept away." This appeared to be a very likely interpretation, for, with a great display of eagerness, the men hurried back through the mist till all were gone. "Let's make haste on and overtake them," said Cyril eagerly. "I want to ask Perry where he left his cap." "And he'll tell you, sir, that he didn't leave it anywhere, but had it took away by the water." "Are they in sight?" said the colonel, bending down over them. "You were quite right. This is an excellent place to keep them back. Yes," he continued, on hearing the surmises of the two watchers, "that must be it, and they have gone back to follow the stream." He led the way again, and they followed to where Perry was anxiously looking back, as the mules steadily went on higher and higher up the gloomy gorge, where the great stream was hurrying and foaming along toward where it would make its plunge; while the thunderous roar of the fall was rapidly dying away, shut out, as it now was, by curve after curve of the valley. The place was black and forbidding enough, but as they got on another mile or two, their journey was brightened by the glow upon the ridges and slopes on high where the sun reached, and the grassy sides of the lower mountains looked delightful after their long experience of black, dripping stone. Many a look back was given as they went on higher and higher, every step taking them more into the mighty range, and fortunately due west; and, weary as they all were, intense was the longing to hurry their steps. But that last was impossible. They were dependent upon the mules for their supply of food, and the cautious animals only had one pace, and this regulated their masters'. At last, when utterly exhausted, a halt was called just at a sharp turn in the gorge, where water could be reached, and the rocks sheltered them and the mules from pursuers; while they gave them the opportunity of scanning the narrow way for nearly a mile, so that if a watch was kept, it was impossible for them to be taken by surprise. There was some stunted herbage too, here, upon which, as soon as they had drunk, the mules began to browse. But no load was removed, arms were ready for an attack, and the only mule that was lightened was the one that bore the provisions. And now Perry was questioned more closely about his escape, and Cyril heard it from his lips for the first time. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. PERRY'S PERIL. "There isn't much to tell," said the boy with a shiver. "Never mind; tell me: I want to know. What's the matter--cold?" "No, I'm warm enough now," said Perry, "for my clothes have got dry; but it makes me shiver as soon as I think about it, and I feel as if I always shall. It's a thing I shall dream about of a night, and wake up feeling the water strangling me." Cyril looked at him in wonder, and the boy tried to smile, but it was a very pitiful attempt, and he went on hurriedly. "You know how horrible all that was when I felt sure that my father had gone down somewhere, and something forced me to go and try to find him. And then, as I went on through the mist, I only took three or four steps before my feet gave way, and I was sliding at a terrible rate down, down to where the water was thundering and roaring." "Was it very deep?" said Cyril, for his companion paused. "I don't know; I seemed to be sliding along very fast, and then I was fighting for breath, and being dashed here and there, and I suppose I was carried along by the water almost as swiftly as I slid down that dreadful slope. Then, after fighting for my breath, all was confusion and darkness, and I can't remember any more till I found myself lying among some rocks. The water was rushing and foaming over my legs, and every now and then rushing up over my chest, and making me feel so in fear of being drowned that I climbed a little, and then a little more, till I was out of the water, but afraid to move in the darkness in case I should fall in again." "Where were you?" said Cyril. "I didn't know then, but lay aching with the cold, and listening to the rushing water; while it was so dark, that I felt sure that I must have been washed into some great hole underground, where I should lie till I was dead." "We felt all kinds of horrors about you," said Cyril, "but you seem to have suffered more than we did." "I don't know," said Perry plaintively. "It was very bad, though, and if I hadn't fallen at last into a sort of stupor, I've thought since that I should have gone mad." "Stupor!" said Cyril, smiling. "You mean you went to sleep." Perry looked at him so reproachfully that Cyril felt the blood flush into his cheeks, and the colour deepened as his companion said: "How could a fellow go to sleep when he believes his father has been killed, and he has himself just escaped from a horrible death?" "Don't take any notice of what I said," cried Cyril hurriedly; "I did not mean it." "I know you did not. I suppose it was from being so exhausted. I felt as if I had been stunned, and could neither think nor stir, and then this curious feeling came over me, and everything passed away. It was not sleep." "No, no; don't say that again," cried Cyril apologetically. "How long were you like that?" "I don't know, only that it was still dark when I came to, and sat wondering where I was, and whether I should ever see the light again, so miserable and desolate you cannot think." "Yes, I can," said Cyril warmly; "I felt bad, too, when I thought you were drowned, and went down to try to find you." "What!" cried Perry excitedly. "You went down to try to find me?" "Oh yes," said Cyril coolly. "Didn't you know? They put a rope round me and let me down." "Cil!" "Well, don't make a fuss about it," said Cyril, laughing. "They had hold of the rope." "But the place was so awful. Didn't you feel frightened?" "Horribly, of course, and it was ever so much worse when I'd got to the end of the rope, and felt that you must be gone. But never mind that. Go on. You were saying how miserable you were." "Yes," said Perry thoughtfully, "till all at once I caught sight of something high up, just as if it was a point of light coming through a crack in the roof of the cavern into which I had been washed." "And was it?" "No," said the boy, with his eyes brightening, "it was the first light of morning shining miles up on the ice of one of the great peaks, and as I watched it, I saw it get brighter and then begin to glow as if it were a precious stone. The light gradually stole down lower and lower, till it seemed to come right into my heart; and from that moment I began to grow strong and hopeful, and something seemed to tell me that I should see you all again." "Hah!" ejaculated Cyril, as he watched his friend's countenance; "I wish something of that kind had come to me when I was feeling worst." "You weren't alone," said Perry, smiling. "Well, as soon as I found that I was just at the edge of a rushing torrent, I knew that if I followed it up, I should come to the mouth of the gorge where you must be, and I began to climb along the side, getting warmer every minute; and I felt more hopeful too, for I began to think how clever my father was, and that he would have been able to save himself, or have been saved, just as I was." "And then you soon found the mouth of the gorge where the water came out?" "Yes, and the place where we turned in last night, instead of going right on down the main valley. It was quite a climb up to the path, but I dragged myself up; and just then I happened to turn my eyes along the way we came just as I was warmest, and then I turned cold again." "Because you saw the Indians?" Perry nodded, and the boys sat in silence for a few minutes, looking up at the sunlit sky, which appeared like a broad jagged path running along high above their heads. "What are you thinking about?" said Perry suddenly, as he noted the thoughtful, deeply-lined brow of his companion. "Eh? Oh, nothing much," replied Cyril. "Only that when I knew you were coming up into the mountains, I felt so jealous of you, and I fancied that you were coming to see all kinds of wonders and make great discoveries, and that it would be one grand holiday, day after day, and instead of that--I say, we haven't had so very much fun yet, have we?" "Plenty of adventures," replied Perry thoughtfully. "Yes, plenty of adventures." "It's been so hard upon you, though, from the first. You were so upset when you joined us." "And serve me right," cried Cyril angrily. "I'd no business to do it; I believe they think at home that I'm dead. Nothing's too bad to happen to me." "Then you're sorry you came?" "Yes; horribly. I don't mind all we've gone through, because it has seemed to stir me up so, and made me feel as if I'd got more stuff in me; and it ought to, for sometimes I've felt, since we came, that I behaved like a miserable, thoughtless coward." "No one could call you a coward," said Perry firmly. "Oh yes, they could--a miserable, selfish coward." "I should just like to hear any one call you one," said Perry viciously, and with a hard, fierce look in his countenance. "Then you soon shall," said Cyril. "I call myself one a dozen times a day. There, I'm a coward." "But I meant some one else." "You wait long enough, and you'll hear my father call me one." "You're not." "Yes, I am, and I shall deserve all he says--that is, if we ever get back to San Geronimo." "Don't talk like that," said Perry. "What's to prevent us?" "Indians," said Cyril mournfully. "But we've left them behind." "For a bit. They'll hunt us out again somewhere. They've got all the advantage of us. I daresay there are thirty or forty of them hunting us, and what one doesn't know of the country, another does; and as they spread out, they'll warn every Indian they meet, so as to run us down, for they're sure to feel now that we're after the buried treasures, and they'll give us credit for having found them." "Why?" "Because we have escaped. Every pass will be guarded, and every valley searched, so that they are sure to come across us at last.--Look, they're going to start. Come along." And picking up their guns, the boys joined the colonel and John Manning, who were tightening up the ropes round two of the loads. "Better trust the leader, Manning," said the colonel. "Yes, sir. He seems as good as a guide; and if you set his head straight, he'll take us somewhere; and where he goes, the others'll follow. Rum thing, too, sir." "Oh, I don't know," said the colonel; "these animals have passed their lives in the mountains." "Of course, sir, but I didn't mean that. I meant it was a rum thing for them to follow their leader in this way, for they all hate him like poison, and kick at him whenever they have a chance; and as for the way he kicks at them, I wonder sometimes he doesn't get his heels stuck in their ribs, so that he can't get out no more. 'Tis their natur' to, eh, Master Cyril, sir?--Ah, would yer!" This to one of the mules, whose heels must have itched, for it was softly turning itself round as if seeking somewhere to administer a good round kick. Then all was ready for a start; but first the colonel mounted the side among the rocks, to search the valley with his glass. He was soon satisfied that the Indians were nowhere within sight, and taking advantage of the high position he occupied, he turned the glass in the other direction, to scan the way they were about to go. All there was utterly silent and desolate. There were the rocks everywhere, hardly relieved by a patch of green, and he was about to descend and start the mules, when he caught sight of Cyril hurrying back toward him, and signing to him to stay where he was. "What is it?" he cried, as he saw the boy's anxious face. "Look up to your left, sir, just above where that big rock sticks out just as if it must fall." "Yes, I see," said the colonel; "with another just above." "That's it, sir. Look just between those two blocks." "Yes, I have the place." "Well, sir, there are two Indians there watching us." "No, my lad, there are no Indians there. Take the glass and look for yourself." Cyril snatched the glass, directed it to the steep, precipitous side of the gorge, and then uttered an ejaculation full of annoyance. "They're gone, sir, but I'm sure there were two men there." "Then if so, they must be close to the same spot now. I hope you are wrong, but of course you may be right. Let's go on, and if they are there, we shall be sure to catch sight of them, for they must go forward or backward." "Would you go on?" said Cyril dubiously. "At any cost, boy. We cannot go back to that awful chasm to pass another night. There, back with you, but keep your eyes on the position in which you saw the men." Cyril was silenced, and half ready to suppose that in his anxiety he had deceived himself; and in a few minutes he was back with the colonel, beside Perry and the mules, but without seeing anything in the direction he had pointed out. "Ready?" "Yes, sir, but my eyes are not quite so good as they were, sir, and I fancied I saw some one creeping along the side of the rock, up yonder to the right." "Left, John Manning," cried Cyril, "and I saw it too." "You saw something on your left, sir? Then I am right, and my eyes are true. There's Injuns watching us, sir, and if we don't look out, we shall have arrows sticking in our skins." CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. AT THE BIVOUAC. The boys were heartily glad when, just before nightfall--night, which fell much sooner, shut in there in the deep valleys of the Andes--the colonel snatched at a suggestion made by John Manning. "Water, sir, coming out of that slit in the rock, plenty o' breastwork, and a bit of green stuff for the mules." "Yes, we'll halt here. We are not likely to find a better place," said the colonel. So instead of tramping on for another hour, a halt was called early, the packages formed into a shelter in front of the "slit" in the rock, as John Manning called it, a place which suggested its being a way into a good-sized cavern, and then a fire was lit, and they prepared their meal. For no more had been seen of the Indians, and though the colonel had a shrewd suspicion that they might still be in chase of them, those which had been seen in the valley were, he concluded, only wanderers, whom they had startled while on some hunting expedition, and whom they would probably see no more. The fire was only used to heat the water for their coffee, and as soon as this was made, carefully extinguished by John Manning, so as not to attract attention if any one was still about; and then they sat, glad of the rest, eating biscuit and charqui, and sipping coffee from the tin. Over the meal, John Manning made a report respecting what he called the commissariat department. "Stores getting low, sir," he said. "Yes, I must supplement them with one of the guns," said the colonel. "I have been so much taken up with getting the cinchona seed, that I have hardly thought of anything else." Very little was said then for some time, the weariness mentally felt by all making them ill disposed for conversation; but just before dark the colonel carefully inspected their surroundings, and with John Manning's help, made a few arrangements for their defence. "I don't think they would dare to attack us if they found where we are," said the colonel; "but we must be prepared." "Is it worth all this trouble and risk, father?" said Perry, who was, in addition to being weary and low-spirited, stiff, and a good deal bruised. "What! to get the seed, boy?" Perry nodded. "Lie down and rest, and wait till the knowledge comes to you, boy. There, I'll speak out and ask you a question. Do you think it is good for humanity at large for one of the greatest blessings discovered by them, for the prevention and cure of a terrible ill, to be solely under the control of one petty, narrow-minded government, who dole it out to the world just as they please, and at what price they like? Why, such a blessing as quinine ought to be easily accessible all the world round, and if I can succeed in getting our precious little store safely to England, it will be the beginning of a very great work. Worth the trouble? Why, the tenth part of what I have obtained of full ripe seed, of what is undoubtedly the finest white-flowered kind, would be worth a hundred times the labour and risk we have gone through--worth even giving up life, my lad, so that others might benefit by what I have done." "But suppose, when we get it to England, it won't grow," said Perry. "Why, you doleful young croaker!" cried the colonel merrily, "I don't expect it to grow in England. Tropic plants do not flourish in our little, cool, damp isle. There are plenty of places, though, where it would grow, if we get it safely home." "Getting it wet isn't good for it, is it?" said Perry sleepily. "You are thinking of what you have in your pockets," said the colonel. "That will not have hurt, for it would dry again pretty soon.--You have yours safe, Cyril?" "Yes, sir, there's about three pounds in my pockets." "I have as much, and John Manning a little more, while I have a small packet in each of the mules' loads." "So as to make sure of saving some of it?" said Cyril eagerly. "Yes, that is the idea, my lad," said the colonel. "Now, boys, Manning and I will take it in turns to watch. There, get a good rest, and don't think that I should have gone through all this labour, risk, and excitement unless I had felt that I was doing something well worthy of the trouble; so make up your minds to get it safely to San Geronimo." He left them, as usual, to see where the mules were grazing, and Cyril sat gazing down before him. "What's the matter?" said Perry. "I was thinking that it's all very well for you people to get back home, only it isn't so pleasant for me." "Father will speak to Captain Norton for you," said Perry. "No: I don't want him to. I shall speak myself. I wouldn't have my father see me sneak in behind yours in that cowardly way. Oh dear, I wish it was over!" "Mules feeding well and all quiet, boys," said the colonel; "and to all appearance there isn't a soul near us for miles.--By the way, Manning, did you go into the cave?" "No, sir. Did you tell me? Seemed too damp to use for sleeping." "No, I did not tell you; but get the lantern and let's look inside. We don't want to be disturbed by some animal coming out in the night." Manning took the battered lantern, and led the way to where the spring came gushing out of what at a distance looked like a long, narrow, sloping crack, but which proved to be, on closer acquaintance, large enough for a man to walk in upright by stepping from stone to stone, round about which the water came gurgling and bubbling out. It was about a dozen yards from where their fire had been lit, amongst the stones fallen at different times from the heights above; and as they approached, a low musical rippling greeted their ear in a pleasant murmur, suggesting that the spring must come for some distance through a low, natural passage, whose stony walls caused the echoings of silvery splashings, which now grew louder and more strange. "Yes, too damp-looking for a resting-place," said the colonel; "and it does not look like the lair of any dangerous beast, but we may as well examine it, and we ought to have done so before. Why, boys, it would make quite a fortress if we had to defend ourselves. Plenty of water-supply, and ample room to drive in the mules." John Manning had gone inside at once, and as soon as he was a short distance from the narrow entrance, he struck a light and applied it to the candle within the lantern, holding it above his head, and then cautiously picking his steps along from stone to stone in the bed of the stream. Whish, whirr, came a peculiar sound, and, as if moved by one impulse, the two boys rushed out, startled, to stand looking back, wondering why the colonel had not followed. "What was that?" cried Cyril. "I don't know. Something rushed by my head," said Perry excitedly, as he looked vainly round in the dim light, and then back at the faintly lit-up entrance to the cave, where the lantern, now invisible behind a curve, shone upon the moist stone wall. "Come along back," cried Cyril; "what cowards they will think us. It must have been birds. Ah! yes; look, dozens of them," he cried, pointing to where what seemed to be faint shadows kept gliding out and shooting upward over the face of the rock, to disappear at once in the evening gloom. "Think they are birds?" said Perry, in an awe-stricken voice. "Birds or bats," said Cyril. "How stupid to be startled like that! Come along." He sturdily led the way back, ashamed of the sudden access of fear which had come upon him; though entering so strangely weird-looking a place by the feeble light of a lantern, and when unnerved by long toil and the dangers they had lately passed through, it was not surprising, and stronger folk might easily have been scared. He had hardly got well inside again before his face was brushed by a soft wing, and he felt ready to run back once more, but this time he mastered the dread, and felt that Perry's hand was laid upon his arm just as the colonel's voice, which sounded hollow, echoing, and strange, said softly: "Goes in, perhaps, for miles.--Look, boys." The voice sounded close to his ear; but to his surprise he found that the lantern was quite a hundred yards in, and the light glimmering from the surface of the tiny stream, while there was plenty of room on either side for them to walk. "Where are you, boys?" said the colonel, more loudly. "Here, sir; coming," cried Cyril, who grasped the fact, now, that their sudden rush out had not been noticed. "It's all safe so far; no crevices or chasms," said the colonel; and as the two lads approached, "Did you see the birds? They are flying about overhead in flocks. Hark at the rush of their wings!" As he ceased speaking, and his voice was no longer reverberating and whispering about overhead, a peculiar fluttering, whirring sound, as of many wheels in rapid motion, struck upon the boys' ears, a sound which added strangely to the mysterious air of the place. It was evident, too, that the roof was now far above their heads, giving room for the strange dwellers in darkness to wheel and swoop about, often so close that the wind raised by their pinions beat upon the explorers' cheeks. "Lucky I'd got the lantern door shut," said John Manning, in a strange whisper, "or they'd have blown it out a dozen times over.--Shall I go any farther, sir?" "No; it is of no use. But what a hiding-place! There's room, Manning, for quite a brigade.--What's that?" A sharp crash fell upon their ears, as of a stone dislodged somewhere high up in the distance; and this was evidently the case, for they heard it rattle down, loosening others, and sending a reverberating echo along the cavern, which told of its vastness being greater than they had before imagined. "One of the birds loosened a stone, sir," said John Manning. "Look out: here they come." For, evidently alarmed by the falling stones, there was now the rush as of a mighty wind, and the little party could feel that a great flock of birds was passing overhead toward the entrance, hurriedly making their escape out into the open air. "Let's follow their example," said the colonel; "we are only wasting time. But this would make a capital retreat if we were attacked; and we could defend it against hundreds." "Till we were starved, or burned out," grumbled John Manning. "It would take a forest on fire to burn us out of this, sir," said the colonel. "What! make difficulties? We have plenty to encounter without. Now then, forward with the light." John Manning faced round, and led on at once, while, as he held up the lantern, the dark mass of birds in a regular train could be seen passing on toward the entrance, which was reached directly after, both boys uttering a sigh of relief on finding themselves once more in the outer darkness, where they could breathe freely, and feel as if a great danger had been escaped. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. THE CAVE'S MOUTH. As soon as they were outside, Cyril looked round for the birds, expecting to see them swooping about in all directions, but there was nothing visible between him and the stars; and with the peculiar nervous feeling which he had felt in the cavern assailing him again, he turned to the colonel, who laughed. "Well," he said, "did you think it was something of what the Scotch call `no canny,' my lad?" Cyril felt more uncomfortable still. "Do you think they really were birds?" he said. "Of course; the South American cave-bird. A regular nocturnal creature." "What! a sort of owl, sir?" "No. Perry here has seen their relatives at home." "I? No, father," said the boy wonderingly. "Nonsense. What about the nightjars you have seen hawking round the oak trees in Surrey, after sunset?" "Oh yes, I remember them," cried Perry. "Well, these are, I fancy, birds of a similar kind, but instead of frequenting trees, they live in flocks in these dark caverns, and go out of a night to feed. Our light startled them just as they were about to take flight. This must be one of their great breeding-places.--But no more chatter. Sleep, and get a good night's rest." Easier said than done. The boys lay down in company with John Manning, but it was long enough before either Cyril or Perry could drop off! They would close their eyes, but only by an effort, for they were always ready to start open again at some sound high up on one or the other side of the narrow winding valley. It was cold too, in spite of the blankets, and when Cyril did at last slumber, he felt that he could hardly have been asleep an hour, as he started up into wakefulness again. Something was wrong he was sure, and he stretched out his hand to touch John Manning, who awoke instantly and sat up. "All right," he said, in a low voice. "No, no, don't move," whispered Cyril, grasping his arm. "I fancied I heard something." "Eh? Fancied? Perhaps it was fancy, sir. I'll ask the colonel." "Listen first." They knelt there in the darkness, attent for some minutes. "Don't hear anything, sir. I'll go and speak to the colonel. What did you fancy?" "I--I don't know," faltered Cyril. "It must have been while I was asleep. Yes," he whispered excitedly, "that was it." "The mules!" said the old soldier. "What are they doing here in camp?" For there came plainly now the soft pattering of hoofs on the stony ground, and directly after a tall figure loomed up out of the darkness. "Want me, sir?" said John Manning, in a quick whisper. "As you are awake, yes. There is something stirring close at hand, whether wild beast or Indian I can't say. Keep watch, and cover us while I get the mules into that cave." John Manning's double gun was already in his hand, and he stood fast while the colonel went by with the leading mule, the others following. Then directly after the soft pattering ceased, and the watchers knew that the patient animals had been led right into the cave. "Hear anything, Master Cyril?" whispered John Manning. "No." "And one can't see down in this dark gash," grumbled the man. "We humans are worse off than any of the animals. We can't see so well, nor hear so well, nor smell so well, nor run, nor fly. Lucky for us, we've got gumption enough to make telescopes and steam-engines and ships, or I don't know what we should do." "Who's that?" said the colonel, returning. "Cyril?" "Yes, sir." "Go and stand at the mouth of the cave, and mind that the mules don't come out." Cyril obeyed, and took up his position on a stone in the gurgling stream, to stand listening to the soft patter of the mules within, and to the faint whispers which came time after time from where he had left the colonel and John Manning. He had been at his position for some few minutes, turning from time to time in the darkness to cast a furtive look back into the entrance of the cavern, hardly able to restrain a shudder, as he thought of its unknown depths and the strange sound they had heard of the stone falling, and he could not help wishing that Perry was with him for company's sake. For there was a terrible feeling of lonesomeness there in the darkness, especially at a time like that, when he had just been roused from an uneasy sleep by something unexplained at which the colonel had taken alarm. "He said either Indian or wild beast," mused the boy. "What wild beast could there be?" There were, he knew, the wild varieties of the llamas, guanacoes, and the like, but they were timid, sheep-like creatures; and there were, he knew, pumas, the South American lions, as they were called, and perhaps jaguars--both these latter cat-like, nocturnal creatures; but they were animals of the forests, and not of these sterile, rocky valleys. Still, there might be other dangerous beasts in plenty, and his eyes wandered here and there, and he held his gun ready, though in that deep gloom he felt that he would be quite at the mercy of anything which attacked. He had just reached this point, when his thoughts took a fresh direction--suppose some savage creature should be in the cave, and suddenly spring upon him from behind. He turned cold with horror, and tried to call for help, but his mouth and throat were dry from the nervous trepidation he suffered; for he had suddenly been touched just below the shoulders, something big having given him a rude thrust. This was followed by another, which nearly sent him down into the water from the stone. But he recovered himself, turned sharply, and struck out with his right hand--a quick angry blow, while he felt as angry with himself for his absurd cowardice, the second thrust having awakened him to the fact that he had received a heavy push from the head of one of the mules, which had come silently close up, and was desirous of getting out again into the open air. Cyril's blow drove the animal hastily back, and as he stood listening, he heard the effect of his sharp action, for there was a good deal of pattering about when the mule turned sharply to its companions, driving them farther in. Then there was silence once more. "How easy it is to let one's self be frightened," thought Cyril. "I wish I were braver, and more like a man." Then he wondered why the colonel and John Manning did not come to him, and whether they were searching about for the cause of alarm. All was very still now, and it was some time since he had heard a whisper. "Very likely I shall hear a shot fired," he thought, and making up his mind not to be startled if he did, for that it would be a good sign and a proof that the cause of their night alarm had either been killed or frightened away, he stood gazing out into the darkness in all directions, and then smiled and complimented himself on his firmness. "Not going to be scared at that," he muttered, for there had been a sudden clattering of hoofs among the stones inside the cavern--just such a sound as would be made if one of the mules had kicked out at its companions, and made them start. All was silent again for a minute, and then there was a faint splash. "One of them gone down to drink," said Cyril to himself, and he turned now and looked inward along the narrow opening, and could see faintly one of the stars reflected in the black water, now twinkling, now burning brightly. Then it disappeared, as if a cloud had passed across the heavens, though that could not be, for another star gleamed closer to him, but that was blotted out too. "One of the mules coming out," he said, starting and raising his hand, when there was a sudden bound made by something which had been crawling slowly out of the cave's mouth; and as the boy struck at it wildly, his fist touched something warm and soft, and the object, whatever it was, made a stone or two rattle where it alighted, and then was gone. Cyril raised his gun, but he did not draw trigger, for it was folly to fire quite at random, and he was leaning forward, peering into the darkness, when a faint click made him turn again toward the mouth of the cave, just in time to be driven backward and lose his feet as another of the creatures leaped out and dashed away into the darkness. Two, and they were not mules, though evidently four-footed creatures. But what could they be? he asked himself, as he recovered his feet and stood with presented piece, his heart throbbing, and his finger on the trigger, ready to fire at the next movement from the cave. They could not be pumas, for the touch he had of the first one's body was not furry; neither could they be large monkeys, for they would not have smooth bodies, and besides, these creatures were too large. He was still in doubt, when there was a sound behind him, and as he turned sharply, a husky whisper: "Don't fire, my lad. What was that?" "Did you hear it, Manning?" "Yes, and had a glint of some one running by me." "Some one?" "Yes. Indian, I think; did you see him?" Cyril told him of what he had seen, and was just finishing, when there was a faint whisper and a movement of a stone or two as some one hurried up. "Manning--Cyril--" "Yes, sir."--"Yes, sir." "Look out. Some one passed me just now. Who's this--Perry?" "Yes, father," came in excited tones from out of the darkness. "Was it you who fell over me?" "No: when? where?" "Just now. Then it must have been Cyril. He went down heavily, but jumped up and ran away." "Indians, sir," said John Manning, in a low angry growl. "They passed the line of sentries, and must have been trying to spot the camp." "Absurd." "Fact, sir. Ask Mr Cyril here." "Yes, sir; two Indians--I thought they were wild beasts--came crawling out of the cave and jumped by me." "You saw them?" "Oh no, sir: it was so dark; but I hit at one of them and felt him." "Came out of the cavern?" "Yes, sir." "But are you sure?" "Quite, sir; I heard them frighten the mules, which began trampling, and then one of the men sprang out." "Shall I light the lantern, sir, and go in and see if there's any more?" growled John Manning. "No, my man; in all probability there were only the two, and perhaps they were not enemies to be feared. Possibly we have scared them more than they scared us." Cyril mentally demurred to that, but said nothing, and the colonel went on: "I'm afraid our night's rest has gone," he said, "for it is impossible to lie down with the knowledge that Indians who may be enemies are about.--Did you see anything as you made your round, John Manning?" "No, sir; but I heard something twice. It may have been only an animal, but something moved a few little stones up to the left. When I went cautiously up, whatever it was had gone. Did you see or hear anything, sir?" "I thought I heard a whisper a short distance away, but I could not be sure. I am sure, though, that some one glided by me, and Perry here had the best of evidence that one of the Indians fell over him." "Unless it was Cyril; he did lie down to sleep by me, father." "I've been on guard here by the cave's mouth for ever so long," said Cyril sharply, as if resenting the fact that his companion should have been sleeping while he watched. "Then it was an Indian," said the boy sharply. "We have the mules safe, Manning," said the colonel, "and now we must make sure of the baggage. Stand together, boys, facing two ways, while Manning and I get the packs into the cave." "But there may be more Indians in there, sir," said Cyril. "If there are, we must drive them out. That must be our fort for the present." At that moment there was a faint whistle from a distance, and it was answered from somewhere high up on the mountain-side. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. BETWEEN TWO STOOLS. No time was lost. The two boys were posted at the cavern entrance, one to try to check any advance from the valley, the other to guard against the escape of the mules, and stay by his presence any Indian who might still be in hiding. This latter was Cyril's duty, and this time he set his teeth and stepped right within the opening, encouraged by the fact that he had the colonel and John Manning constantly coming and going with the mule-packs, till only two were left to bring in. "I can hear people coming nearer," whispered Perry just then, and the colonel threw his load down at his son's feet. "You lads carry that in," he said.--"Manning, quick, we must get those other packs. They're coming on." John Manning, who was walking back from the cave, hastened his pace, and the two men hurried through the darkness to where the last two packages lay. "You keep watch," said Cyril. "I'm the stronger, and will get the pack inside." Perry said nothing, but felt glad and yet sorry, for he dreaded to re-enter the cave alone, and at the same time was ashamed to relegate the task to his companion. But there was no time for hesitation. Something serious was evidently going on by the spot where the packages had been stacked, for there were shouts and cries, and Cyril stooped to lift the pack, meaning to hurry into the cave and then return to pick up the gun he left with Perry, and stand ready to support their companions, in case he could do any good. The package was heavy, but he hoisted it on to one shoulder, and was about to bear it into the cave, when he was driven backward, and fell heavily, to be trampled under foot by a couple of men who charged out, plainly showing that there were others inside. It was almost momentary work. The men were there and then gone in the darkness, and, sore and angry, Cyril struggled to his feet. "Why didn't you fire?" he cried. "What at? I might have hit you, or perhaps my father," protested Perry. "Trampling on a fellow like that," grumbled Cyril, rehoisting his load. "Yes; they had each got a pack." "What! our packs?" cried Cyril excitedly. "Yes; I could just make that out," said Perry. "Oh!" ejaculated Cyril, stepping close in, and throwing down his load so as to regain his gun, "what will the colonel say?" Not what the boy expected, for just then he came panting up with John Manning, carrying a pack between them; while the rattling of the loose stones told that they were being pursued. "Quick, both of you," cried the colonel, "fire in the direction of the noise." Cyril's gun spoke out with both barrels rapidly, one after the other, the flashes cutting through the darkness, and the reports being followed a few seconds later by quite a volley of echoes, which ran reverberating along the gorge, to die away slowly in the distance; but before they had ceased, the little party was well inside the very doubtful shelter they had chosen, and John Manning posted at the entrance with his loaded piece. "Why didn't you fire?" whispered Cyril. "I did." "That you didn't. I did twice." "I mean," said Perry, "I pulled the trigger, but the thing wouldn't go off.--Oh!" "What's the matter?" said Cyril eagerly, as he reloaded his piece. "Don't say anything," whispered Perry. "I forgot to cock it." "A narrow escape, Manning," said the colonel just then. "Tidy, sir," replied the old soldier; "but I don't like losing that pack. Shall I make a charge and fetch it in?" "Madness, man," said the colonel. "Let it go. We've got all the others safe." "No, father," cried Perry excitedly; "two Indians rushed out of this place while you were gone, and each man had one of the packs." "What!" cried the colonel in a despairing tone; "three of my precious packages of seed--gone?" No one spoke; but from out of the darkness came the peculiar sound of one grinding his teeth, and a pang of misery and disappointment shot through Cyril as the colonel said bitterly: "Two of you with guns, and you could not check those brutes." "No, sir," growled John Manning; "how could they without bay'nets? 'tain't to be done." "It was all so sudden, father," put in Perry, his words saving John Manning from a stern reproof. "Cyril was knocked down, and there was not time to fire." "And if there had been," whispered Cyril maliciously, "your gun would not have gone off." "Beg pardon, sir," said John Manning, "I daresay we can get back the seed in the morning: they'll keep the good things, and throw what they think is rubbish away." "No," said the colonel, speaking sternly, "the three bags in those packages are gone. It is the main object of these men to keep the seed from being taken out of the country. Where is the lantern, Manning?" "Somewhere along with the packages, sir. I think we brought it in with the second lot." "You keep guard, while we search the cave. A sharp lookout, mind.-- Perry, come with me.--You stay with Manning, Cyril, till I return." "Sharp lookout, sir!" growled the old soldier. "Who's to keep a sharp lookout in the dark, and how's a man to guard the inside and outside together?--Say, Master Cyril, we're in a pretty tidy hole here, and it'll take all we know to get out of it again." "Oh, we shall manage," said Cyril sharply; "but three packs gone. That's terrible!" "'Tis, sir, and they'd all got in what's of more consequence to us now than seed--a whole bag each of rice and meal, without counting delicacies in the shape o' pepper and mustard." Just then there was the crackling of a match, followed by a faint glow, and the lantern shed its light around, gleaming from the running water, and showing dimly the mules standing in a group with their heads together. Then as Cyril stood waiting and watchful, he saw the lantern go on and on as if the colonel were zigzagging about to and fro, now approaching the little stream, now going right away. Sometimes the light passed beyond intervening rocks, and disappeared for a minute, then came into sight again; but there was no sign of other occupant in the great cave, whose extent was evidently vast. "Don't see no more o' they bat birds buzzing about," said Manning suddenly. "I hope they'll come back." "Why?" said Cyril. "Foodling," growled the old soldier. "We may have to stand a siege, and it ain't bad to know you've got plenty of meat and water on the spot." "What's that noise?" whispered Cyril. "Some on 'em crawling about on the stones outside yonder. I heered 'em, and if they don't keep off--I don't want to shoot no one, had enough of it when I was out in Indy, sir; but duty's duty, and if they won't leave us alone, they must be taught how. See anything o' the lantern now?" "No; it has gone out of sight some time." "Humph! I hope they won't go too far and lose theirselves, sir, because they can't be spared. I knowed of a man losing himself in a stone quarry once under ground, but they found him afterwards." "Half-starved?" said Cyril eagerly. "Quite, sir. It was a year after he went down. I don't like work under ground. It's only fit for rats or worms. See the light now?" "No: what's that?" "Something moving inside, sir." "The mules?" "No, sir; their hoofs are not so soft as that. Sounds to me as if some of 'em was going to make a rush, and we haven't a bay'net to bless ourselves with. You fire, sir, at once before they come on." Cyril did not hesitate, but without shouldering his piece, he drew trigger with the result that they heard, mingled with the reverberations of the report, a faint pattering noise as of retreating feet. "Well done, sir. Reload quickly. They were going to rush us, and that's taught 'em we were on the kwy wyve as the Frenchies call it." "Keep a sharp lookout your way," said Cyril as he hurriedly reloaded, his fingers trembling from his excitement. "That's what I'm doing, sir, with my ears. I've been on sentry before with different kind of Indians on the lookout to bring you down with bullets. I shall hear 'em, I dessay." "But look here, John Manning, we've stopped those men from coming, and driven them back on the colonel." "Yes, sir, and all the worse for them, for he's sure to hear them and be on the lookout. Strikes me that the cave swarms with Indians, and that our first job ought to be to clear the place. But look out, and don't be in too great a hurry to shoot now, sir, because your shot 'll bring our friends back to us. Perhaps it came in quite right, for they may have lost their way." Then some minutes passed, and a noise was heard which made Cyril lower his gun again, but a voice warned him that he must not fire. "Where are you?" cried the colonel. "Here, sir." "Thank goodness. We had an accident, fell over a stone, and put out the light. This place is tremendous, and we should have hardly found our way out of it, had it not been for your shot. Did you mean it as a recall?" Cyril explained, and the colonel came to the conclusion that it was useless to explore farther, for there was room for a hundred of the enemy to hide and elude them, so vast was the number of huge blocks lying about, masses which had fallen from the roof during some convulsion of nature. "We must wait for daylight," he said at last. "It is impossible to make any plans till then." But all the same the colonel arranged his little force so that it might tell to the best advantage; he and Perry securing themselves behind a block of stone to guard from an attack within, while Cyril had to join John Manning in guarding the entrance from an attack from outside, where they had the satisfaction soon after of seeing one of the mountain peaks appear, pale and ghastly looking, over the other side of the gorge, while all below was intensely black. Once they heard a peculiar cry which might have come from Indians or some wild creature, quadruped or night-bird; but otherwise all was still in the gorge, as they strained their eyes in their endeavours to pierce the darkness in search of danger. At last weariness began to tell upon Cyril, and his head nodded gently, then went down so suddenly that he started up, angry, and in dread lest Manning should have been aware of his lapse. For it was horrible at a time like that, when perhaps the lives of all depended upon his watchfulness. "It was too dark, and he did not notice it," thought Cyril, with a glow of satisfaction pervading his breast. "Yes, it's hard work, as I well know, sir," said Manning quietly. "When I was a soldier first, I used to think it killing work to keep on sentry when one would have given anything to have a good sleep." "You noticed it, then," said Cyril. "Noticed it, my lad? why, of course. Seeing how dark it is, you might have had a doze and me not known anything but there you were, very quiet; but when you says to me, as plain as a young man can speak, `I'm tired out, and my eyes won't keep open any longer,' why, of course, I know you're off." "But did I say that?" "Not exactly, sir, but you said `gug,' and I heered your teeth chop together when your chin went down upon your chest." "Oh!" ejaculated Cyril bitterly, "and I did try so hard." "Course you did, sir, but human nature's the nat'ralist thing there is, and it will have its own way. I'd say have a snooze, but orders were that you was to watch, and watch you must." "Yes," said Cyril firmly, "and I will keep awake now." He kept his word for fully ten minutes, and then his efforts were vain. If the peril had been ten times greater, he would have dropped off all the same; but he had not slept a minute before there was the sharp report of a gun which came bellowing out of the cave's mouth, and the boy started up once more as if it were he who had been shot; while from close at hand there was a rush of feet, and John Manning fired at once into the darkness, with the result that there was another rush from Cyril's right. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. IN THE GORGE. "Well," cried the colonel, as the echoing died away, "are they coming on?" "They were, sir, without us knowing it," said Cyril. "Your shot frightened them, and then Manning fired and startled some more." "The mules warned me," said the colonel, "as they did you, but a shot sent the rascals back.--Hah! the light coming at last." For the mountain peaks were beginning to glow, and the clouds which hung round the highest showed tints that were quite crimson, while the light was now slowly stealing down into the deep gorge, bringing with it relief from the terrible anxiety of the night. Then, as it grew brighter, it became evident that the Indians had drawn off for a time, not a sign being visible of their presence anywhere in the deep valley, while inside the cavern all was so still that it was almost impossible to believe that any danger could be lurking there. But the danger was ever present, and it was not until John Manning had been posted well inside the cavern, ready to fire in the event of any fresh advance, that preparations were made for a very necessary meal; after which it became requisite to hold a council of war, when it was decided that to stay where they were would be madness, and that nothing remained for them but to show a bold front and push on at once. Perry looked so dubious that his father smiled. "Don't you see, my boy, how dependent we are upon the mules? Well, the mules must be turned out to graze, and we shall be as safe journeying on as posting ourselves to guard them. Besides, if we stop here, the Indians will conclude that we are afraid to go on, and this will give them courage; whereas, if we advance boldly, they will give us the credit of being braver than we are." "And if we shut ourselves up in that cave, how long will the provisions hold, sir, if I may make so bold?" said John Manning. "Quite right," said the colonel nodding. "Don't you know, Perry, that a wise man once said that an army does not gallop along, but crawls upon its stomach?" "Crawls?" said Perry. "You don't understand, boy. He meant that an army can only move as fast as provisions can be supplied to it. That is our case. If we take the risk of shutting ourselves up here--a dreary, depressing plan, by the way--we can only hold out till our provisions come to an end. Better far make a bold dash onward toward the other side of the mountains. Every step we take will be toward civilisation and safety, while every step the Indians take in pursuit will be toward land where they know that they will be at a disadvantage. There, I do not see why I should explain all this to you, but I want you to have confidence in me. And you too, sir." "Oh, I have, father," cried Perry. "And I'm sure I have, sir," said Cyril warmly, "only I can't help feeling that we shall be safer in the cavern than out there in the narrow valley, where these people can shoot us down when they like." "Of course you feel that, my lad," said the colonel, "but I am under the impression that they will hesitate about shooting at us. I fancy that they will strain every nerve to master us and capture all our stores, in the full belief that we are taking out of the country valuables that their traditions and the teachings of their rulers bind them to defend. If they had liked, I feel convinced that some one of us, perhaps two, would be wounded and helpless by now.--What do you say, John Manning?" "Well, sir, I'm 'bout divided in my opinions. One time I think they must be such bad shots, they're afraid to show it, and another I get thinking that they've got an idea of your being an indefatigable sort of a gentleman." "Well, I am, John Manning," replied the colonel smiling; "and you know it too." "Course I do, sir, but that isn't what I mean, sir: 'tain't indefatigable; it's a word that means something to do with armour, and the more you shoot at any one, the more you won't hurt him." "Invulnerable," said Cyril. "That's it, sir," cried the old soldier, slapping his leg. "Lor', what a fine thing it is to have been brought up a scholar." "You are right, Manning. I impressed them, I suppose, by my shooting, and they have evidently some idea of that kind in their ignorance. We'll take advantage of it and start at once.--Very tired, boys?" They were silent. "Shall we start now, or try to get some rest, and then start at night?" "Let's start now, sir," said Cyril firmly. "The darkness makes cowards of us--I mean, makes one of me, for I'm always fancying dangers all around." "Are you ready, Perry?" "Yes, father. Let's go at once." "We will," said the colonel, "for I'm afraid that we should make very poor progress after dark. In with you then, and let's load up the mules; they must take a mouthful of grass wherever there is any as we go." The very thought of getting on chased away a great deal of the weariness, and the little party were soon hard at work in the semi-darkness, just inside the cave, fastening on the packs. Then all mounted the riding mules, and without a moment's hesitation rode out, the colonel with the leading mule turning up the gorge, which ran pretty nearly due west and rising higher at every step, while John Manning and the two lads formed the rearguard. "Ten times better than being shut up there in the dark, my lads," said the old soldier, sitting up erect in his saddle, with the butt of his piece resting upon his thigh. "It's like being in the cavalry.--See any of 'em, Master Cyril, sir?" "No, not a soul in sight. Have they gone right away?" John Manning chuckled. "Just far enough to keep a sharp eye on us, sir. They're hiding somewhere behind the stones." But for the space of an hour, as they rode on in the shade of the early morning, there was no sign of an enemy either to front or rear, and inspirited by the crisp mountain air, the boys felt their spirits rise, and were ready to banter John Manning about what they looked upon as his mistake. "Depend upon it," said Perry, "they drew right back to go and camp for the day, and rest, before coming to attack us again." "They were soon rested then, sir," said the old soldier drily, "for there's two of 'em up yonder behind those pieces of rock." "Where? Nonsense. Birds: condors, perhaps, on a shelf." "Perhaps so, sir," said John Manning; "but they're birds that can make signals, and your father sees them too." For just then the colonel drew his mule aside, and let the rest pass on, while he waited for the rearguard to come up. "Be on the alert," he said as they came up; "the Indians are high above us on the mountain-side, and they are making signs to others right up the gorge. Close up." Then going nearer to his old servant, he whispered: "Keep a sharp eye up to right and left, and if they open the ball, jump down, and don't hesitate about taking good aim at the first who tries to stop us." "Right, sir. But how do you think they will open the ball, sir? Arrows?" "No: as our old friends in the North-west did, John Manning. Ah, look, they have begun." "Yes, sir; I expected it," cried John Manning, as the mules all stopped short, their leader having suddenly swerved aside to avoid a little avalanche of stones and masses of rocks which came tearing down from far on high, right across their course. It began by the dislodging of one great mass, which was forced over from a rocky shelf, and before this had rolled half-way, it had started hundreds more, the attempt being so well contrived that the pieces of rock, which came leaping and bounding down with a clashing sound like thunder, would certainly have crushed one or more of the mules, but for their quick appreciation of the danger. Two sharp replies to this attack were given from the loaded pieces, and the Indians disappeared; but when, after a great deal of coaxing, the mules were got into motion once more, the colonel urging the leader round beyond where the stones had fallen, the boys uttered a warning cry, for another mass of rock was started from high up on the other side, and with such good effect that the rush of stones it started caught the tiny caravan half-way, and to the misery and despair of all, one of the best mules lay with its pack half buried, and the poor creature's head crushed almost flat. This time the boys fired up at a single man perched fully twelve hundred feet above the narrow bottom of the gorge, and he dropped out of sight, while the colonel and John Manning leaped down again, and rapidly removed the stones which impeded them in their efforts to loosen the pack-ropes and remove the load to another mule. This was a hindrance of a good half-hour, and the colonel looked very stern as he gave the order to advance again, when they gained about a mile, the gorge opening a little. Then the huge towering walls contracted once more, and a black-looking prospect opened before them, for there, so narrow that there was barely room for the mules to go singly, was their way, through a black-looking rift, above which the mountains on either side rose in shelves admirably adapted for the enemy's defence, and promising so ill for the little party, that the colonel hesitated for a minute while he used his glass. Then, as all was still, no sign of an enemy visible, he gave the order to advance, in the hope that the place was too precipitous for the Indians to occupy. Vain hope! Ten minutes later the mule he rode lay quivering on the ground; the colonel having the narrowest of narrow escapes from a terrible death. "Forward!" he said firmly, but as he spoke, another avalanche and another came thundering down, and seeing the madness of attempting to proceed, he gave the word to retreat. It was needless, for the mules had already sprung round, and were hurrying back at a rate that was faster than anything they had yet shown. There was no yell of triumph from on high, and no sign of enemy on either hand as they rode back, face to face with the fact that exit from the gorge in that direction was impossible, and that unless they could find some side ravine leading in the direction they wished to pursue, there was nothing for it but to retrace their steps right to the cinchona cutters' camp, and from thence make their way home by the road they came. "It does seem so strange," said Perry, as they rode back; "they don't pursue us, but let us ride quietly on. Are they satisfied with the mischief they have done?" Cyril made no answer, for he was watching the colonel, where he rode by himself, grave and stern, impressed as he was by the feeling that all his efforts would be brought to nought, if he could not devise some means of reaching San Geronimo. At that moment it looked hopeless, and as if he would be thwarted at every step, for though the enemy were invisible, he had had bitter experience of the fact that their knowledge of the mountain paths placed them at a tremendous advantage, and he felt that in all probability they were even then where they could watch every movement, and had perhaps got well ahead, ready to stop them by another attack upon the mules. It was past mid-day now, and the hope of getting well onward toward safety was completely crushed; the sun was now shining fiercely down into the gorge, heating the rocks so, that the reflection was almost worse than the scorching rays from above. The mules were panting and thirsty, and the exertions of the day, coming upon such a broken night, were telling terribly upon all, so that reluctantly, and as their only resource, the colonel allowed the old leading mule to make straight for the stream which came gurgling out of the cave they had left that morning. Here, to the surprise of all, the intelligent beast, instead of stooping to drink at once, stepped carefully among the stones right into the cool shade within, the rest following, and five minutes later Perry and Cyril were seated inside upon one of the packs. "And all that day's work thrown away," said Cyril sadly. "And two mules dead," whispered Perry, so that his father should not hear. "But we saved their loads," replied Cyril. "What for?" said Perry, in the same low voice. "It's of no use: we shall never get away alive." CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. READY FOR THE WORST. Nature must be satisfied at whatever cost, and, as soon as possible, the provisions were unpacked, while a fire, which had been lit with the scraps of wood collected as they returned, burned brightly, the smoke drawing farther into the cavern, and being rapidly dispersed. Then, as soon as the kettle, suspended by an iron rod over the flames, began to boil, a very small handful of tea was thrown in, and the tin lifted off and laid aside. Only some very wooden cake bread, and some very dry tough beef, with a strong flavour of being imperfectly sun-cured; but how delicious it was when washed down by the warm, unsweetened, milkless tea! They sat on the stones a little way inside the entrance, where the cool dampness of the cave was relieved by the soft, warm, sunny air which floated in from the gorge; and a sharp lookout was kept for the Indians, but not a sign betrayed their presence. A short exploration of the interior, too, was made, but there was not a sound to be heard, save an impatient stamp or two from the mules; and, concluding that the enemy had all left the place, the colonel returned to where he had left the boys on guard, but only to find them both fast asleep, and John Manning walking up and down slowly by the stream, with his gun over his shoulder. "Don't wake 'em, sir," said the man appealingly: "they tried very hard to hold up, but it warn't to be done; and if I hadn't got up and taken to marching here on sentry-go, I should have been fast asleep too." "Poor fellows," said the colonel sadly, "it was too much to expect after what they have gone through. There, lie down for a couple of hours, and then I'll wake you to relieve me." "Begging your pardon, sir, if you'd take first turn," began the old soldier, but he was cut short directly by a sharp gesture, and, without a word, he lay down with his piece in his hand, and was asleep directly. The colonel took his place, and then began to walk slowly to and fro, now right out where the sinking sun glistened upon the surface of the stream, now back inward, with the walk growing darker, till it was quite black. And as he marched to and fro, the colonel reflected upon the hopelessness of their position. As he approached the open sunshine, he felt lighter-hearted; but as he turned and walked inward toward the cold and darkness, his spirits sank once more, and he saw no way out of their difficulties save the giving up of that for which he had come all those many thousand miles. Then he stopped short, for Cyril had suddenly sprung to his feet, looking horribly guilty and ashamed. "I am so sorry, sir," he faltered. "I did not mean to go to sleep." "You could not help it, my lad," said the colonel, laying his hand upon the boy's shoulder. "You had reached the limit of human endurance. But, Cyril, my lad, you are being sharply punished for your mad escapade." "Yes, sir," said the boy sadly, "and I suppose I deserve it. I should mind all this much less if we had arranged with my father that I should come." "Well done, young philosopher," said the colonel, as he kept his hand on the lad's shoulder, and marched him to and fro. "Come, as you can think so well, give me your advice. You know why I have come--to obtain this seed to place in the hands of those who will cultivate it, and make the world independent of the one source of supply." "Yes, sir," said Cyril wonderingly. "And you see the position to which I am reduced." "Yes, sir. Will the Indians kill us?" "Not without paying dearly for it," said the colonel sternly. Then changing his manner: "No, my lad. These people are only half-savage, and look upon what they are doing as a duty. I do not think they will kill us if they can get possession of all our baggage. They might keep us in captivity until means are taken to free us; but I don't know--I hardly feel that our lives are safe." "Not very, sir," said Cyril grimly, "if they rolled big stones. It might have been us instead of the mules this morning." "Yes, we have had some narrow escapes; but what shall I do now--give up and own that I am beaten?" "And let them have the kina seed, sir? No, that I wouldn't; I'd fight for it first," cried Cyril excitedly. "Do you know what you are talking about?" said the colonel excitedly. "Yes, sir," cried Cyril, "I was very much down a while ago; but I've had something to eat now, and a sleep and--What! give up to a pack of savages, and let them rob you of all we have worked so hard to get? That I wouldn't while there was a charge of powder left." "Humph!" ejaculated the colonel, looking at the boy searchingly. "That's what my father would say if he were here. I wish he were." "To thrash you for leaving home in that cowardly way?" "No, sir," said Cyril quietly. "My father never thrashed me, and he never would. He always said it was degrading a boy to beat him, and that he was a poor parent who could not rule his children without blows. He told me he thought he could hurt me a good deal more by his words, and so he always could." "Perhaps so, sir," said the colonel sternly; "but see what a mistake he has made, and what a miserable young dog you have turned out." Cyril was silent for a few moments. "I hope I'm not all bad, sir," he said. "I'm sure I've bitterly repented what I have done." "And been severely punished, too, my lad," said the colonel kindly. "Your father is quite right, and when I tell him how you have behaved-- as, please God, I hope I shall--if he is the man I believe him to be, he will shake hands with you as I do now, and say, `Let's forget the past!'" "Colonel Campion!" cried Cyril, snatching at the hand extended to him. He could say no more, for something seemed to rise in his throat and choke him, while the colonel rested his arm affectionately upon his shoulder once more, and walked him up and down toward the light and back again. "So you'd fight for it and stand out, eh?" said the colonel at last. "Yes, sir, that I would," cried Cyril excitedly, "and I'm sure Perry will say the same." The colonel was silent for a few moments, gazing straight before him into the darkness, and he asked himself whether he would be justified in running all these risks. He shook his head, and they turned and marched down again toward the light, where the rippling stream looked rosy in the evening, and the rocks on the other side of the gorge were all aglow. And there was so much in the brightness and hope and prospect of success that the feelings of dread, the shrinking from a terrible ordeal, and all hesitation fled away. "Yes," he said firmly as he stopped short; "a civilian might hesitate and give up, but I cannot, my lad. I determined to carry out this task, believing that by it I should vastly benefit suffering humanity at large, and Heaven helping me, I will achieve my aims." "And you will fight it out, sir?" cried Cyril. "I will, my boy, to the bitter end. I made the Indians fear me, and if they attack us now, they shall fear me more, for I have our lives to save as well. Now, go and lie down." "No, sir, I don't feel sleepy; let me watch with you." "You are a soldier for the time being, my lad, and if we are to succeed, discipline must be observed. In an hour's time I rouse up John Manning to relieve me, and toward morning, when you are rested and refreshed, you shall be called to take your watch." Cyril lay down without a word, meaning to think out all that had been said, and feeling happier than he had since he left home. But he did not think, for in a few seconds after he had stretched his weary limbs upon the rocky floor, all the corners and points of his bed became soft as eider-down, and he dropped into a deep dreamless sleep, leaving the colonel seated on a rock, leaning forward with his gun between his legs, and his form looking black against the soft glowing light at the entrance of the cave. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. NATURE IS MISTRESS. "I haven't slept long," thought Cyril as he woke with a start to see the colonel seated as he had left him when sleep came. He did not appear to have moved, and all was perfectly still. One thing, however, puzzled him, and that was the light. It was soft and warm and glowing then; now it was clear and bright. All at once he saw something come into sight from the side and stand looking in. It was the old leading mule, and it stood there munching away at a tuft of green stuff which it held in its teeth, and then dropped, and stooped its head to take a long drink of water. "Have the Indians gone?" thought Cyril, "and has the colonel let the mules out to feed?" He sat up for a moment or two, and then lay down again. "I may as well sleep till I am called," he thought, and he lay listening to the heavy breathing of John Manning and Perry, whom he could see lying in precisely the same position as when he lay down a few minutes before. But was it a few minutes before? Cyril asked himself as he saw the mule lift its head with the water dripping from its lips, and then pick up the tuft of green twigs, and go on munching again. It could not have been longer, for the colonel had not been relieved yet; but the light was so strange. Last time he looked, the opposite side of the gorge was glowing with the sunset rays; now it was in shadow, and the sun was shining just inside the mouth of the cave, and making the water flash like molten silver. The mule stared in toward him, and Cyril made a bull, as a sudden thought flashed through his mind. "Why, it's to-morrow morning!" he mentally exclaimed as he started up, "and I've been asleep all this time." He went to where the colonel sat, and though the stones rattled a little beneath his feet, the watcher did not stir, but sat as if gazing straight out past the mule, when Cyril said reproachfully: "You shouldn't have let me sleep so long, sir." But there was no answer, and at that moment there was a dull sound, a whinnying sigh, as the mule gave a violent start, throwing out its legs in all directions, and scattering the stones before gathering itself together, and making a tremendous leap to go galloping away, not so quickly, though, but that Cyril saw it had a long arrow sticking in its back. "What's that? Who? You, Cyril?" cried the colonel, springing to his feet. "What! Have I been to sleep?" "I don't know, sir; I only just woke up." "Why, it's morning," cried the colonel angrily. "What was that noise?" "The old mule. Some one shot an arrow, and stuck it in her back." "But how came it there? I--I--Ah! and I blamed you, boy, for falling asleep at your post." "Anything the matter, sir?" said John Manning, coming forward, followed hastily by Berry. "Matter, man; yes. I have kept watch by sleeping all night." "Well, sir, I don't wonder," said the man. "I have too, for you didn't call me to go on duty." "Oh, shame!" exclaimed the colonel. "And at a time like this!" "I don't see no shame in it, sir," growled John Manning bluntly. "You wanted sleep like the rest of us, and you couldn't fight against it. You ain't an iron man, sir." "Silence, sir!" cried the colonel angrily, and he hurried right out of the cave, closely followed by the boys, in time to see the mule disappear low down the gorge, galloping madly among the stones. "Another--our most valuable pack mule gone," cried the colonel, in a voice full of the anger and annoyance he felt. "The poor brute must have strayed out to graze." "Yes, sir; I saw it eating when I awoke, and then directly after the arrow struck it." "Then the Indians must be close at hand. Come back and help to secure the rest of the mules, or they may be straying out after their leader." Cyril looked in the colonel's face, and then pointed down the valley at something moving, plainly seen now in the clear morning atmosphere. "Yes; I see it. One moment till I focus the glass." The colonel held his little double glass to his eye, and then let his hand fall to his side in dismay on learning that the mischief was worse than he had anticipated, for there was another mule on the far slope; and just then John Manning came up with Perry from an expedition within the cave. "Yes: what is it?" cried the colonel sharply. "Sorry to have to report it, sir," said Manning, in a low deep growl, "but the mules have strayed out in the night." "All?" said the colonel hoarsely. "Is there not one left?" "No, sir; as far as I can make out, not one." The colonel's brows knit, and he stood motionless for a few moments. Then without a word he walked right in to where it was quite dark. "Light the lantern," he said sharply, and in a few moments a match gleamed out, and the candle was soon after shedding its rays in all directions. But hardly had John Manning given a glance round, than he uttered a sharp ejaculation. "What is it?" cried the colonel. "Can you see the rest of the mules?" "No, sir." "Well, what is it?" cried the colonel impatiently. "Don't you see, father?" cried Perry excitedly; "the Indians must have crept in while we slept. They have carried everything away." "What?" raged out the colonel as he looked wildly round where his servant was holding up the lantern, and then he uttered a groan. For it was too true. Every pack had gone, and with them the possibility of holding out against the cunning enemy who had been in their midst. The same thoughts came to each of the boys--thoughts of all they had heard before setting out, of those who ventured into the mountains in search of the Incas' treasures never being heard of more, and a curious chilling feeling of despair came over them. Would they ever see home again? But the colonel was not the man to give way to despair. The position was terrible--right out there amid the gigantic mountains, with the only roads through them those naturally formed by the torrents in the wild deep gorges, shut in by precipices of the most stupendous nature, with no other guide than their compass, and surrounded by enemies who might at any moment make an attack; while, so far from being able to make a prolonged defence now, the Indians had robbed them of the means. This was the position as it struck them all at first, but the colonel gave it a different aspect directly. "Council of war," he said cheerily, as he led the way out into the sunshine, and sat down upon a block of stone. "Come, Perry lad, a soldier's son must not look like that as soon as he is face to face with difficulties. John Manning will tell you that he and I have been in worse straits than this up in the hill-country.--Eh, Manning?" "Of course, sir. This is nothing. Such a fine morning, too. Why, if the snow lay twenty foot deep, as we've seen it, and we didn't know whether we had any fingers or toes, we might begin to holler." "Of course," said the colonel. "So let's see what is to be done." The two boys exchanged glances, but said nothing. "Now, then," cried the colonel, "let's look the worst straight in the face, and then we will calculate our advantages. First of all, the enemy." "None in sight, sir," said John Manning. "No; they have gone. They have achieved their aim in getting possession of our baggage." "Don't you think they'll attack us, sir?" said Cyril. "No, certainly not. They have been here, and found us asleep. Had they wished to slay us, there we were at their mercy, and not a hair of our heads has been touched. Next trouble." "Walked off with all the wittle, sir," growled John Manning. "Yes, that's bad; but we have plenty of water, and shall not fail in our journeyings for that. Bad thing to be journeying through a wild country with not a drop of water, eh, Manning? We have done that." "Don't talk about it, sir. And the sun all the time drying the very marrow out of your bones." "Yes, those were terrible times, my man. We shall not suffer that way, and as to food, we have our guns. What about ammunition?" "All got plenty, sir," growled John Manning. "I've seen every morning that our pouches were full." "That's right, then. With a little hunting, we must find some game in these valleys, scarce as it has been. Then there is the coca leaf, whose virtues we must try, failing anything better. Oh, come, we are not so very badly off." "Then you will try at once to make for one of the tracks through the mountains, sir?" said Cyril. "And live by hunting, father?" cried Perry. "And give up, after trying so long, and being so near success, my boy?" said the colonel. "Come, come: Britons would not have made their name known all over the world if they had gone on like that." "Look here," cried Cyril excitedly; and then he stopped and looked doubtingly at the colonel. "Well, I'm waiting, my lad. Every suggestion has its value at a time like this. Speak out." "I'm afraid you'll think the idea too wild, sir." "I will say so if it is, my boy. Let's have it." "I thought this, sir," said Cyril hesitatingly: "we're well-armed; the Indians are afraid of you, and they are most likely retreating back to their camp with our mules and baggage, along with the seed we worked so hard to get." He stopped again, and looked from one to the other, very red in the face all the time. "Well, go on," said the colonel encouragingly. "Why not show them we're not a bit afraid, and go on in pursuit of them at once? I don't believe they'd fight, and if they did--well, we should have to do the same." "Hooray!" shouted John Manning, throwing up his cap, catching it again, and then drawing himself up stiffly as he glanced at the colonel: "Beg pardon, sir." The colonel merely nodded, but said to himself: "I wish Percy had spoken like that." Then turning to Cyril: "You said, why not go in pursuit?" "Yes, sir," said Cyril, throwing off his hesitation, and speaking now with his eyes sparkling, and cheeks flushed with excitement. "Why not?" "Exactly, my boy, why not?" said the colonel. "We were caught unawares, and I have blamed myself, an old soldier, severely for the greatest lapse of which an officer can be guilty--eh, John Manning?--sleeping on duty in face of the enemy." "Awful bad, sir, in time of war." "Yes, but there are bounds to human nature's endurance, John Manning; and though I would not own it to myself, I was utterly exhausted." "All was, sir." "Then now we must make up for it.--Cyril, my lad, you have proposed exactly what I intended to do. Fortunately, we made a good meal last night. To-day we must feast again when we have retaken the baggage.-- All ready? Fall in." The boys followed the colonel's example, and leaped to their feet. "Light marching order," said the colonel, "so we ought to get along fast. That mule we saw, Cyril, shows that the others have been taken down the valley toward the great fall. There is no choice of road here, so I take it that the Indians are making their way straight back to their camp. Now, one word more. See that your weapons are ready for immediate use; no talking, but keep all your energies devoted to making observations in every direction. No rift or ravine likely to hide the enemy must be passed, if it is one possible for mules to climb. Now, forward." Then with a feeling of exhilaration that the boys could hardly comprehend, the little party started off with the colonel leading, and John Manning with his gun over his shoulder marching last, with a look in his face that suggested his feeling that he was guarding the rear of a column of advance once again. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. A MILITARY MOVEMENT. At the first spot which gave him an opportunity to examine the gorge, the colonel mounted to a narrow shelf and made good use of his glass, descending at last to say: "They have got a good start of us, but there is something about a quarter of a mile on that I can't make out. Forward cautiously." Five minutes later the colonel halted again and sent Perry to the left, close up under that side of the gorge; Cyril to the right, with orders to advance in a line with him, and be ready to fire if there were any need. It was quite a military movement, and the boys' hearts beat heavily at what seemed like the first initiation in real warfare; but before they had gone far Cyril uttered a shout, and pointed forward to something now hidden from the colonel by a cluster of rocks in the lowest part of the ravine, close to where the river ran with a deep-toned roar far below. A minute later they were alongside the object, which proved to be the leader, lying as near as it could get to the deep gash in which the water was foaming. The poor wounded beast had in its struggles broken the long arrow nearly level with its skin, and in its agony of thirst it had been trying to reach the water, but fallen upon its side. As Cyril came close up, the mule raised its head and uttered a piteous whinnying noise, looking up in the face of one who had many a time broken off some green spray of juicy growth to feed it as it trudged along with its load; but its eyes were already glazing, and it was the poor creature's last effort, for the head fell back heavily: there was a curious quivering of the legs, which struck out once as if their owner were galloping, and then all was still. "Poor brute," said the colonel. "We cannot bury it, for there is no soil here, even if we had tools. Forward, my lads." He led on, and the boys followed, feeling low-spirited; but they soon had something else to think about, for just as they were approaching one of the narrowest parts of the gorge, Perry stopped short. "Where's John Manning?" he said. Cyril followed suit, but no sign of the old soldier met his eyes, and they communicated with the colonel, who looked very anxious and much disturbed. "We must return," he said. "Why, boys, you ought to have kept in touch with him. Double." They all started back, but before they had gone a hundred yards the colonel cried "Halt;" for there in the distance was the missing man coming on at a rate which meant that he would soon overtake them. "Did you see what he has been doing?" said Cyril, as they were once more on the march. "Been stopping to get something," said Perry, "but I could not see what. Could you?" "Ugh! Yes," said Cyril, with a shudder of disgust. "He doesn't want for us to be starved, but who's going to eat mule?" The tramp was long and tedious, but being no longer controlled by the pace of the baggage animals, the little party made far better progress than when they were making their way up the valley; yet the distance they had come was far greater than they had anticipated, and for long enough there was no sign of the Indians having passed that way. But they kept on, the colonel feeling convinced that they had passed no side ravine up which the mules could have been driven; while, having these animals at their command, the colonel felt certain that the Indians would not carry the loads. At last, during the hottest part of the afternoon, a halt was called, and they made for a huge rock which overhung on one side, offering a tempting shade from the burning sun; but before they reached it Cyril uttered an eager cry. "Look! look!" he said excitedly, and he pointed to where there were marks about a patch of herbage where the mules had been cropping the coarse stuff, as well as browsing upon some tufts of bushes, whose green twigs were bitten and broken off, and here and there leaves which had been dropped were still so fresh that it was evident that they could not long have been left. This discovery, and a faint trace or two of the Indians having been with the mules, had a better effect upon the party than hours of rest. For they knew now that the treasured packs, containing not only the necessities upon which they depended for life, but the carefully-collected seed, were only a short distance ahead, and that if they pushed on with energy they ought to overtake them. The rest depended upon the strong arms of the two men. They went on then at once, but no fresh sign encouraged them, and at last the closing in of the ravine and the piled-up mountain in front warned them that they were approaching the gloomy chasm into which the river plunged. In fact, half an hour after, the deep booming roar of the fall began to be audible, as if coming from somewhere high up on the mountain-side. "If it's coming to a fight," said Perry, "I hope it will not be in that deep cavernous place near the fall. I feel as if I hardly dare go down to it after what happened." "Nonsense; you'll feel plucky enough when it comes to the point. Come along." "Steady, young gentleman. Halt," growled John Manning. "You should keep your eyes open for what's going on in front. Look at the colonel." They gazed forward, and saw that the last-named gentleman was signing to them to stop and follow his example of crouching down; and directly after they saw him creeping on toward the spot, from which so short a time before they had seen the Indians come out from behind the veil of mist, and amidst the roar of the falls point upward, making signs to each other, and then disappear. It was now so gloomy, that it was hard to make out their leader's movements, for the light only reached them from the narrow opening high overhead, and where the little river raced onward toward the fall it was rapidly growing black; but in a few minutes the colonel signed to them to come on, and at a word from John Manning they advanced quickly, stooping in obedience to a sign from the colonel's hand, and reached him at last where he crouched behind a stone. He did not speak, but pointed, and first John Manning, then Perry, and lastly Cyril peered cautiously over the stone, the latter being only in time to see that they were quite right in their surmises, for there below was a party of about thirty well-armed Indians, slowly making their way down the last of the many zigzags of the path toward where the mist rose like a dark veil, the wind which blew down the gorge keeping it, as it rose from the great gulf, from spreading in their direction, but beating it back into a dense cloud, to float slowly out into the valley beyond. There they were walking very cautiously, some ten in front, and next, to Cyril's great joy, the remainder of their train of pack-mules, well loaded with the treasures taken from the cave. The rest of the party followed about a dozen yards behind. Cyril remained watching till the head of the little column readied the veil of mist, went on, and was completely blotted out the next minute, one by one, the Indians being visible in the gloom, and then gone. Next it was the turn of the animals, and as Cyril watched, it was very curious to note how a mule would be visible for a time, then its head and shoulders would disappear, and lastly it would be entirely swallowed up. The remainder of the Indians followed, one by one, till the last man, who seemed to be their chief, was alone, and he turned back to gaze upward, narrowly scrutinising the zigzag path by which his party had descended for a few minutes before he followed the rest. Then the gloomy place was utterly deserted, and momentarily growing blacker, so that the way down could not be seen. There was no fear now of their words being heard above the booming roar which came up out of the chasm, and the colonel explained his intentions. "I am going to call upon you all to show your nerve," he said, "for we must go down, and pass along by the fall through the darkness and mist." "But is it safe, father?" said Perry anxiously. "Safe or no, my lad, it is a chance I cannot let slip," replied his father. "You saw their leader looking back, Cyril? He was evidently satisfied that there was no pursuit, and he and his people will conclude that once they get through the mist they will be safe, and no doubt camp just on the other side for the night.--Manning, we must steal through the mist, creep up, and surprise them. Two or three of our little volleys will, I believe, put them to flight if we come upon them suddenly, and then we must return this way, and show our teeth fiercely if they pursue." "Right, sir; I'm ready," said John Manning. "You lead, and we'll follow." "Let's rest, then, till it is quite dark. I believe I can lead you right through to the other side without much risk, for after our experience we know the worst. Besides, where they can go, we can go. There, wait a bit, boys, and we shall have our own again, and the wherewithal to make a good meal. No, no," the colonel added as John Manning raised his head. "Only in case of utter starvation, my man. We can hold out a little longer, and I hope we shall not have to come to eating mule. Now, lie down, all of you, and rest. In a couple of hours' time I shall start." CHAPTER THIRTY. TRAPPED. Hungry and faint, it was a dreary time passed during that halt; but in spite of all, it was restful, though the stones were hard, and there were moments when Cyril felt as if he could go off fast asleep, and dream of banquets, as hungry people are said to do. But there was no sleeping, and, as nearly as could be guessed, at the end of two hours the colonel rose, and gave the word "Forward." Then began the journey down the long zigzag, every turn bringing them nearer to the spot where the river took its great plunge into the gulf. The roar grew deeper and louder, though still smothered by the dense mist, and as they drew nearer, there was the damp odour of water, breathed in the smallest of vesicles, as it was churned and then whirled upward to battle with the breeze descending the gorge. The last turn of the descending path at last, and then the colonel stopped, for they were face to face with the great black veil of mist. "Now," he said, with his lips close to each one's ear in turn, "you first, Perry, take a grip of the stock of my gun, and pass your own backward as I do mine for Cyril to take hold. Then Cyril will do the same for John Manning to grasp, and we shall be linked together and well in touch. I shall lead, of course. Courage, boys, and no hesitation. We shall soon be through. Now, forward." In half-a-dozen steps the darkness, which had been relieved by the faint gleaming of the stars peering down into the gorge, became intense, for they were once more in the mist, and guided only by the gentle drag upon the guns, as without hesitation the colonel led on, keeping close to the wall upon his left. The noise of the water thundering down was more confusing than ever, the mist more stifling; but the boys gathered confidence as they went on, and Perry was too much occupied in following his father's steps, to think much about the horrible slip into the gulf below; while Cyril, as he stepped on manfully, kept trying to recall how far the way was through, and calculated that they must be fully half-way. He had just arrived at this conclusion, when he turned angrily to resent what he looked upon as absurd behaviour on the part of John Manning, who suddenly grasped him tightly, pinning his arms down to his sides, and flinging him up against the rock-wall as far as possible from the edge of the gulf. "How stupid!" he cried aloud, though not a word was heard. "I'm all right. Now you've broken the chain." He had arrived at this point, when he felt a rope passed rapidly round him, binding his arms to his sides. Then he was thrown upon his back, and in spite of his struggles, his legs were treated in the same way, after which a cloth was bound over his face, so tightly as to be almost suffocating. Lastly, he felt himself lifted head and heels, and borne forward, dizzy, confused, and wondering what had happened to his companions, and finally bound to conclude that they must have been treated precisely in the same way. He felt that this must be so, and that the Indian cunning had been too much for the colonel's strategy, a party having remained in waiting in full knowledge that they were pursued, and ready to pounce upon them, just in a spot where an attack would be least expected and surest of success. All at once, as the boy was borne along, feeling satisfied that it was useless to struggle and folly to exert himself and shout, it occurred to him that his bearers were going closer to the edge of the gulf, for the roar of the water seemed to be more deafening. There could only be one reason for this, he argued--it was his turn to be thrown in, and the others must be gone. The horrible thought made him begin to struggle with all his might, but at the first writhe a strong additional arm was passed over his body, gripping him tightly to its owner's side, and in this fashion he became helpless, and was carried forward, to grow calmer, for he awoke to the fact that his life was certainly for the present safe. Then a curious feeling of faintness came over him, the heat of the cloth over his mouth was suffocating, bright specks of light danced before his eyes, there was a singing in his ears, and then everything seemed to be at an end, till the stars were looking down at him from far on high, and above the low distant booming of the fall he could hear the pleasant silvery gurgle of water, and the heavy breathing of sleepers close at hand. By degrees the boy's head grew clearer, but at the expense of his body, for as the power of thinking brightened, his limbs grew heavier, numb, and helpless, and the effort he made to turn over upon one side proved to be in vain. He felt that the cloth which bound his lips was gone, but there was no inclination to cry for help, and he lay perfectly still, wondering whether his companions were near, and then utterly exhausted, all passed away again, but this time he slept. It must have been near morning once more, when Cyril awoke with a feeling of something warm touching his ear, and a voice whispered: "Careful, my lad. I've cut you free, and I'm going to cut the colonel and Master Perry clear. Now try and rub your legs gently. We must make a dash for it, as soon as you're ready. Don't speak." The lips were removed from his ear, and there was a faint rustling, that was all. He tried to obey the orders he had received, but for some minutes there was scarcely any sense of feeling in his hand, or in the part he touched, but he worked on, feeling hopeful now. John Manning was fighting for their freedom, and the others must be close at hand, but he felt that if they were as helpless as he, they would not be of much use in an attempt to escape from their captors. And as Cyril went on softly rubbing circulation into his numbed and swollen legs once more, a faint point of light high up in the clouds, where an ice peak was catching the first rays of the coming morn, shone out like a hopeful sign to tell him that all was not yet lost. For quite half an hour he kept up the gentle friction, bringing back circulation, but with it intense pain. Then his heart bounded, and he forgot his agony, for John Manning crept close to him again. "Been rubbing?" he whispered. "Yes." "Can you fight?" "I'll try." "All right then, boy; the others are ready, and I think the Indians are asleep. We must make a dash for it now, before they make up their minds to put us out of our misery, for I am afraid it's that they mean." "What do we do first?" whispered Cyril, who felt the power rapidly coming back into his legs. "Wait till the colonel joins us with Master Perry. They're coming as soon as they feel it safe, and then we dash back for the falls, and retreat up the gorge. When we jump up, keep together and run. Hit out, lad, at anybody who tries to stop you. They're only cowards after all, but the colonel's coming. Now get up softly. Ready?" "Yes." At that moment there was a fierce yell, and Cyril was dashed back upon the ground, three Indians flinging themselves upon him; there was a dull blow, a groan, and John Manning cried aloud: "They've done for me, lad; run for it, if you can get free. Tell the colonel I did my duty to the last." Almost at the same moment Cyril, as he fiercely struggled, heard a shrill cry of agony from Perry, a shout from the colonel, and the reports of half-a-dozen guns fired in rapid succession. Then all was blank, for a heavy blow on the side of the head made the lad insensible to what was passing around. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. FATHER AND SON. When Cyril opened his eyes and began to look about, his head was aching violently, and a swimming sensation made everything near him look misty and indistinct. But he was conscious that the sun was shining brightly all around, and that he was lying in the shade cast by a tree, whose foliage was so familiar that he closed his eyes again to think and wonder whether he was dreaming. For that was unmistakably a cinchona tree, one of those he had thought about so much of late. He opened his eyes again, and looked round to see that there were several mules about grazing on the rich grass, and there was a peculiar odour in the air which he knew to be caused by burning wood. A low buzz of conversation was going on, too, somewhere close behind him, and he tried to look round, but the movement gave him so much pain that he let his head sink down, uttering a weary sigh, which was evidently heard, for there was a rustling sound behind him, and some one came and bent down and took his hand, at the same time laying another upon his forehead and gazing into his eyes. For some moments nothing was said; Cyril, with his heart beating heavily, gazing up into the eyes that looked down into his, while he wondered more than ever what it all meant. "Don't you know me, my boy?" was said at last, and a half-hysterical cry escaped the lad's lips as he clung to the hand which grasped his. "Yes, father! But--but what does it all mean?" "That you must lie still and rest for a bit. You have had a nasty blow on the head, but you will soon be better." "But--where are we?--where is Perry, and where is the colonel? I can't think, but I don't understand why you are here." "You can ask yourself that last question by-and-by, my lad." Cyril shrank a little, for those words were more potent than any reproach, and Captain Norton went on: "You were asking about your friends. They are all here, but have been hurt more or less. We only came up just in time." "You came up--just in time? Oh, I remember now. We were fighting and trying to escape, and somebody fired. Was it you, father?" "Yes, my lad, my friends and I. If we had not arrived as we did, I'm afraid that there would have been a tragedy here in this valley, for the Indians were roused, and I believe that you would none of you have lived to see another day." "And the Indians: where are they now?" "Far away, my lad. They will not face firearms." "But you came, father--after me?" "Of course, as soon as I grasped the fact that you had followed Colonel Campion. At first I would not think it possible that my son could treat us at home as you had; but when, from a man who had come over the mountains with a llama train, I learned that he had seen you, I did what I felt it to be my duty to do for your mother's sake." Cyril's hands went up to his face for a few moments, and then they were gently pressed aside. "This is no time for blaming you, Cyril," said the captain gently; "you are injured. Get well, my boy. But you asked me how I came here. As soon as I knew that you were with Colonel Campion, I got the help of two or three friends, and our servants, and we obtained mules and came on in search of you. I did so, for, in addition to my duty to you, I repented letting a brother-officer come upon what I felt more and more was an exceedingly risky expedition. It has proved so, has it not?" "I'm afraid so, father," sighed Cyril. "Would the Indians have killed us?" "It seems so. You were utterly outnumbered, and from what I can gather, I suppose they believe you were hunting for and had found some of the old treasures buried here in the mountains." "Oh no," cried Cyril; "they were quite wrong." And he explained the object of the colonel's mission. "They would not believe that, my boy, though they would have been just as ready to stop anything of the kind. I found, on tracing you to their camp, that you had come down in this direction, and the man who acted as our guide gathered that there was some trouble on the way, and thus made me hurry on after you. I should have come up with your party sooner, only three times over we were tricked into following another track, our guide proving perfectly untrustworthy directly after he had been in communication with the people at the back camp. However, I came up with you in time, just as a fierce fight was going on, and your party were being worsted. A few shots drove the Indians off, and for the present we are safe." "And the mules and their loads?" "There are our mules," said the captain quietly. "No, no; I mean ours," cried Cyril. "I have seen no others. There are none here." "But they've taken the kinia seed that the colonel came to collect. We must go and attack them at once." "We must get from here on to the regular track through the mountains as soon as we can, my boy," said the captain sternly. "We do not know whether we may not ourselves be attacked by a strong body of the Indians. I cannot do as I like, for I must study my friends; but if I could, I would not run any risk in the face of such odds: so if Colonel Campion can by any possibility sit a mule, we shall begin our retreat at once. What? Can you stand?" "Yes, father. Only a little giddy; and I want to see the colonel and John Manning." For Cyril had raised himself to his feet, and his father led him at once to where his companions lay close by, where their rescuers had formed their temporary camp, and were now making a hearty meal. Perry was lying back with his head bandaged, John Manning was suffering from a severe knife wound, and the colonel lay looking very hollow of cheek, for he also in the fight had received a bad knife thrust, and to Cyril it seemed that it would be impossible for the party to begin their retreat for some days to come. But as soon as he awoke, the colonel declared himself able to sit a mule, and John Manning insisted upon the hurt he had received being merely a scratch; so, as the case was urgent, a start was made that same afternoon, and a few miles made before they were overtaken by night, and encamped, setting a careful watch in case of attack. But none came, the lesson given by Captain Norton quelling all present desire for a closer acquaintance with the firearms; and soon after daybreak they were once more in motion, the leader retracing the way taken by his friends in their attempted escape till they were close up to the cinchona camp, which they found deserted. A long halt was necessary here on account of the injured party, but two days later they were on their way again, after a long consultation between Colonel Campion and their friends. "Did you hear what was said?" asked Perry, as he and Cyril rode side by side wherever the track would allow. "Yes, everything; your father wanted to stay here for a bit and make an expedition or two in search of the Indians, so as to try and recover the baggage and mules." "Of course," said Perry. "It's horrible to go back like this, regularly beaten. But they wouldn't?" "No: my father said he was willing, but the rest would not. They said they had come to help to save all our lives, and bring me back, but they were not going to risk their own any more to satisfy--" "Well, satisfy what?" said Perry, for his companion checked himself. "Like to know?" "Of course." "Satisfy your father's mad-brained ideas." "Mad-brained indeed!" cried Perry indignantly. "And didn't father say they must go?" "No," replied Cyril, laughing, "because he had no authority, and he was perfectly helpless. You see he couldn't go himself." "I only wish he was strong enough," cried Perry. "He would soon show some of them." "Hasn't he shown them enough? My father's right." "What, in giving up?" cried Perry indignantly. "No, in behaving like a good soldier, and drawing off his forces when he is beaten. Father told him that it was folly to go on now in his helpless state. That, injured as he was, he would kill himself and you and your man too, for you had neither mules, provisions, nor weapons, and that the only thing to do was to go back." "And what did my father say?" cried Perry hotly. "Nothing. He only held out his hand without speaking, and they stood for half a minute." "But it's horrid to be beaten and go back like this, robbed of all our belongings, and just too when we had succeeded so well. The cowards! All that party against us. I feel as if I couldn't go back to San Geronimo." "So do I," said Cyril dolefully. "You? What have you got to mind?" "What have I got to mind? All that my father will say when we get back, though I don't worry about that so much." "What, then?" "I've got to meet my mother." "Well, but she won't say anything unkind to you." "No," said Cyril sadly, "not a word; but she'll look at me as I often seem to see her looking at me now, and asking me how I could behave so cruelly to her. It half killed her, father says, for my boat was missing for a fortnight. One of the fishermen had taken it away, and she thought I had gone out in her, and was drowned." Perry was silent, and soon after the boys had to separate, and ride in single file about the middle of the little line, Captain Norton and two of his friends forming the rearguard, in case of attack. But though the return journey was very slow, on account of the weakness of the injured part of the little caravan, and there was every opportunity for the Indians to fall upon them had they been so disposed, they went on, day after day, unmolested, and their nights were undisturbed. Those long narrow shelves of rock at the sides of the defiles seemed as if they would never end, but the clear crisp mountain air was wonderful in its curative effects; and while Perry was quite well again, and Cyril had about forgotten his injury, Colonel Campion and John Manning, though both thin of face, and generally a good deal pulled down, were strong enough to walk down--at the close of the last day's journey--the long slope which led to Captain Norton's house on its platform high above the sea. "Where's Cyril?" said Perry suddenly to Captain Norton. "I haven't seen him these two hours." Captain Norton stopped at the edge of the narrow path, and pointed down to the dry-looking garden at the back of his house, where the tall, tapering flagstaff stood up, with the British colours fluttering in the sea-breeze. Perry shaded his eyes, and through the clear evening air he could distinctly see his companion standing by a lady, and looking up at the little mule train filing down the slope. "Why, he has run on home!" "Yes," said the captain. "I sent him on to meet his mother alone. Perry, my lad, for the sake of all who hold you dear, never be guilty of such a selfish, thoughtless act as his." "I'll try not," replied the boy thoughtfully; and then in an animated way: "But, I say, Captain Norton, if it had not been for his thoughtless act, where would we three have been now?" The captain smiled and looked at the colonel, who had heard all that had been said. "That's a question I would rather not try to answer, my lad. There, no more: I've promised Cyril to bury the past." Weak as he still was from his injuries, and smarting from the bitter disappointment of his failure, Colonel Campion seized the first opportunity which occurred of getting a passage up to Panama, the two boys parting with many promises of keeping up a correspondence, which were none too faithfully fulfilled. Perry wrote from Panama, and again from Barbadoes on the way home. Then three years elapsed before Cyril had a letter, though Captain Norton had heard again and again from his friend the colonel. Here is a portion of the letter Cyril received: "I don't suppose they will do it, but I think they ought to make my father F.L.S. and F.R.S. and F.G.S., and all the rest of it, besides knighting him. For only think, in spite of all the disappointment of losing the packages of seed we so carefully made up, the little lots we had in our pockets, including those you gave me at San Geronimo out of yours--I mean that day on board the packet, when you said, `You may as well take these, for they're no use to me--' I say, all these were distributed and set, and with the exception of one lot, pretty well all grew, and they have made small plantations in Java, Ceylon, India, and one or two other places, so that in the course of time there'll be quinine in plenty in hot places all over the world. Which lot do you think it was failed? You, in your modesty, will say your own. Not it, but mine; and I'll tell you how it was--through my fall down into that horrid place. The seed was of course soaked, and it went off mouldy, I suppose. At all events, none of it grew." "Hah!" exclaimed Captain Norton as he heard the letter read. "It was a daring thing to do--a brave soldier's deed. How many poor wretches in the future who struggle back from some deadly fever will ever hear of or bless his name? Hardly one." "But we shall have the satisfaction, father, of knowing that we helped to save them all the same." "Right, boy," cried the captain, bringing his hand heavily down upon his son's shoulder. "You did your share, and it would be a poor world indeed if we did all our good actions for the sake of the reward." "But mine was not a good action, father," said Cyril gravely. "Ah, well," said his father, "it is a matter of the past. I made you a promise then, and we will not argue that." The End. 
546	----	UNDER THE ANDES by Rex Stout CONTENTS Chapter I. THE SWEETHEART OF A KING. II. BEGINNING THE DANCE. III. A MODERN MARANA. IV. ALLONS! V. THE CAVE OF THE DEVIL. VI. CAPTURED. VII. THE FIGHT IN THE DARK. VIII. THE DANCE OF THE SUN. IX. BEFORE THE COURT. X. THE VERDICT. XI. A ROYAL VISITOR. XII. AT THE DOOR. XIII. INTO THE WHIRLPOOL. XIV. A FISHING PARTY. XV. THE RESCUE. XVI. THE ESCAPE. XVII. THE EYES IN THE DARK. XVIII. A VICTORY AND A CONVERSATION. XIX. AFLOAT. XX. AN INCA SPEAR. XXI. THE MIDST OF THE ENEMY. XXII. THE BEGINNING OF THE END. XXIII. WE ARE TWO. XXIV. CONCLUSION. Chapter I. THE SWEETHEART OF A KING. The scene was not exactly new to me. Moved by the spirit of adventure, or by an access of ennui which overtakes me at times, I had several times visited the gaudy establishment of Mercer, on the fashionable side of Fifth Avenue in the Fifties. In either case I had found disappointment; where the stake is a matter of indifference there can be no excitement; and besides, I had been always in luck. But on this occasion I had a real purpose before me, though not an important one, and I surrendered my hat and coat to the servant at the door with a feeling of satisfaction. At the entrance to the main room I met Bob Garforth, leaving. There was a scowl on his face and his hand trembled as he held it forth to take mine. "Harry is inside. What a rotten hole," said he, and passed on. I smiled at his remark--it was being whispered about that Garforth had lost a quarter of a million at Mercer's within the month--and passed inside. Gaudy, I have said it was, and it needs no other word. Not in its elements, but in their arrangement. The rugs and pictures and hangings testified to the taste of the man who had selected them; but they were abominably disposed, and there were too many of them. The room, which was unusually large, held two or three leather divans, an English buffet, and many easy chairs. A smoking-table, covered, stood in one corner. Groups of men were gathered about each of the three roulette wheels ranged along the farther side. Through a door to the left could be seen the poker tables, surrounded by grave or jocular faces. Above the low buzz of conversation there sounded the continual droning voices of the croupiers as they called the winning numbers, and an occasional exclamation from a "customer." I made my way to the center wheel and stood at the rear of the crowd surrounding it. The ball rolled; there was a straining of necks amid an intense silence; then, as the little pellet wavered and finally came to a rest in the hole number twenty-four a fervent oath of disappointment came from some one in front of me. The next moment, rising on tiptoe to look over the intervening shoulders, I found myself looking into the white face of my younger brother Harry. "Paul!" he exclaimed, turning quickly away. I pushed my way through and stood at his side. There was no sound from the group of onlookers; it is not to be wondered at if they hesitated to offend Paul Lamar. "My dear boy," said I, "I missed you at dinner. And though this may occupy your mind, it can scarcely fill your stomach. Haven't you had enough?" Harry looked at me. His face was horribly pale and his eyes bloodshot; they could not meet mine. "For Heaven's sake, Paul, let me alone," he said, hardly above a whisper. "I have lost ninety thousand." In spite of myself I started. No wonder he was pale! And yet-- "That's nothing," I whispered back. "But you are making a show of yourself. Just now you were swearing like a sailor. See how your hand trembles! You were not made for this, Harry; it makes you forget that you're a gentleman. They are laughing at you. Come." "But I say I have lost ninety thousand dollars," said the boy, and there was wildness in his eye. "Let me alone, Paul." "I will repay you." "No. Let me alone!" "Harry!" "I say no!" His mouth was drawn tight and his eyes glared sullenly as those of a stubborn child. Clearly it was impossible to get him away without making a scene, which was unthinkable. For a moment I was at a complete loss; then the croupier's voice sounded suddenly in my ear: "You are interrupting us, sir." I silenced him with a glance and turned to my brother, having decided in an instant on the only possible course. "Here, let me have your chair. I will get it back for you. Come!" He looked at me for a moment in hesitation, then rose without a word and I took his place. The thing was tiresome enough, but how could I have avoided it? The blood that rushes to the head of the gambler is certainly not food for the intellect; and, besides, I was forced by circumstances into an heroic attitude--and nothing is more distasteful to a man of sense. But I had a task before me; if a man lays bricks he should lay them well; and I do not deny that there was a stirring of my pulse as I sat down. Is it possible for a mind to directly influence the movements of a little ivory ball? I do not say yes, but will you say no? I watched the ball with the eye of an eagle, but without straining; I played with the precision of a man with an unerring system, though my selections were really made quite at random; and I handled my bets with the sureness and swift dexterity with which a chess-master places his pawn or piece in position to demoralize his opponent. This told on the nerves of the croupier. Twice I corrected a miscalculation of his, and before I had played an hour his hand was trembling with agitation. And I won. The details would be tiresome, but I won; and when, after six hours of play without an instant's rest, I rose exhausted from my chair and handed my brother the amount he had lost--I pocketed a few thousands for myself in addition. There were some who tried to detain me with congratulations and expressions of admiration, but I shook them off and led Harry outside to my car. The chauffeur, poor devil, was completely stiff from the long wait, and I ordered him into the tonneau and took the wheel myself. Partly was this due to pity for the driver, partly to a desire to leave Harry to his own thoughts, which I knew must be somewhat turbulent. He was silent during the drive, which was not long, and I smiled to myself in the darkness of the early morning as I heard, now and then, an uncontrollable sigh break through his dry lips. Of thankfulness, perhaps. I preceded him up the stoop and into the hall of the old house on lower Fifth Avenue, near Tenth Street, that had been the home of our grandfather and our father before us. There, in the dim light, I halted and turned, while Evans approached from the inner rooms, rubbing eyes heavy with sleep. Good old Evans! Yet the faithfulness of such a servant has its disadvantages. "Well?" said Harry in a thin, high voice. The boy's nerves were stretched tightly; two words from me would have produced an explosion. So I clapped him on the shoulder and sent him off to bed. He went sulkily, without looking round, and his shoulders drooped like those of an old man; but I reflected that that would all be changed after a few hours of sleep. "After all, he is a Lamar," I said to myself as I ordered Evans to bring wine and sandwiches to the library. It was the middle of the following afternoon before Harry appeared down-stairs. He had slept eleven hours. I was seated in the library when I heard his voice in the hall: "Breakfast! Breakfast for five at once!" I smiled. That was Harry's style of wit. After he had eaten his "breakfast for five" he came in to see me with the air of a man who was determined to have it out. I myself was in no mood for talk; indeed, I scarcely ever am in such a mood, unless it be with a pretty woman or a great sinner. You may regard that sentence as tautological if you like; I sha'n't quarrel about it. What I mean to say is that it was with a real effort I set myself to the distasteful task before me, rendered necessary by the responsibility of my position as elder brother and head of the family. Harry began by observing with assumed indifference: "Well, and now there's the deuce to pay, I suppose." "As his representative I am not a hard creditor," I smiled. "I know, I know--" he began impetuously and stopped. I continued: "My boy, there is always the deuce to pay. If not for one thing, then for another. So your observation would serve for any other time as well as now. The point is this: you are ten years younger than I, and you are under my care; and much as I dislike to talk, we must reach an understanding." "Well?" said Harry, lighting a cigarette and seating himself on the arm of a chair. "You have often thought," I continued, "that I have been trying to interfere with your freedom. But you are mistaken; I have merely been trying to preserve it--and I have succeeded." "When our father and mother died you were fifteen years of age. You are now twenty-two; and I take some credit for the fact that those seven years have left no stain, however slight, on the name of Lamar." "Do I deserve that?" cried Harry. "What have I done?" "Nothing irremediable, but you must admit that now and then I have been at no small pains to--er--assist you. But there, I don't intend to speak of the past; and to tell the truth, I suspect that we are of one mind. You regard me as more or less of an encumbrance; you think your movements are hampered; you consider yourself to be treated as a child unjustly. "Well, for my part, I find my duty--for such I consider it--grows more irksome every day. If I am in your way, you are no less in mine. To make it short, you are now twenty-two years old, you chafe at restraint, you think yourself abundantly able to manage your own affairs. Well--I have no objection." Harry stared at me. "You mean--" he began. "Exactly." "But, Paul--" "There is no need to discuss it. For me, it is mostly selfishness." But he wanted to talk, and I humored him. For two hours we sat, running the scale from business to sentiment, and I must confess that I was more than once surprised by a flash from Harry. Clearly he was developing, and for the first time I indulged a hope that he might prove himself fit for self-government. At least I had given him the rope; it remained for time to discover whether or not he would avoid getting tangled up in it. When we had finished we understood each other better, I think, than we ever had before; and we parted with the best of feeling. Three days later I sailed for Europe, leaving Harry in New York. It was my first trip across in eighteen months, and I aimed at pleasure. I spent a week in London and Munich, then, disgusted with the actions of some of my fellow countrymen with whom I had the misfortune to be acquainted, I turned my face south for Madrid. There I had a friend. A woman not beautiful, but eminently satisfying; not loose, but liberal, with a character and a heart. In more ways than one she was remarkable; she had an affection for me; indeed, some years previously I had been in a way to play Albert Savaron to her Francesca Colonna, an arrangement prevented only by my constitutional dislike for any prolonged or sustained effort in a world the slave of vanity and folly. It was from the lips of this friend that I first heard the name of Desiree Le Mire. It was late in the afternoon on the fashionable drive. Long, broad, and shady, though scarcely cool, it was here that we took our daily carriage exercise; anything more strenuous is regarded with horror by the ladies of Spain. There was a shout, and a sudden hush; all carriages were halted and their occupants uncovered, for royalty was passing. The coach, a magnificent though cumbersome affair, passed slowly and gravely by. On the rear seat were the princess and her little English cousin, while opposite them sat the great duke himself. By his side was a young man of five and twenty with a white face and weak chin, and glassy, meaningless eyes. I turned to my companion and asked in a low tone who he was. Her whispered answer caused me to start with surprise, and I turned to her with a question. "But why is he in Madrid?" "Oh, as to that," said my friend, smiling, "you must ask Desiree." "And who is Desiree?" "What! You do not know Desiree! Impossible!" she exclaimed. "My dear," said I, "you must remember that for the past year and a half I have been buried in the land of pork and gold. The gossip there is neither of the poet nor the court. I am ignorant of everything." "You would not have been so much longer," said my friend, "for Desiree is soon going to America. Who is she? No one knows. What is she? Well, she is all things to some men, and some things to all men. She is a courtesan among queens and a queen among courtesans. "She dances and loves, and, I presume, eats and sleeps. For the past two years she has bewitched him"--she pointed down the drive to where the royal coach was disappearing in the distance--"and he has given her everything. "It was for her that the Duke of Bellarmine built the magnificent chalet of which I was telling you on Lake Lucerne. You remember that Prince Dolansky shot himself 'for political reasons' in his Parisian palace? But for Desiree he would be alive to-day. She is a witch and a she-devil, and the most completely fascinating woman in the world." I smiled. "What a reputation! And you say she is going to America?" "Yes. It is to be supposed that she has heard that every American is a king, and it is no wonder if she is tired of only one royal lover at a time. And listen, Paul--" "Well?" "You--you must not meet her. Oh, but you do not know her power!" I laughed and pressed her hand, assuring her that I had no intention of allowing myself to be bewitched by a she-devil; but as our carriage turned and started back down the long drive toward the hotel I found myself haunted by the white face and staring eyes of the young man in the royal coach. I stayed two weeks longer in Madrid. At the end of that time, finding myself completely bored (for no woman can possibly be amusing for more than a month at a time), I bade my friend au revoir and departed for the East. But I found myself just too late for an archeological expedition into the heart of Egypt, and after a tiresome week or so in Cairo and Constantinople I again turned my face toward the west. At Rome I met an old friend, one Pierre Janvour, in the French diplomatic service, and since I had nothing better to do I accepted his urgent invitation to join him on a vacation trip to Paris. But the joys of Paris are absurd to a man of thirty-two who has seen the world and tasted it and judged it. Still I found some amusement; Janvour had a pretty wife and a daughter eight years old, daintily beautiful, and I allowed myself to become soaked in domestic sentiment. I really found myself on the point of envying him; Mme. Janvour was a most excellent housekeeper and manager. Little Eugenie and I would often walk together in the public gardens, and now and then her mother would join us; and, as I say, I found myself on the point of envying my friend Janvour. This diversion would have ended soon in any event; but it was brought to an abrupt termination by a cablegram from my New York lawyers, asking me to return to America at once. Some rascality it was, on the part of the agent of my estate, which had alarmed them; the cablegram was bare of detail. At any rate, I could not afford to disregard it, and arranged passage on a liner sailing from Cherbourg the following day. My hostess gave me a farewell dinner, which heightened my regret at being forced to leave, and little Eugenie seemed really grieved at my departure. It is pleasant to leave a welcome behind you; that is really the only necessary axiom of the traveler. Janvour took me to the railroad station, and even offered to accompany me to Cherbourg; but I refused to tear him away from his little paradise. We stood on the platform arguing the matter, when I suddenly became aware of that indistinct flutter and bustle seen in public places at some unusual happening or the unexpected arrival of a great personage. I turned and saw that which was worthy of the interest it had excited. In the first place, the daintiest little electric brougham in the world, fragile and delicate as a toy--a fairy's chariot. Then the fairy herself descended. She cannot be described in detail. I caught a glimpse of glorious golden hair, softly massive; gray-blue eyes shot with lightning, restless, devouring, implacable, indescribably beautiful; a skin wondrously fine, with the purity of marble and the warmth of velvet; nose and mouth rather too large, but perfectly formed and breathing the fire and power of love. Really it was rather later that I saw all this; at the time there was but a confused impression of elegance and beauty and terrible power. She passed from the brougham to her railway carriage supremely unconscious of the hundreds of eyes turned on her, and a general sigh of satisfaction and appreciation came from the throng as she disappeared within her compartment. I turned to Janvour. "Who is she?" "What?" he exclaimed in surprise. "But my dear Lamar, not to know her argues one a barbarian." "Nevertheless, I do not know her." "Well, you will have an opportunity. She is going to America, and, since she is on this train, she will, of course, take the same boat as yourself. But, my friend, beware!" "But who is she?" "Desiree Le Mire." Chapter II. BEGINNING THE DANCE. It developed, luckily for me, that my lawyers had allowed themselves to become unduly excited over a trifle. A discrepancy had been discovered in my agent's accounts; it was clearly established that he had been speculating; but the fellow's excessive modesty and moderation had saved me from any serious inconvenience or loss. Some twenty thousand or so was the amount, and I did not even put myself to the trouble of recovering it. I placed a friend of mine, a plodder and one of those chaps who are honest on account of lack of imagination, in the position thus vacated and sighed with mild relief. My experiment with Harry had proved a complete success. Left to the management of his own affairs, he had shown a wisdom and restraint none the less welcome because unexpected. He was glad to see me, and I was no less glad to see him. There was little new in town. Bob Garforth, having gambled away his entire patrimony, had shot and killed himself on the street; Mrs. Ludworth had publicly defied gossip and smiled with favor on young Driscoll; the new director of the Metropolitan Museum had announced himself an enemy to tradition and a friend of progress; and Desiree Le Mire had consented to a two weeks' engagement at the Stuyvesant. The French dancer was the favorite topic of discussion in all circles. The newspapers were full of her and filled entire columns with lists of the kings, princes, and dukes who had been at her feet. Bets were made on her nationality, the color of her eyes, the value of her pearls, the number of suicides she had caused--corresponding, in some sort, to the notches on the gun of a Western bad man. Gowns and hats were named for her by the enterprising department stores. It was announced that her engagement at the Stuyvesant would open in ten days, and when the box-office opened for the advance sale every seat for every performance was sold within a few hours. In the mean time the great Le Mire kept herself secluded in her hotel. She had appeared but once in the public dining-room, and on that occasion had nearly caused a riot, whereupon she had discreetly withdrawn. She remained unseen while the town shouted itself hoarse. I had not mentioned her name to Harry, nor had I heard him speak of her, until one evening about two weeks after my return. We were at dinner and had been discussing some commonplace subject, from which, by one of the freaks of association, the conversation veered and touched on classical dancing. "The Russians are preeminent," said I, "because they possess both the inspiration--the fire--and the training. In no other nation or school are the two so perfectly joined. In the Turkish dancers there is perfect grace and freedom, but no life. In Desiree Le Mire, for example, there is indeed life; but she has not had the necessary training." "What? Le Mire! Have you seen her?" cried Harry. "Not on the stage," I answered; "but I crossed on the same ship with her, and she was kind enough to give me a great deal of her time. She seems to understand perfectly her own artistic limitations, and I am taking her word for it." But Harry was no longer interested in the subject of dancing. I was besieged on the instant with a thousand questions. Had I known Le Mire long? What was she like? Was it true that Prince Dolansky had shot himself in despair at losing her? Was she beautiful? How well did I know her? Would I take him to see her? And within half an hour the last question was repeated so many times and with such insistence that I finally consented and left Harry delighted beyond words. My own experience with Desiree Le Mire had been anything but exciting. The woman was interesting; there could be no doubt of that; but she possessed little attraction for me. Her charms, on close inspection, were really quite too evident. I require subtlety in a woman, and so far as I could discover Le Mire knew not the meaning of the word. We had spent many hours during the trip across in pleasant companionship; she had done me the honor to tell me that she found my conversation amusing; and, after all, she was undeniably a pretty woman. She had invited me with evident sincerity to call on her in New York; but I had not as yet taken advantage of the invitation. I did not then think, and I do not now believe, that I acted foolishly when I took Harry to see her. In any event, he would have seen her sooner or later, and since all temptations meet us at one time or another, it is best to have it out with them at as early a date as possible. At the time, indeed, I gave the subject no thought whatever; but if I had I should not have hesitated. We took tea with her the following afternoon in her apartment, and I must confess that I myself was more than a little impressed when I entered. I realized then that on the ship nothing had been in her favor; she had been completely out of her element, and she was not a good sailor. Here all was different. The stiffly ostentatious hotel rooms, by her own genius or that of her maid, had been transformed into something very nearly approaching perfection. I was amazed at the excellent taste displayed in her furniture and its arrangement, for it was clear that these were no hotel properties. Certainly a woman is at her best only when she is able to choose or create her own surroundings. Harry was captivated, and I can scarcely blame him. But the poor lad betrayed himself so frankly! Though I suppose Le Mire was more or less accustomed to immediate surrender. On that day, at least, she had reason to expect it. She satisfied the eye, which is saying a great deal and is the highest praise possible for a woman's beauty, when you consider the full strength of the word. She was radiant, adorable, irresistible; I had to own that my first impression of her had been far too weak. We talked for an hour. Harry had little to say as he sat devouring Le Mire with his eyes, and whenever she turned to him for an answer to a question or confirmation of an opinion he stammered and kept his composure with difficulty. Never, I suppose, did woman have clearer evidence of her power, nor sweeter, for Harry was by no means a fool to be carried away by the first pretty face that came in his way. She simply overwhelmed him, and I repeat that I do not wonder at it, for my own pulse was not exactly steady. She asked us to dine with her. I pleaded an engagement at the club and signed to Harry to do likewise; but he was completely gone and paid no attention to me. He accepted the invitation gratefully, with frank delight, and I left them together. It was about ten o'clock when he came home that evening. I was seated in the library and, hearing him enter the hall, called to him. What a face was his! His lips trembled with nervous feeling, his eyes glowed like the eyes of a madman. I half started from my chair in amazement. "I have no time," said he in answer to my invitation to join me with a bottle. "I have a letter or two to write, and--and I must get some sleep." "Did you just leave Le Mire?" "Yes." I looked at my watch. "What under the sun did you find to talk about?" "Oh, anything--nothing. I say, she's charming." His essay at indifference was amusing. "You find her so?" "Rather." "She seems to have taken a fancy to you." Harry actually grew red. "Hardly," he said; but there was hope in the word. "She is hardly your kind, Harry. You know that. You aren't going in for this sort of thing?" "This sort--I don't know what you mean." "Yes, you do, Hal. You know exactly what I mean. To put the thing plainly, Le Mire is a dangerous woman--none more so in all the world; and, Harry boy, be sure you keep your head and watch your step." He stood for a moment looking at me in silence with a half-angry frown, then opened his mouth as though to speak, and finally turned, without a word, and started for the door. There he turned again uncertainly, hesitating. "I am to ride with Desiree in the morning," said he, and the next moment was gone. "Desiree!" He called her Desiree! I think I smiled for an hour over that; and, though my reflections were not free from apprehension, I really felt but little anxiety. Not that I underrated Le Mire's fascination and power; to confess the truth, my ease of mind was the result of my own vanity. Le Mire had flattered me into the belief that she was my friend. A week passed--a dull week, during which I saw little of Harry and Le Mire not at all. At the time, I remember, I was interested in some chemical experiments--I am a dabbler with the tubes--and went out but little. Then--this was on Friday--Harry sought me out in the laboratory to tell me he was going away. In answer to my question, "Where?" he said, "I don't know." "How long will you be gone?" "Oh, a week--perhaps a month." I looked at him keenly, but said nothing. It would have done no good to force him into an equivocation by questions. Early the next morning he departed, with three trunks, and with no further word to me save a farewell. No sooner was he gone than I started for the telephone to call up Le Mire; but thought better of it and with a shrug of the shoulders returned to the laboratory. It was the following Monday that was to see the first appearance of Le Mire at the Stuyvesant. I had not thought of going, but on Monday afternoon Billy Du Mont telephoned me that he had an extra ticket and would like to have me join him. I was really a little curious to see Le Mire perform and accepted. We dined at the club and arrived at the theater rather late. The audience was brilliant; indeed, though I had been an ardent first-nighter for a year or two in my callow youth, I think I have never seen such a representation of fashion and genius in America, except at the opera. Billy and I sat in the orchestra--about the twelfth row--and half the faces in sight were well known to me. Whether Le Mire could dance or not, she most assuredly was, or had, a good press-agent. We were soon to receive an exemplification of at least a portion of the reputation that had preceded her. Many were the angry adjectives heaped on the head of the dancer on that memorable evening. Mrs. Frederick Marston, I remember, called her an insolent hussy; but then Mrs. Frederick Marston was never original. Others: rash, impudent, saucy, impertinent; in each instance accompanied by threats. Indeed, it is little wonder if those people of fashion and wealth and position were indignant and sore. For they had dressed and dined hastily and come all the way down-town to see Le Mire; they waited for her for two hours and a half in stuffy theater seats, and Le Mire did not appear. The announcement was finally made by the manager of the theater at a little before eleven-o'clock. He could not understand, he said--the poor fellow was on the point of wringing his hands with agitation and despair--he could not understand why the dancer did not arrive. She had rehearsed in the theater on the previous Thursday afternoon, and had then seemed to have every intention of fulfilling her engagement. No one connected with the theater had seen her since that time, but everything had gone smoothly; they had had no reason to fear such a contretemps as her nonappearance. They had sent to her hotel; she was gone, bag and baggage. She had departed on Friday, leaving no word as to her destination. They had asked the police, the hotels, the railroads, the steamship companies--and could find no trace of her. The manager only hoped--he hoped with all his heart--that his frank and unreserved explanation would appease his kind patrons and prevent their resentment; that they would understand-- I made my way out of the theater as rapidly as possible, with Billy Du Mont at my side, and started north on Broadway. My companion was laughing unrestrainedly. "What a joke!" he exclaimed. "And gad, what a woman! She comes in and turns the town upside down and then leaves it standing on its head. What wouldn't I give to know her!" I nodded, but said nothing. At Forty-Second Street we turned east to Fifth Avenue, and a few minutes later were at the club. I took Du Mont to a secluded corner of the grill, and there, with a bottle of wine between us, I spoke. "Billy," said I, "there's the deuce to pay. You're an old friend of mine, and you possess a share of discretion, and you've got to help me. Le Mire is gone. I must find her." "Find Le Mire?" He stared at me in amazement. "What for?" "Because my brother Harry is with her." Then I explained in as few words as possible, and I ended, I think, with something like this: "You know, Billy, there are very few things in the world I consider of any value. She can have the lad's money, and, if necessary, my own into the bargain. But the name of Lamar must remain clean; and I tell you there is more than a name in danger. Whoever that woman touches she kills. And Harry is only a boy." Billy helped me, as I knew he would; nor did he insist on unnecessary details. I didn't need his assistance in the search, for I felt that I could accomplish that as well alone. But it was certainly known that Harry had been calling on Le Mire at her hotel; conjectures were sure to be made, leading to the assertions of busy tongues; and it was the part of my friend to counteract and smother the inevitable gossip. This he promised to do; and I knew Billy. As for finding Harry, it was too late to do anything that night, and I went home and to bed. The next morning I began by calling at her hotel. But though the manager of the theater had gotten no information from them, he had pumped them dry. They knew nothing. I dared not go to the police, and probably they would have been unable to give me any assistance if I had sought it. The only other possible source of information I disliked to use; but after racking my brain for the better part of the day I decided that there was nothing else for it, and started on a round of the ticket offices of the railroads and steamship companies. I had immediate success. My first call was at the office where Harry and I were accustomed to arrange our transportation. As I entered the head clerk--or whatever they call him--advanced to greet me with a smile. "Yes," said he in response to my question; "Mr. Lamar got his tickets from me. Let's see--Thursday, wasn't it? No, Friday. That's right--Friday." "Tickets!" I muttered to myself. And in my preoccupation I really neglected to listen to him. Then aloud: "Where were the--tickets for?" "Denver." "For Friday's train?" "Yes. The Western Express." That was all I wanted to know. I hurried home, procured a couple of hastily packed bags, and took the afternoon train for the West. Chapter III. A MODERN MARANA. My journey westward was an eventful one; but this is not a "History of Tom Jones," and I shall refrain from detail. Denver I reached at last, after a week's stop-over in Kansas City. It was a delightful adventure--but it had nothing to do with the story. I left the train at the Rocky Mountain city about the middle of the afternoon. And now, what to do? I think I am not a fool, but I certainly lack the training of a detective, and I felt perfectly rudderless and helpless as I ordered the taxi-driver to take me to the Alcazar Hotel. I was by no means sure that Harry had come to Denver. He was traveling with a bundle of animated caprice, a creature who would have hauled him off the train at Rahway, New Jersey, if she had happened to take a fancy to the place. At the moment, I reflected, they might be driving along Michigan Boulevard, or attending a matinee at the Willis Wood, or sipping mint juleps at the Planters'. Even if they were in Denver, how was I to find them? I keenly regretted the week I had lost. I was sure that Harry would avoid any chance of publicity and would probably shun the big hotels. And Denver is not a village. It was the beauty of Le Mire that saved me. Indeed, I might have foreseen that; and I have but poorly portrayed the force of her unmatchable fascination unless you have realized that she was a woman who could pass nowhere without being seen; and, seen, remembered. I made inquiries of the manager of the hotel, of course, but was brought up sharply when he asked me the names of my friends for whom I was asking. I got out of it somehow, some foolish evasion or other, and regarded my task as more difficult than ever. That same evening I dined at the home of my cousin, Hovey Stafford, who had come West some years before on account of weak lungs, and stayed because he liked it. I met his wife that evening for the first time; she may be introduced with the observation that if she was his reason for remaining in the provinces, never did man have a better one. We were on the veranda with our after-dinner cigars. I was congratulating Hovey on the felicity of his choice and jocularly sympathizing with his wife. "Yes," said my cousin, with a sigh, "I never regretted it till last week. It will never be the same again." Mrs. Hovey looked at him with supreme disdain. "I suppose you mean Senora Ramal," said she scornfully. Her husband, feigning the utmost woe, nodded mournfully; whereupon she began humming the air of the Chanson du Colonel, and was stopped by a smothering kiss. "And who is the Senora Ramal?" I asked. "The most beautiful woman in the world," said Mrs. Hovey. This from a woman who was herself beautiful! Amazing! I suppose my face betrayed my thought. "It isn't charity," she smiled. "Like John Holden, I have seen fire-balloons by the hundred, I have seen the moon, and--then I saw no more fire-balloons." "But who is she?" Hovey explained. "She is the wife of Senor Ramal. They came here some ten days ago, with letters to one or two of the best families, and that's all we know about them. The senora is an entrancing mixture of Cleopatra, Sappho, Helen of Troy, and the devil. She had the town by the ears in twenty-four hours, and you wouldn't wonder at it if you saw her." Already I felt that I knew, but I wanted to make sure. "Byron has described her," I suggested, "in Childe Harold." "Hardly," said Hovey. "No midnight beauty for hers, thank you. Her hair is the most perfect gold. Her eyes are green; her skin remarkably fair. What she may be is unknowable, but she certainly is not Spanish; and, odder still, the senor himself fits the name no better." But I thought it needless to ask for a description of Harry; for I had no doubt of the identity of Senor Ramal and his wife. I pondered over the name, and suddenly realized that it was merely "Lamar" spelled backward! The discovery removed the last remaining shadow of doubt. I asked in a tone of assumed indifference for their hotel, expressing a desire to meet them--and was informed by Hovey that they had left Denver two days previously, nor did he know where they had gone. Thus did I face another obstacle. But I was on the track; and the perfume of a woman's beauty is the strongest scent in the world as well as the sweetest. I thanked my cousin for a pleasant evening--though he did not know the extent of my debt to him--and declined his urgent invitation to have my luggage brought to his home. On my way to the hotel I was struck by a sudden thought: Senor Ramal could not be my brother or my cousin would have recognized him! But I immediately reflected that the two had not seen each other for some ten years, at which time Harry had been a mere boy. The following morning, with little difficulty, I ascertained the fact that the Ramals had departed--at least ostensibly--for Colorado Springs. I followed. That same evening, when I registered at the Antlers Hotel, a few minutes before the dinner hour, I turned over two pages of the book, and there before me was the entry, "Senor and Senora Ramal, Paris." It was in Harry's handwriting. After dinner--a most excellent dinner, with melons from La Junta and trout from the mountain streams--I descended on the hotel clerk with questions. He was most obliging--a sharp, pleasant fellow, with prominent ears and a Rocky Mountain twang. "Senor and Senora Ramal? Most assuredly, sir. They have been here several days. No, they are not now in the hotel. They left this afternoon for Manitou, to take dinner there, and are going to make the night trip up the Peak." An idea immediately suggested itself to me. They would, of course, return to the hotel in the morning. All I had to do was to sit down and wait for them; but that would have been dull sport. My idea was better. I sought out the hotel's wardrobe--there is nothing the Antlers will not do for you--and clothed myself in khaki, leggings, and boots. Then I ordered a car and set out for Manitou, at the foot of the mountain. By ten o'clock I was mounted on a donkey, headed for the top, after having been informed by a guide that "the man and the beautiful lady" had departed an hour previous. Having made the ascent twice before, I needed no guide. So I decided; but I regretted the decision. Three times I lost the path; once I came perilously near descending on the village below--well, without hesitation. It was well after midnight when I passed the Half-way House, and I urged my donkey forward with a continual rat-a-tat-tat of well-directed kicks in the effort to make my goal. You who have experienced the philosophical calm and superb indifference of the Pike's Peak donkey may imagine the vocabulary I used on this occasion--I dare not print it. Nor did his speed increase. I was, in fact, a quarter of an hour late. I was still several hundred yards from the summit when the sun's first rays shot through the thin atmosphere, creating colorful riot among the clouds below, and I stopped, holding my breath in awe. There is no art nor poetry in that wonderful sight; it is glorious war. The sun charges forth in a vast flame of inconceivable brilliance; you can almost hear the shout of victory. He who made the universe is no artist; too often He forgets restraint, and blinds us. I turned, almost regretting that I had come, for I had been put out of tune with my task. Then I mounted the donkey and slowly traversed the few remaining yards to the Peak. There, seated in the dazzling sunshine on the edge of a huge boulder near the eastern precipice, were the two I sought. Le Mire's head was turned from me as she sat gazing silently at the tumbling, gorgeous mass of clouds that seemed almost to be resting on her lap; Harry was looking at her. And such a look! There was no rival even in nature that could conquer Le Mire; never, I believe, did woman achieve a more notable victory than hers of that morning. I watched them for several minutes before I moved or spoke; and never once did Harry's eyes leave her face. Then I advanced a step, calling his name; and they turned and caught sight of me. "Paul!" cried Harry, leaping to his feet; then he stopped short and stared at me half defiantly, half curiously, moving close to Le Mire and placing his hand on her shoulder like a child clinging to a toy. His companion had not moved, except to turn her head; but after the first swift shadow of surprise her face brightened with a smile of welcome, for all the world as though this were a morning call in her boudoir. "Senor and Senora Ramal, I believe?" said I with a smile, crossing to them with an exaggerated bow. I could see Harry cocking his ear to catch the tone of my first words, and when he heard their friendliness a grin overspread his face. He took his hand from Le Mire's shoulder and held it out to me. "How did you come here? How did you find us?" "You forgot to provide Le Mire with a veil," said I by way of answer. Harry looked at me, then at his companion. "Of course," he agreed--"of course. By Jove! that was stupid of us." Whereupon Le Mire laughed with such frank enjoyment of the boy's simplicity that I couldn't help but join her. "And now," said Harry, "I suppose you want to know--" "I want to know nothing--at present," I interrupted. "It's nearly six o'clock, and since ten last night I've been on top of the most perfectly imbecile donkey ever devised by nature. I want breakfast." Velvet lids were upraised from Le Mire's eyes. "Here?" she queried. I pointed to the place--extreme charity might give it the title of inn--where smoke was rising from a tin chimney. Soon we were seated inside with a pot of steaming black coffee before us. Harry was bubbling over with gaiety and good will, evidently occasioned by my unexpected friendliness, while Le Mire sat for the most part silent. It was easy to see that she was more than a little disturbed by my arrival, which surprised me. I gazed at her with real wonder and increasing admiration. It was six in the morning; she had had no sleep, and had just finished a most fatiguing journey of some eight hours; but I had never seen her so beautiful. Our host approached, and I turned to him: "What have you?" There was pity in his glance. "Aigs," said he, with an air of finality. "Ah!" said Le Mire. "I want them--let's see--au beurre noire, if you please." The man looked at her and uttered the single word: "Fried." "Fried?" said she doubtfully. "Only fried," was the inexorable answer. "How many?" Le Mire turned to me, and I explained. Then she turned again to the surly host with a smile that must have caused him to regret his gruffness. "Well, then, fr-r-ied!" said she, rolling the "r" deliciously. "And you may bring me five, if you please." It appeared that I was not the only hungry one. We ate leisurely and smoked more leisurely still, and started on our return journey a little before eight o'clock. It was late in the afternoon when we arrived at the Antlers. The trip was accomplished without accident, but Le Mire was thoroughly exhausted and Harry was anything but fresh. That is the worst of mountain climbing: the exaltation at the summit hardly pays you for the reaction at the foot. We entered the broad portico with frank sighs of relief. I said something about joining them at dinner and left for my own rooms. At dinner that evening Harry was in high spirits and took great delight in everything that was said, both witty and dull, while Le Mire positively sparkled. She made her impression; not a man in the well-filled room but sent his tribute of admiring glances as she sat seemingly unconscious of all but Harry and myself. That is always agreeable; a man owes something to the woman who carries a room for him. I had intended to have a talk with Harry after dinner, but I postponed it; the morning would assuredly be better. There was dancing in the salon, but we were all too tired to take advantage of it; and after listening to one or two numbers, during which Le Mire was kept busy turning aside the importunities of would-be partners, we said good night and sought our beds. It was late the next morning when the precious pair joined me in the garden, and when we went in for breakfast we found the dining-room quite empty. We did not enjoy it as on the morning previous; the cuisine was of the kind usually--and in this case justly--described as "superior," but we did not have the same edge on our appetite. We were not very talkative; I myself was almost taciturn, having before me the necessity of coming to an understanding with Harry, a task which I was far from relishing. But there were certain things I must know. "What do you say to a ride down the valley?" said Harry. "They have excellent horses here; I tried one of 'em the other day." "I trust that they bear no resemblance to my donkey," said I with feeling. "Ugh!" said Le Mire with a shudder. "Never shall I forget that ride. Besides," she added, turning to Harry, "this morning I would be in the way. Don't you know that your brother has a thousand things to say to you? He wants to scold you; you must remember that you are a very bad boy." And she sent me a glance half defiant, half indifferent, which plainly said: "If I fight you, I shall win; but I really care very little about it one way or the other." After breakfast she went to her room--to have her hair dressed, she said--and I led Harry to a secluded corner of the magnificent grounds surrounding the hotel. During the walk we were both silent: Harry, I suppose, was wondering what I was going to say, while I was trying to make up my own mind. "I suppose," he began abruptly, "you are going to tell me I have acted like a fool. Go ahead; the sooner it's over the better." "Nothing of the sort," said I, glad that he had opened it. He stopped short, demanding to know what I meant. "Of course," I continued, "Le Mire is a most amazing prize. Not exactly my style perhaps, but there are few men in the world who wouldn't envy you. I congratulate you. "But there were two things I feared for several reasons--Le Mire's fascination, your own youth and impulsive recklessness, and the rather curious mode of your departure. I feared first and most that you would marry her; second, that you would achieve odium and publicity for our name." Harry was regarding me with a smile which had in it very little of amusement; it held a tinge of bitterness. "And so," he burst out suddenly, "you were afraid I would marry her! Well, I would. The last time I asked her"--again the smile--"was this morning." "And--" "She won't have me." "Bah!" I concealed my surprise, for I had really not thought it possible that the lad could be such a fool. "What's her game, Harry?" "Game the deuce! I tell you she won't have me." "You have asked her?" "A thousand times. I've begged her on my knees. Offered her--anything." "And she refuses?" "Positively." "Refuses?" "With thanks." I stared at him for a moment in silence. Then I said: "Go and get her and bring her here. I'll find out what she wants," and sat down on a bench to wait. Harry departed for the hotel without a word. In a few minutes he returned with Le Mire. I rose and proffered her a seat on the bench, which she accepted with a smile, and Harry sat down at her side. I stood in front of them. "Le Mire," said I, and I believe I frowned, "my brother tells me that you have been offered the name of Lamar in marriage." "I have thanked him for it," said she with a smile. "And declined it." "And--declined it," she agreed. "Well," said I, "I am not a man of half measures, as you will soon see, Le Mire. Besides, I appreciate your power. On the day," I continued with slow precision--"on the day that you give me a contract to adhere to that refusal you may have my check for one million dollars." She surprised me; I admit it. I had expected a burst of anger, with a touch of assumed hauteur; the surrender to follow, for I had made the stake high. But as I stood looking down at her, waiting for the flash of her eye, I was greeted by a burst of laughter--the frank laughter of genuine mirth. Then she spoke: "Oh, you Americans! You are so funny! A million dollars! It is impossible that I should be angry after such a compliment. Besides, you are so funny! Do you not know Le Mire? Am I not a princess if I desire it--tomorrow--today? Bah! There is the world--is it not mine? Mrs. Lamar? Ugh! Pardon me, my friend, but it is an ugly name. "You know my ancestors? De L'Enclos, Montalais, Maintenon, La Marana! They were happy--in their way--and they were great. I must do nothing unworthy of them. Set your mind at rest, Mr. Lamar; but, really, you should have known better--you who have seen the world and Le Mire in Paris! And now our amusement is perhaps ended? Now we must return to that awful New York? Voila!" Indeed I had not understood her. And how could I? There is only one such woman in a generation; sometimes none, for nature is sparing of her favorites. By pure luck she sat before me, this twentieth-century Marana, and I acknowledged her presence with a deep bow of apology and admiration. "If you will forgive me, madame," I said, "I will--not attempt to make reparation, for my words were not meant for you. Consider them unspoken. As for our amusement, why need it end? Surely, we can forget? I see plainly I am not a St. Evremond, but neither am I a fool. My brother pleases you--well, there he is. As for myself, I shall either stay to take care of you two children, or I shall return to New York, as you desire." Le Mire looked at me uncertainly for a moment, then turned to Harry and with a fluttering gesture took his hand in her own and patted it gaily. Then she laughed the happy laugh of a child as she said: "Then it is well! And, monsieur, you are less an American than I thought. By all means, stay--we shall be so jolly! Will we not, my little friend?" Harry nodded, smiling at her. But there was a troubled look in his face. Chapter IV. ALLONS! The events of the month that followed, though exciting enough, were of a similarity that would make their narration tedious, and I shall pass over them as speedily as possible. We remained at Colorado Springs only two days after that morning in the garden. Le Mire, always in search of novelty, urged us away, and, since we really had nothing in view save the satisfaction of her whims, we consented. Salt Lake City was our next resting-place, but Le Mire tired of it in a day. "I shall see the Pacific," she said to Harry and me, and we immediately set out for San Francisco. Is it necessary for me to explain my attitude? But surely it explains itself. For one thing, I was disinclined to leave Harry in a position where he was so abundantly unable to take care of himself. For another, I take amusement wherever it offers itself, and I was most certainly not bored. The vagaries and caprices of a beautiful woman are always interesting, and when you are allowed to study them at close range without being under the necessity of acting the part of a faithful lover they become doubly so. Le Mire managed Harry with wonderful tact and finesse; I sat back and laughed at the performance, now and then applying a check when her riotous imagination seemed likely to run away with us. At San Francisco she achieved a triumph, notorious to the point of embarrassment. Paul Lamar, of New York, had introduced himself into the highest circle of society, and in turn had introduced his friends, Senor and Senora Ramal. The senora captured the town in a single night at a reception and ball on Telegraph Hill. The day following there were several dozens of cards left for her at our hotel; invitations arrived by the score. She accepted two or three and made the fortune of two drawing-rooms; then suddenly tired of the sport and insulted a most estimable lady, our hostess, by certain remarks which inadvertently reached the ears of the lady's husband. "You have done for yourself, Le Mire," I told her. She answered me with a smile--straightway proceeded to issue invitations for an "entertainment" at our hotel. I had no idea what she meant to do; but gave the thing no thought, feeling certain that few, or none, of the invitations would be accepted--wherein I was badly mistaken, for not one was refused. Well, Le Mire danced for them. For myself it was barely interesting; I have passed the inner portals of the sacred temples of India, and the human body holds no surprises for me. But the good people of San Francisco were shocked, astonished, and entranced. Not a man in the room but was Le Mire's slave; even the women were forced to applaud. She became at once a goddess and an outcast. The newspapers of the following morning were full of it, running the scale of eulogy, admiration, and wonder. And one of the articles, evidently written by a man who had been considerably farther east than San Francisco, ended with the following paragraph: In short, it was sublime, and with every movement and every gesture there was a something hidden, a suggestion of a personality and mysterious charm that we have always heretofore considered the exclusive property of just one woman in the world. But Desiree Le Mire is not in San Francisco; though we declare that the performance of last evening was more than enough to rouse certain suspicions, especially in view of Le Mire's mysterious disappearance from New York. I took the paper to Desiree in her room, and while she read the article stood gazing idly from a window. It was about eleven in the morning; Harry had gone for a walk, saying that he would return in half an hour to join us at breakfast. "Well?" said Desiree when she had finished. "But it is not well," I retorted, turning to face her. "I do not reproach you; you are being amused, and so, I confess, am I. But your name--that is, Le Mire--has been mentioned, and discovery is sure to follow. We must leave San Francisco at once." "But I find it entertaining." "Nevertheless, we must leave." "But if I choose to stay?" "No; for Harry would stay with you." "Well, then--I won't go." "Le Mire, you will go?" She sent me a flashing glance, and for a moment I half expected an explosion. Then, seeming to think better of it, she smiled: "But where? We can't go west without falling into the ocean, and I refuse to return. Where?" "Then we'll take the ocean." She looked up questioningly, and I continued: "What would you say to a yacht--a hundred and twenty foot steamer, with a daredevil captain and the coziest little cabins in the world?" "Bah!" Le Mire snapped her fingers to emphasize her incredulity. "It does not exist." "But it does. Afloat and in commission, to be had for the asking and the necessary check. Dazzling white, in perfect order, a second Antoine for a chef, rooms furnished as you would your own villa. What do you say?" "Really?" asked Le Mire with sparkling eyes. "Really." "Here--in San Francisco?" "In the harbor. I saw her myself this morning." "Then I say--allons! Ah, my friend, you are perfection! I want to see it. Now! May I? Come!" I laughed at her eager enthusiasm as she sprang up from her chair. "Le Mire, you are positively a baby. Something new to play with! Well, you shall have it. But you haven't had breakfast. We'll go out to see her this afternoon; in fact, I have already made an appointment with the owner." "Ah! Indeed, you are perfection. And--how well you know me." She paused and seemed to be searching for words; then she said abruptly: "M. Lamar, I wish you to do me a favor." "Anything, Le Mire, in or out of reason." Again she hesitated; then: "Do not call me Le Mire." I laughed. "But certainly, Senora Ramal. And what is the favor?" "That." "That--" "Do not call me Le Mire--nor Senora Ramal." "Well, but I must address you occasionally." "Call me Desiree." I looked at her with a smile. "But I thought that that was reserved for your particular friends." "So it is." "Then, my dear senora, it would be impertinent of me." "But if I request it?" "I have said--anything in or out of reason. And, of course, I am one of the family." "Is that the only reason?" I began to understand her, and I answered her somewhat dryly: "My dear Desiree, there can be none other." "Are you so--cold?" "When I choose." "Ah!" It was a sigh rather than an exclamation. "And yet, on the ship--do you remember? Look at me, M. Lamar. Am I not--am I so little worthy of a thought?" Her lips were parted with tremulous feeling; her eyes glowed with a strange fire, and yet were tender. Indeed, she was "worthy of a thought"--dangerously so; I felt my pulse stir. It was necessary to assume a stoicism I was far from feeling, and I looked at her with a cynical smile and spoke in a voice as carefully deliberate as I could make it. "Le Mire," I said, "I could love you, but I won't." And I turned and left her without another word. Why? I haven't the slightest idea. It must have been my vanity. Some few men had conquered Le Mire; others had surrendered to her; certainly none had ever been able to resist her. There was a satisfaction in it. I walked about the lobby of the hotel till Harry returned, idiotically pleased with myself. At the breakfast table I acquainted Harry with our plans for a cruise, and he was fully as eager about it as Le Mire had been. He wanted to weigh anchor that very afternoon. I explained that it was necessary to wait for funds from New York. "How much?" said he. "I'm loaded." "I've sent for a hundred thousand," said I. "Are you going to buy her?" he demanded with astonishment. Then we fell to a discussion of routes. Harry was for Hawaii; Le Mire for South America. We tossed a coin. "Heads," said Desiree, and so it fell. I requested Le Mire to keep to the hotel as closely as possible for the days during which it was necessary for us to remain in San Francisco. She did so, but with an apparent effort. I have never seen a creature so full of nervous energy and fire; only by severe restraint could she force herself to even a small degree of composure. Harry was with her nearly every minute, though what they found to talk about was beyond my comprehension. Neither was exactly bubbling over with ideas, and one cannot say "I love you" for twenty-four hours a day. It was a cool, sunny day in the latter part of October when we weighed anchor and passed through the Golden Gate. I had leased the yacht for a year, and had made alternative plans in case Le Mire should tire of the sport, which I thought extremely probable. She and Harry were delighted with the yacht, which was not surprising, for she was as perfect a craft as I have seen. Sides white as sea-foam; everything above decks of shining brass, below mahogany, and as clean and shipshape as a Dutch kitchen. There were five rooms besides the captain's, and a reception-room, dining-room, and library. We had provisioned her well, and had a jewel of a cook. Our first port was Santa Catalina. We dropped anchor there at about five o'clock in the afternoon of such a day as only southern California can boast of, and the dingey was lowered to take us ashore. "What is there?" asked Le Mire, pointing to the shore as we stood leaning on the rail waiting for the crew to place the ladder. I answered: "Tourists." Le Mire shrugged her shoulders. "Tourists? Bah! Merci, non. Allons!" I laughed and went forward to the captain to tell him that madame did not approve of Santa Catalina. In another minute the dingey was back on its davits, the anchor up, and we were under way. Poor captain! Within a week he became used to Le Mire's sudden whims. At San Diego we went ashore. Le Mire took a fancy to some Indian blankets, and Harry bought them for her; but when she expressed an intention to take an Indian girl--about sixteen or seventeen years old--aboard the yacht as a "companion," I interposed a firm negative. And, after all, she nearly had her way. For a month it was "just one port after another." Mazatlan, San Bias, Manzanillo, San Salvador, Panama City--at each of these we touched, and visited sometimes an hour, sometimes two or three days. Le Mire was loading the yacht with all sorts of curious relics. Ugly or beautiful, useful or worthless, genuine or faked, it mattered not to her; if a thing suited her fancy she wanted it--and got it. At Guayaquil occurred the first collision of wills. It was our second evening in port. We were dining on the deck of the yacht, with half a dozen South American generals and admirals as guests. Toward the end of the dinner Le Mire suddenly became silent and remained for some minutes lost in thought; then, suddenly, she turned to the bundle of gold lace at her side with a question: "Where is Guayaquil?" He stared at her in amazement. "It is there, senora," he said finally, pointing to the shore lined with twinkling lights. "I know, I know," said Le Mire impatiently; "but where is it? In what country?" The poor fellow, too surprised to be offended, stammered the name of his native land between gasps, while Harry and I had all we could do to keep from bursting into laughter. "Ah," said Desiree in the tone of one who has made an important discovery, "I thought so. Ecuador. Monsieur, Quito is in Ecuador." The general--or admiral, I forget which--acknowledged the correctness of her geography with a profound bow. "But yes. I have often heard of Quito, monsieur. It is a very interesting place. I shall go to Quito." There ensued immediately a babel. Each of our guests insisted on the honor of accompanying us inland, and the thing would most assuredly have ended in a bloody quarrel on the captain's polished deck, if I had not interposed in a firm tone: "But, gentlemen, we are not going to Quito." Le Mire looked at me--and such a look! Then she said in a tone of the utmost finality: "I am going to Quito." I shook my head, smiling at her, whereupon she became furious. "M. Lamar," she burst forth, "I tell you I am going to Quito! In spite of your smile! Yes! Do you hear? I shall go!" Without a word I took a coin from my pocket and held it up. I had come to know Le Mire. She frowned for a moment in an evident attempt to maintain her anger, then an irresistible smile parted her lips and she clapped her hands gaily. "Very well," she cried, "toss, monsieur! Heads!" The coin fell tails, and we did not go to Quito, much to the disappointment of our guests. Le Mire forgot all about it in ten minutes. Five days later we dropped anchor at Callao. This historic old port delighted Le Mire at once. I had told her something of its story: its successive bombardments by the liberators from Chile, the Spanish squadron, buccaneering expeditions from Europe and the Chilean invaders; not to mention earthquakes and tidal waves. We moored alongside the stone pier by the lighthouse; the old clock at its top pointed to the hour of eight in the morning. But as soon as Le Mire found out that Lima was but a few miles away, Callao no longer held any interest for her. We took an afternoon train and arrived at the capital in time for dinner. There it was, in picturesque old Lima, that Le Mire topped her career. On our first afternoon we betook ourselves to the fashionable paseo, for it was a band day, and all Lima was out. In five minutes every eye in the gay and fashionable crowd was turned on Le Mire. Then, as luck would have it, I met, quite by chance, a friend of mine who had come to the University of San Marcos some years before as a professor of climatology. He introduced us, with an air of importance, to several of the groups of fashion, and finally to the president himself. That night we slept as guests under the roof of a luxurious and charming country house at Miraflores. Le Mire took the capital by storm. Her style of beauty was peculiarly fitted for their appreciation, for pallor is considered a mark of beauty among Lima ladies. But that could scarcely account for her unparalleled triumph. I have often wondered--was it the effect of a premonition? The president himself sat by her at the opera. There were two duels attributed to her within a week; though how the deuce that was possible is beyond me. On society day at the bull-ring the cues were given by Le Mire; her hand flung the rose to the matador, while the eight thousand excited spectators seemed uncertain whether they were applauding her or him. Lima was hers, and never have I seen a fortnight so crowded with incidents. But Le Mire soon tired of it, as was to be expected. She greeted me one morning at the breakfast table: "My friend Paul, let us go to Cerro de Pasco. They have silver--thousands and thousands of tons--and what you call them? Ornaments." "And then the Andes?" I suggested. "Why not?" "But, my dear Desiree, what shall we do with the yacht?" "Pooh! There is the captain. Come--shall I say please?" So we went to Cerro de Pasco. I wrote to Captain Harris, telling him not to expect us for another month or so, and sending him sufficient funds to last till our return. I verily believe that every one of note in Lima came to the railroad station to see us off. Our compartment was a mass of flowers, which caused me to smile, for Le Mire, curiously enough, did not like them. When we had passed out of the city she threw them out of the window, laughing and making jokes at the expense of the donors. She was in the best of humor. We arrived at Oroya late in the afternoon, and departed for Cerro de Pasco by rail on the following morning. This ride of sixty-eight miles is unsurpassed in all the world. Snow-capped peaks, bottomless precipices, huge masses of boulders that seem ready to crush the train surround you on every side, and now and then are directly above or beneath you. Le Mire was profoundly impressed; indeed, I had not supposed her to possess the sensibility she displayed; and as for me, I was most grateful to her for having suggested the trip. You who find yourselves too well-acquainted with the Rockies and the Alps and the Himalayas should try the Andes. There is a surprise waiting for you. But for the story. We found Cerro de Pasco, interesting as its situation is, far short of our expectations. It is a mining town, filled with laborers and speculators, noisy, dirty, and coarse. We had been there less than forty-eight hours when I declared to Harry and Le Mire my intention of returning at once. "But the Andes!" said Le Mire. "Shall we not see them?" "Well--there they are." I pointed through the window of the hotel. "Bah! And you call yourself a traveler? Look! The snow! My friend Paul, must I ask twice for a favor?" Once again we tossed a coin. Ah, if Le Mire had only seen the future! And yet--I often wonder--would she have turned her back? For the woman craved novelty and adventure, and the gameness of centuries was in her blood--well, she had her experience, which was shared only in part by Harry and myself. Those snow-capped peaks! Little did we guess what they held for us. We were laughing, I remember, as we left behind us the edge of civilization represented by Cerro de Pasco. We found it impossible to procure a complete outfit in the mining town, and were forced to despatch a messenger to Lima. He returned in two days with mules, saddles, saddle-bags, boots, leather leggings, knickerbockers, woolen ponchos, and scores of other articles which he assured us were absolutely necessary for any degree of comfort. By the time we were ready to start we had a good-sized pack-train on our hands. The proprietor of the hotel found us an arriero, whom he declared to be the most competent and trustworthy guide in all the Andes--a long, loose-jointed fellow with an air of complete indifference habitually resting on his yellow, rather sinister-looking face. Le Mire did not like him, but I certainly preferred the hotel proprietor's experience and knowledge to her volatile fancy, and engaged the arriero on the spot. Our outfit was complete, and everything in readiness, when Harry suddenly announced that he had decided not to go, nor to allow Le Mire to do so. "I don't like it," he said in troubled tones. "I tell you, Paul, I don't like it. I've been talking to some of the miners and arrieros, and the thing is foolhardy and dangerous." Then, seeing the expression on my face, he continued hastily: "Oh, not for myself. You know me; I'll do anything that any one else will do, and more, if I can. But Desiree! I tell you, if anything happened to her I--well--" I cut him short: "My dear boy, the idea is Desiree's own. And to talk of danger where she is concerned! She would laugh at you." "She has," Harry confessed with a doubtful smile. I clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "Come, brace up! Our caravan awaits us--and see, the fairy, too. Are you ready, Desiree?" She came toward us from the inner rooms of the hotel, smiling, radiant. I shall never forget the picture she presented. She wore white knickerbockers, a white jacket, tan-leather boots and leggings and a khaki hat. Her golden hair, massed closely about her ears and upon her forehead, shimmered in the bright sun dazzlingly; her eyes sparkled; her little white teeth gleamed in a happy, joyous smile. We lifted her to the back of her mule, then mounted our own. Suddenly a recollection shot through my brain with remarkable clearness, and I turned to Le Mire: "Desiree, do you know the first time I ever saw you? It was in an electric brougham at the Gare du Nord. This is somewhat different, my lady." "And infinitely more interesting," she answered. "Are you ready? See that stupid arriero! Ah! After all, he knew what he was about. Then, messieurs--allons!" The arriero, receiving my nod uttered a peculiar whistle through his teeth. The mules pricked up their ears, then with one common movement started forward. "Adios! Adios, senora! Adios, senores!" With the cry of our late host sounding in our ears we passed down the narrow little street of Cerro de Pasco on our way to the snow-capped peaks of the Andes. Chapter V. THE CAVE OF THE DEVIL. You may remember that I made some remark concerning the difficulty of the ascent of Pike's Peak. Well, that is mere child's play--a morning constitutional compared to the paths we found ourselves compelled to follow in the great Cordillera. Nor was it permitted us to become gradually accustomed to the danger; we had not been two hours out of Cerro de Pasco before we found ourselves creeping along a ledge so narrow there was scarcely room for the mules to place their hoofs together, over a precipice three thousand feet in the air--straight. And, added to this was the discomfort, amounting at times to positive pain, caused by the soroche. Hardly ever did we find ground sufficiently broad for a breathing space, save when our arriero led us, almost by magic it seemed, to a camping place for the night. We would ascend the side of a narrow valley; on one hand roared a torrent some hundreds of feet below; on the other rose an uncompromising wall of rock. So narrow would be the track that as I sat astride my mule my outside leg would be hanging over the abyss. But the grandeur, the novelty, and the variety of the scenery repaid us; and Le Mire loved the danger for its own sake. Time and again she swayed far out of her saddle until her body was literally suspended in the air above some frightful chasm, while she turned her head to laugh gaily at Harry and myself, who brought up the rear. "But Desiree! If the girth should break!" "Oh, but it won't." "But if it should?" "Tra-la-la! Come, catch me!" And she would try to urge her mule into a trot--a futile effort, since the beast had a much higher regard for his skin than she had for hers; and the mule of the arriero was but a few feet ahead. Thus we continued day after day, I can't say how many. There was a fascination about the thing that was irresistible. However high the peak we had ascended, another could be seen still higher, and that, too, must be scaled. The infinite variety of the trail, its surprises, its new dangers, its apparent vanishings into thin air, only to be found, after an all but impossible curve, up the side of another cliff, coaxed us on and on; and when or where we would have been able to say, "thus far and no farther" is an undecided problem to this day. About three o'clock one afternoon we camped in a small clearing at the end of a narrow valley. Our arriero, halting us at that early hour, had explained that there was no other camping ground within six hours' march, and no hacienda or pueblo within fifty miles. We received his explanation with the indifference of those to whom one day is like every other day, and amused ourselves by inspecting our surroundings while he prepared the evening meal and arranged the camp beds. Back of us lay the trail by which we had approached--a narrow, sinuous ribbon clinging to the side of the huge cliffs like a snake fastened to a rock. On the left side, immediately above us, was a precipice some thousand feet in height; on the right a series of massive boulders, of quartzite and granite, misshapen and lowering. There were three, I remember, placed side by side like three giant brothers; then two or three smaller ones in a row, and beyond these many others ranged in a mass unevenly, sometimes so close together that they appeared to be jostling one another out of the way. For several days we had been in the region of perpetual snow; and soon we gathered about the fire which the arriero had kindled for our camp. Its warmth was grateful, despite our native woolen garments and heavy ponchos. The wind whistled ominously; a weird, senseless sound that smote the ear with madness. The white of the snow and the dull gray of the rocks were totally unrelieved by any touch of green or play of water; a spot lonely as the human soul and terrifying as death. Harry had gone to examine the hoofs of his mule, which had limped slightly during the afternoon; Le Mire and I sat side by side near the fire, gazing at the play of the flames. For some minutes we had been silent. "In Paris, perhaps--" she began suddenly, then stopped short and became again silent. But I was fast dropping into melancholy and wanted to hear her voice, and I said: "Well? In Paris--" She looked at me, her eyes curiously somber, but did not speak. I insisted: "You were saying, Desiree, in Paris--" She made a quick movement and laughed unpleasantly. "Yes, my friend--but it is useless. I was thinking of you. 'Ah! A card! Mr. Paul Lamar. Show him in, Julie. But no, let him wait--I am not at home.' That, my friend, would be in Paris." I stared at her. "For Heaven's sake, Desiree, what nonsense is this?" She disregarded my question as she continued: "Yes, that is how it would be. Why do I talk thus? The mountains hypnotize me. The snow, the solitude--for I am alone. Your brother, what is he? And you, Paul, are scarcely aware of my existence. "I had my opportunity with you, and I laughed it away. And as for the future--look! Do you see that waste of snow and ice, glittering, cold, pitiless? Ha! Well, that is my grave." I tried to believe that she was merely amusing herself, but the glow in her eyes did not proceed from mirth. I followed her fixed gaze across the trackless waste and, shivering, demanded: "What morbid fancy is this, Desiree? Come, it is scarcely pleasant." She rose and crossed the yard or so of ground between us to my side. I felt her eyes above me, and try as I would I could not look up to meet them. Then she spoke, in a voice low but curiously distinct: "Paul, I love you." "My dear Desiree!" "I love you." At once I was myself, calm and smiling. I was convinced that she was acting, and I dislike to spoil a good scene. So I merely said: "I am flattered, senora." She sighed, placing her hand on my shoulder. "You laugh at me. You are wrong. Have I chosen this place for a flirtation? Before, I could not speak; now you must know. There have been many men in my life, Paul; some fools, some not so, but none like you. I have never said, 'I love you.' I say it now. Once you held my hand--you have never kissed me." I rose to my feet, smiling, profoundly fatuous, and made as if to put my arm around her. "A kiss? Is that all, Desiree? Well--" But I had mistaken her tone and overreached. Not a muscle did she move, but I felt myself repulsed as by a barrier of steel. She remained standing perfectly still, searching me with a gaze that left me naked of levity and cynicism and the veneer of life; and finally she murmured in a voice sweet with pain: "Must you kill me with words, Paul? I did not mean that--now. It is too late." Then she turned swiftly and called to Harry, who came running over to her only to meet with some trivial request, and a minute later the arriero announced dinner. I suppose that the incident had passed with her, as it had with me; little did I know how deeply I had wounded her. And when I discovered my mistake, some time later and under very different circumstances, it very nearly cost me my life, and Harry's into the bargain. During the meal Le Mire was in the jolliest of moods apparently. She retold the tale of Balzac's heroine who crossed the Andes in the guise of a Spanish officer, performing wondrous exploits with her sword and creating havoc among the hearts of the fair ladies who took the dashing captain's sex for granted from his clothing. The story was a source of intense amusement to Harry, who insisted on the recital of detail after detail, until Desiree allowed her memory to take a vacation and substitute pure imagination. Nor was the improvisation much inferior to the original. It was still light when we finished dinner, a good three hours till bedtime. And since there was nothing better to do, I called to the arriero and asked him to conduct us on a tour of exploration among the mass of boulders, gray and stern, that loomed up on our right. He nodded his head in his usual indifferent manner, and fifteen minutes later we started, on foot. The arriero led the way, with Harry at his heels, and Desiree and I brought up the rear. Thrice I tried to enter into conversation with her; but each time she shook her head without turning round, and I gave it up. I was frankly puzzled by her words and conduct of an hour before; was it merely one of the trickeries of Le Mire or-- I was interested in the question as one is always interested in a riddle; but I tossed it from my mind, promising myself a solution on the morrow, and gave my attention to the vagaries of nature about me. We were passing through a cleft between two massive rocks, some three or four hundred yards in length. Ahead of us, at the end of the passage, a like boulder fronted us. Our footfalls echoed and reechoed from wall to wall; the only other sound was the eery moaning of the wind that reached our ears with a faintness which only served to increase its effect. Here and there were apertures large enough to admit the entrance of a horse and rider, and in many places the sides were crumbling. I was reflecting, I remember, that the formation was undoubtedly one of limestone, with here and there a layer of quartzite, when I was aroused by a shout from Harry. I approached. Harry and Desiree, with Felipe, the arriero, had halted and were gazing upward at the wall of rock which barred the exit from the passage. Following their eyes, I saw lines carved on the rock, evidently a rude and clumsy attempt to reproduce the form of some animal. The thing was some forty feet or so above us and difficult to see clearly. "I say it's a llama," Harry was saying as I stopped at his side. "My dear boy," returned Desiree, "don't you think I know a horse when I see one?" "When you see one, of course," said Harry sarcastically. "But who ever saw a horse with a neck like that?" As for me, I was really interested, and I turned to the arriero for information. "Si, senor," said Felipe, "Un caballo." "But who carved it?" Felipe shrugged his shoulders. "Is it new--Spanish?" Another shrug. I became impatient. "Have you no tongue?" I demanded. "Speak! If you don't know the author of that piece of equine art say so." "I know, senor." "You know?" "Si, senor." "Then, for Heaven's sake, tell us." "His story?" pointing to the figure on the rock. "Yes, idiot!" Without a sign of interest, Felipe turned twice around, found a comfortable rock, sat down, rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and began. He spoke in Spanish dialect; I shall preserve the style as far as translation will permit. "Many, many years ago, senor, Atahualpa, the Inca, son of Huayna-Capac, was imprisoned at Cajamarco. Four, five hundred years ago, it was. By the great Pizarro. And there was gold at Cuzco, to the south, and Atahualpa, for his ransom, ordered that this gold be brought to Pizarro. "Messengers carried the order like the wind, so swift that in five days the priests of the sun carried their gold from the temples to save the life of Atahualpa." Felipe paused, puffing at his cigarette, glanced at his audience, and continued: "But Hernando Pizarro, brother of the great Pizarro, suspected a delay in the carriers of gold. From Pachacamac he came with twenty horsemen, sowing terror in the mountains, carrying eighty loads of gold. Across the Juaja River and past Lake Chinchaycocha they came, till they arrived at the city of Huanuco. "There were temples and gold and priests and soldiers. But when the soldiers of the Inca saw the horses of the Spaniards and heard the guns, they became frightened and ran away like little children, carrying their gold. Never before had they seen white men, or guns, or horses. "With them came many priests and women, to the snow of the mountains. And after many days of suffering they came to a cave, wherein they disappeared and no more were seen, nor could Hernando Pizarro and his twenty horsemen find them to procure their gold. "And before they entered the cave they scaled a rock near its entrance and carved thereon the likeness of a horse to warn their Inca brethren of the Spaniards who had driven them from Huanuco. That is his story, senor." "But who told you all this, Felipe?" The arriero shrugged his shoulders and glanced about, as much as to say, "It is in the wind." "But the cave?" cried Desiree. "Where is the cave?" "It is there, senora," said Felipe, pointing through a passage to the right. Then nothing would do for Desiree but to see the cave. The arriero informed her that it was difficult of access, but she turned the objection aside with contempt and commanded him to lead. Harry, of course, was with her, and I followed somewhat unwillingly; for, though Felipe's history was fairly accurate, I was inclined to regard his fable of the disappearing Incas as a wild tradition of the mountains. He had spoken aright--the path to the cave was not an easy one. Here and there deep ravines caused us to make a wide detour or risk our necks on perilous steeps. Finally we came to a small clearing, which resembled nothing so much as the bottom of a giant well, and in the center of one of the steep walls was an opening some thirty or forty feet square, black and rugged, and somehow terrifying. It was the entrance to the cave. There Felipe halted. "Here, senor. Here entered the Incas of Huanuco with their gold." He shivered as he spoke, and I fancied that his face grew pale. "We shall explore it!" cried Desiree, advancing. "But no, senora!" The arriero was positively trembling. "No! Senor, do not let her go within! Many times have my countrymen entered in search of the gold, and americanos, too, and never did they return. It is a cave of the devil, senor. He hides in the blackness and none who enter may escape him." Desiree was laughing gaily. "Then I shall visit the devil!" she exclaimed, and before either Harry or I could reach her she had sprung across the intervening space to the entrance and disappeared within. With shouts of consternation from Felipe ringing in our ears, we leaped after her. "Desiree!" cried Harry. "Come back, Desiree!" There was no answer, but echoing back from the night before us came faint reverberations--could they be footsteps! What folly! For I had thought that she had merely intended to frighten poor Felipe, and now-- "Desiree!" Harry called again with all the strength of his lungs. "Desiree!" Again there was no answer. Then we entered the cave together. I remember that as we passed within I turned and saw Felipe staring with white face and eyes filled with terror. A hundred feet and we were encompassed by the most intense darkness. I muttered: "This is folly; let us get a light," and tried to hold Harry back. But he pushed me aside and groped on, crying: "Desiree! Come back, Desiree!" What could I do? I followed. Suddenly a scream resounded through the cavern. Multiplied and echoed by the black walls, it was inhuman, shot with terror, profoundly horrible. A tremor ran through me from head to foot; beside me I heard Harry gasp with a nameless fear. An instant later we dashed forward into the darkness. How long we ran I could never tell; probably a few seconds, possibly as many minutes. On we rushed, blindly, impelled not by reason, but by the memory of that terrible cry, side by side, gasping, fearful. And then-- A step into thin air--a mighty effort to recover a footing--a wild instant of despair and pawing helpless agony. Then blackness and oblivion. Chapter VI. CAPTURED. The fall--was it ten feet or a thousand? I shall never know. Hurtling headlong through space, a man can scarcely be expected to keep his wits about him. Actually, my only impression was of righteous indignation; my memory is that I cursed aloud, but Harry denies it. But it could not have been for long, for when we struck the water at the bottom we were but slightly stunned by the impact. To this Harry has since agreed; he must have been as lucky as myself, for I took it headlong with a clean cleavage. I rose to the top, sputtering, and flung out my arms in the attempt to swim--or, rather, to keep afloat--and was overjoyed to find my arms and legs answer to the call of the brain. About me was blackest night and utter silence, save a low, unbroken murmur, unlike any other sound, hardly to be heard. It was in my effort to account for it that I first became aware of the fact that the water was a stream, and a moving one--moving with incredible swiftness, smooth and all but silent. As soon as I became convinced of this I gave up all attempt to swim, and satisfied myself with keeping my head above the surface and drifting with the current. Then I thought of Harry, and called his name aloud many times. The reverberations throughout the cave were as the report of a thousand cannon; but there was no response. The echoes became fainter and fainter and died away, and again all was silence and impenetrable night, while I battled with the strong suction of the unseen current, which was growing swifter and swifter, and felt my strength begin to leave me. Terror, too, began to call to me as the long minutes passed endlessly by. I thought, "If I could only see!" and strained my eyes in the effort till I was forced to close them from the dizzy pain. The utter, complete darkness hid from me all knowledge of what I passed or what awaited me beyond. The water, carrying me swiftly onward with its silent, remorseless sweep, was cold and black; it pressed with tremendous power against me; now and then I was forced beneath the surface and fought my way back, gasping and all but exhausted. I forgot Desiree and Harry; I lost all consciousness of where I was and what I was doing; the silent fury of the stream and the awful blackness maddened me; I plunged and struggled desperately, blindly, sobbing with rage. This could not have lasted much longer; I was very near the end. Suddenly, with a thrill of joy, I realized that the speed of the current was decreasing. Then a reaction of despair seized me; I tried to strangle hope and resign myself to the worst. But soon there was no longer any doubt; the water carried me slower and slower. I floated with little difficulty, wondering--could it be an approach to a smaller outlet which acted as a dam? Or was it merely a lessening of the incline of the bed of the stream? I cursed the darkness for my helplessness. Finally the water became absolutely still, as I judged by the absence of pressure on my body, and I turned sharply at a right angle and began to swim. My weariness left me as by magic, and I struck out with bold and sweeping strokes; and by that lack of caution all but destroyed myself when my head suddenly struck against a wall of stone, unseen in the darkness. I was stunned completely and sank; but the ducking revived me; and when I returned to the surface I swam a few careful strokes, searching for the wall. It was not there, and I had no idea of its direction. But I had now learned caution; and by swimming a few feet first one way, then another, and taking care not to go far in any one direction, I finally discovered it. My hand easily reached the top, and, grasping the slippery surface with a grip made firm by despair, and concentrating every ounce of strength in one final effort, I drew myself out of the water and fell completely exhausted on the ground. Under such circumstances time has no place in a man's calculations; he is satisfied to breathe. I believe that I lay barely conscious for several hours, but it may have been merely as many minutes. Then I felt life stir within me; I stretched my arms and legs and sat up. Gradually entered my mind the thought of Desiree and Harry and the Andes above and Felipe shuddering with terror as he flew from the cave of the devil. First came Harry; but hope did not enter. It was inconceivable that he, too, should have escaped that fearful torrent; stupendous luck alone had saved me from being dashed senseless against the rocks and guided me to the ledge on which I rested. Then he was gone! I had no thought of my own peril. I had gone through the world with but little regard for what it held; nothing had been sacred to me; no affection had been more than a day's caprice; I had merely sucked amusement from its bitter fruit. But I loved Harry; I realized it with something like astonishment. He was dear to me; a keen, intense pain contracted my chest at the thought of having lost him; tears filled my eyes; and I raised up my voice and sang out wildly: "Harry! Harry, lad! Harry!" The cavern resounded. The call went from wall to wall, then back again, floating through black space with a curious tremor, and finally died away in some dim, unseen corridor. And then--then came an answering call! Owing to the conflicting echoes of the cavern, the tone could not be recognized. But the word was unmistakable; it was "Paul." I sprang to my feet with a shout, then stood listening. Out of the blackness surrounding me came the words, in Harry's voice, much lower, but distinct: "Paul! Paul, where are you?" "Thank Heaven!" I breathed; and I answered: "Here, Harry boy, here." "But where?" "I don't know. On a ledge of rock at the edge of the water. Where are you?" "Same place. Which side are you on?" "The right side," I answered with heartfelt emphasis. "That is to say, the outside. If it weren't for this infernal darkness--Listen! How far away does my voice sound?" But the innumerable echoes of the cavern walls made it impossible to judge of distance by sound. We tried it over and over; sometimes it seemed that we were only a few feet apart, sometimes a mile or more. Then Harry spoke in a whisper, and his voice appeared to be directly in my ear. Never have I seen a night so completely black as that cavern; we had had several hours, presumably, for our eyes to adjust themselves to the phenomenon; but when I held my hand but six inches in front of my face I could not get even the faintest suggestion of its outline. "This is useless," I declared finally. "We must experiment. Harry!" "Yes." "Turn to your left and proceed carefully along the edge. I'll turn to my right. Go easy, lad; feel your way." I crawled on my hands and knees, no faster than a snail, feeling every inch of the ground. The surface was wet and slippery, and in places sloped at an angle that made me hang on for dear life to keep from shooting off into space. Meantime I kept calling to Harry and he to me; but, on account of our painfully slow progress, it was half an hour or more before we discovered that the distance between us was being increased instead of lessened. He let fly an oath at this, and his tone was dangerous; no wonder if the lad was half crazed! I steadied him as well as I could with word of encouragement, and instructed him to turn about and proceed to the right of his original position. I, also, turned to the left. Our hope of meeting lay in the probability that the ledge surrounded a circular body of water and was continuous. At some point, of course, was the entrance of the stream which had carried us, and at some other point there was almost certainly an outlet; but we trusted to luck to avoid these. Our chances were less than one in a thousand; but, failing that, some other means must be invented. The simplest way would have been for me to take to the water and swim across to Harry, counting on his voice as a guide; but the conflicting echoes produced by the slightest sound rendered such an attempt dangerous. I crept along that wet, slimy, treacherous surface, it seemed, for hours. I could see nothing--absolutely nothing; everything was black void; it was hard to appreciate reality in such a nightmare. On the one side, nameless dangers; on the other, the unseen, bottomless lake; enough, surely, to take a man's nerve. My fear for Harry killed anxiety on my own account. We kept continually calling: "Harry!" "Yes." "Steady." "Yes. I'm coming along. I say, we're closer, Paul." I hesitated to agree with him, but finally there was no longer any doubt of it. His voice began to reach me almost in natural tones, which meant that we were near enough for the vibrations to carry without interference from the walls. Nearer still it came; it was now only a matter of a few feet; Harry gave a cry of joy, and immediately afterward I heard his low gasp of terror and the sound of his wild scrambling to regain a foothold. In his excitement he had forgotten caution and had slipped to the edge of the water. I dared not try to go to his assistance; so I crouched perfectly still and called to him to throw himself flat on his face. How my eyes strained despairingly as I cursed the pitiless darkness! Then the scrambling ceased and the boy's voice sounded: "All right, Paul! All right! Gad, I nearly went!" A minute later I held his hand in mine. At that point the incline was at a sharp angle, and we lay flat on our backs. For many minutes we lay silently gripping hands; Harry was trembling violently from nervous fatigue, and I myself was unable to speak. What strength is there in companionship! Alone, either of us would probably have long before succumbed to the strain of our horrible situation; but we both took hope and courage from that hand-clasp. Finally he spoke: "In Heaven's name, where are we, Paul?" "You know as much as I do, Harry. This cursed darkness makes it impossible even to guess at anything. According to Felipe, we are being entertained by the devil." "But where are we? What happened? My head is dizzy--I don't know--" I gripped his hand. "And no wonder. 'Tis hardly an every-day occurrence to ride an underground river several miles under the Andes. Above us a mountain four miles high, beneath us a bottomless lake, round us darkness. Not a very cheerful prospect, Hal; but, thank Heaven, we take it together! It is a grave--ours and hers. I guess Desiree knew what she was talking about." There came a cry from Harry's lips--a cry of painful memory: "Desiree! I had forgotten, Desiree!" "She is probably better off than we are," I assured him. I felt his gaze--I could not see it--and I continued: "We may as well meet the thing squarely like men. Pull yourself together, Harry; as for Desiree, let us hope that she is dead. It's the best thing that could happen to her." "Then we are--no, it isn't possible." "Harry boy, we're buried alive! There! That's the worst of it. Anything better than that is velvet." "But there must be a way out, Paul! And Desiree--Desiree--" His voice faltered. I clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "Keep your nerve. As for a way out--at the rate that stream descends it must have carried us thousands of feet beneath the mountain. There is probably a mile of solid rock between us and the sunshine. You felt the strength of that current; you might as well try to swim up Niagara." "But there must be an outlet at the other end." "Yes, and most probably forty or fifty miles away--that's the distance to the western slope. Besides, how can we find it? And there may be none. The water is most probably gradually absorbed by the porous formation of the rocks, and that is what causes this lake." "But why isn't it known? Felipe said that the cave had been explored. Why didn't they discover the stream?" Well, it was better to talk of that than nothing; at least, it kept Harry from his childish cries for Desiree. So I explained that the precipice over which we had fallen was presumably of recent origin. Geologically the Andes are yet in a chaotic and formative condition; huge slides of Silurian slates and diorite are of frequent occurrence. A ridge of one of these softer stones had most probably been encased in the surrounding granite for many centuries; then, loosened by water or by time, had crumbled and slid into the stream below. "And," I finished, "we followed it." "Then we may find another," said Harry hopefully. I agreed that it was possible. Then he burst out: "In the name of Heaven, don't be so cool! We can't get out till we try. Come! And who knows--we may find Desiree." Then I decided it was best to tell him. Evidently the thought had not entered his mind, and it was best for him to realize the worst. I gripped his hand tighter as I said: "Nothing so pleasant, Harry. Because we're going to starve to death." "Starve to death?" he exclaimed. Then he added simply, with an oddly pathetic tone: "I hadn't thought of that." After that we lay silent for many minutes in that awful darkness. Thoughts and memories came and went in my brain with incredible swiftness; pictures long forgotten presented themselves; an endless, jumbled panorama. They say that a drowning man reviews his past life in the space of a few seconds; it took me a little more time, but the job was certainly a thorough one. Nor did I find it more interesting in retrospect than it had been in reality. I closed my eyes to escape the darkness. It was maddening; easy enough then to comprehend the hysterics of the blind and sympathize with them. It finally reached a point where I was forced to grit my teeth to keep from breaking out into curses; I could lie still no longer, exhausted as I was, and Harry, too. I turned on him: "Come on, Hal; let's move." "Where?" he asked in a tone devoid of hope. "Anywhere--away from this beastly water. We must dry out our clothing; no use dying like drowned rats. If I only had a match!" We rose to our hands and knees and crawled painfully up the slippery incline. Soon we had reached dry ground and stood upright; then, struck by a sudden thought, I turned to Harry: "Didn't you drink any of that water?" He answered: "No." "Well, let's try it. It may be our last drink, Hal; make it a good one." We crept back down to the edge of the lake (I call it that in my ignorance of its real nature), and, settling myself as firmly as possible, I held Harry's hand while he lowered himself carefully into the water. He was unable to reach its surface with his mouth without letting go of my hand, and I shook off my poncho and used it as a line. "How does it taste?" I asked. "Fine!" was the response. "It must be clear as a bell. Lord. I didn't know I was so thirsty!" I was not ignorant of the fact that there was an excellent chance of the water being unhealthful, possibly poisoned, what with the tertiary deposits of copper ores in the rock-basins; but the thought awakened hope rather than fear. There is a choice even in death. But when I had pulled Harry up and descended myself I soon found that there was no danger--or chance. The water had a touch of alkali, but nothing more. Then we crept back up the wet ledge, and once more stood on dry ground. The surface was perfectly level, and we set off at a brisk pace, hand in hand, directly away from the lake. But when, about a hundred yards off, we suddenly bumped our heads against a solid wall of rock, we decided to proceed with more caution. The darkness was intensified, if anything. We turned to the right and groped along the wall, which was smooth as glass and higher than my best reach. It seemed to the touch to be slightly convex, but that may have been delusion. We had proceeded in this manner some hundred yards or more, advancing cautiously, when we came to a break in the wall. A few feet farther the wall began again. "It's a tunnel," said Harry. I nodded, forgetting he could not see me. "Shall we take it?" "Anything on a chance," he answered, and we entered the passage. It was quite narrow--so narrow that we were forced to advance very slowly, feeling our way to avoid colliding with the walls. The ground was strewn with fragments of rock, and a hasty step meant an almost certain fall and a bruised shin. It was tedious work and incredibly fatiguing. We had not rested a sufficient length of time to allow our bodies to recuperate from the struggle with the torrent; also, we began to feel the want of food. Harry was the first to falter, but I spurred him on. Then he stumbled and fell and lay still. "Are you hurt?" I asked anxiously, bending over him. "No," was the answer. "But I'm tired--tired to death--and I want to sleep." I was tempted myself, but I brought him to his feet, from some impulse I know not what. For what was the use? One spot was as good as another. However, we struggled on. Another hour and the passage broadened into a clearing. At least so it seemed; the walls abruptly parted to the right and left. And still the impenetrable, maddening darkness and awful silence! We gave it up; we could go no farther. A few useless minutes we wasted, searching for a soft spot to lie on--moss, reeds, anything. We found none, of course; but even the hard, unyielding rock was grateful to our exhausted bodies. We lay side by side, using our ponchos for pillows; our clothing at least was dry. I do not know how long I slept, but it seemed to me that I had barely dozed off when I was awakened by something--what? There was no sound to my strained ears. I sat up, gazing intently into the darkness, shuddering without apparent reason. Then I reflected that nothing is dangerous to a man who faces death, and I laughed aloud--then trembled at the sound of my own voice. Harry was in sound sleep beside me; his regular breathing told of its depth. Again I lay down, but I could not sleep. Some instinct, long forgotten, quivered within me, telling me that we were no longer alone. And soon my ear justified it. At first it was not a sound, but the mere shadow of one. It was rhythmic, low, beating like a pulse. What could it be? Again I sat up, listening and peering into the darkness. And this time I was not mistaken--there was a sound, rustling, sibilant. Little by little it increased, or rather approached, until it sounded but a few feet from me on every side, sinister and menacing. It was the silent, suppressed breathing of something living--whether animal or man--creeping ever nearer. Then was the darkness doubly horrible. I sat paralyzed with my utter helplessness, though fear, thank Heaven, did not strike me! I could hear no footstep; no sound of any kind but that low, rushing breathing; but it now was certain that whatever the thing was, it was not alone. From every side I heard it--closer, closer--until finally I felt the hot, fetid breath in my very face. My nerves quivered in disgust, not far from terror. I sprang to my feet with a desperate cry to Harry and swung toward him. There was no answering sound, no rush of feet, nothing; but I felt my throat gripped in monstrous, hairy fingers. I tried to struggle, and immediately was crushed to the ground by the overpowering weight of a score of soft, ill-smelling bodies. The grasp on my throat tightened; my arms relaxed, my brain reeled, and I knew no more. Chapter VII. THE FIGHT IN THE DARK. I returned to consciousness with a sickening sensation of nausea and unreality. Only my brain was alive; my entire body was numb and as though paralyzed. Still darkness and silence, for all my senses told me I might have been still in the spot where I had fallen. Then I tried to move my arms, and found that my hands and feet were firmly bound. I strained at the thongs, making some slight sound; and immediately I heard a whisper but a few feet away: "Are you awake, Paul?" I was still half dazed, but I recognized Harry's voice, and I answered simply: "Yes. Where are we?" "The Lord knows! They carried us. You have been unconscious for hours." "They carried us?" "Yes. A thousand miles, I think, on their backs. What--what are they, Paul?" "I don't know. Did you see them?" "No. Too dark. They are strong as gorillas and covered with hair; I felt that much. They didn't make a sound all the time. No more than half as big as me, and yet one of them carried me as if I were a baby--and I weigh one hundred and seventy pounds." "What are we bound with?" "Don't know; it feels like leather; tough as rats. I've been working at it for two hours, but it won't give." "Well, you know what that means. Dumb brutes don't tie a man up." "But it's impossible." "Nothing is impossible. But listen!" There was a sound--the swift patter of feet; they were approaching. Then suddenly a form bent over me close; I could see nothing, but I felt a pressure against my body and an ill-smelling odor, indescribable, entered my nostrils. I felt a sawing movement at my wrists; the thongs pulled back and forth, and soon my hands were free. The form straightened away from me, there was a clatter on the ground near my head, and then silence. There came an oath from Harry: "Hang the brute! He's cut my wrist. Are your hands free, Paul?" "Yes." "Then bind this up; it's bleeding badly. What was that for?" "I have an idea," I answered as I tore a strip from my shirt and bandaged the wound, which proved to be slight. Then I searched on the ground beside me, and found my surmise correct. "Here you go, Hal! here's some grub. But what the deuce is it? By Jove, it's dried fish! Now, where in the name of--" But we wasted no more time in talk, for we were half starved. The stuff was not bad; to us who had been fasting for something like thirty-six hours--for our idea of time was extremely hazy--it was a gorgeous banquet. And close by there was a basin full of water. "Pretty decent sort of beggars, I say," came Harry's voice in the darkness. "But who are they?" "Ask Felipe," I answered, for by this time I was well convinced of the nature and identity of our captors. "As I said, dumb brutes don't bind men with thongs, nor feed them on dried fish. Of course it's incredible, but a man must be prepared to believe anything." "But, Paul! You mean--" "Exactly. We are in the hands of the Incas of Huanuco--or rather their descendants." "But that was four hundred years ago!" "Your history is perfect, like Desiree's geography," said I dryly. "But what then? They have merely chosen to live under the world instead of on it; a rather wise decision, a cynic might say--not to mention the small circumstance that they are prisoners. "My dear Hal, never allow yourself to be surprised at anything; it is a weakness. Here we are in total darkness, buried in the Andes, surrounded by hairy, degenerate brutes that are probably allowing us to eat in order that we may be in condition to be eaten, with no possibility of ever again beholding the sunshine; and what is the thought that rises to the surface of my mind? Merely this: that I most earnestly desire and crave a Carbajal perfecto and a match." "Paul, you say--eat--" "Most probably they are cannibals. The Lord knows they must have some sort of mild amusement in this fearful hole. Of course, the idea is distasteful; before they cut us up they'll have to knock us down." "That's a darned silly joke," said Harry with some heat. "But it's sober truth, my boy. You know me; I never pose. There is nothing particularly revolting in the thought of being eaten; the disadvantage of it lies in the fact that one must die first. We all want to live; Heaven knows why. And we stand a chance. "We know now that there is food to be had here and sufficient air. It is nearly certain that we won't get out, but that can come later. And what an experience! I know a dozen anthropologists that would give their degrees for it. I can feel myself getting enthusiastic about it." "But what if they--they--" "Say it. Eat us? We can fight. It will be strange if we can't outwit these vermin. And now silence; I'm going to begin. Listen hard--hard! The brutes are noiseless, but if they are near we can hear their breathing." "But, Paul--" "No more talk. Listen!" We lay silent for many minutes, scarcely breathing. Not the slightest sound reached our ears through the profound darkness; utter, intense silence. Finally I reached over and touched Harry on the shoulder, and arose to my knees. "Good enough! We're alone. We'll have to crawl for it. Keep close behind me; we don't want to get separated. The first thing is to find a sharp stone to cut through these thongs. Feel on the ground with your hands as we go." It was not easy to rise at all, and still harder to make any progress, for our ankles were bound together most effectively; but we managed somehow to drag ourselves along. I was in front; suddenly I felt Harry pull at my coat, and turned. "Just the thing, Paul. Sharp as a knife. Look!" I groped for his hand in the darkness and took from it the object he held out to me--a small flat stone with a sharp-saw edge. "All right; let me work on you first." I bent down to the thongs which bound his ankles. I was convinced that they were not of leather, but they were tough as the thickest hide. Twice my overeagerness caused the tool to slip and tear the skin from my hand; then I went about it more carefully with a muttered oath. Another quarter of an hour and Harry was free. "Gad, that feels good!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet. "Here, Paul; where's the stone?" I handed it to him and he knelt down and began sawing away at my feet. What followed happened so quickly that we were hardly aware that it had begun when it was already finished. A quick, pattering rush of many feet warned us, but not in time. Hurtling, leaping bodies came at us headlong through the air and crushed us to the ground, buried beneath them, gasping for breath; there must have been scores of them. Resistance was impossible; we were overwhelmed. I heard Harry give a despairing cry, and the scuffle followed; I myself was utterly helpless, for the thongs which bound my ankles had not been cut through. Not a sound came from our assailants save their heavy, labored breathing. I remember that, even while they were sitting on my head and chest and body, I noted their silence with a sort of impersonal curiosity and wondered if they were, after all, human. Nor were they unnecessarily violent; they merely subdued us, rebound our wrists and ankles more tightly than before, and departed. But--faugh! The unspeakable odor of their hairy bodies is in my nostrils yet. "Are you hurt, Paul?" "Not a bit, Harry lad. How do you like the perfume?" "To the deuce with your perfume! But we're done for. What's the use? They've lived in this infernal hole so long they can see in the dark better than we can in the light." Of course he was right, and I was a fool not to have thought of it before and practised caution. The knowledge was decidedly unpleasant. No doubt our every movement was being watched by a hundred pairs of eyes, while we lay helpless in the darkness, bound even more tightly than before. "Look here," said Harry suddenly, "why can't we see their eyes? Why don't they shine." "My dear boy," said I, "in this darkness you couldn't see the Kohinoor diamond if it were hanging on your nose, drawing-room travelers to the contrary notwithstanding. We have one advantage--they can't understand what we say, but they even up for it by not saying anything." There was a short silence, then Harry's voice: "Paul--" "Well?" "I wonder--do you think Desiree--" He hesitated, his voice faltering. "I think the same as you do," said I. "But I don't know--after all, there is a chance. Just a bare chance, isn't there?" "You know as well as I do, Harry. The chances are a million to one that Desiree--thank Heaven--has escaped all this! And isn't that best! Would you have her here with us?" "No--no. Only--" "Lying here, bound hand and foot? She would make a dainty morsel for our friends." "For the Lord's sake, Paul--" "Well, let us forget her--for the present. Nor do we want to make a dainty morsel if we can help it. Come, brace up, Hal. It's up to us to turn a trick." "Well?" "I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I guess we were both too dazed to have good sense. What have you got strapped to your belt?" "A gun," said Harry. "Of course I thought of that. But what good is it after that ducking? And I have only six cartridges." "Nothing else?" I could almost feel his silent gaze; then suddenly he cried out: "A knife!" "At last!" said I sarcastically. "And so have I. A six-inch, double-edged knife, sharp as a razor and pointed like a needle. They didn't have sense enough to search us, and we didn't have sense enough to realize it. I can feel mine under me now against the ground." "But they'll see us." "Not if we use a decent amount of caution. The trouble is, I can't reach my knife with my wrists bound. There's only one way. Lie perfectly still; let them think we've given it up. I'm going to try something." I drew up my knees, twisted over on the hard rock, and lay flat on my belly. Then I drew up my hands and let my face rest on them, like a dog with his head on his paws. And then, keeping my body perfectly still, and with as little movement of the jaws as possible, I sought the tough thongs with my teeth. That was a tedious job and a distasteful one. For many minutes I gnawed away at those thick cords like a dog on a bone. It was considerably later that I discovered what those cords were made of; thank Heaven, I was ignorant of it at the time! All I knew was that they were, to use one of Harry's phrases, "tough as rats." I did not dare pull with my wrists, for fear they would fly suddenly apart and betray me to the unseen watchers. It was necessary to cut clear through with my teeth, and more than once I was on the point of giving it up. There was a nauseating, rancid taste to the stuff, but I dared not even raise my head to expectorate. Finally my teeth met; the cords were severed. I felt carefully about with my tongue to make sure there were no others; then, without moving my hands in the slightest degree, carefully raised my head. It was then that I first noticed--not light, but a thinning out of the darkness. It was, of course, merely the adjustment of my eyes to the new conditions. I could make out no forms surrounding me, but, looking down, I could clearly distinguish the outline of my hands as they lay on the ground before me. And, again looking up, I fancied that I could see, some twenty or thirty feet to the right, that the darkness again became suddenly dense and impenetrable. "That must be a wall," I muttered, straining my eyes toward it. "What's that?" asked Harry sharply. Obedient to my instructions, the lad had lain perfectly motionless and silent for over an hour, for it must have taken me at least that long to gnaw through the cords. "I said that must be a wall. Look, Harry, about thirty feet to the right. Doesn't it appear to you that way?" "By Jove," he exclaimed after a moment of silence, "it's getting light! Look!" I explained that, instead of "it's getting light," his eyes were merely becoming accustomed to the darkness. "But what do you think of that? Is it a wall?" After a moment's silence he answered: "Ye-es," and then more positively: "Yes. But what good does that do us?" "That's what I am about to tell you. Listen! I've cut the cords on my wrists, and I'm going to get my knife--" "How the deuce did you manage that?" Harry interrupted. "With my teeth. I've been rather busy. I'm going to get my knife--cautiously, so they won't suspect if they are watching us. We must lie close together on our sides, facing each other, so I can cut the thongs on your wrists without being seen. Then you are to get your knife--carefully. Do you understand?" "Yes." For the first time there was fight in Harry's voice; the curious, barely perceptible tremor of the man of courage. "All right. Go easy." We went about the thing slowly, turning but an inch at a time; a second mistake might prove fatal. We heard no sound of any kind, and ten minutes later we were lying flat on our backs side by side, keeping our hands hidden between our bodies, that the absence of the thongs might not be discovered. Each of us held in his right hand the hilt of a six inch knife. Cold steel is by no means the favorite weapon of an American, but there are times-- "Have you got your knife, Harry?" "Yes." "Good! Now listen close and act quick. When I give the word reach down and grasp the cords round your ankles in your left hand, then cut them through with one stroke. Then to your feet; grasp my jacket, and together to the wall--that's for our backs. And then--let 'em come!" "All right, old man." "Don't waste any time; they'll probably start for us the instant we sit up. Be sure you get your feet free at the first stroke; feel them well with your left hand first. Are you ready?" "Yes." And his voice was now calm and perfectly steady. "Then--one, two, three--go!" We bent and cut and sprang to our feet, and dashed for the wall. There was a sound of rushing feet--our backs hugged the kindly rock--I heard Harry's shout, "Here they come!"--dim, rushing forms--fingers clutching at my throat. I felt the blade of my knife sink into soft and yielding flesh, and a warm, thick liquid flow over my hand and arm. Chapter VIII. THE DANCE OF THE SUN. It seemed to me then in the minutes that followed that there were thousands of black demons in that black hole. At the first rushing impact I shouted to Harry: "Keep your back to the wall," and for response I got a high, ringing laugh that breathed the joy of battle. The thing was sickening. Harry is a natural fighting man; I am not. Without the wall at our backs we would have been overpowered in thirty seconds; as it was, we were forced to handle half a dozen of them at once, while the others surged in from behind. They had no weapons, but they had the advantage of being able to see us. They clutched my throat, my arms, my legs, my body; there was no room to strike; I pushed the knife home. They fastened themselves to my legs and feet and tried to bring me down from beneath; once, in slashing at the head of one whose teeth were set in my calf, I cut myself on the knee. It was difficult to stand in the wet, slippery pool that formed at my feet. Suddenly I heard a sound that I understood too well--the curious, rattling sound of a man who is trying to call out when he is being strangled. "Harry!" I cried, and I fought like a wild man to get to him, with knife, feet, hands, teeth. I reached his coat, his arm; it was dangerous to strike so near him in the dark, but I felt him sinking to the ground. Then I found the taut, straining fingers about his throat, and lunged forward with the knife--and the fingers relaxed. Again we were fighting together side by side. As their bodies fell in front of us we were pressed harder, for those behind climbed up on the corpses of their fellows and literally descended on our heads from the air. We could not have held out much longer; our breath was coming in quick, painful gasps; Harry stumbled on one of the prostrate brutes and fell; I tried to lift him and was unequal to the task. It appeared to be the end. Suddenly there rang throughout the cavern a sound as of a gigantic, deep-toned bell. The walls sent it back and forth with deafening echoes; it was as though the mountain had descended with one tremendous crash into its own bowels. As though by magic, the assault ceased. The effect was indescribable. We could see nothing; we merely became suddenly aware that there were no longer hands clutching at our throats or hairy bodies crushing us to the ground. It was as though the horde of unseen devils had melted into thin air. There were movements on the ground, for many of them had been wounded; a man cannot always reach the spot in the dark. This lasted for two or three minutes; they were evidently removing those who still had life in them, for the straining breath of men dragging or lifting burdens was plainly audible. Gradually that, too, died away with the last reverberations of the mysterious sound that had saved us, and we found ourselves alone--or at least unmolested--for in the darkness we could see nothing, except the dim outlines of the prostrate forms at our feet. The cavern was a shambles. The smell was that of a slaughter-house. I had had no idea of the desperateness of our defense until I essayed to scramble over the heap of bodies to dry ground; I shuddered and grew faint, and Harry was in no better case. Worse, he had dropped his knife when we stumbled, and we were forced to grope round in that unspeakable mess for many minutes before we found it. "Are you hurt, lad?" I asked when once we stood clear. "Nothing bad, I think," he answered. "My throat is stiff, and two or three of the brutes got their teeth in me. In the name of Heaven, Paul, what are they? And what was that bell?" These were foolish questions, and I told him so. My leg was bleeding badly where I had slashed myself, and I, too, had felt their teeth. But, despite our utter weariness and our wounds, we wanted nothing--not even rest--so badly as we wanted to get away from that awful heap of flesh and blood and the odor of it. Besides, we did not know at what moment they might return. So I spoke, and Harry agreed. I led the way; he followed. But which way to turn? We wanted water, both for our dry and burning throats and for our wounds; and rest and food. We thought little of safety. One way seemed as likely as another, so we set out with our noses as guides. A man encounters very few misfortunes in this world which, later in life, he finds himself unable to laugh at; well, for me that endless journey was one of the few. Every step was torture. I had bandaged the cut on my leg as well as possible, but it continued to bleed. But it was imperative that we should find water, and we struggled on, traversing narrow passages and immense caverns, always in complete darkness, stumbling over unseen rocks and encountering sharp corners of cross passages. It lasted I know not how many hours. Neither of us would have survived alone. Time and again Harry sank to the ground and refused to rise until I perforce lifted him; once we nearly came to blows. And I was guilty of the same weakness. But the despair of one inspired the other with fresh strength and courage, and we struggled forward, slower and slower. It was soul-destroying work. I believe that in the last hour we made not more than half a mile. I know now that for the greater part of the time we were merely retracing our steps in a vicious circle! It was well that it ended when it did, for we could not have held out much longer. Harry was leading the way, for I had found that that slight responsibility fortified him. We no longer walked, we barely went forward, staggering and reeling like drunken men. Suddenly Harry stopped short, so suddenly that I ran against him; and at the same time I felt a queer sensation--for I was too far gone to recognize it--about my feet. Then Harry stooped over quickly, half knocking me down as he did so, and dropped to his knees; and the next instant gave an unsteady cry of joy: "Water! Man, it's water!" How we drank and wallowed, and wallowed and drank! That water might have contained all the poisons in the world and we would have neither known nor cared. But it was cool, fresh, living--and it saved our lives. We bathed our wounds and bandaged them with strips from our shirts. Then we arranged our clothing for cushions and pillows as well as possible, took another drink, and lay down to sleep. We must have slept a great many hours. There was no way to judge of time, but when we awoke our joints were as stiff as though they had gotten rusty with the years. I was brought to consciousness by the sound of Harry's voice calling my name. Somehow--for every movement was exquisite pain--we got to our feet and reached the water, having first removed our clothing. But we were now at that point where to drink merely aggravated our hunger. Harry was in a savage humor, and when I laughed at him he became furious. "Have some sense. I tell you, I must eat! If it were not for your--" "Go easy, Hal. Don't say anything you'll be sorry for. And I refuse to consider the sordid topic of food as one that may rightfully contain the elements of tragedy. We seem to be in the position of the king of vaudeville. If we had some ham we'd have some ham and eggs--if we had some eggs." "You may joke, but I am not made of iron!" he cried. "And what can we do but die?" I demanded. "Do you think there is any chance of our getting out of this? Take it like a man. Is it right for a man who has laughed at the world to begin to whine when it becomes necessary to leave it? "You know I'm with you; I'll fight, and what I find I'll take; in the mean time I prefer not to furnish amusement for the devil. There comes a time, I believe, when the stomach debases us against our wills. May I die before I see it." "But what are we to do?" "That's more like it. There's only one hope. We must smell out the pantry that holds the dried fish." We talked no more, but set about bathing and dressing our wounds. Gad, how that cold water took them! I was forced to set my teeth deep into my lip to keep from crying out, and once or twice Harry gave an involuntary grunt of pain that would not be suppressed. When we had finished we waded far to the right to take a last deep drink; then sought our clothing and prepared to start on our all but hopeless search. We had become fairly well limbered up by that time and set out with comparative ease. We had gone perhaps a hundred yards, bearing off to the right, when Harry gave a sudden cry: "My knife is gone!" and stopped short. I clapped my hand to my own belt instinctively, and found it empty both of knife and gun! For a moment we stood in silence; then: "Have you got yours?" he demanded. When I told him no he let out an oath. His gun was gone, also. We debated the matter, and decided that to attempt a search would be a useless waste of time; it was next to certain that the weapons had been lost in the water when we had first plunged in. And so, doubly handicapped by this new loss, we again set out. There was but one encouragement allowed to us: we were no longer in total darkness. Gradually our eyes were becoming accustomed to the absence of light; and though we could by no means see clearly, nor even could properly be said to see at all, still we began to distinguish the outlines of walls several feet away; and, better than that, each of us could plainly mark the form and face of the other. Once we stood close, less than a foot apart, for a test; and when Harry cried eagerly, "Thank Heaven, I can see your nose!" our strained feelings were relieved by a prolonged burst of genuine laughter. There was little enough of it in the time that followed, for our sufferings now became a matter not of minutes or hours, but of days. The assault of time is the one that unnerves a man, especially when it is aided by gnawing pain and weariness and hunger; it saps the courage and destroys the heart and fires the brain. We dragged ourselves somehow ever onward. We found water; the mountain was honeycombed with underground streams; but no food. More than once we were tempted to trust ourselves to one of those rushing torrents, but what reason we had left told us that our little remaining strength was unequal to the task of keeping our heads above the surface. And yet the thought was sweet--to allow ourselves to be peacefully swept into oblivion. We lost all idea of time and direction, and finally hope itself deserted us. What force it was that propelled us forward must have been buried deep within the seat of animal instinct, for we lost all rational power. The thing became a nightmare, like the crazy wanderings of a lost soul. Forward--forward--forward! It was a mania. Then Harry was stricken with fever and became delirious. And I think it was that seeming misfortune that saved us, for it gave me a spring for action and endowed me with new life. As luck would have it, a stream of water was near, and I half carried and half dragged him to its edge. I made a bed for him with my own clothing on the hard rock, and bathed him and made him drink, while all the time a string of delirious drivel poured forth from his hot, dry lips. That lasted many hours, until finally he fell into a deep, calm sleep. But his body was without fuel, and I was convinced he would never awaken; yet I feared to touch him. Those were weary hours, squatting by his side with his hand gripped in my own, with the ever-increasing pangs of hunger and weariness turning my own body into a roaring furnace of pain. Suddenly I felt a movement of his hand; and then came his voice, weak but perfectly distinct: "Well, Paul, this is the end." "Not yet, Harry boy; not yet." I tried to put cheer and courage into my own voice, but with poor success. "I--think--so. I say, Paul--I've just seen Desiree." "All right, Hal." "Oh, you don't need to talk like that; I'm not delirious now. I guess it must have been a dream. Do you remember that morning on the mountain--in Colorado--when you came on us suddenly at sunrise? Well, I saw her there--only you were with her instead of me. So, of course, she must be dead." His logic was beyond me, but I pressed his hand to let him know that I understood. "And now, old man, you might as well leave me. This is the end. You've been a good sport. We made a fight, didn't we? If only Desiree--but there! To Hades with women, I say!" "Not that--don't be a poor loser, Hal. And you're not gone yet. When a man has enough fight in him to beat out an attack of fever he's very much alive." But he would not have it so. I let him talk, and he rambled on, with scarcely an idea of what he was saying. The old days possessed his mind, and, to tell the truth, the sentiment found a welcome in my own bosom. I said to myself, "This is death." And then, lifting my head to look down the dark passage that led away before us, I sprang to my feet with a shout and stood transfixed with astonishment. And the next instant there came a cry of wonder from Harry: "A light! By all the gods, a light!" So it was. The passage lay straight for perhaps three hundred yards. There it turned abruptly; and the corner thus formed was one blaze of flickering but brilliant light which flowed in from the hidden corridor. It came and went, and played fitfully on the granite walls; still it remained. It was supernaturally brilliant; or so it seemed to us, who had lived in utter darkness for many days. I turned to Harry, and the man who had just been ready to die was rising to his feet! "Wait a minute--not so fast!" I said half angrily, springing to support him. "And, for Heaven's sake, don't make any noise! We're in no condition to fight now, and you know what that light means." "But what is it?" demanded the boy excitedly. "Come on, man--let's go!" To tell the truth, I felt as eager as he. For the first time I understood clearly why the Bible and ancient mythology made such a fuss about the lighting up of the world. Modern civilization is too far away from its great natural benefits to appreciate them properly. And here was a curious instance of the force of habit--or, rather, instinct--in man. So long as Harry and I had remained in the dark passage and byways of the cavern we had proceeded almost entirely without caution, with scarcely a thought of being discovered. But the first sight of light made us wary and careful and silent; and yet we knew perfectly well that the denizens of this underworld could see as well in the darkness as in the light--perhaps even better. So difficult is it to guide ourselves by the human faculty of pure reason. Harry was so weak he was barely able to stand, even in the strength of this new excitement and hope, and we were forced to go very slowly; I supported him as well as I was able, being myself anything but an engine of power. But the turn in the passage was not far away, and we reached it in a quarter of an hour or less. Before we made the turn we halted. Harry was breathing heavily even from so slight an exertion, and I could scarcely suppress a cry of amazement when, for the first time in many days, the light afforded me a view of his face. It was drawn and white and sunken; the eyes seemed set deep in his skull as they blinked painfully; and the hair on his chin and lip and cheeks had grown to a length incredible in so short a space of time. I soon had reason to know that I probably presented no better an appearance, for he was staring at me as though I were some strange monster. "Good Heavens, man, you took like a ghost!" he whispered. I nodded; my arm was round his shoulder. "Now, let's see what this light means. Be ready for anything, Harry--though Heaven knows we can find nothing worse than we've had. Here, put your arm on my shoulder. Take it easy." We advanced to the corner together within the patch of light and turned to the right, directly facing its source. It is impossible to convey even a faint idea of the wild and hugely fantastic sight that met our gaze. With us it was a single, vivid flash to the astonished brain. These are the details: Before us was an immense cavern, circular in shape, with a diameter of some half a mile. It seemed to me then much larger; from where we stood it appeared to be at least two miles to the opposite side. There was no roof to be seen; it merely ascended into darkness, though the light carried a great distance. All round the vast circumference, on terraced seats of rock, squatted row after row of the most completely hideous beings within possibility. They were men; I suppose they must have the name. They were about four feet tall, with long, hairy arms and legs, bodies of a curious, bloated appearance, and eyes--the remainder of the face was entirely concealed by thick hair--eyes dull and vacant, of an incredibly large size; they had the appearance of ghouls, apes, monsters--anything but human beings. They sat, thousands of them, crouched silently on their stone seats, gazing, motionless as blocks of wood. The center of the cavern was a lake, taking up something more than half of its area. The water was black as night, and curiously smooth and silent. Its banks sloped by degrees for a hundred feet or so, but at its edge there was a perpendicular bank of rock fifteen or twenty feet in height. Near the middle of the lake, ranged at an equal distance from its center and from each other, were three--what shall I call them?--islands, or columns. They were six or eight feet across at their top, which rose high above the water. On top of each of these columns was a huge vat or urn, and from each of the urns arose a steady, gigantic column of fire. These it was that gave the light, and it was little wonder we had thought it brilliant, since the flames rose to a height of thirty feet or more in the air. But that which left us speechless with profound amazement was not the endless rows of silent, grinning dwarfs, nor the black, motionless lake, nor the leaping tongues of flame. We forgot these when we followed the gaze of that terrifying audience and saw a sight that printed itself on my brain with a vividness which time can never erase. Closing my eyes, I see it even now, and I shudder. Exactly in the center of the lake, in the midst of the columns of fire, was a fourth column, built of some strangely lustrous rock. Prisms of a formation new to me--innumerable thousands of them--caused its sides to sparkle and glisten like an immense tower of whitest diamonds, blinding the eye. The effect was indescribable. The huge cavern was lined and dotted with the rays shot forth from their brilliant angles. The height of this column was double that of the others; it rose straight toward the unseen dome of the cavern to the height of a hundred feet. It was cylindrical in shape, not more than ten feet in diameter. And on its top, high above the surface of the lake, surrounded by the mounting tongues of flame, whirled and swayed and bent the figure of a woman. Her limbs and body, which were covered only by long, flowing strands of golden hair, shone and glistened strangely in the lurid, weird light. And of all the ten thousand reflections that shot at us from the length of the column not one was so brilliant, so blinding, as the wild glow of her eyes. Her arms, upraised above her head, kept time with and served as a key to every movement of her white, supple body. She glided across, back and forth, now this way, now that, to the very edge of the dizzy height, with wild abandon, or slow, measured grace, or the rushing sweep of a panther. The thing was beauty incarnate--the very idea of beauty itself realized and perfected. It was staggering, overwhelming. Have you ever stood before a great painting or a beautiful statue and felt a thrill--the thrill of perception--run through your body to the very tips of your fingers? Well, imagine that thrill multiplied a thousandfold and you will understand the sensation that overpowered me as I beheld, in the midst of that dazzling blaze of light, the matchless Dance of the Sun. For I recognized it at once. I had never seen it, but it had been minutely described to me--described by a beautiful and famous woman as I sat on the deck of a yacht steaming into the harbor of Callao. She had promised me then that she would dance it for me some day-- I looked at Harry, who had remained standing beside me, gazing as I had gazed. His eyes were opened wide, staring at the swaying figure on the column in the most profound astonishment. He took his hand from my shoulder and stood erect, alone; and I saw the light of recognition and hope and deepest joy slowly fill his eyes and spread over his face. Then I realized the danger, and I endeavored once more to put my arm round his shoulder; but he shook me off with hot impatience. He leaped forward with the quickness of lightning, eluding my frantic grasp, and dashed straight into the circle of blazing light! I followed, but too late. At the edge of the lake he stopped, and, stretching forth his arms toward the dancer on the column, he cried out in a voice that made the cavern ring: "Desiree! Desiree! Desiree!" Chapter IX. BEFORE THE COURT. I expected I know not what result from Harry's hysterical rashness: confusion, pandemonium, instant death; but none of these followed. I had reached his side and stood by him at the edge of the lake, where he had halted. Desiree Le Mire stopped short in the midst of the mad sweep of the Dance of the Sun. For ten silent, tense seconds she looked down at us from the top of the lofty column, bending dangerously near its edge. Her form straightened and was stretched to its fullest height; her white, superb body was distinctly outlined against the black background of the upper cavern. Then she stepped backward slowly, without taking her eyes from us. Suddenly as we gazed she appeared to sink within the column itself and in another instant disappeared from view. We stood motionless, petrified; how long I know not. Then I turned and faced our own danger. It was time. The Incas--for I was satisfied of the identity of the creatures--had left their seats of granite and advanced to the edge of the lake. Not a sound was heard--no command from voice or trumpet or reed; they moved as with one impulse and one brain. We were utterly helpless, for they numbered thousands. And weak and starving as we were, a single pair of them would have been more than a match for us. I looked at Harry; the reaction from his moment of superficial energy was already upon him. His body swayed slightly from side to side, and he would have fallen if I had not supported him with my arm. There we stood, waiting. Then for the first time I saw the ruler of the scene. The Incas had stopped and stood motionless. Suddenly they dropped to their knees and extended their arms--I thought--toward us; but something in their attitude told me the truth. I wheeled sharply and saw the object of their adoration. Built into the granite wall of the cavern, some thirty feet from the ground, was a deep alcove. At each side of the entrance was an urn resting on a ledge, similar to those on the columns, only smaller, from which issued a mounting flame. On the floor of the alcove was a massive chair, or throne, which seemed to be itself of fire, so brilliant was the glow of the metal of which it was constructed. It could have been nothing but gold. And seated on this throne was an ugly, misshapen dwarf. "God save the king!" I cried, with a hysterical laugh; and in the profound silence my voice rang from one side of the cavern to the other in racing echoes. Immediately following my cry the figure on the throne arose; and as he did so the creatures round us fell flat on their faces on the ground. For several seconds the king surveyed them thus, without a sound or movement; then suddenly he stretched forth his hand in a gesture of dismissal. They rose as one man and with silent swiftness disappeared, seemingly melting away into the walls of rock. At the time the effect was amazing; later, when I discovered the innumerable lanes and passages which served as exits, it was not so difficult to understand. We were apparently left alone, but not for long. From two stone stairways immediately in front of us, which evidently led to the alcove above, came forth a crowd of rushing forms. In an instant they were upon us; but if they expected resistance they were disappointed. At the first impact we fell. And in another moment we had been raised in their long, hairy arms and were carried swiftly from the cavern. Scarcely five minutes had elapsed since we had first entered it. They did not take us far. Down a broad passage directly away from the cavern, then a turn to the right, and again one to the left. There they dropped us, quite as though we were bundles of merchandise, without a word. By this time I had fairly recovered my wits--small wonder if that amazing scene had stunned them--and I knew what I wanted. As the brute that had been carrying me turned to go I caught his arm. He hesitated, and I could feel his eyes on me, for we were again in darkness. But he could see--I thanked Heaven for it--and I began a most expressive pantomime, stuffing my fingers in my mouth and gnawing at them energetically. This I alternated with the action of one drinking from a basin. I hadn't the slightest idea whether he understood me; he turned and disappeared without a sign--at least, without an audible one. But the creature possessed intelligence, for I had barely had time to turn to Harry and ascertain that he was at least alive, when the patter of returning footsteps was heard. They approached; there was the clatter of stone on the ground beside us. I stood eagerly; a platter, heaped, and a vessel, full! I think I cried out with joy. "Come, Harry lad; eat!" He was too weak to move; but when I tore some of the dried fish into fragments and fed it to him he devoured it ravenously. Then he asked for water, and I held the basin to his lips. We ate as little as it is possible for men to eat who have fasted for many days, for the stuff had a sharp, concentrated taste that recommended moderation. And, besides, we were not certain of getting more. I wrapped the remainder carefully in my poncho, leaving the platter empty, and lay down to rest, using the poncho for a pillow. I had enough, assuredly, to keep me awake, but there are bounds beyond which nature cannot go. I slept close by Harry's side, with my arm across his body, that any movement of his might awaken me. When I awoke Harry was still asleep, and I did not disturb him. I myself must have slept many hours, for I felt considerably refreshed and very hungry. And thirsty; assuredly the provender of those hairy brutes would have been most excellent stuff for the free-lunch counter of a saloon. I unwrapped the poncho; then, crawling on my hands and knees, searched about the ground. As I had expected, I found another full platter and basin. I had just set the latter down after taking a hearty drink when I heard Harry's voice. "Paul." "Here, lad." "I was afraid you had gone. I've just had the most devilish dream about Desiree. She was doing some crazy dance on top of a mountain or something, and there was fire, and--Paul! Paul, was it a dream?" "No, Hal; I saw it myself. But come, we'll talk later. Here's some dried fish for breakfast." "Ah! That--that--now I remember! And she fell! I'm going--" But I wanted no more fever or delirium, and I interrupted him sternly: "Harry! Listen to me! Are you a baby or a man? Talk straight or shut up, and don't whine like a fool. If you have any courage, use it." It was stiff medicine, but he needed it, and it worked. There was a silence, then his voice came, steady enough: "You know me better than that, Paul. Only--if it were not for Desiree--but I'll swallow it. I think I've been sick, haven't I?" Poor lad! I wanted to take his hand in mine and apologize. But that would have been bad for both of us, and I answered simply: "Yes, a little fever. But you're all right now. And now you must eat and drink. Not much of a variety, but it's better than nothing." I carried the platter and basin over to him, and sat down by his side, and we fell to together. But he would talk of Desiree, and I humored him. There was little enough to say, but he pressed my hand hopefully and gratefully when I expressed my belief that her disappearance had been a trick of some sort and no matter for apprehension. "We must find her, Paul." "Yes." "At once." But there I objected. "On the contrary, we must delay. Right now we are utterly helpless from our long fast. They would handle us like babies if it came to a fight. Try yourself; stand up." He rose to his hands and knees, then sank back to the ground. "You see. To move now would be folly. And of course they are watching us at this minute--every minute. We must wait." His only answer was a groan of despair. In some manner the weary hours passed by. Harry lay silent, but not asleep; now and then he would ask me some question, but more to hear my voice than to get an answer. We heard or saw nothing of our captors, for all our senses told us we were quite alone, but our previous experience with them had taught us better than to believe it. I found myself almost unconsciously reflecting on the character and nature of the tribe of dwarfs. Was it possible that they were really the descendants of the Incas driven from Huanuco by Hernando Pizarro and his horsemen nearly four hundred years before? Even then I was satisfied of it, and I was soon to have that opinion confirmed by conclusive evidence. Other questions presented themselves. Why did they not speak? What fuel could they have found in the bowels of the Andes for their vats of fire? And how did sufficient air for ten thousand pairs of lungs find its way miles underground? Why, in the centuries that had passed, had none of them found his way to the world outside? Some of these questions I answered for myself, others remained unsolved for many months, until I had opportunity to avail myself of knowledge more profound than my own. Easy enough to guess that the hidden deposits of the mountain had yielded oil which needed only a spark from a piece of flint to fire it; and any one who knows anything of the geological formation of the Andes will not wonder at their supply of air. Nature is not yet ready for man in those wild regions. Huge upheavals and convulsions are of continual occurrence; underground streams are known which rise in the eastern Cordillera and emerge on the side of the Pacific slope. And air circulates through these passages as well as water. Their silence remains inexplicable; but it was probably the result of the nature of their surroundings. I have spoken before of the innumerable echoes and reverberations that followed every sound of the voice above a whisper. At times it was literally deafening; and time may have made it so in reality. The natural effect through many generations of this inconvenience or danger would be the stoppage of speech, leading possibly to a complete loss of the faculty. I am satisfied that they were incapable of vocalization, for even the women did not talk! But that is ahead of the story. I occupied myself with these reflections, and found amusement in them; but it was impossible to lead Harry into a discussion. His mind was anything but scientific, anyway; and he was completely obsessed by fear for the safety of Desiree. And I wasn't sorry for it; it is better that a man should worry about some one else than about himself. Our chance of rescuing her, or even of saving ourselves, appeared to me woefully slim. One fear at least was gone, for the descendants of Incas could scarcely be cannibals; but there are other fates equally final, if less distasteful. The fact that they had not even taken the trouble to bind us was an indication of the strictness of their watch. The hours crept by. At regular intervals our food was replenished and we kept the platter empty, storing what we could not eat in our ponchos against a possible need. It was always the same--dried fish of the consistency of leather and a most aggressive taste. I tried to convey to one of our captors the idea that a change of diet would be agreeable, but either he did not understand me or didn't want to. Gradually our strength returned, and with it hope. Harry began to be impatient, urging action. I was waiting for two things besides the return of strength; first, to lay in a supply of food that would be sufficient for many days in case we escaped, and second, to allow our eyes to accustom themselves better to the darkness. Already we were able to see with a fair amount of clearness; we could easily distinguish the forms of those who came to bring us food and water when they were fifteen or twenty feet away. But the cavern in which we were confined must have been a large one, for we were unable to see a wall in any direction, and we did not venture to explore for fear our captors would be moved to bind us. But Harry became so insistent that I finally consented to a scouting expedition. Caution seemed useless; if the darkness had eyes that beheld us, doubly so. We strapped our ponchos, heavy with their food, to our backs, and set out at random across the cavern. We went slowly, straining our eyes ahead and from side to side. It was folly, of course, in the darkness--like trying to beat a gambler at his own game. But we moved on as noiselessly as possible. Suddenly a wall loomed up before us not ten feet away. I gave a tug at Harry's arm, and he nodded. We approached the wall, then turned to the right and proceeded parallel with it, watching for a break that would mean the way to freedom. I noticed a dark line that extended along the base of the wall, reaching up its side to a height of about two feet and seemingly melting away into the ground. At first I took it for a separate strata of rock, darker than that above. But there was a strange brokenness about its appearance that made me consider it more carefully. It appeared to be composed of curious knots and protuberances. I stopped short, and, advancing a step or two toward the wall, gazed intently. Then I saw that the dark line was not a part of the wall at all; and then--well, then I laughed aloud in spite of myself. The thing was too ludicrous. For that "dark line" along the bottom of the wall was a row of squatting Incas! There they sat, silent, motionless; even when my laugh rang out through the cavern they gave not the slightest sign that they either heard or saw. Yet it was certain that they had watched our every move. There was nothing for it but retreat. With our knives we might have fought our way through; but we were unarmed, and we had felt one or two proofs of their strength. Harry took it with more philosophy than I had expected. As for me, I had not yet finished my laugh. We sought our former resting-place, recognizing it by the platter and basin which we had emptied before our famous and daring attempt to escape. Soon Harry began: "I'll tell you what they are, Paul; they're frogs. Nothing but frogs. Did you see 'em? The little black devils! And Lord, how they smell!" "That," I answered, "is the effect of--" "To the deuce with your mineralogy or anthromorphism or whatever you call it. I don't care what makes 'em smell. I only know they do--as Kipling says of the oonts--'most awful vile.' And there the beggars sit, and here we sit!" "If we could only see--" I began. "And what good would that do us? Could we fight? No. They'd smother us in a minute. Say, wasn't there a king in that cave the other day?" "Yes; on a golden throne. An ugly little devil--the ugliest of all." "Sure; that why he's got the job. Did he say anything?" "Not a word; merely stuck out his arm and out we went." "Why the deuce don't they talk?" I explained my theory at some length, with many and various scientific digressions. Harry listened politely. "I don't know what you mean," said he when I had finished, "but I believe you. Anyway, it's all a stupendous joke. In the first place, we shouldn't be here at all. And, secondly, why should they want us to stay?" "How should I know? Ask the king. And don't bother me; I'm going to sleep." "You are not. I want to talk. Now, they must want us for something. They can't intend to eat us, because there isn't enough to go around. And there is Desiree. What the deuce was she doing up there without any clothes on? I say, Paul, we've got to find her." "With pleasure. But, first, how are we going to get out of this?" "I mean, when we get out." Thus we rattled on, arriving nowhere. Harry's loquacity I understood; the poor lad meant to show me that he had resolved not to "whine." Yet his cheerfulness was but partly assumed, and it was most welcome. My own temper was getting sadly frayed about the edge. We slept through another watch uneventfully, and when we woke found our platter of fish and basin of water beside us. I estimated that some seventy-two hours had then passed since we had been carried from the cavern; Harry said not less than a hundred. However that may be, we had almost entirely recovered our strength. Indeed, Harry declared himself perfectly fit; but I still felt some discomfort, caused partly by the knife-wound on my knee, which had not entirely healed, and partly, I think, by the strangeness and monotony of our diet. Harry's palate was less particular. On awaking, and after breaking our fast, we were both filled with an odd contentment. I really believe that we had abandoned hope, and that the basis of our listlessness was despair; and surely not without reason. For what chance had we to escape from the Incas, handicapped as we were by the darkness, and our want of weapons, and their overwhelming numbers? And beyond that--if by some lucky chance we did escape--what remained? To wander about in the endless caves of darkness and starve to death. At the time I don't think I stated the case, even to myself, with such brutal frankness, but facts make their impression whether you invite them or not. But, as I say, we were filled with an odd contentment. Though despair may have possessed our hearts, it was certainly not allowed to infect our tongues. Breakfast was hilarious. Harry sang an old drinking-song to the water-basin with touching sentiment; I gave him hearty applause and joined in the chorus. The cavern rang. "The last time I sang that," said Harry as the last echoes died away, "was at the Midlothian. Bunk Stafford was there, and Billy Du Mont, and Fred Marston--I say, do you remember Freddie? And his East Side crocodiles? "My, but weren't they daisies? And polo? They could play it in their sleep. And--what's this? Paul! Something's up! Here they come--Mr. and Mrs. Inca and all the children!" I sprang hastily to my feet and stood by Harry's side. He was right. Through the half darkness they came, hundreds of them, and, as always, in utter silence. Dimly we could see their forms huddled together round us on every side, leaving us in the center of a small circle in their midst. "Now, what the deuce do they want?" I muttered. "Can't they let us eat in peace?" Harry observed: "Wasn't I right? 'Most awful vile!'" I think we both felt that we were joking in the face of death. The forms surrounding us stood silent for perhaps ten seconds. Then four of their number stepped forward to us, and one made gestures with a hairy arm, pointing to our rear. We turned and saw a narrow lane lined on either side by our captors. Nothing was distinct; still we could see well enough to guess their meaning. "It's up to us to march," said Harry. I nodded. "And step high, Hal; it may be our last one. If we only had our knives! But there are thousands of 'em." "But if it comes to the worst--" "Then--I'm with you. Forward!" We started, and as we did so one of the four who had approached darted from behind and led the way. Not a hand had touched us, and this appeared to me a good sign, without knowing exactly why. "They seem to have forgotten their manners," Harry observed. "The approved method is to knock us down and carry us. I shall speak to the king about it." We had just reached the wall of the cavern and entered a passage leading from it, when there came a sound, sonorous and ear-destroying, from the farther end. We had heard it once before; it was the same that had ended our desperate fight some days before. Then it had saved our lives; to what did it summon us now? The passage was not a long one. At its end we turned to the right, following our guide. Once I looked back and saw behind us the crowd that had surrounded us in the cave. There was no way but obedience. We had advanced perhaps a hundred, possibly two hundred yards along the second passage when our guide suddenly halted. We stood beside him. He turned sharply to the left, and, beckoning to us to follow, began to descend a narrow stairway which led directly from the passage. It was steep, and the darkness allowed a glimpse only of black walls and the terrace immediately beneath our feet; so we went slowly. I counted the steps; there were ninety-six. At the bottom we turned again to the right. Just as we turned I heard Harry's voice, quite low: "There are only a dozen following us, Paul. Now--" But I shook my head. It would have been mere folly, for, even if we had succeeded in breaking through, we could never have made our way back up the steps. This I told Harry; he admitted reluctantly that I was right. We now found ourselves in a lane so low and narrow that it was necessary for us to stoop and proceed in single file. Our progress was slow; the guide was continually turning to beckon us on with gestures of impatience. At length he halted and stood facing us. The guard that followed gathered close in the rear, the guide made a curious upward movement with his arm, and when we stood motionless repeated it several times. "I suppose he wants us to fly," said Harry with so genuine a tone of sarcasm that I gave an involuntary smile. The guide's meaning was soon evident. It took some seconds for my eye to penetrate the darkness, and then I saw a spiral stair ascending perpendicularly, apparently carved from the solid rock. Harry must have perceived it at the same moment, for he turned to me with a short laugh: "Going up? Not for me, thank you. The beggar means for us to go alone." For a moment I hesitated, glancing round uncertainly at the dusky forms that were ever pressing closer upon us. We were assuredly between the devil and the deep sea. Then I said, shrugging my shoulders: "It's no good pulling, Harry. Come on; take a chance. You said it--going up!" I placed my foot on the first step of the spiral stair. Harry followed without comment. Up we went together, but slowly. The stair was fearfully steep and narrow, and more than once I barely escaped a fall. Suddenly I became aware that light was descending on us from above. With every step upward it became brighter, until finally it was as though a noonday sun shone in upon us. There came an exclamation from Harry, and we ascended faster. I remember that I counted a hundred and sixty steps--and then, as a glimmering of the truth shot through my brain into certainty, I counted no more. Harry was crowding me from below, and we took the last few steps almost at a run. Then the end, and we stumbled out into a blaze of light and surveyed the surrounding scene with stupefaction and wonder. It was not new to us; we had seen it before, but from a different angle. We were on the top of the column in the center of the lake; on the spot where Desiree had whirled in the dance of the sun. Chapter X. THE VERDICT. For many seconds we stood bewildered, too dazed to speak or move. The light dazzled our eyes; we seemed surrounded by an impenetrable wall of flame. There was no sensation of heat, owing, no doubt, to the immense height of the cavern and our comparatively distant removal from the flames, which mounted upward in narrow tongues. Then the details began to strike me. I have said the scene was the same as that we had previously beheld. Round the walls of the immense circular cavern squatted innumerable rows of the Incas on terraced seats. Below, at a dizzy distance, was the smooth surface of the lake, black and gloomy save where the reflections from the blazing urns pierced its depths. And directly facing us, set in the wall of the cavern, was the alcove containing the throne of gold. And on the throne was seated--not the diminutive, misshapen king, but Desiree Le Mire! She sat motionless, gazing directly at us. Her long gold hair streamed over her shoulders in magnificent waves; a stiffly flowing garment of some unknown texture covered her limbs and the lower part of her body; her shoulders and breasts and arms were bare, and shone with a dazzling whiteness. Beside her was a smaller seat, also of gold, and on this crouched the form of an Inca--the king. About them, at a respectful distance, were ranged attendants and guards--a hundred or more, for the alcove was of an impressive size. The light from the four urns shone in upon it with such brightness that I could clearly distinguish the whites of Desiree's eyes. All this I saw in a single flash, and I turned to Harry: "Not a word, on your life! This is Desiree's game; trust her to play it." "But what the deuce is she doing there?" I shrugged my shoulders. "She seems to have found another king. You know her fondness for royalty." "Paul, for Heaven's sake--" "All right, Hal. But we're safe enough, I think. Most probably our introduction to court. This is what they call 'the dizzy heights of prominence.' Now keep your eyes open--something is going to happen." There was a movement in the alcove. Four of the attendants came forward, carrying a curious framework apparently composed of reeds and leather, light and flexible, from the top bar of which hung suspended several rope-like ribbons, of various lengths and colors and tied in curious knots. They placed it on the ground before the double throne, at the feet of Desiree. All doubt was then removed from my mind concerning the identity of our captors and their king. For these bundles of knotted cords of different sizes and colors I recognized at once. They were the famous Inca quipos--the material for their remarkable mnemonic system of communication and historical record. At last we were to receive a message from the Child of the Sun. But of what nature? Every cord and knot and color had its meaning--but what? I searched every avenue of memory to assist me; for I had latterly confined my studies exclusively to Eastern archeology, and what I had known of the two great autochthonous civilizations of the American Continent was packed in some dim and little used corner of my brain. But success came, with an extreme effort. I recollected first the different disposition of the quipos for different purposes--historical, sacred, narrative, et cetera. Then the particulars came to me, and immediately I recognized the formula of the quipos before the throne. They were arranged for adjudication--for the rendering of a verdict. Harry and I were prisoners before the bar of the quipos! I turned to him, but there was not time for talk. The king had risen and stretched out his hand. Immediately the vast assemblage rose from their stone seats and fell flat on their faces. It was then that I noticed, for the first time, an oval or elliptical plate of shining gold set in the wall of the cavern just above the outer edge of the alcove. This, of course, was the representation of Pachacamac, the "unknown god" in the Inca religion. Well, I would as soon worship a plate of gold as that little black dwarf. For perhaps a minute the king stood with outstretched arm and the Incas remained motionless on their faces. Then he resumed his seat and they rose. And then the trial began. The king turned on his throne and laid his hand on Desiree's arm; we could see her draw away from his touch with an involuntary shudder. But this apparent antipathy bothered his kingship not at all; it was probably a most agreeable sensation to feel her soft, white flesh under his black, hairy hand, and he kept it there, while with the other arm he made a series of sweeping gestures which I understood at once, but which had no meaning for Desiree. By her hand he meant the quipos to speak. We had a friend in court, but she was dumb, and I must give her voice. There was no time to be lost; I stepped to the edge of the column and spoke in a voice loud enough to carry across the cavern--which was not difficult in the universal silence. "He means that you are to judge us by the quipos. The meaning is this--yellow, slavery, white, mercy; purple, reward; black, death. The lengths of the cords and the number of knots indicate the degree of punishment or reward. Attached to the frame you will find a knife. With that detach the cord of judgment and lay it at the feet of the king." Again silence; and not one of the vast throng, nor the king himself, appeared to pay the slightest attention to my voice. The king continued his gestures to Desiree. She rose and walked to the frame of quipos and took in her hand the knife which she found there suspended by a cord. There she hesitated, with the knife poised in the air, while her eyes sought mine--and found them. I felt a tug at my arm, but I had no time for Harry then. I was looking at Desiree, and what I saw caused a cold shudder to flutter through my body. Not of fear; it was the utter surprise of the thing--its incredible horror. To die by the hands of those hairy brutes was not hard, but Desiree to be the judge! For she meant death for us; I read it in her eyes. One of the old stale proverbs of the stale old world was to have another justification. I repeat that I was astounded, taken completely by surprise; and yet I had known something of "the fury of a woman scorned." It was as though our eyes shot out to meet each other in an embrace of death. She saw that I understood and she smiled--what a smile! It was triumphant, and yet sad; a vengeance, and a farewell. She put forth her hand. It wavered among the quipos as though uncertainly, then closed firmly on the black cord of death. A thought flashed through my mind with the speed of lightning. I raised my voice and sang out: "Desiree!" She hesitated; the hand which held the knife fell to her side and again her eyes sought mine. "What of Harry?" I called. "Take two--the white for him, the black for me." She shook her head and again raised the knife; and I played my last card. "Bah! Who are you? For you are not Le Mire!" I weighted my voice with contempt. "Le Mire is a child of fortune, but not of hell!" At last she spoke. "I play a fair hand, monsieur!" she cried, and her voice trembled. "With marked cards!" I exclaimed scornfully. "The advantage is yours, madame; may you find pleasure in it." There was a silence, while our eyes met. I thought I had lost. Le Mire stood motionless. Not a sound came from the audience. I felt Harry pulling at my arm, but shook myself free, without taking my eyes from Le Mire's face. Suddenly she spoke: "You are right, my friend Paul. I take no advantage. Leave it to Fortune. Have you a coin?" I had won my chance. That was all--a chance--but that was better than nothing. I took a silver peseta from my pocket--by luck it had not been lost--and held it in the air above my head. "Heads!" cried Desiree. I let the coin fall. It rolled half-way across the top of the column and stopped at the very edge. I crossed and stooped over it. It lay heads up! Harry was behind me; as I straightened up I saw his white, set face and eyes of horror. He, too, had seen the verdict; but he was moved not by that, but by the thought of Desiree, for Harry was not a man to flinch at sight of death. I stood straight, and my voice was calm. It cost me an effort to clear it of bitterness and reproach. I could not avoid the reflection that but for Desiree we would never have seen the cave of the devil and the Children of the Sun; but I said simply and clearly: "You win, madame." Desiree stared at me in the most profound surprise. I understood her, and I laughed scornfully aloud, and held my head high; and I think a voice never held so complete a disdain as did mine as I called to her: "I am one who plays fair, even with death, Le Mire. The coin fell heads--you win your black cord fairly." She made no sign that she had heard; she was raising the knife. Suddenly she stopped, again her hand fell, and she said: "You say the purple for reward, Paul?" I nodded--I could not speak. Her hand touched the white cord and passed on; the yellow, and again passed on. Then there was a flash of the knife--another--and she approached the king and laid at his feet the purple cord. Then, without a glance toward us, she resumed her seat on the golden throne. A lump rose to my throat and tears to my eyes. Which was very foolish, for the thing had been completely theatrical. It was merely a tribute from one of nature's gamblers to the man who "played fair, even with death"; nevertheless, there was feeling in it, and the eternal mercy of woman. For all that was visible to the eye the verdict made not the slightest impression on the rows of silent Incas. Not a movement was seen; they might have been carved from the stone on which they were seated. Their black, hairy bodies, squat and thick, threw back the light from the flaming torches as though even those universal rays could not penetrate such grossness. Suddenly they rose--the king had moved. He picked the purple cord from the ground, and, after passing his hand over it three times, handed it to an attendant who approached. Then he stretched out his hand, and the Incas, who had remained standing, turned about and began to disappear. As before, the cavern was emptied in an incredibly short space of time; in two minutes we were alone with those in the alcove. There was a sound behind us. We turned and saw a great slab of stone slowly slide to one side in the floor, leaving an aperture some three feet square. Evidently it had been closed behind us when we had ascended; we had had no time to notice it then. In this hole presently appeared the head and shoulders of our guide, who beckoned to us to follow and then disappeared below. I started to obey, but turned to wait for Harry, who was gazing at Desiree. His back was toward me and I could not see his face; his eyes must have held an appeal, for I saw Desiree's lips part in a smile and heard her call: "You will see me!" Then he joined me, and we began the descent together. I found myself wondering how these half-civilized brutes had possibly managed to conceive the idea of the spiral stair. It was known to neither the Aztecs nor the Incas, in America; nor to any of the primitive European or Asiatic civilizations. But they had found a place where nothing else would do--and they made it. Another of the innumerable offspring of Mother Necessity. I took time to note its construction. It was rude enough, but a good job for all that. It was not exactly circular; there were many angles, evidently following the softer strata in the rock; they had bowed to their material--the way of the artist. Even the height of the steps was irregular; some were scarcely more than three inches, while others were twelve or fourteen. You may know we descended slowly and with care, especially when we had reached the point where no light came from above to aid us. We found our guide waiting for us at the bottom, alone. We followed him down the low and narrow passage through which we had previously come. But when we reached the steps which led up to the passage above and to the cave where we had formerly been confined, he ignored them and turned to the right. We hesitated. "He's alone," said Harry. "Shall we chuck the beggar?" "We shall not, for that very reason," I answered. "It means that we are guests instead of captives, and far be it from us to outrage the laws of hospitality. But seriously, the safest thing we can do is to follow him." The passage in which we now found ourselves was evidently no work of nature. Even in the semidarkness the mark of man's hand was apparent. And the ceiling was low; another proof, for dwarfs do not build for the accommodation of giants. But I had some faint idea of the pitiful inadequacy of their tools, and I found myself reflecting on the stupendous courage of the men who had undertaken such a task, even allowing for the fact that four hundred years had been allowed them for its completion. Soon we reached a veritable maze of these passages. We must have taken a dozen or more turns, first to the right, then to the left. I had been marking our way on my memory as well as possible, but I soon gave up the attempt as hopeless. Several times our guide turned so quickly that we could scarcely follow him. When we signified by gestures our desire to go slower he seemed surprised; of course, he expected us to see in the dark as well as he. Then a dim light appeared, growing brighter as we advanced. Soon I saw that it came through an opening in the wall to our left, which we were approaching. Before the opening the guide halted, motioning us to enter. We did so, and found ourselves in an apartment no less than royal. Several blazing urns attached to the walls furnished the light, wavering but brilliant. There were tables and rude seats, fashioned from the same prismatic stones which covered the column in the lake, and from their surfaces a thousand points of color shone dazzlingly. At one side was a long slab of granite covered with the skins of some animal, dry, thick, and soft. The walls themselves were of the hardest granite, studded to a height of four or five feet with tiny, innumerable spots of gold. Harry crossed to the middle of the apartment and stood gazing curiously about him. I turned to the door and looked down the outer passage in both directions--our guide had disappeared. "We appear to be friends of the family," said Harry with a grin. "Thanks to Desiree, yes." "Thanks to the devil! What did she mean--what could she mean? Was it one of her jokes? For I can't believe that she would--would--" "Have sent us to death? Well--who knows? Yes, it may have been one of her jokes," I lied. For, of course, Harry knew nothing of the cause of Desiree's desire for revenge on me, and it would have served no good purpose to tell him. We talked for an hour or more, examining our apartment meanwhile with considerable curiosity. The gold excited our wonder; had it come from Huanuco four hundred years ago, or had they found it here in the mountain? I examined the little blocks of metal or gems with which the tables and seats were inlaid, but could make nothing of them. They resembled a carbon formation sometimes found in quartzite, but were many times more brilliant than anything I had ever seen, excepting precious stones. The hides which covered the granite couch were also unknown to me; they were of an amazing thickness and incredibly soft. We were amusing ourselves with an attempt to pry one of the bits of gold from the wall when we heard a sound behind us. We turned and saw Desiree. She stood in the entrance, smiling at us as though we had been caught in her boudoir examining the articles on her dressing-table. She was clothed as she had been on the throne; a rope girdle held her single garment, and her hair fell across her shoulders, reaching to her knees. Her arms and shoulders appeared marvelously white, but they may have been by way of contrast. Harry sprang across to her with a single bound. In another moment his arms were round her; she barely submitted to the embrace, but she gave him her lips, then drew herself away and crossed to me, extending her hands in a sort of wavering doubt. But that was no time for hostilities, and I took the hands in my own and bent over them till my lips touched the soft fingers. "A visit from the queen!" I said with a smile. "This is an honor, your majesty." "A doubtful one," said Desiree. "First of all, my friend, I want to congratulate you on your savoir faire. Par Bleu, that was the part of a man!" "But you!" cried Harry. "What the deuce did you mean by pretending to play the black? I tell you, that was a shabby trick. Most unpleasant moment you gave us." Desiree sent me a quick glance; she was plainly surprised to find Harry in ignorance of what had passed between us that evening in the camp on the mountain. Wherein she was scarcely to be blamed, for her surprise came from a deep knowledge of the ways of men. "I am beginning to know you, Paul," she said, looking into my eyes. "Now what's up?" demanded Harry, looking from her to me and back again. "For Heaven's sake, don't talk riddles. What does that mean?" But Desiree silenced him with a gesture, placing her fingers playfully on his lips. They were seated side by side on the granite couch; I stood in front of them, and there flitted across my memory a picture of that morning scene in the grounds of the Antlers at Colorado Springs, when Desiree and I had had our first battle. We talked; or, rather, Harry and Desiree talked, and I listened. First he insisted on a recital of her experiences since her reckless dash into the "cave of the devil," and she was most obliging, even eager, for she had had no one to talk to for many days, and she was a woman. She found in Harry a perfect audience. Her experience had been much the same as our own. She, too, had fallen down the unseen precipice into the torrent beneath. She asserted that she had been carried along by its force scarcely more than a quarter of an hour, and had been violently thrown upon a ledge of rock. It was evident that this must have been long before the stream reached the lake where Harry and I had found each other, for we had been in the water hardly short of an hour. She had been found on the ledge by our hairy friends, who had carried her on their backs for many hours. I remembered the sensations of Harry and myself, who were men, and together, and gave a shudder of sympathy as Desiree described her own horror and fear, and her one attempt to escape. Still the brutes had shown her no great violence, evidently recognizing the preciousness of their burden. They had carried her as gently as possible, but had absolutely refused to allow her to walk. At regular intervals they gave her an opportunity to rest, and food and water. "Dried fish?" I asked hopefully. Desiree nodded, with a most expressive grimace, and Harry burst into laughter. Then of the elevation to her evident authority. Brought before the king, she had inspired the most profound wonder and curiosity. Easy, indeed, to understand how the whiteness of her skin and the beauty of her form and face had awakened the keenest admiration in the breast of that black and hairy monarch. He had shown her the most perfect respect; and she had played up to the role of goddess by displaying to the utmost her indifferent contempt for royalty and its favors. Here her remarks grew general and evasive, and when pressed with questions she refused details. She declared that nothing had happened; she had been fed and fawned upon, nor been annoyed by any violence or unwelcome attentions. "That is really too bad," said I, with a smile. "I was, then, mistaken when I said 'your majesty'?" "Faugh!" said Desiree. "That is hardly witty. For a time I was amused, but I am becoming bored. And yet--" "Well?" "I--don't--know. They are mine, if you know what I mean. Eh, bien, since you ask me--for I see the question in your eye, friend Paul--I am content. If the world is behind me forever, so be it. Yes, they are unattractive to the eye, but they have power. And they worship me." "Desiree!" cried Harry in astonishment; and I was myself a little startled. "Why not?" she demanded. "They are men. And besides, it is impossible for us to return. With all your cleverness, M. Paul, can you find the sunlight? To remain is a necessity; we must make the best of it; and I repeat that I am satisfied." "That's bally rot," said Harry, turning on her hotly. "Satisfied? You are nothing of the sort. I'll tell you one thing--Paul and I are going to find our way out of this, and you are coming with us." For reply Desiree laughed at him--a laugh that plainly said, "I am my own mind, and obey no other." It is one of the most familiar cards of the woman of beauty, and the most effective. It conquered Harry. He gazed at her for a long moment in silence, while his eyes filled with an expression which one man should never show to another man. It is the betrayal of the masculine sex and the triumph of the feminine. Suddenly he threw himself on his knees before her and took her hands in his own. She attempted to withdraw them; he clasped her about the waist. "Do you not love me, Desiree?" he cried, and his lips sought hers. They met; Desiree ceased to struggle. At that moment I heard a sound--the faintest sound--behind me. I turned. The king of the Incas was standing within the doorway, surveying the lovers with beadlike, sparkling eyes. Chapter XI. A ROYAL VISITOR. If it had not been for the manifest danger, I could have laughed aloud at what I read in the eyes of the king. Was it not supremely ridiculous for Desiree Le Mire, who had been sought after by the great and the wealthy and the powerful of all Europe, to be regarded with desire by that ugly dwarf? And it was there, unmistakably. I sang out a sharp warning, but it was unnecessary; Desiree had already caught sight of the royal visitor. She pushed Harry from her bodily. He sprang to his feet in angry surprise; then, enlightened by the confusion in her face, turned quickly and swore as he, too, saw the intruder. How critical the situation was I did not know, despite Desiree's assertions. His eyes were human and easily read; they held jealousy; and when power is jealous there is danger. But Desiree proved herself equal to the occasion. She remained seated on the granite couch for a long minute without moving; confusion left her eyes as she gazed at us apparently with the utmost composure; but I who knew her could see that her brain was working with the rapidity of lightning. Then her glance passed to the figure at the doorway, and with a gesture commanding and truly royal in its simplicity, she held her hand forth, palm down, to the Inca king. Like an obedient trained monkey he trotted across the intervening space, grasped her soft white hand in his monstrous paw, and touched his lips to her fingers. That was all, but it spoke volumes to one who could divine the springs of action. I remember that at the time there shot through my mind a story I had heard concerning Desiree in Paris. The Duke of Bellarmine, then her protector, had one evening entered her splendid apartment on the Rue Jonteur--furnished, of course, by himself--and had found his divinity entertaining one Jules Chavot, a young and beautiful poet. Whereupon he had launched forth into the most bitter reproaches and scornful denunciations. "Monsieur," Desiree had said, with the look of a queen outraged, when he had finished, "you are annoying. Little Chavot amuses me. You are aware that I never refuse myself anything which I consider necessary to my amusement, and just now I find you very dull." And the noble duke, conquered by that glance of fire and those terrible words, had retired with humble apologies, after receiving a gracious permission to call on the following day! In short, Desiree was irresistible; the subjection of the Inca king was but another of her triumphs, and not the most remarkable. And then I looked at Harry, and was aware of a new danger. He was glaring at the Inca with eyes which told their own story of the fire within, and which were waiting only for suspicion to become certainty. I called to him: "Harry! Hold fast!" He glanced at me, gave a short laugh, and nodded. Then came Desiree's voice, in a low tone of warning: "On your knees!" Her meaning was clear; it was to us she spoke. The king had turned from her and was regarding us steadily with eyes so nearly closed that their meaning was impenetrable. Harry and I glanced at each other and remained standing. Then Desiree's voice again: "Harry! If you love me!" It was the appeal to a child; but love is young. Immediately Harry dropped to his knees, facing the king; and I followed him, wondering at myself. To this day I do not know what the compelling force was that pulled me down. Was it another instance of the power of Desiree? For perhaps a minute we remained motionless on our knees while the king stood gazing at us, it seemed to me with an air of doubt. Then slowly, and with a gait that smacked of majesty despite his ungainly appearance and diminutive stature, he stalked across to the doorway and disappeared in the corridor without. Harry and I looked at each other, kneeling like two heathen idols, and burst into unrestrained laughter. But with it was mixed a portion of anger, and I turned to Desiree. "In the name of Heaven, was that necessary?" "You do it very prettily," said she, with a smile. "That is well, but I don't care to repeat it. Harry, for the sake of my dignity, employ a little discretion. And what do you suppose the beggar will do about it?" "Nothing," said Desiree, shrugging her shoulders. "Only he must be pacified. I must go. I wonder if you know you are lodged in the royal apartments? His majesty's room--he has but one--is in the corridor to the left of this. "Mine is on the right--and he is probably stamping the place to pieces at this moment." She left the granite couch and advanced half way to the door. "Au revoir, messieurs. Till later--I shall come to see you." The next moment she was gone. Harry and I, left alone, had enough to think and talk about, but there was ten minutes of silence before we spoke. I sat on one of the stone seats, wondering what the result would be--if any--of the king's visit and his discovery. Harry paced up and down the length of the apartment with lowered head. Presently he spoke abruptly: "Paul, I want to know exactly what you think of our chances for getting out of this." "Why--" I hesitated. "Harry, I don't know." "But you've thought about it, and you know something about these things. What do you think?" "Well, I think they are slim." "What are they?" "Nothing less than miracles. There are just two. First--and I've spoken of this before--we might find an underground stream that would carry us to the western slope." "That is impossible--at least, for Desiree. And the second?" "Nature herself. She plays queer tricks in the Andes. She might turn the mountain upside down, in which case we would find ourselves on top. Seriously, the formation here is such that almost anything is possible. Upheavals of vast masses of rock are of ordinary occurrence. A passage might be opened in that way to one of the lower peaks. "We are surrounded by layers of limestone, granite, and quartzite, which are of marked difference both in the quality of hardness and in their ability to withstand the attacks of time. When one finds itself unable to support the other, something happens." "But it might not happen for a hundred years." "Or never," I agreed. Again silence. Harry stood gazing at one of the flaming urns, buried in thought--easy to guess of what nature. I did not think fit to disturb him, till presently he spoke again. "What do you suppose that ugly devil will do about--what he saw in here?" I smiled. "Nothing." "But if he should? We are helpless." "Trust Desiree. It's true that she can't even talk to him, but she'll manage him somehow. You saw what happened just now." "But the creature is no better than a dumb brute. He is capable of anything. I tell you, we ought to get her away from here." "To starve?" "And we're none too safe ourselves. As for starving, we could carry enough of their darned fish to last a year. And one thing is sure: we won't get back to New York lying round here waiting for something to turn up--even a mountain." "What do you want to do?" "Clear out. Get Desiree away from that ugly brute. If we only had our knives!" "Where would we go?" In that question was the whole matter. To escape with Desiree was possible--but then what? We knew by experience what it meant to wander hopelessly about in the darkness of those desolate caverns, without food, and depending on Providence for water. Neither of us cared to repeat that trial, especially with the added difficulty of a woman to care for. But what to do? We decided to wait for the future, and in the mean time lay in a supply of provisions, and, if possible, devise some sort of weapons. It is worth remarking here that the Incas, so far as we had seen, used no weapons whatever. This was most probably the result of their total isolation and consequent freedom from foreign hostility. In the matter of food we were soon to receive an agreeable surprise. It was about an hour after Desiree had left us that the royal steward--I give him the title on my own responsibility--arrived, with pots and pans on a huge tray. In the first place, the pots and pans were of solid gold. Harry stared in amazement as they were placed in brilliant array on one of the stone tables; and when we essayed to lift the empty tray from another table on which it had been placed we understood why the steward had found it necessary to bring four assistants along as cup-bearers. There was a king's ransom on that table, in sober truth, for there could be no doubt but that this was part of the gold which had been carried from Huanuco when it had been demanded by Pizarro as payment for the life of Atahualpa. But better even than the service was that which it contained. It may not have been such as would enhance the reputation of a French chef, but to us then it seemed that the culinary art could go no farther. There was a large platter; Harry lifted its cover in an ecstasy of hope; but the next instant his face fell ludicrously. "Our old friend, Mr. Dried Fish," he announced sadly, and gave it up. Then I tried my luck, and with better success. First I uncovered a dish of stew, steaming hot! To be sure, it was fish, but it was hot. Then a curious, brittle kind of bread; I call it that, though on trial it appeared to be made from the roe of some kind of fish. Also there was some excellent fish-soup, also hot, and quite delicious. Four hundred years of development had taught the royal chefs to prepare fish in so many different ways that we almost failed to recognize them as of the same family. "Couldn't be better," said Harry, helping himself liberally to the stew. "We can eat this, and cache the dried stuff. We'll have enough for an army in a week." "As for me, I saw before me the raw material for our weapons. When we had emptied the golden platter that held our bread," I secreted it under the cover of the granite couch. When the serving-men called to remove the dishes they apparently did not notice its absence. So far, success. Some hours later Desiree paid us a second call. She appeared to be in the gayest of spirits, and I eyed her curiously from a seat in the corner as she and Harry sat side by side, chatting for all the world as though they had been in her own Paris drawing-room. Was it possible that she was really satisfied, as she had said? What imaginable food could these black dwarfs find to appease her tremendous vanity? Or was she merely living the motto of the French philosopher? Harry was demanding that he be allowed to visit her apartment; this she refused, saying that if he were found there by the king nothing could avert a catastrophe. Harry's brow grew black; I could see his effort to choke back his anger. Then Desiree led him away from the topic, and soon they were both again laughing merrily. Some forty-eight hours passed; in that perpetual blackness there was no such thing as day. We saw no one save Desiree and the serving men. Once a messenger appeared carrying a bundle of quipos; I was able to decipher their meaning sufficiently to understand that we were invited to some religious ceremony in the great cavern. But I thought it injudicious to allow a meeting between Harry and the king, and returned a polite refusal. It may be of interest to some to know the method, which was extremely simple, as in ordinary communications the quipos are easy to read. I removed two knots from the white cord--the sign of affirmative--and placed two additional ones on the black cord--the sign of negative. Then on the yellow cord--the sign of the Child of the Sun and submission to him--I tied two more knots to show that our refusal meant no lack of respect to their deity. Which, by the way, was not a little curious. Here were the descendants of the subjects of Manco-Capac, himself a son of the orb of day, still holding to their worship of the sun, though they had not seen its light for four centuries. Deserted by their god, they did not abandon him; an example from which the followers of another and more "civilized" religion might learn something of the potency of faith. But to the story. As I say, I was anxious to avoid a meeting between Harry and the king, and subsequent events proved my wisdom. Harry was acting in a manner quite amazing; it was impossible for me to mention the king even in jest without him flying into a violent temper. As I look back now I am not surprised; for our harrowing experiences and the hopelessness of our situation and the wilfulness of Desiree were enough, Heaven knows, to jerk his nerves; but at the time I regarded his actions as those of a thoughtless fool, and told him so, thinking to divert his anger to myself. He took no notice of me. We were left entirely to ourselves. At regular intervals our food was brought to us, and within a week we had accumulated a large supply of the dried fish against necessity, besides my collection of six golden platters, of which more later. Once in about twenty-four hours two Incas, who appeared to be our personal attendants--for we were actually able to recognize them after half a dozen visits--arrived to perform the offices of chambermaid and valet. The floor of the apartment was scrubbed, the urns refilled with oil, and the skin cover of the granite couch was changed. It seemed that another belief--in cleanliness--had refused to be dislodged from the Inca breast. When I managed, by dint of violent and expressive gestures, to convey to our valet the idea that we desired a bath, he led us down the corridor some two hundred feet to a stream of cool running water. We took advantage of the opportunity to scrub our clothing, which was sadly in need of the operation. I had early made an examination of the urns which furnished our light. They were of gold and perfect in form, which convinced me that they had been brought by the fugitives from Huanuco, as, indeed, the quipos also, and several other articles we found, including our golden table service. The urns were filled with an oil which I was unable to recognize. There was no wick, but round the rim or lip of each was set a broad ring carved of stone, which made the opening at the top only about two inches in diameter. Through this the flame arose to a height of about two feet. Of smoke there was none, or very little, a circumstance which was inexplicable, as there seemed to be no possibility of the generation of gas within so small space. But the oil itself was strange to me, and its properties may be charged to nature. As I say, I had collected six of the golden platters, one at a time. Together they weighed about twenty pounds--for they were small and rather thin--which was near the amount required for my purpose. I explained the thing to Harry, and we set to work. We first procured a vessel of granite from the attendant on some pretext or other--this for melting the gold. Then we pried a slab of limestone from a corner of one of the seats; luckily for us it was very soft, having been selected by the Incas for the purpose of inserting in its face the crystal prisms. Then we procured a dozen or more of the prisms themselves, and, using them as chisels, and small blocks of granite as hammers, set to work at the block of limestone. It was slow work, but we finally succeeded in hollowing out a groove in its surface about eighteen inches long and two inches deep. That was our mold. Then to melt the golden platters. We took four of the urns, placing them in a group on the floor, and just at the tip of the flames placed the granite vessel, supported by four blocks of stone which we pried loose from one of the seats. In the vessel we placed the golden platters. But we found, after several hours, that we did not have sufficient heat--or rather that the vessel was too thick to transmit it. And again we set to work with our improvised chisels and hammers, to shave off its sides and bottom. That was more difficult and required many hours for completion. Finally, with the profane portion of our vocabularies completely exhausted and rendered meaningless by repetition, and with bruised and bleeding hands, we again arranged our furnace and sat down to wait. We had waited until the dishes from our dinner had been removed, and we were fairly certain to be alone for several hours. Finally the gold was melted, stubbornly but surely. We took the thick hide cover from the couch and, one on each side, lifted the vessel of liquid metal and filled our mold. In an hour it was hardened into a bar the shape of a half-cylinder. We removed it and poured in the remainder of the gold. It would appear that the gain was hardly worth the pains, and I admit it. But at the least I had kept Harry occupied with something besides his amatory troubles, and at the best we had two heavy, easily handled bars of metal that would prove most effective weapons against foes who had none whatever. We had just removed the traces of our work as completely as possible and secreted the clubs of yellow metal in a corner of the apartment when the sound of pattering footsteps came from the corridor. Harry gave me a quick glance; I moved between him and the door. But it was Desiree. She entered the room hurriedly and crossed to the farther side, then turned to face the door. Her cheeks were glowing brightly, her eyes flashed fire, and her breast heaved with unwonted agitation. Before either she or I had time to speak Harry had sprung to her side and grasped her arm. "What has he done now?" he demanded in a tone scarcely audible in its intensity. "I--don't--know," said Desiree without removing her eyes from the door. "Let me go, Harry; let me sit down. Paul! Ah! I was afraid." "For us?" I asked. "Yes--partly. The brute! But then, he is human, and that is his way. And you--I was right--you should have gone to the Cave of the Sun when he required your presence." "But it was merely an invitation. Cannot one refuse an invitation?" I protested. "But, my dear Paul, the creature is royal--his invitations are commands." "Well, we were busy, and we've already seen the Cave of the Sun." "Still it was an error, and I think you will pay for it. There have been unusual preparations under way for many hours. The king has been in my apartment, and messengers and guards have been arriving constantly, each with his little bundle of quipos, as you call them." "Did you see the quipos?" "Yes." "Did any of them contain a red cord, suspended alone, with a single knot at either end?" "Yes, all of them," said Desiree without an instant's hesitation. "That means Harry and me," I observed. "But the message! Can you remember any of them?" She tried, but without success. Which will not surprise any one who has ever seen the collection at the museum at Lima. Then Harry broke in: "Something else has happened, Desiree. No bunch of cords tied in silly knots ever made you look as you did just now. What was it?" "Nothing--nothing, Harry." "I say yes! And I want to know! And if it's what I think it is we're going to clear out of here now!" "As though we could!" "We can! We have enough provisions to last for weeks. And see here," he ran to the corner where he had hidden the golden clubs and returned with them in his hands, "with these we could make our way through them all. Tell me!" There was a strange smile on Desiree's lips. "And so you would fight for me, Harry?" she said half-wistfully, half--I know not what. Then she continued in a tone low but quite distinct: "Well, it is too late. I am the king's." She lied--I saw it in her eyes. Perhaps she meant to save Harry from his folly, to quiet him by the knowledge that he need not fight for what was no longer his own; but she was mistaken in her man. Harry did not stop to read her eyes--he heard her words. He took two slow steps backward, then stood quite still, while his face grew deadly white and his eyes were fastened on hers with a look that made me turn my own away. His soul looked out from them--how he loved the woman--and I could not bear it! Nor, after a moment, could Desiree. She took a step forward, extending her arms to him and cried out: "Harry! No! It was a lie, Harry! Don't--don't!" And they gazed at each other, and I at Desiree, and thus we were unaware that a fourth person had entered the room, until he had crossed its full length and stood before me. It was the Inca king. I took no time for thought, but jumped straight for Harry and threw my arms round him, dragging him back half-way across the room. Taken completely by surprise, he did not struggle. I noticed that he still held in his hands the bars of gold he had shown to Desiree. The king regarded us for a second with a scowl, then turned to her. She stood erect, with flashing eyes. The king approached; she held out her hand to him with an indescribable gesture of dignity. For a moment he looked at her, then his lips curled in an ugly snarl, and, dashing her hand aside, he leaped forward in swift fury and grasped her white throat with his fingers. There was a strangled scream from Desiree, a frantic cry from Harry--and the next instant he had torn himself free from my arms, dropping the bars of gold at my feet. A single bound and he was across the room; a single blow with his fist and the king of the Incas dropped senseless to the floor. Chapter XII. AT THE DOOR. Desiree shrank back against the wall, covering her face with her hands. Harry stood above the prostrate figure of the king, panting and furious. As for me, I gave no thought to what had been done--the imminent peril of the situation possessed my mind and stung my brain to action. I ran to the figure on the floor and bent over him. There was no movement--his eyes were closed. Calling to Harry to watch the corridor without, I quickly tore my woolen jacket into strips--my fingers seemed to be made of steel--and bound the wrists and ankles of the Inca firmly, trussing him up behind. Then with another strip I gagged him, thinking it best to err on the side of prudence. In another moment I had dragged him to the corner of the room behind the granite couch and covered him with its hide-cover. Then I turned to Harry: "Is the coast clear?" "Yes," he answered from the doorway. "Then here--quick, man! Get the clubs and the grub. Desiree--come! There's not a second to lose." "But, Paul--" she began; then, seeing the utter folly of any other course than instant flight, she sprang to Harry's side to assist him with the bundles of provisions. There was more than we could carry. Harry and I each took a bundle under our left arm, carrying the clubs in the other hand. Desiree attempted to take two bundles, but they were too heavy for her, and she was forced to drop one. With a last hasty glance at the motionless heap in the corner we started, Harry leading and myself in the rear, with Desiree between us. But it was not to be so easy. We were nearly to the door when there came a grating, rumbling sound from above, and a huge block of granite dropped squarely across the doorway with a crash that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. Stupefied, we realized in a flash that the cunning of the Incas had proved too much for us. Harry and I ran forward, but only to invite despair; the doorway was completely covered by the massive rock, an impenetrable curtain of stone weighing many tons, and on neither side was there an opening more than an inch wide. We were imprisoned beyond all hope of escape. We stood stunned; Desiree even made no sound, but gazed at the blocked doorway in a sort of stupid wonder. It was one of those sudden and overwhelming catastrophes that deprive us for a moment of all power to reason or even to realize. Then Harry said quietly: "Well, the game's up." And Desiree turned to me with the calm observation: "They must have been watching us. We were fools not to have known it." "Impossible!" Harry asserted; but I agreed with Desiree; and though I could see no opening or crevice of any sort in the walls or ceiling, I was convinced that even then the eyes of the Incas were upon us. Our situation was indeed desperate. With our every movement spied upon, surrounded by four solid walls of stone, and beyond them ten thousand savage brutes waiting to tear us to pieces--what wildest fancy could indulge in hope? Then, glancing up, my eye was arrested by the heap under the cover in the corner. There, in the person of the Inca king, lay our only advantage. But how could we use it? Desiree's voice came in the calm tones of despair: "We are lost." Harry crossed to her and took her in his arms. "I thank Heaven," he said, "that you are with us." Then he turned to me: "I believe it is for the best, Paul. There never was a chance for us; we may as well say it now. And it is better to die here, together, than--the other way." I smiled at his philosophy, knowing its source. It came not from his own head, but from Desiree's arms. But it was truth. We sat silent. The thing was beyond discussion; too elemental to need speech for its explanation or understanding. I believe it was not despair that kept back our words, but merely the dumb realization that where all hope is gone words are useless--worse, a mockery. Finally I crossed the room and removed the cover from the body of the Child of the Sun. He had recovered consciousness; his little wicked eyes gleamed up at me with an expression that would have been terrifying in the intensity of its malignant hatred if he had not been utterly helpless. I turned to Harry: "What are we going to do with him?" "By Jove, I had forgotten!" exclaimed the lad. "Paul, perhaps if we could communicate with them--" He stopped, glancing at the closed doorway; then added: "But it's impossible." "I believe it is possible," I contradicted. "If the Incas were able to lower that stone at any moment you may be sure they are prepared to raise it. How, Heaven only knows; but the fact is certain. Do you think they would have condemned their precious king to starvation?" "Then the king can save us!" "And how?" "Our lives for his. We'll give him nothing to eat, and if, as you say, they have some way of watching us, they'll be forced to negotiate. You can talk with the quipos, and tell them that unless they give us our freedom and let us go in safety they'll have a dead king. From the way they seem to worship him they'd come through in a minute." "Oh, they'd promise, all right," I agreed; "but how could we hold them to it?" "Well, a promise is a promise. And it's our only chance." "No, Harry; to trust them would be folly. The minute we stepped through that doorway they would be on us--the whole beggarly, smelly lot of them." "Then there is no chance--none whatever?" put in Desiree. "None. We may as well admit the worst. And the worst is best for us now. Really, we are in luck; we die in our own way and at our own time. But there is one difficulty." Then, in answer to their glances of inquiry, I added significantly: "We have no weapons. We cannot allow ourselves to starve--the end must come before that, for as soon as they saw us weakening we would be at their mercy." There was comprehension and horror in Desiree's eyes, but she looked at me with a brave attempt to smile as she took from her hair something which gleamed and shone in the light from the flaming urns. It was a tiny steel blade with a handle of pearl studded with diamonds. I had seen it before many times--a present, Desiree had told me, from the young man I had seen in the royal coach on that day in Madrid when I had first heard the name of Le Mire. "Will that do?" she asked calmly, holding it out to me with a firm hand. Brave Le Mire! I took the dagger and placed it in my pocket, and, looking at Harry, exchanged with him a nod of understanding. No words were necessary. "But I must confess I am a coward," said Desiree. "When the time comes I--I could not bear to see--to wait--" I looked at her and said simply: "You shall be first," and she gave me a smile of thanks that spoke of a heart that would not fail when the final moment arrived. And in my admiration of her high courage I forgot the horror of the task that must be mine. It was a relief to have admitted the worst and discussed it calmly; there is no torment like suspense, and ours was at an end. A load was lifted from our hearts, and a quiet sympathy created between us, sincere as death itself. And it was in our power to choose for ourselves the final moment--we were yet masters of our fates. All action seems useless when hope is dead, but certain things needed to be done, and Harry and I bestirred ourselves. We extinguished the flame in all the urns but one to save the oil, not caring to depart in darkness. Our supply of water, we found, was quite sufficient to last for several days, if used sparingly; for we intended to support life so long as we had the fuel. Then responsibility ceases; man has a right to hasten that which fortune has made inevitable. The hours passed by. We talked very little; at times Desiree and Harry conversed in subdued tones which I did not overhear; I was engaged with my own thoughts. And they were not unpleasant; if, looking death in the face, a man can preserve his philosophy unchanged, he has made the only success in life that is worth while. We ate and drank, but gave neither water nor food to our fellow prisoner. Not because I really expected to force negotiations with the Incas--but the thing was possible and was worth a trial. I knew them well enough to appraise correctly the value of any safe-conduct they might give us. I was a little surprised to find in Desiree no levity, the vulgar prop for courage based on ignorance. There was a tenderness in her manner, especially toward Harry, that spoke of something deeper and awoke in my own breast a deeper respect for her. The world had not known Desiree Le Mire--it had merely been fascinated and amused by her. Many hours had passed in this tomblike apathy. Two or three times I had advised Desiree to lie down to rest and, if possible, to sleep. She had refused, but I became insistent, and Harry added his voice to my own. Then, to please us, she consented; we arranged the cover on the granite couch and made her as comfortable as possible. In five minutes she was fast asleep. Harry stood a few feet away from the couch, looking down at her. I spoke to him, in a low tone: "And you must rest too, Hal. One of us must remain on watch; I'll take it first and call you when I feel drowsy. It may be a needless precaution, but I don't care to wake up and find myself in the condition of our friend yonder." He wanted to take the first watch himself, but I insisted, and he arranged our ponchos on the ground, and soon he too was sleeping easily and profoundly. I looked from him to Desiree with a smile, and reflection that Socrates himself could not have met misfortune with more sublime composure. It was possible that the stone curtain across the doorway could be raised noiselessly, and that made it necessary to keep my eyes fastened on it almost continuously. This became irksome; besides, twice I awoke to the fact that my thoughts had carried me so far away from my surroundings that the stone could have been raised to the roof and I would not have noticed it. So, using my jacket for a cushion, I seated myself on the ground in the threshold, leaning my back against the stone, and gave myself up to meditation. I had sat thus for three hours or more, and was thinking of calling Harry to relieve me, when I felt a movement at my back. I turned quickly and saw that the stone was moving upward. Slowly it rose, by little frequent jerks, not more than an eighth of an inch at a time. In fifteen minutes it was only about four inches from the ground. There was no sound save a faint grating noise from above. I stood several feet away, holding one of the golden clubs in my hand, thinking it unnecessary to rouse Harry until the space was wide enough to cause apprehension. Or rather, because I had no fear of an assault--I was convinced that our ruse had succeeded, and that they were about to communicate with us by means of the quipos. The stone was raised a little over a foot, then became stationary. I waited, expecting to see a bundle of quipos thrust through the opening, but they did not appear. Instead, five golden vessels were pushed across the ground until they were inside, clear of the stone; I could see the black, hairy hands and arms, which were immediately withdrawn. Then the granite curtain fell with a crash that caused me to start with its suddenness and awakened both Harry and Desiree. Two of the vessels contained water, two oil, and the other dried fish. Harry, who had sprung to his feet excitedly, grumbled in disgust. "At least, they might have sent us some soup. But what's their idea?" "It means that Desiree was right," I observed. "They have some way of watching us. And, seeing that we refused to provide their beloved monarch with provender, they have sent him an allowance from the pantry." Harry grinned. "Will he get it?" "Hardly," said I with emphasis. "We'll make 'em treat with us if it's only to observe their diplomacy. There'll be a message from them within twenty-four hours. You'll see." "Anyway, we know now that they can raise that stone whenever they feel like it. But in the name of Archimedes, how?" He advanced to the doorway and examined the block of granite curiously, but there was no clue to its weight or thickness from the inside. I explained that there were several ways by which the thing could be raised, but that the most probable one was by means of a rolling pulley, which required merely some rounded stones and a flat surface above, with ropes of hide for stays. It had been several hours since we had last eaten, and we decided to at once convey to the spies without our intentions concerning our prisoner. So we regaled ourselves with dried fish and water, taking care not to approach the king, who had rolled over on his side and lay facing us, looking for all the world, in the dim light, like a black dog crouched on the floor. Harry relieved me at my post against the door, and I lay down to sleep. Desiree had seated herself beside him, and the low tones of their voices came to me as I lay on the couch (which Desiree had insisted I should occupy) in an indistinct, musical murmur. This for perhaps ten minutes; then I slept. That became our routine. During the many weary hours that followed there was never a moment when one of us was not seated with his back against the stone across the doorway; we dared not trust our eyes. Usually Harry and Desiree watched together, and, when I relieved them, slept side by side on the couch. Sometimes, when we were all awake, Desiree was left on guard alone; but Harry and I were never both asleep at the same time. An estimate of the time we spent thus would be the wildest guess, for time was heavy and passed on leaden feet. But I should say we had been imprisoned for something like four days, possibly five, when the monotony came to an abrupt end. I had come off watch, and Harry and Desiree had taken my place. Before I lay down I had taken some water to the prisoner, for we had some time before admitted the necessity of giving him drink. But of food he had had none. Harry told me afterward that I had slept for two or three hours, but it seemed to me rather as many minutes, when I was awakened by the sound of his voice calling my name. Glancing at the doorway, I sprang to my feet. The stone was slowly rising from the floor; already there was a space of a foot or more. Desiree and Harry stood facing it in silence. "You have seen nothing?" I asked, joining them. "Nothing," said Harry. "Here, take one of these clubs. Something's up." "Of course--the stone," I observed facetiously, yawning. "Probably nothing more important than a bundle of quipos. Lord, I'm sleepy!" Still the stone moved upward, very slowly. It reached a height of two feet, yet did not halt. "This is no quipos" said Harry, "or if it is, they must be going to send us in a whole library. Six inches would have been enough for that." I nodded, keeping my eyes on the ever-widening space at our feet. "This means business, Hal. Stand ready with your club. Desiree, go to the further corner, behind that seat." She refused; I insisted; she stamped her foot in anger. "Do you think I'm a child, to run and hide?" she demanded obstinately. I wasted no time in argument. "You will go", I said sternly, "or I shall carry you and tie you. This is not play. We must have room and know that you are safe." To my surprise, she made no reply, but quietly obeyed. Then, struck by a sudden thought, I crossed to where she stood behind a stone seat in the corner. "Here," I said in a low tone, taking the little jeweled dagger from my pocket and holding it out to her, "in case--" "I understand," she said simply, and her hand closed over the hilt. By that time the stone was half-way to the top of the doorway, leaving a space over three feet high, and was still rising. I stood on one side and Harry on the other, not caring to expose ourselves immediately in front. Suddenly he left his post and ran to one of the stone seats and began prying at the blocks of granite. I saw at once his intention and our mistake; we should have long before barricaded the door on the inside. But it was too late now; I knew from experience the difficulty of loosening those firmly wedged blocks, and I called out: "No good, Hal. We were fools not to have thought of it before, but there is no time for it now. Come back; I couldn't stop 'em alone." Nevertheless, he continued his exertions, and succeeded in getting one of the blocks partially free; but by that time the doorway was almost completely uncovered, and he saw the folly of attempting further. He resumed his post on the right of the door--I was on the left. The stone appeared to be going faster. It reached the top--passed it--and quickly swung in toward the wall and disappeared, probably to rest on a ledge above. We stood waiting, tense and alert. The open doorway gaped on the black, empty corridor, into which the light from our single urn shone dimly. We could see or hear nothing, no indication that any one was in the passage, but we dared not look out in that darkness. The suspense was trying enough; Harry ripped out an impatient oath and made a movement as though to step in the entrance, but I waved him back. Then came the avalanche, with a suddenness and fury that nigh overwhelmed us. Crouching, rushing forms filled the doorway from both directions and leaped savagely at us. After so many weary days of dull inaction and helpless, hopeless apathy, a mad joy fired my brain and thrilled my heart as I raised my club on high and struck a blow for freedom and life. That blow crushed the skull of one whose fingers were at my throat, and he dropped like a log at my feet; but his place was already filled. Again I swung the club; another swayed, toppling against the doorway and leaning there with the blood streaming from his broken head, quite dead, but held erect by the pressure of his fellows from behind. If the doorway had been but a foot wider we would have been overwhelmed almost instantly. As it was, but three or four could get to us at once, and they found the gold which their ancestors had carried from the temples of Huanuco waiting for them. My arm seemed to have the strength of a hundred arms; it swung the heavy club as though it had been a feather, and with deadly accuracy. Harry fought like a demon. I think I did all that a man could do, but he did more, and withal more coolly. I brought down my club on heads, shoulders, chests, and rarely failed to get my man. But the impact of Harry's blows was like the popping of a Maxim. I saw him reach over and grasp the throat of one who had his teeth set in my shoulder, and, holding him straight before him with his arm extended, break his neck with one blow. Again, his club descended on one black skull with a glancing blow and shot off to the head of another with the force of a sledge-hammer. At the time I did not know that I saw these things; it was all one writhing, struggling, bloody horror; but afterward the eyes of memory showed them to me. Still they came. My arm rose and fell seemingly without order from the brain; I was not conscious that it moved. It seemed to me that ever since the beginning of time I had stood in that butcher's doorway and brought down that bar of gold on thick, black skulls and distorted, grinning faces. But they would not disappear. One fell; another took his place; and another, and another, and another. The bodies of those who fell were dragged away from underneath. I did not see it, but it must have been so, or soon we would have raised our own barricade for defense--a barricade of flesh. And there was none. I began to weaken, and Harry saw it, for he gasped out: "Steady--Paul. Take it--easy. They can't--last--forever." His blows were redoubled in fury as he moved closer to me, taking more than his share of the attack, so that I almost had time to breathe. But we could not have held out much longer. My brain was whirling madly and a weight of a thousand tons seemed dragging me remorselessly, inevitably to the ground. I kept my feet through the force of some crazy instinct, for will and reason were gone. And then, for an instant, Harry's eyes met mine, and I read in them what neither of us could say, nor would. With the fury of despair we struck out together in one last effort. Whether the Incas saw in that effort a renewed strength that spoke of immortality, or whether it happened just at that moment that the pressure from behind was removed, no longer forcing them to their death, I do not know. It may have been that, like some better men, they had merely had enough. From whatever cause, the attack ceased almost with the suddenness with which it had begun; they fell back from the doorway; Harry lunged forward with raised club, and the forms melted away into the darkness of the corridor. Harry turned and looked at me as I stood swaying from side to side in the doorway. Neither of us could speak. Together we staggered back across the room, but I had not gone more than half way when my legs bent under me and I sank to the floor. Dimly I saw Harry's face above me, as though through a veil--then another face that came close to my own--and a voice: "Paul! My love! They have killed him!" Soft white arms were about my neck, and a velvet cheek was pressed against my own. "Desiree!" I gasped. "Don't! Harry! No, they have not killed me--" Then Harry's voice: "That's all right, old fellow. I know--I have known she loves you. This is no time to talk of that. Listen, Paul--what you were going to do for Desiree--if you can--they will be back at any moment--" That thought kindled my brain; I raised myself onto my elbow. "I haven't the strength," I said, hardly knowing how I spoke. "You must do it, Harry; you must. And quick, lad! The dagger! Desiree--the dagger!" What followed came to me as in a dream; my eyes were dim with the exhaustion that had overcome my body. Desiree's face disappeared from before my face--then a silence--then the sound of her voice as though from a distance: "Harry--come! I can't find it! I dropped it when I ran across--it must be here--on the floor--" And then another sound came that I knew only too well--the sound of rushing, pattering feet. I think I tried to rise to my own feet. I heard Harry's voice crying in a frenzy: "Quick--here they come! Desiree, where is it?" There was a ringing cry of despair from Desiree, a swinging oath from Harry, and the next instant I found myself pinned to the floor by the weight of a score of bodies. Chapter XIII. INTO THE WHIRLPOOL. I hardly know what happened after that. I was barely conscious that there was movement round me, and that my wrists and ankles were being tightly bound. Harry told me afterward that he made one last desperate stand, and was halted by a cry from Desiree, imploring him to employ the club in the intended office of the dagger. He wheeled about and raised it to strike; then his arm dropped, unable to obey for the brutal horror of it. In another instant he and Desiree, too, had been overpowered and carried to the floor by the savage rush. This he told me as we lay side by side in a dark cavern, whither we had been carried by the victorious Incas. I had expected instant death; the fact that our lives had been spared could have but one meaning, I thought: to the revenge of death was to be added the vindictiveness of torture. We knew nothing of Desiree's fate. Harry had not seen her since he had been crushed to the floor by that last assault. And instead of fearing for her life, we were convinced that a still more horrible doom was to be hers, and hoped only that she would find the means to avoid it by the only possible course. I have said that we again found ourselves in darkness, but it was much less profound than it had been before. We could distinctly see the four walls of the cavern in which we lay; it was about twelve feet by twenty, and the ceiling was very low. The ground was damp and cold, and we had neither ponchos nor jackets to protect us. A description of our state of mind as we lay exhausted, wounded, and bound so tightly that any movement was impossible, would seem to betray a weakness. Perhaps it was so; but we prayed for the end--Harry with curses and oaths, myself in silence. There is a time when misery becomes so acute that a man wants only deliverance and gives no thought to the means. That was reaction, and gradually it lessened. And when, after we had lain unconscious for many hours (we can hardly be said to have slept) they came to bathe our wounds and bruises and bring us food and drink, the water was actually grateful to our hot, suffering flesh, and we ate almost with relish. But before they left they again bound our wrists firmly behind us, and tightened the cords on our ankles. If they meditated punishment they certainly seemed to be in no hurry about it. The hours passed endlessly by. We were cared for as tenderly as though we had been wounded comrades instead of vanquished foes, and though we were allowed to remain on the damp, hard rock of the cavern, we gradually recovered from the effects of that gruesome struggle in the doorway, and our suffering bodies began to feel comparative comfort. "What the deuce are they waiting for?" Harry growled, after one of their visits with food and water. "Why don't they end it?" "Most likely because a well man can appreciate torture better than a sick one," I answered, not having seen fit to speak of it before. "You may be sure we'll get all that's coming to us." "But what will they do?" "Heaven knows. They are capable of anything. We'll get the worst." There was a silence; then Harry said slowly, hesitating: "Paul--do you think--Desiree--" "I don't think--I dare not think about her," I interrupted. "And it is our fault; we failed her. I should have put her beyond their reach, as I promised. I have reproached myself bitterly, Hal; you need add nothing." "Do you think I would? Only--there is something else. About what she said to you. I knew that, you know." I was silent; he continued: "I knew it long ago. Do you think I am blind? And I want to say this while I have a chance--it was uncommon good of you. To take it the way you did, I mean." His simplicity made me uncomfortable, and I made no answer. Indeed, the thing was beyond discussion; it was merely a bare fact which, when once stated, left nothing to be said. So I refused to humor Harry's evident desire to thrash out the topic, and abruptly changed the subject. We must have lain bound in that cavern little short of a week. Our wounds and bruises were completely healed, save one gash on Harry's side where he had been hurled against the sharp edge of one of the stone seats as he had been borne to the floor. But it was not painful, and was nearly closed. And we could feel the return of strength even through the stiffness caused by the inactivity of our muscles. We had given up wondering at the delay by the time it came to an end. When they finally came and cut our bonds and led us from the cavern we felt nothing keener than a mere curiosity as to what awaited us at the end of our journey. For myself, there was a distinct sensation of thankfulness that uncertainty was to end. They took no chances with us, but paid us the compliment of a truly royal escort--at least, in number. There could not have been less than two hundred of them in front, behind, and on either side, as we left the cavern and proceeded along a narrow, winding passage to the left. Once, as we started, we stretched our arms high and stood on tiptoe to relieve the stiffness of our joints; and immediately found ourselves clutched on every side by a score of hands. "Gad! We seem to have made an impression!" Harry grinned. On the way down the passage we marched with the Prussian goose-step, and felt the blood quickening to life in our legs and arms. We had proceeded in this manner for some ten minutes when we rounded a corner which I recognized at once by the peculiar circular formation of the walls. We were on our way to the great cavern--the cavern where we had first seen Desiree, and where later she had won the toss for our lives and then preserved them. Another minute and we had reached the steps leading to the tunnel under the lake. Here our guards seemed in doubt as to just what to do; those in front halted and stood hesitant, and it seemed to me that as they gazed below down the stone stair their eyes held a certain shrinking terror. Then one came up from behind and with a commanding gesture ordered them to descend, and they obeyed. Harry and I still found ourselves surrounded by a full company; there were fifty or sixty ahead of us and at least twice that number behind. The idea of a successful struggle was so patently impossible that I believe it never entered our minds. There was further delay at the bottom of the stairs, for, as I have said before, the tunnel was extremely narrow and it was barely possible to walk two abreast. None of them turned back, but Harry and I could scarcely restrain a laugh at the sight of those immediately in front of us treading on the toes of their fellows to keep out of our way. With all their savage brutality I believe they possessed little real bravery. Five minutes more and we had reached the end of the tunnel and found ourselves at the foot of the spiral stairway. The passage was so blocked by those ahead that we were unable to approach it; they flattened their squatty bodies against the wall and we were forced to squeeze our way past them. There we stood, barely able to make out their black forms against the blacker wall, when the one who appeared to be the leader approached and motioned to us to ascend. We hesitated, feeling instinctively that this was our last chance to make a stand, weighing our fate. That was a dark moment, but though I did not know it, Providence was with us. For, happening to glance downward, beneath the spiral stair--for there was no ground immediately beneath it--I saw a faint glimmer and a movement as though of a dim light in the black, yawning space at my feet. (You must understand that we were now inside the base of the column in the center of the great cavern.) Moved either by curiosity or a command of Providence, I stooped and peered intently downward, and saw that the movement was the almost imperceptible reflection of a stray ray of light from above on the surface of water. At the time I merely wondered idly if the water came from the same source as that in the lake outside, not thinking it sufficiently important to mention to Harry. Then a question came from him: "No good, Paul. They are a hundred to one, and we are empty-handed. Do we go?" "There is nothing else to do," I answered, and I placed my foot on the first step of the spiral stair. Behind us came the guide, with a dozen others at his heels. The ascent seemed even longer and more arduous than before, for then we had been propelled by keen curiosity. Twice I stumbled in the darkness, and would have fallen if it had not been for Harry's supporting hand behind me. But finally we reached the top and stepped out into the glare of the great cavern. I saw the stone slab close to behind us, noiselessly, and wondered if I should ever see it open again. We looked about us, and as our eyes sought the alcove in the wall opposite, we gave a simultaneous start of surprise, and from Harry's lips came a cry, half of gladness, half of wonder. For, seated on the golden throne, exactly as before, was Desiree. By her side was seated the Inca king; round them, guards and attendants. We gazed at her in astonishment, but she did not look at us; even at that distance we could see that her eyes were lowered to the ground. Harry called her name--there was no answer. Again he called, and I caught him by the arm. "Don't, Hal! She can't possibly do us any good, and you may do her harm. If she doesn't answer, it is because she has a reason." He was silent, but not convinced, and would probably have argued the matter if our attention had not been arrested by a movement in the alcove. The king rose and extended an arm, and the Incas who filled the seats surrounding the cavern fell flat on their faces. "We don't seem to have thinned them out any," I observed. "I believe there are actually more than before. Where do they all come from?" "The Lord knows!" "And, by the way, it is now apparent why they waited so long to attend to us. The king naturally wanted to be present at the entertainment, and he had to take time to recover from his little fasting operation. But now, what in the name of--my word, the thing is to be done in all propriety! Look!" The king had dropped his arm, and the Incas were again sitting as Nature had intended they should sit, instead of on their noses. And four attendants had approached the throne, bearing a frame of quipos. "So we are to have a fair trial," Harry observed. "With the king for judge." "And a hundred dead rats as evidence." "Right; they can't get even with us, anyway; there are only two of us. And as far as the other is concerned, I have an idea." The king had left his throne and approached the outer edge of the alcove, until he stood almost directly under the oval plate of gold representing Pachacamac or the unknown god. To this he knelt and made a succession of weird, uncouth gestures that suggested a lunatic or a traveling hypnotist. Evidently the good Pachacamac approved whatever suggestions the royal priest communicated, for he rose to his feet with a solemn grin and strutted majestically to the rear, facing the frame of quipos. It was evident that he no longer had faith in Desiree's interpretation of the divine will of the great Pachacamac. It is a royal privilege to be able to judge your own enemies. The hand of the Child of the Sun passed slowly up and down the frame of quipos, betraying a commendable reluctance. It touched the yellow cord and passed on; grasped the white and dropped it. "The old hypocrite!" exclaimed Harry in disgust. "Does he imagine he is playing with us?" Then there was an imperceptible movement, rather felt than seen, throughout the vast assemblage, and Desiree sank back on her throne of gold with a shudder as the king severed with the knife the black cord of death and laid it on the ground at her feet. I looked at Harry; his face became slightly pale, but his eyes met mine firmly, speaking of a fortitude unconquerable. Then we again riveted our gaze on the alcove opposite. An attendant approached from the rear and stood before the golden throne, while the king motioned to Desiree to take up the black cord. For a moment she did not understand him, then she drew back, shaking her head firmly. The king did not wait to argue the matter, but stooped himself and picked up the cord and handed it to the attendant, who received it with a great show of respect and retired to the rear, where a commotion was created by its appearance. The judgment was passed, but what was to be the nature of the execution? That uncertainty and the weirdness of the scene gave to the thing an air of unreality that shut out the tragic and admitted only the grotesque. I have many times in my life felt nearer to death than when I stood on the top of that lofty column, surrounded by the thousands of squatting dwarfs, whose black bodies reflected dully the mounting light from the flaming urns. I cannot say what we expected, for we knew not what to expect. Many conjectures entered my mind, but none of them approached the fact. But, thinking that our guide might now return at any moment to lead us below, and not caring to be surprised by an attack from behind on that narrow precipice, I moved across to the rear, where I could keep my eyes on the alcove opposite, and at the same time watch the stone slab which closed the opening to the spiral stairway. A word to Harry and he joined me. "Perhaps we can open it from above," he suggested. "Not likely," I answered, "and, anyway, what's the use?" He knelt down and tugged at it, but there was no edge on which to obtain a purchase. The thing was immovable. Five minutes passed, during which there was no movement, either in the audience on the stone seats or in the alcove. But there was an indefinable air of expectancy on the faces of the king and those surrounding him, and I kept a sharp eye on the stone slab. 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. In a few minutes this floor will be baking hot. Then we either fry on their stone griddle or drown in the lake. You see the distance below--only a man crazed by suffering or one incredibly brave would take that leap. This is their little entertainment--they expect us to dance for them." "But the lake! If we could take it clean--" I saw that the lake was our only chance, if there could be said to be any in so desperate a situation. To be sure, there seemed to be no possibility of escaping, even if we took the water without injury. On every side its bank was lined with the watching Incas, and the bank itself was so steep that to ascend it would have required wings. The heat began to be felt even through the soles of our heavy boots; involuntarily I lifted one foot, then the other. I saw the Child of the Sun in the alcove lean forward with an appreciative grin. Another minute-- I jerked my wits together--never did my brain answer with better speed. And then I remembered that flash of water I had seen under the spiral stairway at the base of the column. I had thought at the time that it might be connected with the lake itself. If that were so-- I turned to Harry and conveyed my idea to him in as few words as possible as we walked up and down, side by side. It was impossible longer to stand still--the stone was so hot that the bare hand could not be held against it for an instant. I saw that he did not comprehend what I said about the water in the column, but he did understand my instructions, and that was all that was necessary. We ran to the edge of the column nearest the alcove. Removing our woolen knickerbockers--for better ease in the water--we placed them on the hot stone, and on top of them our boots, which we had also removed. Thus our feet were protected as we stood on the extreme edge of the column, taking a deep breath for strength and nerve. I saw the thousands of black savages--who had been cheated of their dance--crane their necks forward eagerly. I saw the king gesture excitedly to an attendant, who turned and flew from the alcove. I saw Desiree spring up from the golden throne and run to the edge of the alcove, crying to us in a tone of despair. But I did not hear her words, for I myself was calling: "Take it clean, Hal. Ready--go!" The next instant we were flying headlong through the air toward the surface of the lake a hundred feet below. Men have told me since that I never made that dive, or that I greatly overestimated the distance, and I admit that as I look back at it now it appears incredible. Well, they are welcome to their opinion, but I would not advise them to try to argue the matter with Harry. The impact with the water all but completely stunned me; as I struck the surface it seemed that a thousand cannons had exploded in my ears. Down, down I went--lucky for us that the lake was apparently bottomless! I seemed to have gone as far below the water as I had been above it before I was able to twist myself about and meet it with my belly. Then, striking out with every ounce of strength in me, I made for the surface as rapidly as possible. I had started with my lungs full of air, but that headlong plunge had emptied them. I made the surface at last and looked round for Harry, calling his name. For perhaps thirty seconds I called in vain, then there came an unanswering shout off to the left. The urns were far above us now, and the light on the surface of the lake was very dim, but soon I made out Harry's head. He was swimming easily toward me, apparently unhurt. "All right, Hal?" "Right. And you?" "Sound as a whistle. Now make for the column." At the instant that we turned to swim toward the column I became aware of a strong current in the water carrying us off to the right. It was inexplicable, but there was no time then for speculation, and we struck out with bold, sweeping strokes. The Incas had left the stone seats and advanced to the water's edge. I could see their black, sinister faces, thousands of them, peering intently at us through the dim light, but they made no sound. Once I cast a glance over my shoulder and saw Desiree standing at the edge of the alcove with her clenched fists pressed to her throat. Beside her stood the Child of the Sun. Harry, too, saw her and sent her a shout of farewell, but there was no answer. We were now less than thirty feet from the column. Its jeweled sides sparkled and shone before us; looking up, our eyes were dazzled. Something struck the water near me. I glanced to the right and saw what moved me to hasten my stroke and call to Harry to do likewise. The black devils were increasing the fun by hurling stones at us from the bank--apparently with the kind approval of Pachacamac. As we neared the column the current which tended to carry us to the right became stronger, but still we seemed not to be approaching the bank. What could it mean? The struggle against it was fast taking our strength. Looking up, I saw that we had swung round to the other side of the column--it was between us and the alcove. Then I understood. We were in a whirlpool, ever increasing in force, which was carrying us swiftly in a circle from left to right and approaching the column. I called a swift warning to Harry, who was some ten feet to my left, and he answered that he understood. The stones from the bank were falling thick about us now; one struck me on the shoulder, turning me half round. The current became swifter--so swift that we were almost helpless against it and were carried around and around the column, which was but a few feet away. And always complete silence. Nearer and nearer we were carried, till, thrusting out my arm, the tips of my fingers brushed against the side of the column. The water whirled with the rapidity of a mill-stream; ten more seconds and our brains would have been dashed against the unyielding stone. It was now but half an arm's length away. I kept thrusting out my arm in a wild endeavor to avoid it. Suddenly my outstretched hand found a purchase in a break in the wall, but the force of the water tore it loose and swept me away. But when I reached the same spot again I thrust out both hands, and, finding the edge, held on desperately. The next instant Harry's body was swept against mine, doubling the strain on my fingers. "The column!" I gasped. "Inside--through the wall--opening--I am holding--" He understood, and the next moment he, too, had grasped the edge. Together we pulled ourselves, little by little, toward the opening; for our strength was nearly spent, and the force of the maelstrom was nigh irresistible. It was as I had thought. The base of the column consisted merely of two massive pillars, some twelve feet in length and circular in shape. The water rushed in through each of the two openings thus left, and inside of the column was the center of the whirlpool, sucking the water from both sides. The water I had seen; I had not counted on the whirlpool. We had pulled ourselves round till our bodies rested against the edge of the opening, clinging to either side. Inside all was blackness, but we could judge of the fury of the maelstrom by the force of the current outside. Stones hurled by the Incas were striking against the sides of the column and in the water near us. We were being hunted from life like dogs, and a hot, unreasoning anger surged through my brain--anger at the grinning savages on the bank, at the whirling black water, at Harry, at myself. Whichever way we looked was death, and none worth choosing. "I can't hold--much longer," Harry gasped. "What's the use--old man--Paul--come--I'm going--" He disappeared into the black, furious whirlpool with that word. The next instant my own fingers were torn from their hold by a sudden jerk of the water, and I followed. Chapter XIV. A FISHING PARTY. Water, when whirling rapidly, has a keen distaste for any foreign object; but when once the surface breaks, that very repulsion seems to multiply the indescribable fury with which it endeavors to bury the object beneath its center. Once in the whirlpool, I was carried in a swift circle round its surface for what seemed an age, and I think could not have been less than eight or ten seconds in reality. Then suddenly I was turned completely over, my limbs seemed to be torn from my body, there was a deafening roar in my ears, and a crushing weight pressed against me from every side. Any effort of any kind was worse than useless, as well as impossible; indeed, I could hardly have been said to be conscious, except for the fact that I retained sufficient volition to avoid breathing or swallowing the water. The pressure against my body was terrific; I wondered vaguely why life had not departed, since--as I supposed--there was not a whole bone left in my body. My head was bursting with dizziness and pain; my breast was a furnace of torture. Suddenly the pressure lessened and the whirling movement gradually ceased, but still the current carried me on. I struck out wildly with both arms--in an effort, I suppose, to grasp the proverbial straw. I found no straw, but something better--space. Instinct led the fight to reach it with my head to get air, but the swiftness of the current carried me again beneath the surface. My arms seemed powerless; I was unable to direct them. I hardly know what happened after that. A feeling of most intense suffocation in my chest; a relaxation of all my muscles; a sensation of light in my smarting eyes; a gentle pressure from the water beneath, like the rising gait of a saddle-horse; and suddenly, without knowing why or when or how, I found myself lying on hard ground, gasping, choking, sputtering, not far from death, but nearer to life than I had thought ever to be again. I lay for several minutes unable to move; then my brain awoke and called for life. I twisted over on my face, and moved my arms out and in with the motion of a swimmer; the most exquisite pains shot through my chest and abdomen. My head weighed tons. Water ran from my nose and mouth in gurgling streams. The roaring, scarcely abated, pounded in my ears. I was telling myself over and over with a most intense earnestness: "But if I were really dead I shouldn't be able to move." It appears that the first sense to leave a drowning man, and the last to return, is the sense of humor. In another ten minutes, having rid my lungs of the water that had filled them, I felt no pain and but little fatigue. My head was dizzy, and there was still a feeling of oppression on my chest; but otherwise I was little the worse for wear. I twisted carefully over on my side and took note of my surroundings. I lay on a narrow ledge of rock at the entrance to a huge cavern. Not two feet below rushed the stream which had carried me; it came down through an opening in the wall at a sharp angle with tremendous velocity, and must have hurled me like a cork from its foaming surface. Below, it emptied into a lake which nearly filled the cavern, some hundreds of yards in diameter. Rough boulders and narrow ledges surrounded it on every side. This I saw in time, but the first thing that caught my eye was no work of nature. Fastened to the wall on the opposite side of the cavern, casting a dim, flickering light throughout its vast space, were two golden, flaming urns. It was not fear, but a sort of nausea, that assailed me as I realized that I was still in the domain of the Incas. The ledge on which I lay was exposed to view from nearly every point of the cavern, and the sight of those urns caused me to make a swift decision to leave it without delay. It was wet and slippery and not over three feet in width; I rose to my feet cautiously, having no appetite for another ducking. At a distance of several feet lay another ledge, broad and level, at the farther end of which rose a massive boulder. I cleared the gap with a leap, barely made my footing, and passed behind the boulder through a crevice just wide enough to admit my body. Then through a narrow lane onto another ledge, and from that I found my way into a dark recess which gave assurance at least of temporary safety. The sides of the cavern were a veritable maze of boulders, sloping ledges, and narrow crevices. Nature here scarcely seemed to have known what to do with herself. I seated myself on a bit of projecting limestone, still wet and shivering. I had no boots nor trousers; my feet were bruised and swollen, and my flannel shirt and woolen underwear were but scanty protection against the chill air, damp as they were. Also, I seemed to feel a cold draft circling about me, and was convinced of the fact by the flickering flames in the golden urns. Desolate, indeed, for I gave Harry up as lost. The thought generated no particular feeling in me; death, by force of contrast, may even appear agreeable; and I told myself that Harry had been favored of the gods. And there I sat in the half-darkness, shrinking from a danger of whose existence I was not certain, clinging miserably to the little that was left of what the world of sunshine had known as Paul Lamar, gentleman, scientist, and connoisseur of life; sans philosophy, sans hope, and--sans-culotte. But the senses remain; and suddenly I became aware of a movement in the water of the lake. It was as though an immense trout had leaped and split the surface. This was repeated several times, and was followed by a rhythmic sound like the regular splash of many oars. Then silence. I peered intently forth from my corner in the recess, but could see nothing, and finally gave it up. As the minutes passed by my discomfort increased and stiffness began to take my joints. I realized the necessity of motion, but lacked the will, and sat in a sort of dumb, miserable apathy. This, I should say, for an hour; then I saw something that roused me. I had before noticed that on the side of the cavern almost directly opposite me, under the flaming urns, there was a ledge some ten or twelve feet broad and easily a hundred in length. It met the surface of the lake at an easy, gradual slope. In the rear, exactly between the two urns, could be seen the dark mouth of a passage, evidently leading directly away from the cavern. Out of this passage there suddenly appeared the forms of two Incas. In the hand of each was what appeared to be a long spear--I had evidently been mistaken in my presumption of their ignorance of weapons. They walked to one end of the long ledge and dragged out into the light an object with a flat surface some six feet square. This they launched on the surface of the lake; then embarked on it, placing their spears by their sides and taking up, instead, two broad, short oars. With these they began to paddle their perilous craft toward the center of the lake with short, careful strokes. About a hundred feet from the shore they ceased paddling and exchanged the oars for their spears, and stood motionless and silent, waiting, apparently, for nothing. I, also, remained motionless, watching them in dull curiosity. There was little danger of being seen; for, aside from the darkness of my corner, which probably would have been no hindrance to them, a projecting ledge partly screened my body from view. The wait was not a long one, and when it ended things happened with so startling a suddenness that I scarcely grasped the details. There was a loud splash in the water like that I had heard before, a swift ripple on the surface of the lake, and simultaneously the two Indians lunged with their spears, which flew to their mark with deadly accuracy. I had not before noticed the thongs, one end of which was fastened to the shaft of the spear and the other about the waist of the savage. There followed a battle royal. Whatever the thing was that had felt the spears, it certainly lost no time in showing its resentment. It thrashed the water into furious waves until I momentarily expected the raft to be swamped. One Inca stood on the farther edge of the craft desperately plying an oar; the other tugged lustily at the spear-thongs. I could see a black, twisting form leap from the water directly toward the raft, and the oarsman barely drew from under before it fell. It struck the corner of the raft, which tipped perilously. That appeared to have been a final effort, for there the battle ended. The oarsman made quickly for the shore, paddling with remarkable dexterity and swiftness, while the other stood braced, holding firmly to the spear-thongs. Another minute and they had leaped upon the ledge, drawing the raft after them, and, by tugging together on the lines, had landed their victim of the deep. It appeared to be a large black fish of a shape I had never before seen. But it claimed little of my attention; my eye was on the two spears which had been drawn from the still quivering body and which now lay on the ground well away from the water's edge, while the two Incas were dragging their catch toward the mouth of the passage leading from the cavern. I wanted those spears. I did not stop to ask myself what I intended to do with them; if I had I would probably have been hard put to it for an answer. But I wanted them, and I sat in my dark corner gazing at them with greedy eyes. The Incas had disappeared in the passage. Finally I rose and began to search for an exit from the recess in which I had hidden myself. At first there appeared to be none, but at length I found a small crevice between two boulders in the rear. Into this I squeezed my body with some difficulty. The rock pressed tightly against me on both sides, and the sharp corners bruised my body, but I wormed my way through for a distance of fifteen or twenty feet. Then the crevice opened abruptly, and I found myself on a broad ledge ending apparently in space. I advanced cautiously to its edge, but intervening boulders shut off the light, and I could see no ground below. Throwing prudence to the winds, I let myself over the outermost corner, hung for a moment by my hands, and dropped. My feet touched ground almost instantly--the supposedly perilous fall amounted to something like twelve inches. I turned round, feeling a little foolish, and saw that from where I stood the ledge and part of the lake were in full view. I could see the spears still lying where they had been thrown down. But as I looked the two Incas emerged from the passage. They picked up the spears, walked to the raft, and again launched it and paddled toward the center of the lake. I thought, "Here is my chance; I must make that ledge before they return," and I started forward so precipitately that I ran head on into a massive boulder and got badly stunned for my pains. Half dazed, I went on, groping my way through the semidarkness. The trail was one to try a llama. I climbed boulders and leaped across chasms and clung to narrow, slippery edges with my finger-nails. Several times I narrowly escaped dumping myself into the lake, and half the time I was in plain view of the Incas on the raft. My hands and feet were bruised and bleeding, and I had bumped into walls and boulders so often that I was surprised when I took a step without getting a blow. I wanted those spears. I found myself finally within a few yards of my destination. A narrow crevice led from where I stood directly to the ledge from which the Incas had embarked. It was now necessary to wait till they returned to the shore, and I drew back into the darkness of a near-by corner and stood motionless. They were still on the raft in the middle of the lake, waiting, spear in hand. I watched them in furious impatience, on the border of mania. Suddenly I saw a dark, crouching form outlined against a boulder not ten feet away from where I stood. The form was human, but in some way unlike the Incas I had seen. I could not see its face, but the alertness suggested by its attitude made me certain that I had been discovered. Vaguely I felt myself surrounded on every side; I seemed to feel eyes gazing unseen from every direction, but I could not force myself to search the darkness; my heart rose to my throat and choked me, and I stood absolutely powerless to make a sound or movement, gazing in a sort of dumb fascination at that silent, crouching figure. Suddenly it crouched lower still against the black background of the boulder. "Another second and he will be at my throat," I thought--but I stood still, unable to move. But the figure did not spring. Instead, it suddenly straightened up to almost twice the height of an Inca, and I caught a glimpse of a white face and ragged, clinging garments. "Harry!" I whispered. I wonder yet that it was not a shout. "Thank God!" came his voice, also in a whisper; and in another moment he had reached my side. A hurried word or two--there was no time for more--and I pointed to the Incas on the raft, saying: "We want those spears." "I was after them," he grinned. "What shall we do?" "There's no use taking them while the Incas are away," I replied, "because they would soon return and find them gone. Surely we can handle two of them." As I spoke there came a sound from the lake--a sudden loud splash followed by a commotion in the water. I looked around the corner of the boulder and saw that the spears again found their mark. "Come," I whispered, and began to pick my way toward the ledge. Harry followed close at my heels. It was easier here, and we soon found ourselves close to the shore of the lake, with a smooth stretch of rock between us and the fisherman's landing-place. The urns, whose light was quite sufficient here, were about fifty feet to the right and rear. The Incas had made their kill and were paddling for the shore. As they came near, Harry and I sank back against the boulder, which extended to the boundary of the ledge. Soon the raft was beached and pulled well away from the water, and the fish--I was amazed at its size--followed. They drew forth the spears and laid them on the ground, as they had done formerly; and, laying hold on the immense fish, still floundering ponderously about, began to drag it toward the mouth of the passage. "Now," whispered Harry, and as he stood close at my side I could feel his body draw together for the spring. I laid a hand on his arm. "Not yet. Others may be waiting for them in the passage. Wait till they return." In a few minutes they reappeared in the light of the flaming urns. I waited till they had advanced half-way to the water's edge, some thirty feet away. Then I whispered to Harry: "You for the left, me for the right," and released my hold on his arm, and the next instant we were bounding furiously across the ledge. Taken by surprise, the Incas offered no resistance whatever. The momentum of our assault carried them to the ground; their heads struck the hard granite with fearful force and they lay stunned. Harry, kneeling over them, looked up at me with a question in his eyes. "The lake," said I, for it was no time for squeamishness. Our friend the king thought us dead, and we wanted no witnesses that we had returned to life. We laid hold of the unconscious bodies, dragged them to the edge of the lake, and pushed them in. The shock of the cold water brought one of them to life, and he started to swim, and we--well, we did what had to be done. We had our spears. I examined them curiously. The head appeared to be of copper and the shaft was a long, thin rod of the same material. But when I tried it against a stone and saw its hardness I found that it was much less soft, and consequently more effective, than copper would have been. That those underground savages had succeeded in combining metals was incredible, but there was the evidence; and, besides, it may have been a trick of nature herself. The point was some six inches long and very sharp. It was set on the shaft in a wedge, and bound with thin, tough strips of hide. Altogether, a weapon not to be laughed at. We carried the spears, the raft, and the oars behind a large boulder to the left of the ledge with considerable difficulty. The two latter not because we expected them to be of any service, but in order not to leave any trace of our presence, for if any searchers came and found nothing they could know nothing. We expected them to arrive at any moment, and we waited for hours. We had about given up watching from our vantage point behind the boulder when two Incas appeared at the mouth of the passage. But they brought only oil to fill the urns, and after performing this duty departed, without a glance at the lake or any exhibition of surprise at the absence of their fellows. Every now and then there was a commotion in some part of the lake, and we could occasionally see a black, glistening body leap into the air and fall again into the water. "I'm hungry," Harry announced suddenly. "I wonder if we couldn't turn the trick on that raft ourselves?" The same thought had occurred to me, but Harry's impulsiveness had made me fearful of expressing it. I hesitated. "We've got to do something," he continued. I suggested that it might be best to wait another hour or two. "And why? Now is as good a time as any. If we intend to find Desiree--" "In the name of Heaven, how can we?" I interrupted. "You don't mean to say you don't intend to try?" he exclaimed. "Hal, I don't know. In the first place, it's impossible. And where could we take her and what could we do--in short, what's the use? Why the deuce should we prolong the thing any further? "In the world I refused to struggle because nothing tempted me; in this infernal hole I have fought when there was nothing to fight for. If civilization held no prize worth an effort, why should I exert myself to preserve the life of a rat? Faugh! It's sickening! I wondered why I wanted those spears. Now I know. I have an idea I'm going to be coward enough to use one--or enough of a philosopher." "Paul, that isn't like you." "On the contrary, it is consistent with my whole life. I have never been overly keen about it. To end it in a hole like this--well, that isn't exactly what I expected; but it is all one--after. Understand me, Hal; I don't want to desert you; haven't I stuck? And I would still if there were the slightest possible chance. Where can we go? What can we do?" There was a long silence; then Harry's voice came calmly: "I can stay in the game. You call yourself a philosopher. I won't quarrel about it, but the world would call you a quitter. Whichever it is, it's not for me. I stay in the game. I'm going to find Desiree if I can, and, by the Lord, some day I'm going to cock my feet up on the fender at the Midlothian and make 'em open their mouths and call me a liar!" "A worthy ambition." "My own. And, Paul, you can't--you're not a quitter." "Personally, yes. If I were here alone, Hal"--I picked up one of the spears and passed my palm over its sharp point--"I would quit cold. But not--not with you. I can't share your enthusiasm, but I'll go fifty-fifty on the rest of it, including the fender--when we see it." "That's the talk, old man. I knew you would." "But understand me. I expect nothing. It's all rot. If by any wild chance we should pull out in the end I'll admit you were right. But I eat under compulsion, and I fight for you. You're the leader unless you ask my advice." "And I begin right now," said Harry with a grin. "First, to get Desiree. What about it?" We discussed plans all the way from the impossible to the miraculous and arrived nowhere. One thing only we decided--that before we tried to find our way back to the great cavern and the royal apartments we would lay in a supply of food and cache it among the boulders and ledges where we then were. For if ever a place were designed for a successful defense by two men against thousands it was that one. And we had the spears. Still no one had appeared in the cavern, and we decided to wait no longer. We carried the raft back to the ledge. It was fairly light, being made of hide stretched tightly across stringers of bone, but was exceedingly clumsy. Once Harry fell, and the thing nearly toppled over into the lake with him on top of it; but I caught his arm just in time. Another trip for the oars and spears, and everything was ready. We launched the raft awkwardly, nearly shipping it beneath; but finally got it afloat with ourselves aboard. We had fastened the loose ends of the spear-thongs about our waists. I think that raft was the craziest thing that ever touched water. It was a most excellent diver, but was in profound ignorance of the first principle of the art of floating. After a quarter of an hour of experimentation we found that by standing exactly in a certain position, one on each side and paddling with one hand, it was possible to keep fairly level. If either of us shifted his foot a fraction of an inch the thing ducked like a stone. We finally got out a hundred feet or so and ceased paddling. Then, exchanging our oars for the spears, we waited. The surface of the lake was perfectly still, save for a barely perceptible ripple, caused no doubt by the undercurrent which was fed by the stream at the opposite side. The urns were so far away that the light was very dim; no better than half darkness. The silence was broken by the sound of the rushing stream. Suddenly the raft swayed gently; there was a parting of the water not a foot away toward the front, and then--well, the ensuing events happened so quickly that their order is uncertain. A black form arose from the water with a leap like lightning and landed squarely on the raft, which proceeded to perform its favorite dive. It would have done so with much less persuasion, for the fish was a monster--it appeared to me at that moment to be twenty feet long. On the instant, as the raft capsized, Harry and I lunged with our spears, tumbling forward and landing on each other and on top of the fish. I felt my spear sinking into the soft fish almost without resistance. The raft slipped from under, and we found ourselves floundering in the water. I have said the spear-thongs were fastened about our waists. Otherwise, we would have let the fish go; but we could hardly allow him to take us along. That is, we didn't want to allow it; but we soon found that we had nothing to say in the matter. Before we had time to set ourselves to stroke we were being towed as though we had been corks toward the opposite shore. But it was soon over, handicapped as he was by four feet of spears in his body. We felt the pull lessen and twisted ourselves about, and in another minute had caught the water with a steady dog-stroke and were holding our own. Soon we made headway, but it was killing work. "He weighs a thousand tons," panted Harry, and I nodded. Pulling and puffing side by side, we gradually neared the center of the lake, passed it, and approached the ledge. We were well-nigh exhausted when we finally touched bottom and were able to stand erect. Hauling the fish onto the ledge, we no longer wondered at his strength. He could not have been an ounce under four hundred pounds, and was fully seven feet long. One of the spears ran through the gills; the other was in his middle, just below the backbone. We got them out with some difficulty and rolled him up high and dry. We straightened to return for the spears which we had left at the edge of the water. "He's got a hide like an elephant," said Harry. "What can we skin him with?" But I did not answer. I was gazing straight ahead at the mouth of the passage where stood two Incas, spear in hand, returning my gaze stolidly. Chapter XV. THE RESCUE. I was quick to act, but the Incas were quicker still. I turned to run for our spears, and was halted by a cry of warning from Harry, who had wheeled like a flash at my quick movement. I turned barely in time to see the Incas draw back their powerful arms, then lunge forward, the spears shooting from their hands. I leaped aside; something struck my leg; I stooped swiftly and grasped the spear-thong before there was time for the Inca to recover and jerk it out of my reach. The other end was fastened about his waist; I had him, and giving an instant for a glance at Harry, saw that he had adopted the same tactics as myself. Seeing that escape was impossible, they dashed straight at us. It wasn't much of a fight. One came at me with his head lowered like a charging bull; I sidestepped easily and floored him with a single blow. He scrambled to his feet, but by that time I had recovered the spear and had it ready for him. I waited until he was quite close, then let him have it full in the chest. The fool literally ran himself through, hurling himself on the sharp point in a brutal frenzy. He lay on his back, quite still, with the spear-head buried in his chest and the shaft sticking straight up in the air. I turned to Harry, and in spite of myself smiled at what I saw. He stood with his right arm upraised, holding his spear ready. His left foot was placed well and gracefully forward, and his body bent to one side like the classic javelin-thrower. And ten feet in front of him the other Inca had fallen flat on his face on the ground with arms extended in mute supplication for quarter. "What shall I do?" asked Harry. "Let him have it?" "Can you?" "The fact is, no. Look at the poor beggar--scared silly. But we can't let him go." It was really a question. Mercy and murder were alike impossible. We finally compromised by binding his wrists and ankles and trussing him up behind, using a portion of one of the spear-thongs for the purpose, and gagging him. Then we carried him behind a large boulder some distance from the ledge and tucked him away in a dark corner. "And when we get back--if we ever do--we can turn him loose," said Harry. "In that case I wouldn't give much for his chances of a happy existence," I observed. We wasted no time after that, for we wanted no more interruptions. Some fifteen precious minutes we lost trying to withdraw the spear I had buried in the body of the Inca, but the thing had become wedged between two ribs and refused to come out. Finally we gave it up and threw the corpse in the lake. We then removed the oars and spears and raft--which had floated so near to the ledge that we had no difficulty in recovering it--to our hiding-place, and last we tackled our fish. It was a task for half a dozen men, but we dared not remain on the ledge to skin him and cut him up. After an hour of exertion and toil that left us completely exhausted, we managed to get him behind a large boulder to the left of the ledge, but it was impossible to carry him to the place we had selected, which could be reached only by passing through a narrow crevice. The only knives we had were the points of the spears, but they served after a fashion, and in another hour we had him skinned and pretty well separated. He was meaty and sweet. We discovered that with the first opportunity, for we were hungry as wolves. Nor did we waste much time bewailing our lack of a fire, for we had lived so long on dried stuff that the opposite extreme was rather pleasant than otherwise. We tore him into strips as neatly as possible, stowing them away beneath a ledge, a spot kept cool by the water but a foot below. "That'll be good for a month," said Harry. "And there's more where that came from. And now--" I understood, and I answered simply: "I'm ready." We had but few preparations to make. The solidest parts of the fish which we had laid aside we now strapped together with one of the extra spear-thongs and slung them on our backs. We secreted the oars and raft and the extra spear as snugly as possible. Then, having filled ourselves with raw fish and a last hearty drink from the lake, we each took a spear and started on a search wilder than any ever undertaken by Amadis of Gaul or Don Quixote himself. Even the Bachelor of Salamanca, in his saddest plight, did not present so outrageous an appearance to the eye as we. We wore more clothing than the Incas, which is the most that can be said for us. We were unable to even guess at the direction we should take; but that was settled for us when we found that there were but two exits from the cavern. One led through the boulders and crevices to a passage full of twists and turns and strewn with rocks, almost impassable; the other was that through which the Incas had entered. We chose the latter. Fifty feet from the cavern we found ourselves in darkness. I stopped short. "Harry, this is impossible. We cannot mark our way." "But what can we do?" "Carry one of those urns." "Likely! They'd spot us before we even got started." "Well--let them." "No. You're in for the finish. I know that. I want to find Desiree. And we'll find her. After that, if nothing else is left, I'll be with you." "But I don't want a thousand of those brutes falling on us in the dark. If they would end it I wouldn't care." "Keep your spear ready." I had given him my promise, so I pushed on at his side. I had no stomach for it. In a fight I can avoid disgracing myself, because it is necessary; but why seek it when there is nothing to be gained? Thus I reflected, but I pushed on at Harry's side. As he had said, I was in for the finish. What I feared was to be taken again by the Incas unseen in the darkness. But that fear was soon removed when I found that we could see easily some thirty or forty feet ahead--enough for a warning in case of attack. Our flannel shirts and woolen undergarments hung from us in rags and tatters. Our feet were bare and bruised and swollen. Our faces were covered with a thick, matted growth of hair. Placed side by side with the Incas it is a question which of us would have been judged the most terrifying spectacles by an impartial observer. I don't think either of us realized the extreme foolhardiness of that expedition. The passage was open and unobstructed, and since it appeared to be the only way to their fishing-ground, was certain to be well traveled. The alarm once given, there was no possible chance for us. We sought the royal apartments. Those we knew to be on a level some forty or fifty feet below the surface of the great cavern, at the foot of the flight of steps which led to the tunnel to the base of the column. I had counted ninety-six of those steps, and allowing an average height of six inches, they represented a distance of forty-eight feet. How far the whirlpool and the stream which it fed had carried us downward we did not know, but we estimated it at one hundred feet. That calculation left us still fifty feet below the level of the royal apartments. But we soon found that in this we were mistaken. We had advanced for perhaps a quarter of an hour without incident when the passage came to an abrupt end. To the right was an irregular, twisting lane that disappeared around a corner almost before it started; to the left a wide and straight passage, sloping gently upward. We took the latter. We had followed this for about a hundred yards when we saw a light ahead. Caution was useless; the passage was straight and unbroken and only luck could save us from discovery. We pushed on, and soon stood directly within the light which came from an apartment adjoining the passage. It was not that which we sought, however, and we gave it barely a glance before we turned to the right down a cross passage, finding ourselves again in darkness. Soon another light appeared. We approached. It came from a doorway leading into an apartment some twenty feet square. It was empty, and we entered. There were two flaming urns fastened to the wall above a granite couch. Stone seats were placed here and there about the room. The walls were studded with spots of gold to a height of four or five feet. We stopped short, gazing about us. "It looks like--" Harry whispered, and then exclaimed: "It is! See, here is where we took the blocks from this seat!" So it was. We were in the room where we had imprisoned the Inca king and where we ourselves had been imprisoned with Desiree. "She said her room was to the right of this," whispered Harry excitedly. "What luck! If only--" He left the sentence unfinished, but I understood his fear. And with me there was even no doubt; I had little hope of finding Desiree, and was sorry, for Harry's sake, that we had been so far successful. Again we sought the passage. A little farther on it was crossed by another, running at right angles in both directions. But to the right there was nothing but darkness, and we turned to the left, where, some distance ahead, we could see a light evidently proceeding from a doorway similar to the one we had just left. We went rapidly, but our feet made scarcely any sound on the granite floor. Still we were incautious, and it was purely by luck that I glanced ahead and discovered that which made me jerk Harry violently back and flatten myself against the wall. "What is it?" he whispered. In silence I pointed with my finger to where two Incas stood in the passage ahead of us, just without the patch of light from the doorway, which they were facing. They made no movement; we were as yet undiscovered. They were about a hundred feet away from where we stood. "Then she's here!" whispered Harry. "They are on guard." I nodded; I had had the same thought. There was no time to lose; at any moment that they should chance to glance in our direction they were certain to see us. I whispered hastily and briefly to Harry. He nodded. The next instant we were advancing slowly and noiselessly, hugging the wall. We carried our spears ready, though we did not mean to use them, for a miss would have meant an alarm. "If she is alone!" I was saying within myself, almost a prayer, when suddenly one of the Incas turned, facing us squarely, and gave a start of surprise. We leaped forward. Half a dozen bounds and we were upon them, before they had had time to realize their danger or move to escape it. With a ferocity taught us by the Incas themselves we gripped their throats and bore them to the floor. No time then for the decencies; we had work to do, and we crushed and pounded their lives out against the stone floor. There had not been a sound. They quivered and lay still; and then, looking up at some slight sound in the doorway, we saw Desiree. She stood in the doorway, regarding us with an expression of terror that I did not at first understand; then suddenly I realized that, having seen us disappear beneath the surface of the take after our dive from the column, she had thought us dead. "Bon Dieu!" she exclaimed in a hollow voice of horror. "This, too! Do you come, messieurs?" "For you," I answered. "We are flesh and bone, Desiree, though in ill repair. We have come for you." "Paul! Harry, is it really you?" Belief crept into her eyes, but nothing more, and she stood gazing at us curiously. Harry had sprung to her side; she did not move as he embraced her. "Are you alone?" "Yes." "Good. Here, Harry--quick! Help me. Stand aside, Desiree." We carried the bodies of the two Incas within the room and deposited them in a corner. Then I ran and brought the spears, which we had dropped when we attacked the Incas. Desiree stood just within the doorway, seemingly half dazed. "Come," I said; "there is no time to be lost. Come!" "Where?" She did not move. "With us. Isn't that enough? Do you want to stay here?" She shuddered violently. "You don't know--what has happened. I want to die. Where are you going to take me?" "Desiree," Harry burst out, "for Heaven's sake, come! Must we carry you?" He grasped her arm. Then she moved and appeared to acquiesce. I started ahead; Harry brought up the rear, with an arm round Desiree's shoulders. She started once more to speak, but I wheeled sharply with a command for silence, and she obeyed. We reached the turn in the corridor and passed to the right, moving as swiftly and noiselessly as possible. Ahead of us was the light from the doorway of the room in which we had formerly been imprisoned. We had nearly reached it when I saw, some distance down the corridor, moving forms. The light was very dim, but there appeared to be a great many of them. I turned, with a swift gesture to Harry and Desiree to follow, and dashed forward to the light and through the doorway into the room. Discovery was inevitable, I thought, in any event, but it was better to meet them at the door to the room than in the open passage. And we had our spears. But by a rare stroke of luck we had not been seen. As we stood within the room on either side of the doorway, out of the line of view from the corridor, we heard the patter of many footsteps approaching. They neared the doorway, and I glanced at Harry, pointing to his spear significantly. He gave me a nod of understanding. Let them come; we would not again fall into their hands alive. The footsteps sounded just without the doorway; I stood tense and alert, with spear ready, expecting a rush momentarily. Then they passed, passed altogether, and receded down the corridor in the direction whence we had come. I wanted to glance out at their number, but dared not. We stood still till all was again perfectly silent. Then Desiree spoke in a whisper: "It is useless; we are lost. That was the king. He is going to my room. In ten seconds he will be there and find me gone." There was only one thing to do, and I wasted no time in discussing it. A swift command to Harry, and we dashed from the doorway and down the corridor to the left, each holding an arm of Desiree. But she needed little of our assistance; the presence of the Inca king seemed to have inspired her with a boundless terror, and she flew, rather than ran, between us. We reached the bend in the passage, and just beyond it the light--the first one we had seen on our way in. I had our route marked on my memory with complete distinctness. Soon we found ourselves in the wide, sloping passage that carried us to the level below, and in another five seconds had reached its end and the beginning of the last stretch. At the turn Harry stumbled and fell flat, dragging Desiree to her knees. I lifted her, and he sprang to his feet unhurt. She was panting heavily. Harry had dropped his spear in the fall, and we wasted a precious minute searching for it in the darkness, finally finding it where it had slid, some twenty feet ahead. Again we dashed forward. A light appeared ahead in the distance, dim but unmistakable--the light of the urns in the cavern for which we were headed. Suddenly Desiree faltered and would have fallen but for our supporting arms. "Courage!" I breathed. "We are near the end." She stopped short and sank to the ground. "It is useless," she gasped. "I hurt my ankle when I fell. I can go no farther. Leave me!" Harry and I with one impulse stooped over to pick her up, and as we did so she fainted away in our arms. We were then but a few hundred feet from our goal; the light from the urns could be plainly seen gleaming on the broad ledge by the lake. Suddenly the sound of many footsteps came from behind. I turned quickly, but the passage was too dark. I could see nothing. The sound came closer and closer; there seemed to be many of them, advancing swiftly. I straightened and raised my spear. Harry grasped my arm. "Not yet!" he cried. "One more try; we can make it." He thrust his spear into my hand, and in another instant had thrown Desiree's unconscious body over his shoulder and was staggering forward toward the cavern. I followed, while the sound of the footsteps behind grew louder and louder. We neared the end of the passage; we reached it; we were on the ledge. Even with Desiree for a burden, Harry moved so swiftly that I found it difficult to keep up with him. The strength of a god was in him, which was but just, since he had his goddess in his arms. On the ledge, near the edge of the water, stood two Incas. They turned at our approach and rushed at us. Unlucky for them, for Harry's example had fired my brain and put the strength of a giant in me. To this day I don't know what followed--whether I used my spear or my fists or my head. I know only that I leaped at them in irresistible fury and left them stretched on the ground before they had reached Harry or halted him. We crossed the ledge and made for the boulders to the left. The crevice which led to our hiding-place was too narrow for Harry and his burden. I sprang forward and grasped Desiree's shoulders; he held her ankles, and we got her through to the ledge beyond. Then I leaped back through the crevice, and barely in time. As I looked out a black, rushing horde emerged from the passage and dashed across the ledge toward us. I stood at the entrance to the narrow crevice, spear in hand. They appeared to have no sense of the fact that my position was impregnable, but dashed blindly at me. The crevice in which I stood and which was the only way through to the ledge where Harry had taken Desiree, was not more than two feet wide. With unarmed savages for foes, one man could have held it against a million. But they came and I met them. I stood within the crevice, some three or four feet from its end, and when one appeared in the opening I let him have the spear. Another rushed in and fell on top of the first. As I say, they appeared to be deprived of the power to reason. In five minutes the mouth of the crevice was completely choked with bodies, some, who were merely wounded, struggling and squirming to extricate themselves from the bloody tangle. I heard Harry's voice at my back: "How about it? Want some help?" "Not unless they find some gunpowder," I answered. "The idiots eat death as though it were candy. We're safe; they can never break through here." "Are they still coming?" "They can't; they've blocked the way with their smelly black carcasses. How is Desiree?" "Better; she's awake. I've been bathing her ankle with cold water. She has a bad sprain; how the deuce she ever managed to hobble on it even two steps is beyond me." "A sprain? Are you sure?" "I think so; it's badly swollen. Maybe only a twist; a few hours will tell." I heard him return to the ledge back of me; I dared not turn my head. Thinking I heard a sound above, I looked up; but there was nothing to fear in that direction. The boulders which formed the sides of the crevice extended straight up to the roof of the cavern. We appeared, in fact, to be fortified against any attack. With one exception--hunger. But there would be plenty of time to think of that; for the present we had our fish, which was sufficient for the three of us for a month, if we could keep it fresh that long. And the water was at our very feet. The bodies wedged in the mouth of the crevice began to disappear, allowing the light from the urns to filter through; they were removing their dead. I could see the black forms swaying and pulling not five feet away. But I stood motionless, saving my spear and my strength for any who might try to force an entrance. Soon the crevice was clear, and from where I stood I commanded a view of something like three-quarters of the ledge. It was one mass of black forms, packed tightly together, gazing at our retreat. They looked particularly silly and helpless to me then, rendered powerless as they were by a little bit of rock. Brute force was all they had; and nature, being the biggest brute of all, laughed at them. But I soon found that they were not devoid of resource. For perhaps fifteen minutes the scene remained unchanged; not one ventured to approach the crevice. Then there was a sudden movement and shifting in the mass; it split suddenly in the middle; they pressed off to either side, leaving an open lane between them leading directly toward me. Down this lane suddenly dashed a dozen or more of the savages, with spears aloft in their brawny arms. I was taken by surprise and barely had time to cut and run for the ledge within. As it was I did not entirely escape; the spears came whistling through the crevice, and one of them lodged in my leg just below the thigh. I jerked it out with an oath and turned to meet the attack. I was now clear of the crevice, standing on the ledge inside, near Harry and Desiree. I called to them to go to one side, out of the range of the spears that might come through. Harry took Desiree in his arms and carried her to safety. As I expected, the Incas came rushing through the crevice--that narrow lane where a man could barely push through without squeezing. The first got my spear full in the face--a blow rather than a thrust, for I had once or twice had difficulty in retrieving it when I had buried it deep. As he fell I struck at the one behind. He grasped the spear with his hand, but I jerked it free and brought it down on his head, crushing him to the ground. It was mere butchery; they hadn't a chance in the world to get at me. Another fell, and the rest retreated. The crevice was again clear, save for the bodies of the three who had fallen. I turned to where Harry and Desiree were seated on the further edge of the ledge. Her body rested against his; her head lay on his shoulder. As I looked at them, smiling, her eyes suddenly opened wide and she sprang to her feet and started toward me. "Paul! You are hurt! Harry, a bandage--quick; your shirt--anything!" I looked down at the gash on my leg, which was bleeding somewhat freely. "It's nothing," I declared; "a mere tear in the skin. But your ankle! I thought it was sprained?" She had reached my side and bent over to examine my wound; but I raised her in my arms and held her before me. "That," I said, "is nothing. Believe me, it isn't even painful. I shall bandage it myself; Harry will take my place here. But your foot?" "That, too, is nothing," she answered with a half-smile. "I merely twisted it; it is nearly well already. See!" She placed her weight on the injured foot, but could not suppress a faint grimace of pain. Calling to Harry to watch the crevice, I took Desiree in my arms and carried her back to her seat. "Now sit still," I commanded. "Soon we'll have dinner; in the mean time allow me to say that you are the bravest woman in the world, and the best sport. And some day we'll drink to that--from a bottle." But facts have no respect for sentiment and fine speeches. The last words were taken from my very mouth by a ringing cry from Harry: "Paul! By gad, they're coming at us from the water!" Chapter XVI. THE ESCAPE. The ledge on which we rested was about forty feet square. Back of us was a confused mass of boulders and chasms, across which I had come when I first encircled the cavern and found Harry. In front was the crevice, guarded by the two massive boulders. On the right the ledge met the solid wall of the cavern, and on the left was the lake itself, whose waters rippled gently at our very feet. At sound of Harry's warning cry I ran to the water's edge and peered round the side of the boulder. He was right; but what I saw was not very alarming. Two rafts had been launched from the enemy's camp. Each raft held three Incas--more would have sunk them. Two were paddling, while the third balanced himself in the center, brandishing a spear aloft. Turning to Desiree, I called to her to move behind a projecting bit of rock. Then, leaving Harry to guard the crevice in case of a double attack, I took three of our four spears--one of which had made the wound in my leg--and stood at the water's edge awaiting the approach of the rafts. They came slowly, and their appearance was certainly anything but terrifying. "Not much of a navy," I called to Harry; and he answered, with a laugh: "Lucky for us! Look at our coast defense!" One of the rafts was considerably ahead of the other, and in another minute it had approached within fifty feet of the ledge. The Inca in the center stood with legs spread apart and his spear poised above his head; I made no movement, thinking that on such precarious footing he would have difficulty to hurl the thing at all. Wherein I underrated his skill, and it nearly cost me dear. Suddenly, with hardly a movement of his body, his arm snapped forward. I ducked to one side instinctively and heard the spear whistle past my ear with the speed of a bullet, so close that the butt of the shaft struck the side of my head a glancing blow and toppled me over. I sprang quickly to my feet, and barely in time, for I saw the Inca stoop over, pick up another spear from the raft, and draw it back above his head. At the same moment the second raft drew up alongside, and as I fell to the ground flat on my face I heard the two spears whistle shrewdly over me. At that game they were my masters; it would have been folly to have tried conclusions with them with their own weapons. As the spears clattered on the ground thirty feet away I sprang to my feet and ran to the farther side of the ledge, where I had before noticed some loose stones in a corner. With two or three of these in my hands I ran back to the water's edge, meeting two more of the spears that came twisting at me through the air, one of which tore the skin from my left shoulder. A quick glance at the crevice as I passed showed me Harry fighting at its entrance; they were at us there, too. I heard Desiree shout something at me, but didn't catch the words. My first stone found its goal. The two rafts, side by side not forty feet away, were a fair mark. The stone was nearly the size of a man's head and very heavy; I had all I could do to get the distance. It struck the raft on the right fairly; the thing turned turtle in a flash, precipitating its occupants onto the other raft. The added weight carried that, too, under the surface, and the six Incas were floundering about in the water. I expected to see them turn and swim for the landing opposite; but, instead, they headed directly toward me! The light from the urns was but faint, and it was not easy to distinguish their black heads against the black water; still, I could see their approach. Two of them held spears in their hands; I saw the copper heads flash on high. I stood at the edge of the lake, wondering at their folly as I waited; they were now scarcely ten feet away. Another few strokes and the foremost stretched out his hand to grasp the slippery ledge; my spear came down crushingly on his head and he fell back into the water. By that time another had crawled half onto the ledge, and another; a blow and a quick thrust, and they, too, slipped back beneath the surface, pawing in agony, not to rise again. Just in time I saw that one of the remaining three had lifted himself in the water not five feet away, with his spear aimed at my breast. But the poor devil had no purchase for his feet and the thing went wide. The next instant he had received a ten-pound stone full in the face and went down with a gurgle. At that the remaining two, seeming to acquire a glimmering of intelligence, turned and swam hastily away. I let them go. Turning to Harry, I saw that the crevice also was clear. He had left his post and started toward me, but I waved him back. "All right here, Hal: have they given it up?" There was an expression of the most profound disgust on his face. "Paul, it's rank butchery. I'm wading in blood. Will this thing never stop?" I looked at him and said merely: "Yes." No need to ask when; he understood me; he sent me the glance of a man who has become too familiar with death to fear it, and answered: "Another hour of this, and--I'm ready." I told him to keep an eye on both points of attack and went across to where Desiree sat crouched on the ground. I hadn't many words. "How is your foot?" "Oh, it is better; well. But your leg--" "Never mind that. Could you sleep?" "Bon Dieu--no!" "We have only raw fish. Can you eat?" "I'll try," she answered, with a grimace. I went to the edge of the ledge where we had the fish stowed away near the water and took some of it both to her and Harry. We ate, but with little relish. The stuff did not seem very fresh. I remained on guard at the mouth of the crevice while Harry went to the lake for a drink, having first helped Desiree to the water and back to her seat. Her foot gave her a great deal of pain, but instead of a sprain it appeared that there had been merely a straining of the ligaments. After bathing it in the cold water she was considerably relieved. I remained on watch at the mouth of the crevice, from where I could also obtain a pretty fair view of the lake, and commanded Harry to rest. He demurred, but I insisted. Within two minutes he was sleeping like a log, completely exhausted. Several hundred of the Incas remained huddled together on the ledge without, but they made no effort to attack us. I had been watching perhaps three hours when they began to melt away into the passage. Soon but a scant dozen or so remained. These squatted along the wall just under the lighted urns, evidently in the capacity of sentinels. Soon I became drowsy--intolerably so; I was scarcely able to stand. I dozed off once or twice on my feet; and, realizing the danger, I called Harry to take my place. Desiree also had been asleep, lying on the raft which Harry and I had concealed along with our fish. At sound of my voice she awoke and sat up, rubbing her eyes; then, as I assured her that all was quiet, she fell back again on her rude bed. I have never understood the delay of the Incas at this juncture; possibly they took time to consult the great Pachacamac and found his advice difficult to understand. At the time I thought they had given up the attack and intended to starve us out, but they were incapable of a decision so sensible. Many hours had passed, and we had alternated on four watches. We had plenty of rest and were really quite fit. The gash on my leg had proven a mere trifle; I was a little stiff, but there was no pain. Desiree's foot was almost entirely well; she was able to walk with ease, and had insisted on taking a turn at watch, making such a point of it that we had humored her. Something had to happen, and I suppose it was as well that the Incas should start it. For we had met with a misfortune that made us see the beginning of the end. Our fish was no longer fit to eat, and we had been forced to throw the remainder of it in the lake. Then we held a council of war. The words we uttered, standing together at the mouth of the crevice, come to me now as in a dream; if my memory of them were not so vivid I should doubt their reality. We discussed death with a calmness that spoke eloquently of our experience. Desiree's position may be given in a word--she was ready for the end, and invited it. I was but little behind her, but advised waiting for one more watch--a sop to Harry. And there was one other circumstance that moved me to delay--the hope for a sight of the Inca king and a chance at him. Desiree had refused to tell us her experiences between the time of our dive from the column and our rescue of her; but she had said enough to cause me to guess at its nature. There was a suppressed but ever present horror in her eyes that made me long to stand once more before the Child of the Sun; then to go, but not alone. Harry advised retreat. I have mentioned that when he and I had started on our search for Desiree we had found two exits from the cavern--the one which we had taken and another which led through the maze of boulders and chasms back of us to a passage full of twists and turns and choked with massive rocks, almost impassable. Through this he advised making our way to whatever might await us beyond. The question was still undecided when our argument was brought to a halt and the decision was taken away from us. Through the crevice I saw a band of Incas emerge from the passage opposite and advance to the water's edge. At their head was the Inca king. Soon the landing was completely covered with them--probably three hundred or more--and others could be seen in the mouth of the passage. Each one carried a spear; their heads of copper, upraised in a veritable forest, shone dully in the light of the urns on the wall above. Harry and Desiree stood close behind me, looking through at the fantastic sight. I turned to him: "This time they mean business." He nodded. "But what can they do? Except get knocked on the head, and I'm sick of it. If we had only left an hour ago!" "For my part," I retorted, "I'm glad we didn't. Desiree, I'm going to put you in my debt, if fortune will only show me one last kindness and let me get within reach of him." I pointed to where the Inca king stood in the forefront, at the very edge of the lake. She shuddered and grew pale. "He is a monster," she said in a voice so low that I scarcely heard, "and--I thank you, Paul." Harry seemed not to have heard. "But what can they do?" he repeated. They did not leave us long in doubt. As he spoke there was a sudden sharp movement in the ranks of the Incas. Those in front leaped in the water, and others after them, until, almost before we had time to realize their purpose, hundreds of the hairy brutes were swimming with long, powerful strokes directly toward the ledge on which we stood. Between his teeth each man carried his spear. I left Harry to guard the crevice, and ran to repel the attack at the water. Desiree stood just behind me. I called to her to go back, but she did not move. I grasped her by the arm and led her forcibly to a break in the rock at our rear, and pointed out a narrow ascending lane in the direction of the other exit. When I returned to the ledge of the water the foremost of the Incas were but a few feet away. But I looked in vain for the one face I wanted to see and could recognize; the king was not among them. A hasty glance across the landing opposite discovered him standing motionless with folded arms. The entire surface of the lake before me was one mass of heads and arms and spears as far as I could see. There were hundreds of them. I saw at once that the thing was hopeless, but I grasped my spear firmly and stood ready. The first two or three reached the ledge. At the same instant I heard Harry call: "They're coming through, Paul! It's you alone!" I did not turn my head, for I was busy. My spear was whirling about my head like a circle of flame. Black, dusky forms swam to the ledge and grasped its slippery surface, but they got no farther. The shaft of the spear bent in my hand; I picked up another, barely losing a second. A wild and savage delight surged through me at the sight of those struggling, writhing, slipping forms. I swung the spear in vicious fury. Not one had found footing on the ledge. Something suddenly struck me in the left arm and stuck there; I shook it loose impatiently and it felt as though my arm went with it. I did not care to glance up even for an instant; they were pressing me closer and closer; but I knew that they had begun to hurl their spears at me from the water, and that the game was up. Another struck me on the leg; soon they were falling thick about me. Calling to Harry to follow, I turned and ran for the opening in the rock to which I had led Desiree. In an instant he had joined me. By that time scores of the Incas had scrambled out of the water onto the ledge and started toward us, and as many more came rushing through the crevice, finding their way no longer contested. Harry carried three spears. I had four. We sprang up a lane encircling the rock to the rear and at its top found Desiree. A projecting bit of rock gave us some protection from the spears that were being hurled at us from below, but they came uncomfortably close, and black forms began to appear in the lane through which we had come. Harry shouted something which I didn't hear, and, taking Desiree in his arms, sprang from the rock to another ledge some ten feet below. I followed. At the bottom he stumbled and fell, but I helped him to his feet and then turned barely in time to beat back three or four of the Incas who had tumbled down almost on our very heads. Immediately in front of us was a chasm several feet across. Harry cried to Desiree, "Can you make it?" and she shook her head, pointing to her injured foot. "To me!" I shouted desperately; they were coming down from above despite my efforts to hold them back. Then, in answer to a call from Harry, I turned and leaped across the chasm, throwing the spears ahead of me. Harry took Desiree in his arms and swung her far out; I braced myself for the shock and caught her on my feet. I set her down unhurt, and a minute later Harry had joined us and we were scrambling up the face of a boulder nearly perpendicular, while the spears fell thick around us. Desiree lost her footing and fell against Harry, who rolled to the bottom, pawing for a hold. I turned, but he shouted: "Go on; I'll make it!" Soon he was again at my side, and in another minute we had gained the top of the boulder, quite flat and some twenty feet square. We commanded Desiree to lie flat on the ground to avoid the spears from below, and paused for a breath and a survey of the situation. It can be described only with the word chaotic. The light of the urns were now hidden from us, and we were in comparative darkness, though we could see with a fair amount of clearness. Nothing could be made of the mass of boulders, but we knew that somewhere beyond them was the passage from the cavern which we sought. The Incas came leaping across the chasm to the foot of the rock. Several of them scrambled up the steep surface, but with our spears we pushed them back and they tumbled onto the heads of their fellows below. But we were too exposed for a stand there, and I shouted to Harry to take Desiree down the other side of the rock while I stayed behind to hold them off. He left me, and in a moment later I heard his voice crying to me to follow. I did so, sliding down the face of the rock feet first. Then began a wild and desperate scramble for safety, with the Incas ever at our heels. Without Desiree we would have made our goal with little difficulty, but half of the time we had to carry her. Several times Harry hurled her bodily across a chasm or a crevice, while I received her on the other side. Often I covered the retreat, holding the Incas at bay while Harry assisted Desiree up the steep face of a boulder or across a narrow ledge. There was less danger now from their spears, protected as we were by the maze of rocks, but I was already bleeding in a dozen places on my legs and arms and body, and Harry was in no better case. Suddenly I saw ahead of us an opening which I thought I recognized. I pointed it out to Harry. "The exit!" he cried out, and made for it with Desiree. But they were brought to a halt by a cliff at their very feet, no less than twenty feet high. I started to join them, but hearing a clatter behind, turned just in time to see a score of Incas rush at us from the left, through a narrow lane that led to the edge of the cliff. I sprang toward them, calling to Harry for assistance. He was at my side in an instant, and together we held them back. In five minutes the mouth of the lane was choked with their bodies; some behind attempted to scramble over the pile to get at us, but we made them sick of their job. I saw that Harry could hold it alone then, and calling to him to stand firm till I called, I ran to Desiree. I let myself over the edge of the cliff and hung by my hands, then dropped to the ground below. It was even further than I had thought; my legs doubled up under me and I toppled over, half fainting. I gritted my teeth and struggled to my feet, calling to Desiree. She was already hanging to the edge of the cliff, many feet above me. But there was nothing else for it, and I shouted: "All right, come on!" She came, and knocked me flat on my back. I had tried to catch her, and did succeed in breaking her fall, at no little cost to myself. I was one mass of bruises and wounds. But again I struggled to my feet and shouted at the top of my voice: "Harry! Come!" He did not come alone. I suppose the instant he left the lane unguarded the Incas poured in after him. They followed him over the edge of the cliff, tumbling on top of each other in an indistinguishable mass. Some rose to their feet; their comrades, descending from above, promptly knocked them flat on their backs. Harry and Desiree and I were making for the exit, which was not but a few feet away. As I have said, the thing was choked up till it was almost impassable. We squeezed in between two rocks, with Desiree between us. Harry was in front, and I brought up the rear. Once through that lane and we might hold our own. "In Heaven's name, come on!" Harry shouted suddenly; for I had turned and halted, gazing back at the Incas tumbling over the cliff and rushing toward the mouth of the exit. But I did not heed him, for, standing on the top of the cliff, waving his arms wildly at those below, I had seen the form of the Inca king. He was less than thirty feet away. With cries from Harry and Desiree ringing in my ears, I braced my feet as firmly as possible on the uneven rock and poised my spear above my head. The Incas saw my purpose and stopped short. The king must also have seen me, but he stood absolutely motionless. I lunged forward; the spear left my hand and flew straight for his breast. But it failed to reach the mark. A shout of triumph was on my lips, but was suddenly cut short when an Inca standing near the king sprang forward and hurled himself in the path of the spear just as its point was ready to take our revenge. The Inca fell to the foot of the cliff with the spear buried deep in his side. The king stood as he had before, without moving. Then there was a wild rush into the mouth of the exit, and I turned to follow Harry and Desiree. With extreme difficulty we scrambled forward over the rocks and around them. Desiree's breath was coming in painful gasps, and we had to support her on either side. The Incas approached closer at our rear; I felt one of them grasp me from behind, and in an excess of fury I shook him off and dashed him backward against the rocks. We were able to make little headway, or none; by taking to the exit we appeared to have set our own death-trap. Harry went on with Desiree, and I stayed behind in the attempt to check the attack. They came at me from both sides. I was faint and bleeding, and barely able to wield my spear--my last one. I gave way by inches, retreating backward step by step, fighting with the very end of my strength. Suddenly Harry's voice came, shouting that they had reached the end of the passage. I turned then and sprang desperately from rock to rock after them, with the Incas crowding close after me. I stumbled and nearly fell, but recovered my footing and staggered on. And suddenly the mass of rocks ended abruptly, and I fell forward onto flat, level ground by the side of Desiree and Harry. "Your spear!" I gasped. "Quick--they are upon us!" But they grasped my arms and dragged me away from the passage to one side. I was half fainting from exhaustion and loss of blood, and scarcely knew what they did. They laid me on the ground and bent over me. "The Incas!" I gasped. "They are gone," Harry answered. At that I struggled to rise and rested my body on my elbows, gazing at the mouth of the passage. It was so; the Incas were not to be seen! Not one had issued from the passage. It was incomprehensible to us then; later we understood. And we had not long to wait. Harry and Desiree were bending over me, attempting to stop the flow of blood from a cut on my shoulder. "We must have water," said Desiree. Harry straightened up to look about the cavern, which was so dark that we could barely see one another's faces but a few feet away. Suddenly an exclamation of wonder came from his lips. Desiree and I followed the direction of his gaze, and saw the huge, black, indistinct form of some animal suddenly detach itself from the wall of the cavern and move slowly toward us through the darkness. Chapter XVII. THE EYES IN THE DARK. The thing was at a considerable distance; we could barely see that it was there and that it was moving. It was of an immense size; so large that it appeared as though the very side of the cavern itself had moved noiselessly from its bed in the mountain. At the same moment I became aware of a penetrating, disagreeable odor, nauseating and horrible. I had risen to my knees and remained so, while Harry and Desiree stood on either side of me. The thing continued to move toward us, very slowly. There was not a sound. The strength of the odor increased until it was almost suffocating. Still we did not move. I could not, and Harry and Desiree seemed rooted to the spot with wonder. The thing came closer, and we could see the outlines of its huge form looming up indistinctly against the black background of the cavern. I saw, or thought I saw, a grotesque and monstrous slimy head stretched toward us from about the middle of its bulk. That doubt became a certainty when suddenly, as though they had been lit by a fire from within, two luminous, glowing spots appeared about three feet apart. The creature's eyes--if eyes they were--were turned full on us, growing more brilliant as the thing came closer. It was now less than fifty feet away. The massive form blocked our view of the entire cavern. I pinched my nostrils to exclude the horrible odor which, like the fumes of some deadly poison, choked and smothered me. It came now in puffs, like a draft of a fetid wind, and I realized that it was the creature's breath. I could feel it against my body, my neck and face, and knew that if I breathed it full into my lungs I should be overcome. But still more terrifying were the eyes. There was something compelling, supernaturally compelling, about their steadfast and brilliant gaze. A mysterious power seemed to emanate from them; a power that hypnotized the mind and deadened the senses. I closed my eyes to avoid it, but was unable to keep them closed. They opened despite my extreme effort, and again I met that gaze of fire. There was a movement at my side. I turned and saw that it came from Desiree. Her hands were raised to her face; she was holding them before her as though in a futile attempt to cover her eyes. The thing came closer and closer; it was but a few feet away, and still we did not move, as though rooted to the spot by some power beyond our control. Suddenly there came a cry from Desiree's lips--a scream of terror and wild fear. Her entire form trembled violently. She extended her arms toward the thing, now almost upon us, and took a step forward. Her feet dragged unwilling along the ground, as though she were being drawn forward by some irresistible force. I tried to put out my hand to pull her back, but was absolutely unable to move. Harry stood like a man of rock, immovable. She took another step forward, with arms outstretched in front of her. A low moan of terror and piteous appeal came from between her slightly parted lips. Suddenly the eyes disappeared. The huge form ceased to advance and stood perfectly still. Then it began to recede, so slowly that I was barely conscious of the movement. I was gasping and choking for air; my chest seemed swelling with the poisonous breath. Still slowly the thing receded into the dimness of the cavern; the eyes were no longer to be seen--merely the huge, formless bulk. Desiree had stopped short with one foot advanced, as though hesitating and struggling with the desire to go forward. The thing now could barely be seen at a distance; it would have been impossible if we had not known it was there. Finally it disappeared, melting away into the semi-darkness; no slightest movement was discernible. I breathed more freely and stepped forward. As I did so Desiree threw her hands gropingly above her head and fell fainting to the ground. Harry sprang forward in time to keep her head from striking on the rock and knelt with his arms round her shoulders. We had nothing, not even water, with which to revive her; he called her name aloud appealingly. Soon her eyes opened; she raised her hand and passed it across her brow wonderingly. "God help me!" she murmured in a low voice, eloquent of distress and pain. Then she pushed Harry aside and rose slowly to her feet, refusing his assistance. "In the name of Heaven, what is it?" Harry demanded, turning to me. "We have found the devil at last," I answered, with an attempt to laugh, which sounded hollow in my own ears. Desiree could tell us nothing, except that she had felt herself drawn forward by some strange power that had seemed to come from the baneful, glittering eyes. She was bewildered and stunned and unable to talk coherently. We assisted her to the wall, and she sat there with her back propped against it, breathing heavily from the exhaustion of terror. "We must find water," I said, and Harry nodded, hesitating. I understood him. Danger could not have stayed him nor fear, but the horror of the thing which roamed about the cavern, dark as darkness itself and possessed of some strange power that could not be withstood, was enough to make him pause. For myself it was impossible; I was barely able to stand. So Harry went off alone in search of water and I stayed with Desiree. It was perhaps half an hour before he returned, and we were shaken with fear for him long before he appeared. When he did so it was with a white face and trembling limbs, in spite of his evident effort at steadiness. "There is water over there," said he, pointing across the cavern. "A stream runs across the corner and disappears beneath the wall. There is nothing to carry it in. You must come with me." "What has happened?" I asked, for even his voice was unsteady. "I saw it," he replied simply, but expressing enough in those three words to cause a shudder to run through me. Then, speaking in a low tone that Desiree might not hear, he told me that the thing had confronted him suddenly as he was following the opposite wall, and that he, too, had been drawn forward, as it were, by a spell impossible to shake off. He had tried to cry aloud, but had been unable to utter a sound. And suddenly, as before, the eyes had disappeared, leaving him barely able to stand. "No wonder the Incas wouldn't follow us in here," he finished. "We must get out of this. I'm not a coward, but I wouldn't go through that again for my life." "You take Desiree," said I. "I want that water." He led us around the wall several hundred feet. The ground was level and clear of obstruction; but we went slowly, for I could scarcely move. Harry kept his eyes strained intently on all sides; his experience had left him more profoundly impressed even than he had been willing to admit to me. Soon we heard the low music of running water, and a minute later we reached the stream Harry had found. The fact that there was something to be done seemed to infuse a new spirit into Desiree, and soon her deft fingers were bathing my wounds and bandaging them as well as her poor material would allow. The cold water took the heat from my pumping veins and left me almost comfortable. Harry had come off much easier than I, since I had so often sent him ahead with Desiree, and myself brought up the rear and withstood the brunt of the attack. As Harry had said, the stream cut across a corner of the cavern, disappearing beneath the opposite wall, forming a triangle bound by two sides of the cavern and the stream itself. I saw plainly that it would be impossible for me to move any distance for at least a few days, and that triangle appeared to offer the safest and most comfortable retreat. I spoke to Harry, and he waded across the stream to try its depth. From the other side he called that the water was at no point more than waist-high, and Desiree and I started to cross; but about the middle I felt the current about to sweep me off my feet. Harry waded in and helped me ashore. On that hard rock we lay for many weary hours. We had no food; but for that I would soon have been myself again, for, though my wounds were numerous, they were little more than scratches, with the exception of the gash on my shoulder. Weakened as I was by loss of blood, and lacking nourishment, I improved but slowly, and only the cold water kept the fever from me. Twice Harry went out in search of food and of an exit from the cavern. The first time he was away for several hours, and returned exhausted and empty-handed and without having found any exit other than the one by which we had entered. He had ventured through that far enough to see a group of Incas on watch at the other end. They had seen him and sprung after him, but he had returned without injury, and at the entrance into the cavern where we lay they had halted abruptly. The second time he was gone out more than half an hour, and the instant I saw his face when he returned I knew what had happened. But I was not in the best of humor; his terror appeared to me to be ridiculously childish, and I said so in no uncertain terms. But he was too profoundly agitated to show any anger. "You don't know, you don't know," was all he said in answer to me; then he added; "I can't stand this any longer. I tell you we've got to get out of here. You don't know how awful--" "Yes," said Desiree, looking at me. "But I can scarcely walk," I objected. "True," said Harry. "I know. But we can help you. There must be another exit, and we'll start now." "Very well," I said quite calmly; and I picked up one of the spears which we had carried with us, and, rising to my knees, placed the butt of the shaft against the wall near which I lay. But Harry saw my purpose, and was too quick for me. He sprang across and snatched the spear from my hand and threw it on the ground a dozen feet away. "Are you crazy?" he shouted angrily. "No," I answered; "but I am little better, and I doubt if I shall be. Come--why not? I hinder you and become bored with myself." "You blame me," he said bitterly; "but I tell you you don't know. Very well--we stay. You must give me your promise not to act the fool." "In any event, you must go soon," I answered, "or starve to death. Perhaps in another twenty-four hours I shall be stronger. Come, Desiree; will that satisfy you?" She did not answer; her back was turned to us as she stood gazing across the stream into the depths of the cavern. There was a curious tenseness in her attitude that made me follow her gaze, and what I saw left me with no wonder at it--a huge, black, indistinct form that moved slowly toward us through the darkness. Harry caught sight of it at the same moment as myself, and on the instant he turned about, covering his face with his hands, and called to Desiree and me to do likewise. Desiree obeyed; I had risen to my knees and remained so, gazing straight ahead, ready for a combat if it were not a physical one. I will not say that a certain feeling of dread did not rise in my heart, but I intended to show Desiree and Harry the childishness of their terror. Nothing could be seen but the uncertain outline of the immense bulk; but the same penetrating, sickening odor that had before all but suffocated me came faintly across the surface of the stream, growing stronger with each second that passed. Suddenly the eyes appeared--two glowing orbs of fire that caught my gaze and held it as with a chain. I did not attempt to avoid it, but returned the gaze with another as steadfast. I was telling myself: "Let us see this trick and play one stronger." My nerves centered throbbingly back of my eyes, and I gave them the whole force of my will. The thing came closer and the eyes seemed to burn into my very brain. With a great effort I brought myself back to control, dropping to my hands and knees and gripping the ground for strength. "This is nothing, this is nothing," I kept saying to myself aloud--until I realized suddenly that my voice had risen almost to a scream, and I locked my teeth tight on my lip. I no longer returned the gaze from my own power; it held me of itself. I felt my brain grow curiously numb and every muscle in my body contracted with a pain almost unbearable. Still the thing came closer and closer, and it seemed to me, half dazed as I was, that it advanced much faster than before. Then suddenly I felt a sensation of cold and moisture on my arms and legs and a pressure against my body, and I realized, as in a dream, that I had entered the stream of water! I was crawling toward the thing on my hands and knees, without having even been conscious that I had moved. That brought despair and a last supreme struggle to resist whatever mysterious power it was that dragged me forward. Cold beads of sweat rolled from my forehead. Beneath the surface of the water my hands gripped the rocks as in a vise. My teeth had sunk deep into my lower lip and covered my chin with blood, though I did not know that till afterward. But I was pulled loose from my hold, and forward. I bent the whole force of my will to the effort not to move, but my hand left the rock and crept forward. I was fully conscious of what I was doing. I knew that if I could once draw my eyes away from that compelling gaze the spell would be broken, but the power to do so was not in me. The thing had halted on the farther bank of the stream. Still I moved forward. The water now lapped against my chest; soon it was about my shoulders. I was fully conscious of the fact that in another ten feet the surface would close over my head, and that I had not the strength to swim or fight the current; but still I went forward. I tried to cry out, but could force no sound through my lips. Then suddenly the eyes began to disappear. But that at least was comprehensible, for I could distinctly see the black and heavy lids closing over them, like the curtain on a stage. They fell slowly. The eyes became half moons, then narrowed to a thin slit. I rose, panting like a man exhausted with extreme and prolonged physical exertion. The eyes were gone. A mad impulse rushed into my brain to dash forward and touch the monster, to see if that dim, black form were really a thing of flesh and blood or some contrivance of the devil. I smile at that phrase as I write it now in my study, but I did not smile then. I was standing above my knees in the water, trembling from head to foot, divided between the impulse to go forward and the inclination to flee in terror. I did neither; I stood still. I could see the thing with a fair amount of distinctness and forced my brain to take the record of my eyes. But I could make nothing of it. I guessed at rather than saw a hideous head rolling from side to side at the end of a long and sinuous neck, and writhing, reptilian coils lashing the rock at the edge of the water, like the tentacles of an octopus, only many times larger. The body itself was larger than that of any animal I had ever seen, and blacker even than the darkness. Suddenly the huge mass began to move slowly backward. The sharpness of the odor had ceased with the opening of the eyes, which did not reappear. I could dimly see its huge legs slowly rise and recede and again meet the ground. Soon the thing was barely discernible. I took a step forward as though to follow; but the strength of the current warned me of the danger of proceeding farther, and, besides, I feared every moment to see the lids again raised from the terrible eyes. The thought attacked my brain with horror, and I turned and fled in a sudden panic to the rear, calling to Harry and Desiree. They met me at the edge of the stream, and their eyes told me that they read in my face what had happened, though they had seen nothing. "You--you saw it--" Harry stammered. I nodded, scarcely able to speak. "Then--perhaps now--" "Yes," I interposed. "Let's get out of here. It's horrible. And yet how can we go? I can hardly stand." But Harry was now the one who argued for delay, saying that our retreat was the safest place we could find, and that we should wait at least until I had had time to recover from the strain of the last half-hour. Realizing that in my weakened condition I would be a hindrance to them rather than a help, I consented. Besides, if the thing reappeared I could avoid it as Harry and Desiree had done. "What is it?" Harry asked presently. We were sitting side by side, well up against the wall. It was an abrupt question, with no apparent pertinence, but I understood. "Heaven knows!" I answered shortly. I was none too pleased with myself. "But it must be something. Is it an animal?" "Do you remember," I asked by way of answer, "a treatise of Aristotle concerning which we had a discussion one day? Its subject was the hypnotic power possessed by the eyes of certain reptiles. I laughed the idea to scorn; you maintained that it was possible. Well, I agree with you; and I'd like to have about a dozen of our modern skeptical scientists in this cave with me for about five minutes." "But what is it? A reptile!" Harry exclaimed. "The thing is as big as a house!" "Well, and why not? I should guess that it is about thirty feet in height and forty or fifty in length. There have been species, now extinct, several times as large." "Then you think it is just--just an animal?" put in Desiree. "What did you think it was?" I nearly smiled. "An infernal machine?" "I don't know. Only I have never before known what it was to fear." A discussion which led us nowhere, but at least gave us the sound of one another's voices. We passed many hours in that manner. Utterly blank and wearisome, and all but hopeless. I have often wondered at the strange tenacity with which we clung to life in conditions that made of it a burden almost insupportable; and with what chance of relief? The instinct of self-preservation, it is called by the learned, but it needs a stronger name. It is more than an instinct. It is the very essence of life itself. But soon we were impelled to action by something besides the desire to escape from the cavern: the pangs of hunger. It had been many hours since we had eaten; I think we had fasted not less than three or four days. Desiree began to complain of a dizziness in her temples, and to weaken with every hour that passed. My own strength did not increase, and I saw that it would not unless I could obtain nourishment. Harry did not complain, but only because he would not. "It is useless to wait longer," I declared finally. "I grow weaker instead of stronger." We had little enough with which to burden ourselves. There were three spears, two of which Harry had brought, and myself the other. Harry and I wore only our woolen undergarments, so ragged and torn that they were but sorry covering. Desiree's single garment, made from some soft hide, was held about her waist by a girdle of the same material. The upper half of her body was bare. Her hair hung in a tangled mass over her shoulders and down her back. None of us had any covering for our feet. We crossed the stream, using the spears as staffs; but instead of advancing across the middle of the cavern we turned to the left, hugging the wall. Harry urged us on, saying that he had already searched carefully for an exit on that side, but we went slowly, feeling for a break in the wall. It was absolutely smooth, which led me to believe that the cavern had at one time been filled with water. We reached the farther wall and, turning to the right, were about to follow it. "This is senseless," said Harry impatiently. "I tell you I have examined this side, too; every inch of it." "And the one ahead of us, at right angles to this?" I asked. "That too," he answered. "And the other--the one to the right of the stream?" "No. I--I didn't go there." "Why didn't you say so?" I demanded. "Because I didn't want to," he returned sullenly. "You can go there if you care to; I don't. It was from there that--it came." I did not answer, but pushed forward, not, however, leaving the wall. Perhaps it was cowardly; you are welcome to the word if you care to use it. Myself, I know. Another half-hour and we reached the end of the lane by which we had first entered the cavern. We stood gazing at it with eyes of desire, but we knew how little chance there was of the thing being unguarded at the farther end. We knew then, of course, and only too well, why the Incas had not followed us into the cavern. "Perhaps they are gone," said Harry. "They can't stay there forever. I'm going to find out." He sprang on the edge of a boulder at the mouth of the passage and disappeared on the other side. In fifteen minutes he returned, and I saw by the expression on his face that there was no chance of escape in that direction. "They're at the other end," he said gloomily; "a dozen of 'em. I looked from behind a rock; they didn't see me. But we could never get through." We turned then, and proceeded to the third wall and followed it. But we really had no hope of finding an exit since Harry had said that he had previously explored it. We were possessed, I know, by the same thought: should we venture to follow the fourth wall? Alone, none of us would have dared; but the presence of the others lessened the fear of each. Finally we reached it. The corner was a sharp right angle, and there were rifts and crevices in the rock. "This is limestone," I said, "and if we find an exit anywhere it will be here." I turned to the right and proceeded slowly along the wall, feeling its surface with my hand. We had advanced in this manner several hundred yards when Desiree suddenly sprang forward to my side. "See!" she cried, pointing ahead with her spear. I followed the direction with my eye, and saw what appeared to be a sharp break in the wall. It was some fifty feet away. We reached it in another moment, and I think none of us would have been able to express the immeasurable relief we felt when we saw before us a broad and clear passage leading directly away from the cavern. It was very dark, but we entered it almost at a run. I think we had not known the extent of our fear of that thing in the cavern until we found the means of escape from it. We had gone about a hundred feet when we came to a turn to the left. Harry stumbled against the corner, and we halted for an instant to wait for him. Then we made the turn, side by side--and then we came to a sudden and abrupt stop, and a simultaneous gasp of terror burst from our lips. Not three feet in front of us, blocking the passage completely, stood the thing we thought we had escaped! The terrible, fiery eyes rolled from side to side as they stared straight into our own. Chapter XVIII. A VICTORY AND A CONVERSATION. We stood for a long moment rooted to the spot, unable to move. Then, calling to Harry and grasping Desiree by the arm, I started to turn. But too late. For Desiree, inspired by a boundless terror, suddenly raised her spear high above her head and hurled it straight at the glowing, flashing eyes. The point struck squarely between them with such force that it must have sunk clear to the shaft. The head of the monster rolled for an instant from side to side, and then, before I was aware of what had happened, so rapid was the movement, a long, snakelike coil had reached out through the air and twisted itself about Desiree's body. As she felt the thing tighten about her waist and legs she gave a scream of terror and twisted her face round toward me. The next instant the snaky tentacle had dragged her along the ground and lifted her to the head of the monster, where her white body could be seen in sharp outline sprawling over its black form, between the terrible eyes. Harry and I sprang forward. As we did so the eyes closed and the reptile began to move backward with incredible swiftness, lashing about on the ground before us with other tentacles similar to the one that had captured Desiree. I cried out to Harry to avoid them. He did not answer, but rushed blindly forward. Desiree's agonized shrieks rose to the pitch of madness. The eyes were closed, leaving but a vague mark for our spears, and besides, there was the danger of striking Desiree. We were barely able to keep pace with the thing as it receded swiftly down the broad passage. Desiree had twisted her body half round, and her face was turned toward us, shadowy as a ghost. Then her head fell forward and hung loosely and her lips were silent. She had fainted. The thing moved swifter than ever; we were barely able to keep up with it. Harry made a desperate leap forward. I cried out a warning, but one of the writhing tentacles swept against him and knocked him to the ground. He was up again on the instant and came rushing up from behind. Suddenly the passage broadened until the walls were no longer visible; we had entered another cavern. I heard the sound of running water somewhere ahead of us. The pace of the reptile had not slackened for an instant. Harry had again caught up with us, and as he ran at my side I saw him raise his spear aloft; but I caught his arm and held it. "Desiree!" I panted. Her body covered the only part of the thing that presented a fair mark. Harry swore, but his arm fell. "To the side!" he gasped. "We can't get at it here!" I saw his meaning and followed at his heels as he swerved suddenly to the right and sprang forward in an attempt to get past the reptile's head. But in our eagerness we forgot caution and went too close. I felt one of the snaky tentacles wrap itself round my legs and body, and raised my voice in a warning to Harry, but too late. He, too, was ensnared, and a moment later we had both been lifted bodily from the ground and swung through the air to the side of Desiree. She was still unconscious. I writhed and twisted desperately, but that muscular coil held me firmly as a band of steel, tight against the huge and hideous head. Harry was on the other side of Desiree, not three feet from me. I could see his muscles strain and pull in his violent efforts to tear himself free. I had given it up. But suddenly, quite near my shoulder, I saw the lid suddenly begin to raise itself from one of the terrible eyes. I was almost on top of the thing and a little above it. I turned my head aside and called to Harry. "The eye!" I gasped. "To your right! The spear! Are your arms free?" Then as I saw he understood, I turned a quarter of the way round--as far as I could get--and raised my spear the full extent of my arm, and brought it down with every ounce of my strength into the very center of the glowing eye beneath me. At the same moment I saw Harry's arm descend and the flash of his spear. The point of my own had sunk until the copper head was completely buried. I grasped the shaft and pulled and twisted it about until it finally was jerked forth. From the opening it had made there issued a black stream. Suddenly the body of the reptile quivered convulsively. The head rolled from side to side. There was a quick tightening of the tentacle round my body until my bones felt as though they were being crushed into shapelessness; and as suddenly it loosened. Other tentacles lashed and beat on the ground furiously. The reptile's swift backward movement halted jerkily. I made a desperate effort to tear myself free. The tentacle quivered and throbbed violently, and suddenly flew apart like a released spring, and I fell to the ground. In an instant Harry was at my side, and we both leaped forward with our spears, slashing at the tentacle which still held Desiree in its grasp. Others writhed on the ground about our feet, but feebly. There came a sudden cry from Harry, and his spear clattered on the ground as he opened his arms to receive Desiree's unconscious body, which came tumbling down with the severed coil still wrapped about it. But there was life in the reptile's immense body. It staggered and swayed from side to side in drunken agony. Its monstrous head rolled about, sweeping the air in a prodigious circle. The poison of its breath came to us in great puffs. There was something supremely horrible about the thing in its very helplessness, and I was shuddering violently as I stooped to help Harry lift Desiree from the ground and carry her away. We did not go far, for we were barely able to carry her. We laid her on the hard rock with her head in Harry's lap. Her body was limp as a rag. For many minutes we worked over her, rubbing her temples and wrists, and pressing the nerve centers at the back of the neck, but without effect. "She is dead," said Harry with a curious calm. I shook my head. "She has a pulse--see! But we must find that water. I think she isn't injured; it is her weakened condition from the lack of food that keeps her so. Wait for me." I started out across the cavern in the direction from which the sound of the water appeared to come, bearing off to the right from the huge, quivering form of the monster whose gigantic body rose and fell on the ground with a force that seemed to shake the very walls of the cavern. I found the stream with little difficulty, not far away, and returned to Harry. Together we carried Desiree to its edge. The blood was stubborn, and for a long time refused to move, but the cold water at length revived her; her eyes slowly opened, and she raised her hand to her head with a faltering gesture. But she was extremely weak, and we saw that the end was near unless nourishment could be found for her. I stayed by her side, with my arms round her shoulders, and Harry set out with one of the spears. He bore off to the left, toward the spot where the body of the immense reptile lay; I was too far away to see it in the darkness. "It isn't possible that the thing is fit to eat," I had objected, and he had answered me with a look which I understood, and was silenced. Soon a sound as of a scuffle on the rocks came through the darkness from the direction he had taken. I called out to ask if he needed me, but there was no answer. Ten minutes longer I waited, while the sound continued unabated. Once I heard the clatter of his spear on the rock. I was just rising to my feet to run to the scene when suddenly he appeared in the semidarkness. He was coming slowly, and was dragging along the ground what appeared to be the form of some animal. Another minute and he stood at my side as I sat holding Desiree. "A peccary!" I cried, bending over the body of the four-footed creature that lay at his feet. "How the deuce did it ever get down here?" "Peccary--my aunt!" observed Harry, bending down to look at Desiree. "Do peccaries live in the water? Do they have snouts like catfish? This animal is my own invention. There's about ten million more of 'em over there making a gorgeous banquet off our late lamented friend. And now, let's see." He knelt down by the still warm body and with the point of his spear ripped it open from neck to rump. Desiree stirred about in my arms. "Gad, that smells good!" cried Harry. I shuddered. He dragged the thing a few feet away, and I heard him slashing away at it with his spear. A minute later he came running over to us with his hands full of something. That was not exactly a pretty meal. How Desiree, in her frightfully weakened condition, ever managed to get the stuff down and keep it there is beyond me. But she did, and I was not behind her. And, after all, it was fresh. Harry said it was "sweet." Well, perhaps it was. We bathed Desiree's hands and face and gave her water to drink, and soon after she passed into a seemingly healthy sleep. There was about ten pounds of meat left. Harry washed it in the stream and stowed it away on a rock beneath the surface of the water. Then he announced his intention of going back for more. "I'm going with you," I declared. "Here--help me fix Desiree." "Hardly," said Harry. "Didn't I say there are millions of those things over there? Anyway, there are hundreds. If they should happen to scatter in this direction and find her, she wouldn't stand a chance. You take the other spear and stay here." So I sat still, with Desiree's body in my arms, and waited for him. My sensations were not unpleasant. I could actually feel the blood quicken in my veins. Civilization places the temple of life in the soul or the heart, as she speaks through the mouth of the preacher or the poet; but let civilization go for four or five days without anything to eat and see what happens. The organ is vulgar, but its voice is loud. I need not name it. In five minutes Harry returned, dragging two more of the creatures at his heels. In half an hour there were a dozen of them lying in a heap at the edge of the water. "That's all," he announced, panting heavily from his exertions. "The rest have taken to the woods, which, I imagine, is quite a journey from here. You ought to see our friend--the one who couldn't make his eyes behave. They've eaten him full of holes. He's the most awful mess--sickening beast. He didn't have a bone in him--all crumpled up like an accordion. Utterly spineless." "And who, in the name of goodness, do you think is going to eat all that?" I demanded, pointing to the heap of bodies. Harry grinned. "I don't know. I was so excited at the very idea of a square meal that I didn't know when to stop. I'd give five fingers for a fire and some salt. Just a nickel's worth of salt. Now, you lie down and sleep while I cut these things up, and then I'll take a turn at it myself?" He brought me one of the hides for a pillow, and I lay back as gently as possible that I might not awaken Desiree. Her head and shoulders rested against my body as she lay peacefully sleeping. I was awakened by Harry's hand tugging at my arm. Rising on my elbows, I demanded to know how long I had slept. "Six or seven hours," said Harry. "I waited as long as I could. Keep a lookout." Desiree stirred uneasily, but seemed to be still asleep. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The heap of bodies had disappeared; no wonder Harry was tired! I reproached myself for having slept so long. Harry had arranged himself a bed that was really comfortable with the skins of his kill. "That is great stuff," I heard him murmur wearily; then all was still. I sat motionless, stiff and numb, but afraid to move for fear of disturbing Desiree. Presently she stirred again, and, bending over her, I saw her eyes slowly open. They met my own with a curious, steadfast gaze--she was still half asleep. "Is that you, Paul?" she murmured. "Yes." "I am glad. I seem to feel--what is it?" "I don't know, Desiree. What do you mean?" "Nothing--nothing. Oh. it feels so good--good--to have you hold me like this." "Yes?" I smiled. "But, yes. Where is Harry?" "Asleep. Are you hungry?" "Yes--no. Not now. I don't know why. I want to talk. What has happened?" I told her of everything that had occurred since she had swooned; she shuddered as memory returned, but forgot herself in my attempt at a humorous description of Harry's valor as a hunter of food. "You don't need to turn up your nose," I retorted to her expressive grimace; "you ate some of the stuff yourself." There was a silence; then suddenly Desiree's voice came: "Paul--" She hesitated and stopped. "Yes." "What do you think of me?" "Do you want a lengthy review?" I smiled. What a woman she was! Under those circumstances, and amid those surroundings, she was still Desiree Le Mire. "Don't laugh at me," she said. "I want to know. I have never spoken of what I did that time in the cavern--you know what I mean. I am sorry now. I suppose you despise me." "But you did nothing," I objected. "And you wouldn't. You were merely amusing yourself." She turned on me quickly with a flash of her old fire. "Don't play with me!" she burst out. "My friend, you have never yet given me a serious word." "Nor any one else," I answered. "My dear Desiree, do you not know that I am incapable of seriousness? Nothing in the world is worth it." "At least, you need not pretend," she retorted. "I meant once for you to die. You know it. And since you pretend not to understand me, I ask you--these are strange words from my lips--will you forgive me?" "There is nothing to forgive." "My friend, you are becoming dull. An evasive answer should always be a witty one. Must I ask you again?" "That--depends," I answered, hardly knowing what to say. "On--" "On whether or not you were serious, once upon a time, when you made a--shall we call it a confession? If you were, I offended you in my own conceit, but let us be frank. I thought you were acting, and I played my role. I do not yet believe that you were; I am not conceited enough to think it possible." "I do not say," Desiree began; then she stopped and added hastily: "But that is past. I shall not tell you that again. Perhaps I forgot myself. Perhaps it was a pretty play. You have not answered me." I looked at her. Strange and terrible as her experiences and sufferings had been, she had lost little of her beauty. Her face was rendered only the more delicate by its pallor. Her white and perfect body, only half seen in the half-darkness, conveyed a sense of the purest beauty with no hint of immodesty. But I was moved not by what I saw, but by what I knew. I had admired her always as Le Mire; but her bravery, her hardihood, her sympathy for others under circumstances when any other woman would have been thinking only of herself--had these awakened in my breast a feeling stronger than admiration? I did not know. But my voice trembled a little as I said: "I need not answer you, Desiree. I repeat that there is nothing to forgive. You sought revenge, then sacrificed it; but still revenge is yours." She looked at me for a moment in silence, then said slowly: "I do not understand you." For reply I took her hand in my own from where it lay idly on my knee, and, carrying it to my lips, pressed a long kiss on the top of each of the slender white fingers. Then I held the hand tight between both of mine as I asked simply, looking into her eyes: "Do you understand me now?" Another silence. "My revenge," she breathed. I nodded and again pressed her hand to my lips. "Yes, Desiree. We are not children. I think we know what we mean. But you have not told me. Did you mean what you said that day on the mountain?" "Ah, I thought that was a play!" she murmured. "Tell me! Did you mean it?" "I never confess the same sin twice, my friend." "Desiree, did you mean it?" Then suddenly, with the rapidity of lightning, her manner changed. She bent toward me with parted lips and looked straight into my eyes. There was passion in the gaze; but when she spoke her voice was quite even and so low I scarcely heard. "Paul," she said, "I shall not again say I love you. Such words should not be wasted. Not now, perhaps; but that is because we are where we are. And if we should return? "You have said that nothing is worth a serious word to you; and you are right. You are too cynical; things are bitter in your mouth, and doubly so when they leave it. Just now you are amusing yourself by pretending to care for me. Perhaps you do not know it, but you are. Search your heart, my friend, and tell me--do you want my love?" Well, there was no need to search my heart, she had laid it open. I hated myself then; and I turned away, unable to meet her eyes, as I said: "Bon Dieu!" she cried. "That is an ugly speech, monsieur!" And she laughed aloud. "But we must not awaken Harry," she continued with sudden softness. "What a boy he is--and what a man! Ah, he knows what it is to love!" That topic suited me little better, but I followed her. We talked of Harry, Le Mire with an amount of enthusiasm that surprised me. Suddenly she stopped abruptly and announced that she was hungry. I found Harry's pantry after a few minutes' search and took some of its contents to Desiree. Then I returned to the edge of the water and ate my portion alone. That meal was one scarcely calculated for the pleasures of companionship or conviviality. It was several hours after that before Harry awoke, the greater part of which Desiree and I were silent. I would have given something to have known her thoughts; my own were not very pleasant. It is always a disagreeable thing to discover that some one else knows you better than you know yourself. And Desiree had cut deep. At the time I thought her unjust; time alone could have told which of us was right. If she were here with me now--but she is not. Finally Harry awoke. He was delighted to find Desiree awake and comparatively well, and demonstrated the fact with a degree of effusion that prompted me to leave them alone together. But I did not go far; a hundred paces made me sit down to rest before returning, so weak was I from wounds and fasting. Harry's spirits were high, for no apparent reason other than that we were still alive, for that was the best that could be said for us. So I told him; he retorted with a hearty clap on the back that sent me sprawling to the ground. "What the deuce!" he exclaimed, stooping to help me up. "Are you as weak as that? Gad, I'm sorry!" "That is the second fall he has had," said Desiree, with a meaning smile. Indeed, she was having her revenge! But my strength was not long in returning. Over a long stretch our diet would hardly have been conducive to health, but it was exactly what I needed to put blood and strength in me. And Harry and Desiree, too, for that matter. Again I had to withstand Harry's eager demands for action. He began within two hours to insist on exploring the cave, and would hardly take a refusal. "I won't stir a foot until I am able to knock you down," I declared finally and flatly. "Never again will I attempt to perform the feats of a Hercules when I am fit only for an invalid's chair." And he was forced to wait. As I say, however, my strength was not long in returning, and when it started it came with a rush. My wounds were healing perfectly; only one remained open. Harry, with his usual phenomenal luck, had got nothing but the merest scratches. Desiree improved very slowly. The strain of those four days in the cavern had been severe, and her nerves required more pleasant surroundings than a dark and damp cavern and more agreeable diet than raw meat, to adjust themselves. Thus it was that when Harry and I found ourselves ready to start out to explore the cavern and, if possible, find an exit on the opposite side from the one where we had entered, we left Desiree behind, seated on a pile of skins, with a spear on the ground at her side. "We'll be back in an hour," said Harry, stooping to kiss her; and the phrase, which might have come from the lips of a worthy Harlem husband leaving for a little sojourn with friends on the corner, brought a smile to my face. We went first toward the spot where lay the remains of "our friend with the eyes," as Harry called him, and we were guided straight by our noses, for the odor of the thing was beginning to be--to use another phrase of Harry's--"most awful vile." There was little to see except a massive pile of crumpled hide and sinking flesh. As we approached, several hundred of the animals with which Harry had filled our larder scampered away toward the water. "They're not fighters," I observed, turning to watch them disappear in the darkness. "No," Harry agreed. "See here," he added suddenly, holding up a piece of the hide of the reptile; "this stuff is an inch thick and tough as rats. It ought to be good for something." But by that time I was pinching my nostrils with my fingers, and I pulled him away. Several hundred yards farther on we came to the wall of the cavern. We followed it, turning to the right; but though it was uneven and marked by projecting boulders and deep crevices, we found no exit. We had gone at least half a mile, I think, when we came to the end. There it turned in a wide circle to the right, and we took the new direction, which was toward the spot where we had left Desiree, only considerably to the left. Another five minutes found us at the edge of the stream, which at that point was much swifter than it was farther up. We waded in and discovered that the cause was its extreme narrowness. "But where does the thing go to?" asked Harry, taking the words from my mouth. We soon found out. Proceeding along the bank to the left, within fifty feet we came to the wall. There the stream entered and disappeared. But, unlike the others we had seen, above this there was a wide and high arch, which made it appear as though the stream were passing under a massive bridge. The current was swift but not turbulent, and there was something about the surface of that stream flowing straight through the mountain ahead of us-- Harry and I glanced at each other quickly, moved by the same thought. There was an electric thrill in that glance. But we did not speak--then. For suddenly, startlingly, a voice sounded throughout the cavern--Desiree's voice, raised in a shrill cry of terror. It was repeated twice before our startled senses found themselves; then we turned with one impulse and raced into the darkness toward her. Chapter XIX. AFLOAT. As we ran swiftly, following the edge of the stream, the cries continued, filling the cavern with racing echoes. They could not quicken our step; we were already straining every muscle as we bounded over the rock. Luckily, the way was clear, for in the darkness we could see but a few feet ahead. Desiree's voice was sufficient guide for us. Finally we reached her. I don't know what I expected to see, but certainly not that which met our eyes. "Your spear!" cried Harry, dashing off to the right, away from the stream. My spear was ready. I followed. Desiree was standing exactly in the spot where we had left her, screaming at the top of her voice. Around her, on every side, was a struggling, pushing mass of the animals we had frightened away from the carcass of the reptile. There were hundreds of them packed tightly together, crowding toward her, some leaping on the backs of others, some trampled to the ground beneath the feet of their fellows. They did not appear to be actually attacking her, but we could not see distinctly. This we saw in a flash and an instant later had dashed forward into the mass with whirling spears. It was a farce, rather than a fight. We brought our spears down on the swarm of heads and backs without even troubling to take aim. They pressed against our legs; we waded through as though it were a current of water. Those we hit either fell or ran; they waited for no second blow. Desiree had ceased her cries. "They won't hurt you!" Harry had shouted. "Where's your spear?" "Gone. They came on me before I had time to get it." "Then kick 'em, push 'em--anything. They're nothing but pigs." They had the senseless stubbornness of pigs, at least. They seemed absolutely unable to realize that their presence was not desired till they actually felt the spear--utterly devoid even of instinct. "So this is what you captured for us at the risk of your life!" I shouted to Harry in disgust. "They haven't even sense enough to squeal." We finally reached Desiree's side and cleared a space round her. But it took us another fifteen minutes of pushing and thrusting and indiscriminate massacre before we routed the brutes. When they did decide to go they lost no time, but scampered away toward the water with a sliding, tumbling rush. "Gad!" exclaimed Harry, resting on his spear. "And here's a pretty job. Look at that! I wish they'd carry off the dead ones." "Ugh! The nasty brutes! I was never so frightened in my life," said Desiree. "You frightened us, all right," Harry retorted. "Utterly fungoed. I never ran so fast in my life. And all you had to do was shake your spear at 'em and say boo! I thought it was the roommate of our friend with the eyes." "Have I been eating those things?" Desiree demanded. Harry grinned. "Yes, and that isn't all. You'll continue to eat 'em as long as I'm the cook. Come on, Paul; it's a day's work." We dragged the bodies down to the edge of the stream and tossed them into the current, saving three or four for the replenishment of the larder. I then first tried my hand at the task of skinning and cleaning them, and by the time I had finished was thoroughly disgusted with it and myself. Harry had become hardened to it; he whistled over the job as though he had been born in a butcher's shop. "I'd rather go hungry," I declared, washing my hands and arms in the cool water. "Oh, sure," said Harry; "my efforts are never appreciated. I've fed you up till you've finally graduated from the skeleton class, and you immediately begin to criticize the table. I know now what it means to run a boarding-house. Why don't you change your hotel?" By the time we had finished we were pretty well tired out, but Harry wouldn't hear of rest. I was eager myself for another look at the exit of that stream. So, again taking up our spears, we set out across the cavern, this time with Desiree between us. She swallowed Harry's ridicule of her fear and refused to stay behind. Again we stood at the point where the stream left the cavern through the broad arch of a tunnel. "There's a chance there," said Harry, turning to me. "It looks good." "Yes, if we had a boat," I agreed. "But that's a ten-mile current, and probably deep." I waded out some twenty feet and was nearly swept beneath the surface as the water circled about my shoulders. "We couldn't follow that on our feet," I declared, returning to the shore. "But it does look promising. At ten miles an hour we'd reach the western slope in four hours. Four hours to sunshine--but it might as well be four hundred. It's impossible." We turned then and retraced our steps to our camp, if I may give it so dignified a title. I hated to give up the idea of following the bed of the stream, for it was certain that somewhere it found the surface of the earth, and I revolved in my brain every conceivable means to do so. The same thought was in Harry's mind, for he turned to me suddenly: "If we only had something for stringers, I could make a raft that would carry us to the Pacific and across it. The hide of that thing over yonder would be just the stuff, and we could get a piece as big as we wanted." I shook my head. "I thought of that. But we have absolutely nothing to hold it. There wasn't a bone in his body; you know that." But the idea was peculiarly tempting, and we spent an hour discussing it. Desiree was asleep on her pile of skins. We sat side by side on the ground some distance away, talking in low tones. Suddenly there was a loud splash in the stream, which was quite close to us. "By gad!" exclaimed Harry, springing to his feet. "Did you hear that? It sounded like--remember the fish we pulled in from the Inca's raft?" "Which has nothing to do with this," I answered. "It's nothing but the water-pigs. I've heard 'em a thousand times in the last few days. And the Lord knows we have enough of them." But Harry protested that the splash was much too loud to have been caused by any water-pig and waded into the stream to investigate. I rose to my feet and followed him leisurely, for no reason in particular, but was suddenly startled by an excited cry from his lips: "Paul--the spear! Quick! It's a whale!" I ran as swiftly as I could to the shore and returned with our spears, but when I reached Harry he greeted me with an oath of disappointment and the information that the "whale" had disappeared. He was greatly excited. "I tell you he was twenty feet long! A big black devil, with a head like a cow." "You're sure it wasn't like a pig?" I asked skeptically. Harry looked at me. "I have drunk nothing but water for a month," he said dryly. "It was a fish, and some fish." "Well, there's probably more like him," I observed. "But they can wait. Come on and get some sleep, and then--we'll see." Some hours afterward, having filled ourselves with sleep and food (I had decided, after mature deliberation, not to change my hotel), we started out, armed with our spears. Desiree accompanied us. Harry told her bluntly that she would be in the way, but she refused to stay behind. We turned upstream, thinking our chances better in that direction than toward the swifter current, and were surprised to find that the cavern was much larger than any we had before seen. In something over a mile we had not yet reached the farther wall, for we walked at a brisk pace for a quarter of an hour or more. At this point the stream was considerably wider than it was below, and there was very little current. Desiree stood on the bank while Harry and I waded out above our waists. There was a long and weary wait before anything occurred. The water was cold, and my limbs became stiff and numb; I called to Harry that it was useless to wait longer, and was turning toward the shore when there was a sudden commotion in the water not far from where he stood. I turned and saw Harry plunge forward with his spear. "I've got him!" he yelled. "Come on!" I went. But I soon saw that Harry didn't have him. He had Harry. They were all of ten yards away from me, and by the time I reached the spot there was nothing to be seen but flying water thrashed into foam and fury. I caught a glimpse of Harry being jerked through the air; he was holding on for dear life with both hands to the shaft of his spear. The water was over my head there; I was swimming with all the strength I had. "I've got him--through the belly," Harry gasped as I fought my way through the spray to his side. "His head! Find his head!" I finally succeeded in getting my hand on Harry's spear-shaft near where it entered the body of the fish; but the next instant it was jerked from me, dragging me beneath the surface. I came up puffing and made another try, but missed it by several feet. Harry kept shouting: "His head! Get him in the head!" For that I was saving my spear. But I could make nothing of either head or tail as the immense fish leaped furiously about in the water, first this way, then that. Once he came down exactly on top of me and carried me far under; I felt his slippery, smooth body glide over me, and the tail struck me a heavy blow in the face as it passed. Blinded and half choked, I fought my way back to the surface and saw that they had got fifty feet away. I swam to them, breathing hard and nearly exhausted. The water foamed less furiously about them now. As I came near the fish leaped half out of the water and came down flat on his side; I saw his ugly black head pointed directly toward me. "He's about gone!" Harry gasped. He was still clinging to the spear. I set myself firmly against the water and waited. Soon it parted violently not ten feet in front of me, and again the head appeared; he was coming straight for me. I could see the dull beady eyes on either side, and I let him have the spear right between them. There was little force to the blow, but the fish himself furnished that; he was coming like lightning. I hurled my body aside with a great effort and felt him sweep past me. I turned to swim after them and heard Harry's great shout: "You got him!" By the time I reached him the fish had turned over on his back and was floating on the surface, motionless. We had still to get him ashore, and, exhausted as we were, it was no easy task. But there was very little current, and after half an hour of pulling and shoving we got him into shallow water, where we could find the bottom with our feet. Then it was easier. Desiree waded out to us and lent a hand, and in another ten minutes we had him high and dry on the rock. He was even larger than I had thought. No wonder Harry had called him--or one like him--a whale. It was all of fifteen feet from his snout to the tip of his tail. The skin was dead black on top and mottled irregularly on the belly. As we sat sharpening the points of our spears on the rock, preparatory to skinning him, Desiree stood regarding the fish with unqualified approval. She turned to us: "Well, I'd rather eat that than those other nasty things." "Oh, that isn't what we want him for," said Harry, rubbing his finger against the edge of his spear-point. "He's probably not fit to eat." "Then why all this trouble?" asked Desiree. "Dear lady, we expect to ride him home," said Harry, rising to his feet. Then he explained our purpose, and you may believe that Desiree was the most excited of the lot as we ripped down the body of the fish from tail to snout and began to peel off the tough skin. "If you succeed you may choose the new hangings for my boudoir," she said, with an attempt at lightness not altogether successful. "As for me," I declared, "I shall eat fish every day of my life out of pure gratitude." "You'll do it out of pure necessity," Harry put in, "if you don't get busy." It took us three hours of whacking and slashing and tearing to pull the fish to pieces, but we worked with a purpose and a will. When we had finished, this is what we had to show: A long strip of bone, four inches thick and twelve feet long, and tough as hickory, from either side of which the smaller bones projected at right angles. They were about an inch in thickness and two inches apart. The lower end of the backbone, near the tail, we had broken off. We examined it and lifted it and bent it half double. "Absolutely perfect!" Harry cried in jubilation. "Three more like this and we'll sail down the coast to Callao." "If we can get 'em," I observed. "But two would do. We could make it a triangle." Harry looked at me. "Paul, you're an absolute genius. But would it be big enough to hold us?" We discussed that question on our way back to camp, whither we carried the backbone of our fish, together with some of the meat. Then, after a hearty meal, we slept. After seven hours of the hardest kind of work we were ready for it. That was our program for the time that followed--time that stretched into many weary hours, for, once started, we worked feverishly, so impatient had we become by dint of that faint glimmer of hope. We were going to try to build a raft, on which we were going to try to embark on the stream, by which we were going to try to find our way out of the mountain. The prospect made us positively hilarious, so slender is the thread by which hope jerks us about. The first part of our task was the most strenuous. We waited and waded round many hours before another fish appeared, and then he got away from us. Another attempt was crowned with success after a hard fight. The second one was even larger than the first. The next two were too small to be of use in the raft, but we saved them for another purpose. Then, after another long search, lasting many hours, we ran into half a dozen of them at once. By that time we were fairly expert with our spears, besides having discovered their vulnerable spot--the throat, just forward from the gills. To this day I don't know whether or not they were man-eaters. Their jaws were roomy and strong as those of any shark; but they never closed on us. Thus we had four of the large backbones and two smaller ones. Next we wanted a covering, and for that purpose we visited the remains of the reptile which had first led us into the cavern. Its hide was half an inch thick and tough as the toughest leather. There was no difficulty in loosening it, for by that time the flesh was so decayed and sunken that it literally fell off. That job was the worst of all. Time and again, after cutting away with the points of our spears--our only tools--until we could stand it no longer, we staggered off to the stream like drunken men, sick and faint with the sight and smell of the mess. But that, too, came to an end, and finally we marched off to the camp, which we had removed a half-mile upstream, dragging after us a piece of the hide about thirty feet long and half as wide. It was not as heavy as we had thought, which made it all the better for our purpose. The remainder of our task, though tedious, was not unpleasant. We first made the larger bones, which were to serve as the beams of our raft, exactly the same length by filing off the ends of the longer ones with rough bits of granite. I have said it was tedious. Then we filed off each of the smaller bones projecting from the neural arch until they were of equal length. They extended on either side about ten inches, which, allowing four inches for the width of the larger bone and one inch for the covering, would make our raft slightly over a foot in depth. To make the cylindrical column rigid, we bound each of the vertebrae to the one in direct juxtaposition on either side firmly with strips of hide, several hundred feet of which we had prepared. This gave us four beams held straight and true, without any play in either direction, with only a slight flexibility resulting from the cartilages within the center cord. With these four beams we formed a square, placing them on their edges, end to end. At each corner of the square we lashed the ends together firmly with strips of hide. It was both firm and flexible after we had lashed the corners over and over with the strips, that there might be no play under the strain of the current. Over this framework we stretched the large piece of hide so that the ends met on top, near the middle. The bottom was thus absolutely watertight. We folded the corners in and caught them up with strips over the top. Then, with longer strips, we fastened up the sides, passing the strips back and forth across the top, from side to side, having first similarly secured the two ends. As a final precaution, we passed broader strips around both top and bottom, lashing them together in the center of the top. And there was our raft, twelve feet square, over a foot deep, water-tight as a town drunkard, and weighing not more than a hundred pounds. It has taken me two minutes to tell it; it took us two weeks to do it. But we discovered immediately that the four beams on the sides and ends were not enough, for Desiree's weight alone caused the skin to sag clear through in the center, though we had stretched it as tightly as possible. We were forced to unlash all the strips running from side to side and insert supports, made of smaller bones, across the middle each way. These we reinforced on their ends with the thickest hide we could find, that they might not puncture the bottom. After that it was fairly firm; though its sea-worthiness was not improved, it was much easier to navigate than it would have been before. For oars we took the lower ends of the backbones of the two smaller fish and covered them with hide. They were about five feet long and quite heavy; but we intended to use them more for the purpose of steering than for propulsion. The current of the stream would attend to that for us. Near the center of the raft we arranged a pile of the skins of the water-pigs for Desiree; a seat by no means uncomfortable. The strips which ran back and forth across the top afforded a hold as security against the tossing of the craft; but for her feet we arranged two other strips to pass over her ankles what time she rested. This was an extreme precaution, for we did not expect the journey to be a long one. Finally we loaded on our provisions--about thirty pounds of the meat of the fish and water-pigs, wrapping it securely in two or three of the skins and strapping them firmly to the top. "And now," said I, testing the strips on the corners for the last time, "all we need is a name for her and a bottle of wine." "And a homeward-bound pennant," put in Harry. "The name is easy enough," said Desiree. "I hereby christen her Clarte du Soleil." "Which means?" asked Harry, whose French came only in spots. "Sunshine," I told him. "Presumably after the glorious King of the Incas, who calls himself the Child of the Sun. But it's a good name. May Heaven grant that it takes us there!" "I think we ought to take more grub," said Harry--an observation which he had made not less than fifty times in the preceding fifty minutes. He received no support and grumbled to himself something about the horrible waste of leaving so much behind. Why it was I don't know, but we were fully persuaded that we were about to say good-by forever to this underground world and its dangers. Somehow, we had coaxed ourselves into the belief that success was certain; it was as though we had seen the sunlight streaming in from the farther end of the arched tunnel into which the stream disappeared. There was an assurance about the words of each that strengthened this feeling in the others, and hope had shut out all thought of failure as we prepared to launch our craft. It took us some time to get it to the edge of the water, though it was close by, for we handled it with extreme care, that it might not be torn on the rocks. Altogether, with the provisions, it weighed close to one hundred and fifty pounds. We were by no means sure that the thing would carry us, and when once we had reached the water we forgot caution in our haste to try it. We held it at the edge while Desiree arranged herself on the pile of skins. The spears lay across at her feet, strapped down for security. Harry stepped across to the farther edge of the raft. "Ready!" he called, and I shoved off, wading behind. When the water was up to my knees I climbed aboard and picked up my oar. "By all the nine gods, look at her!" cried Harry in huge delight. "She takes about three inches! Man, she'd carry an army!" "Allons!" cried Desiree, with gay laughter. "C'est Perfection!" "Couldn't be better," I agreed; "but watch yourself, Hal. When we get into the current things are going to begin to happen. If it weren't for the beastly darkness 'twould be easy enough. As it is, one little rock the size of your head could send us to the bottom." We were still near the bank, working our way out slowly. Harry and I had to maintain positions equidistant from the center in order to keep the raft balanced; hence I had to push her out alone. Considering her bulk, she answered to the oar very well. Another five minutes and we were near the middle of the stream. At that point there was but little current and we drifted slowly. Harry went to the bow, while I took up a position on the stern--if I may use such terms for such a craft--directly behind Desiree. We figured that we were then about a mile from the Point where the stream left the cavern. Gradually, as the stream narrowed, the strength of the current increased. Still it was smooth, and the raft sailed along without a tremor. Once or twice, caught by some trick of the current, she turned half round, poking her nose ahead, but she soon righted herself. The water began to curl up on the sides as we were carried more and more swiftly onward, with a low murmur that was music to us. The stream became so narrow that we could see the bank on either side, though dimly, and I knew we were approaching the exit. I called to Harry: "Keep her off to the right as we make the turn!" and he answered: "Aye, aye, sir!" with a wave of the hand. This, at least, was action with a purpose. Another minute and we saw the arch directly ahead of us, round a bend in the stream. The strength of the current carried us toward the off bank, but we plied our oars desperately and well, and managed to keep fairly well in to the end of the curve. We missed the wall of the tunnel--black, grim rock that would have dashed out our brains--by about ten feet, and were swept forward under the arch, on our way--so we thought--to the land of sunshine. Chapter XX. AN INCA SPEAR. Here I might most appropriately insert a paragraph on the vanity of human wishes and endeavor. But events, they say, speak for themselves; and still, for my own part, I prefer the philosopher to the historian. Mental digestion is a wearisome task; you are welcome to it. To the story. As I have said, we missed the wall of the tunnel by a scant ten feet, and we kept on missing it. Once under the arch, our raft developed a most stubborn inclination to bump up against the rocky banks instead of staying properly in the middle of the current, as it should. First to one side, then to the other, it swung, while Harry and I kept it off with our oars, often missing a collision by inches. But at least the banks were smooth and level, and as long as the stream itself remained clear of obstruction there was but little real danger. The current was not nearly so swift as I had expected it would be. In the semidarkness it was difficult to calculate our rate of speed, but I judged that we were moving at about six or seven miles an hour. We had gone perhaps three miles when we came to a sharp bend in the stream, to the left, almost at a right angle. Harry, at the bow, was supposed to be on the lookout, but he failed to see it until we were already caught in its whirl. Then he gave a cry of alarm, and together we swung the raft to the left, avoiding the right bank of the curve by less than a foot. Once safely past, I sent Harry to the stern and took the bow myself, which brought down upon him a deal of keen banter from Desiree. There the tunnel widened, and the raft began to glide easily onward, without any of its sudden dashes to right or left. I rested on my oar, gazing intently ahead; at the best I could make out the walls a hundred yards ahead, and but dimly. All was silence, save the gentle swish of the water against the sides of the raft and the patter of Harry's oar dipping idly on one side or the other. Suddenly Desiree's voice came through the silence, soft and very low: "Pendant une anne' toute entiere, Le regiment na Pas r'paru. Au Ministere de la Guerre On le r'porta comme perdu. "On se r'noncait a r'trouver sa trace, Quand un matin subitement, On le vit r'paraitre sur la place, L'Colonel toujours en avant." I waited until the last note had died away in the darkness. "Are those your thoughts?" I asked then, half turning. "No," said Desiree, "but I want to kill my thoughts. As for them--" She hesitated, and after a short pause her voice again broke into melody: "Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld; Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more." Her voice, subdued and low, breathed a sweetness that seemed almost to be of another world. My ear quivered with the vibrations, and long after she was silent the last mellow note floated through my brain. Suddenly I became conscious of another sound, scarcely less musical. It, too, was low; so low and faint that at first I thought my ear deceived me, or that some distant echo was returning Desiree's song down the dark tunnel. Gradually, very gradually, it became louder and clearer, until at length I recognized it. It was the rush of water, unbroken, still low and at a great distance. I turned to remark on it to Harry, but Desiree took the words from my mouth. "I seem to hear something--like the surf," she said. "That isn't possible, is it?" I could have smiled but for the deep note of hope in her voice. "Hardly," I answered. "I have heard it for several minutes. It is probably some shallows. We must look sharp." Another fifteen minutes, and I began to notice that the speed of the current was increasing. The sound of the rushing water, too, was quite distinct. Still the raft moved more and more swiftly, till I began to feel alarmed. I turned to Harry: "That begins to sound like rapids. See that the spears are fastened securely, and stand ready with your oar. Sit tight, Desiree." One thing was certain: there was nothing to do but go ahead. On both sides the walls of the tunnel rose straight up from the surface of the water; there was nowhere room for a landing-place--not even a foot for a purchase to stay our flight. To go back was impossible; at the rate the current was now carrying us we could not have held the raft even for a moment without oars. Soon we were gliding forward so swiftly that the raft trembled under us; from the darkness ahead came the sound of the rapids, now increased to a roar that filled the tunnel and deafened us. I heard Harry shouting something, but could not make out the words; we were shooting forward with the speed of an express train and the air about us was full of flying water. The roar of the rapids became louder and louder. I turned for an instant, shouting at the top of my voice: "Flat on your faces, and hold on for dear life!" Then I dropped down with my oar under me, passing my feet under two of the straps and clinging to two others with my hands. Another few seconds passed that seemed an hour. The raft was swaying and lurching with the mad force of the current. I called out again to Harry and Desiree, but my words were completely drowned by the deafening, stunning roar of the water. All was darkness and confusion. I kept asking myself: "Why doesn't it come?" It seemed an age since I had thrown myself on my face. Suddenly the raft leaped up under me and away. It seemed as though some giant hand had grasped it from beneath and jerked it down with tremendous force. The air was filled with water, lashing my face and body furiously. The raft whirled about like a cork. I gripped the straps with all the strength that was in me. Down, down we went into the darkness; my breath was gone and my brain whirled dizzily. There was a sudden sharp lurch, a jerk upward, and I felt the surface of the water close over me. Blinded and dazed, I clung to my hold desperately, struggling with the instinct to free myself. For several seconds the roar of the cataract sounded in my ears with a furious faintness, as though it were at a great distance; then I felt the air again and a sudden cessation of motion. I opened my eyes, choking and sputtering. For a time I could see nothing; then I made out Desiree's form, and Harry's, stretched behind me on the raft. At the same instant Harry's voice came: "Paul! Ah, Desiree!" In another moment we were at her side. Her hands held to the straps on each side with a grip as of death; we had to pry off each of her fingers separately to loosen them. Then we bent her over Harry's knee and worked her arms up and down, and soon her chest heaved convulsively and her lungs freed themselves of the water they had taken. Presently she turned about; her eyes opened and she pressed her hands to her head. "Don't say 'Where am I?'" said Harry, "because we don't know. How do you feel?" "I don't know," she answered, still gasping for breath. "What was it? What did we do?" I left them then, turning to survey the extent of our damage. There was absolutely none; we were as intact as when we started. The provisions and spears remained under their straps; my oar lay where I had fallen on it. The raft appeared to be floating easily as before, without a scratch. The water about us was churned into foam, though we had already been carried so far from the cataract that it was lost behind us in the darkness; only its roar reached our ears. To this day I haven't the faintest idea of its height; it may have been ten feet or two hundred. Harry says a thousand. We were moving slowly along on the surface of what appeared to be a lake, still carried forward by the force of the falls behind us. For my part, I found its roar bewildering and confusing, and I picked up my oar and commenced to paddle away from it; at least, so I judged. Harry's voice came from behind: "In the name of goodness, where did you get that oar?" I turned. "Young man, a good sailor never loses an oar. How do you feel, Desiree?" "Like a drowned rat," she answered, but with a laugh in her voice. "I'm faint and sick and wet, and my throat is ready to burst, but I wouldn't have missed that for anything. It was glorious! I'd like to do it again." "Yes, you would," said Harry skeptically. "You're welcome, thank you. But what I want to know is, where did that oar come from?" I explained that I had taken the precaution to fall on it. "Do you never lose your head?" asked Desiree. "No, merely my heart." "Oh, as for that," she retorted, with a lightness that still had a sting, "my good friend, you never had any." Whereupon I returned to my paddling in haste. Soon I discovered that though, as I have said, we appeared to be in a lake--for I could see no bank on either side--there was still a current. We drifted slowly, but our movement was plainly perceptible, and I rested on my oar. Presently a wall loomed up ahead of us and I saw that the stream again narrowed down as it entered the tunnel, much lower than the one above the cataract. The current became swifter as we were carried toward its mouth, and I called to Harry to get his spear to keep us off from the walls if it should prove necessary. But we entered exactly in the center and were swept forward with a rush. The ceiling of the tunnel was so low that we could not stand upright on the raft, and the stream was not more than forty feet wide. That was anything but promising; if the stream really ran through to the western slope, its volume of water should have been increasing instead of diminishing. I said nothing of that to Harry or Desiree. We had sailed along thus without incident for upward of half an hour, when my carelessness, or the darkness, nearly brought us to grief. Suddenly, without warning, there was a violent jar and the raft rebounded with a force that all but threw us into the water. Coming to a bend in the stream, the current had dashed us against the other bank. But, owing to the flexibility of its sides, the raft escaped damage. I had my oar against the wall instantly, shoving off, and we swung round and caught the current again round the curve. But that bend was to the left, as the other had been, which meant that we were now going in exactly the opposite direction of that in which we had started! Which, in turn, meant the death of hope; we were merely winding in and out in a circle and getting nowhere. Harry and Desiree had apparently not noticed the fact, and I said nothing of it. Time enough when they should find out for themselves; and besides, there was still a chance, though a slim one. Soon the bed of the stream became nearly level, for we barely moved. The roof of the tunnel was very low--but a scant foot above our heads as we sat or crouched on the raft. It was necessary to keep a sharp lookout ahead; a rock projecting from above would have swept us into the water. The air, too, was close and foul; our breath became labored and difficult; and Desiree, half stifled and drowsy, passed into a fitful and broken sleep, stirring restlessly and panting for air. Harry had taken the bow and I lay across the stern. Suddenly his voice came, announcing that we had left the tunnel. I sat up quickly and looked round. The walls were no longer to be seen; we had evidently entered a cavern similar to the one in which we had embarked. "Shall we lay off?" I asked, stepping across to Harry's side. He assented, and I took the oar and worked the raft over to the left. There was but little current and she went well in. In a few minutes we were in shallow water, and Harry and I jumped off and shoved her to the bank. Desiree sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Where are we?" she asked. Harry explained while we beached the raft. Then we broke out our provisions and partook of them. "But why do we stop?" asked Desiree. The words "Because we are not getting anywhere" rose to my lips, but I kept them back. "For a rest and some air," I answered. Desiree exclaimed: "But I want to go on!" So as soon as we had eaten our fill we loaded the stuff again and prepared to shove off. By that time I think Harry, too, had realized the hopelessness of our expedition, for he had lost all his enthusiasm; but he said nothing, nor did I. We secured Desiree on her pile of skins and again pushed out into the current. The cavern was not large, for we had been under way but a few minutes when its wall loomed up ahead and the stream again entered a tunnel, so low and narrow that I hesitated about entering at all. I consulted Harry. "Take a chance," he advised. "Why not? As well that as anything." We slipped through the entrance. The current was extremely sluggish, and we barely seemed to move. Still we went forward. "If we only had a little speed we could stand it," Harry grumbled. Which shows that a man does not always appreciate a blessing. It was not long before we were offering up thanks that our speed had been so slight. To be exact, about an hour, as well as I could measure time, which passed slowly; for not only were the minutes tedious, but the foulness of the air made them also extremely uncomfortable. Desiree was again lying down, half-unconscious but not asleep, for now and then she spoke drowsily. Harry complained of a dizziness in the head, and my own seemed ready to burst through my temples. The soroche of the mountains was agreeable compared to that. Suddenly the swiftness of the current increased appreciably on the instant; there was a swift jerk as we were carried forward. I rose to my knees--the tunnel was too low to permit of standing--and gazed intently ahead. I could see nothing save that the stream had narrowed to half its former width, and was still becoming narrower. We went faster and faster, and the stream narrowed until the bank was but a few feet away on either side. "Watch the stern!" I called to Harry. "Keep her off with your spear!" Then a wall loomed up directly ahead. I thought it meant another bend in the stream, and I strained my eyes intently in the effort to discover its direction, but I could see nothing save the black wall. We approached closer; I shouted to Harry and Desiree to brace themselves for a shock, praying that the raft would meet the rock squarely and not on a corner. I had barely had time to set myself and grasp the straps behind when we struck with terrific force. The raft rebounded several feet, trembling and shaking violently. The water was rushing past us with noisy impetuosity. There was a cry from Desiree, and from Harry, "All right!" I crawled to the bow. Along the top the hide covering had been split open for several feet, but the water did not quite reach the opening. And we had reached the end of our ambitious journey. For that black wall marked the finish of the tunnel; the stream entered it through a narrow hole, which accounted for the sudden, swift rush of the current. Above the upper rim of the hole the surface of the water whirled about in a widening circle; to this had we been led by the stream that was to have carried us to the land of sunshine. When I told Desiree she stared at me in silence! I had not realized before the strength of her hope. Speechless with disappointment, she merely sat and stared straight ahead at the black, unyielding rock. Harry knelt beside her with his arm across her shoulders. I roused him with a jerk of the arm. "Come--get busy! A few hours in this hole and we'd suffocate. Do you realize that we've got to pull this raft back against the current?" First it was necessary to repair the rent in the hide covering. This we did with strips of hide; and barely in time, for it was becoming wider every minute, and the water was beginning to creep in over the edge. But we soon had the ends sewed firmly together and turned our hands to the main task. It appeared to be not only difficult, but actually impossible to force the raft back up-stream against the swift current. We were jammed against the rock with all the force of many tons of water. The oar was useless. Getting a purchase on the wall with our hands, we shoved the raft to one side; but as soon as we got to the wall on the left the whirling stream turned us around again, and we found ourselves back in our original position, only with a different side of the raft against the rock. That happened three times. Then we tried working to the right instead of the left, but with no better success. The force of the current, coming with all its speed against the unwieldy raft, was irresistible. Time and again we shoved round and started upstream, after incredible labor, only to be dashed back again against the rock. We tried our spears, but their shafts were so slender that they were useless. We took the oar and, placing its end against the wall, shoved with all our strength. The oar snapped in two and we fell forward against the wall. We tore off some of the strips of hide from the raft and tried to fasten them to the wall on either side, but there was no protuberance that would hold them. Nothing remained to be done. Harry and I held a consultation then and agreed on the only possible means of escape. I turned to Desiree: "Can you swim?" "Parfaitement," she replied. "But against that"--pointing to the whirling water--"I do not know. I can try." I, who remember the black fury of that stream as it swept past us, can appreciate the courage of her. We lost no time, for the foulness of the air was weakening us with every breath we took. Our preparations were few. The two spears and about half of the provisions we strapped to our backs--an inconsiderable load which would hamper us but little. We discarded all our clothing, which was very little. I took the heavy skin which Desiree had worn and began to strap it also on top of my bundle, but she refused to allow it. "I will not permit you to be handicapped with my modesty," she observed. Then, with Desiree between us, we stepped to the edge of the raft and dived off together. Driven as we were by necessity, we would have hesitated longer if we had known the full force of the undercurrent that seized us from beneath. Desiree would have disappeared without a struggle if it had not been for the support which Harry and I rendered her on either side. But we kept on top--most of the time--and fought our way forward by inches. The black walls frowning at us from either side appeared to me to remain exactly the same, stationary, after a long and desperate struggle; but when I gave a quick glance behind I saw that we had pulled so far away from the raft that it was no longer in sight. That gave me renewed strength, and, shouting assurance to Harry and Desiree, I redoubled my efforts. Desiree was by now almost able to hold her own, but we still supported her. Every stroke made the next one easier, carrying us away from the whirlpool, and soon we swam smoothly. Less and less strong became the resistance of the current, until finally it was possible to float easily on our backs and rest. "How far is it to the cavern?" Harry panted. "Somewhere between one and ten miles," was my answer. "How the deuce should I know? But we'll make it now, I think. Can you hold out, Desiree?" "Easily," she answered. "If only I could get some air! Just one good, long breath." There was the danger, and on that account no time was to be lost. Again we struck out into the blackness ahead. I felt myself no longer fresh, and began to doubt seriously if we should reach our goal. But we reached it. No need to recount our struggles, which toward the end were inspired by suffering amounting to agony as we choked and gasped for sufficient air to keep us up. Another hundred yards would have been too much for us; but it is enough that finally we staggered onto the bank at the entrance to the cavern in which we had previously rested, panting, dizzy, and completely exhausted. But an hour in the cavern, with its supply of air, revived us; and then we sat up and asked ourselves: "What for?" "And all that brings us--to this," said Harry, with a sweeping gesture round the cavern. "At least, it is a better tomb," I retorted. "And it was a good fight. We still have something in us. Desiree, a good man was lost in you." Harry rose to his feet. "I'm going to look round," he announced. "We've got to do something. Gad, and it took us a month to build that raft!" "The vanity of human endeavor," said I, loosening the strap round my shoulders and dropping my bundle to the ground. "Wait a minute; I'm going with you. Are you coming, Desiree?" But she was too tired to rise to her feet, and we left her behind, arranging what few skins we had as well as possible to protect her from the hard rock. "Rest your weary bones," said Harry, stooping to kiss her. "There's meat here if you want it. We'll be back soon." So we left her, with her white body stretched out at its full length on the rude mat. Bearing off to the left, we soon discovered that we would have no difficulty to leave the cavern; we had only to choose our way. There was scarcely any wall at all, so broken was it by lanes and passages leading in all directions. We followed some of them for a distance, but found none that gave any particular promise. Most of them were choked with rocks and boulders through which it was difficult to force a passage. We spent an hour or more in these futile explorations, then followed the wall some distance to the right. Gradually the exits became less numerous. High on a boulder near the entrance of one we saw the head of some animal peering down at us. We hurled our spears at it, but missed; then were forced to climb up the steep side of the boulder to recover our weapons. "We'd better go back to Desiree," said Harry when we reached the ground again. "She'll wonder what's become of us. We've been gone nearly two hours." After fifteen minutes' search we found the stream, and followed it to the left. We had gone farther than we thought, and we were looking for the end, where we had left Desiree, long before we reached it. Several times we called her name, but there was no answer. "She's probably asleep," said Harry. And a minute later: "There's the wall at last! But where is she?" My foot struck something on the ground, and I stooped over to examine it. It was the pile of skins on which Desiree had lain! I called to Harry, and at the same instant heard his shout of consternation as he came running toward me, holding something in his hand. "They've got her! Look! Look at this! I found it on the ground over there." He held the thing in his hand out before me. It was an Inca spear. Chapter XXI. THE MIDST OF THE ENEMY. Harry and I stood gazing at each other blankly in the semidarkness of the cavern. "But it isn't possible," I objected finally to my own thoughts. "She would have cried out and we would have heard her. The spear may have been there before." Then I raised my voice, calling her name many times at the top of my lungs. There was no answer. "They've got her," said Harry, "and that's all there is to it. The cursed brutes crept up on her in the dark--much chance she had of crying out when they got their hands on her. I know it. Why did we leave her?" "Where did you find the spear?" I asked. Harry pointed toward the wall, away from the stream. "On the ground?" "Yes." "Is there an exit from the cavern on that side?" "I don't know." "Well, that's our only chance. Come on!" We found the exit, and another, and a third. Which to take? They were very similar to one another, except that the one in the middle sloped upward at a gentle incline, while the others were level. "One is as good as another," I observed, and entered the one on the left. Once started, we advanced with a rush. The passage was straight and narrow, clear of obstruction, and we kept at a steady run. "They may have an hour's start of us," came Harry's voice at my side. "Or five minutes," I returned. "We have no way of knowing. But I'm afraid we're on the wrong trail." Still as I had said, one chance was as good as another, and we did not slacken our pace. The passage went straight forward, without a bend. The roof was low, just allowing us to pass without stooping, and the walls were rough and rugged. It was not long before we found that we had taken the wrong chance, having covered, I think, some two or three miles when a wall loomed up directly in our path. "At last, a turn!" panted Harry. But it was not a turn. It was the end of the passage. We had been following a blind alley. Harry let out a string of oaths, and I seconded him. Twenty minutes wasted, and another twenty to return! There was nothing else for it. We shouldered our spears and started to retrace our steps. "No use running now," I declared. "We can't keep it up forever, and we may as well save our strength. We'll never catch up with 'em, but we may find 'em." Harry, striding ahead two or three paces in front, did not answer. Finally we reached the cavern from which we had started. "And now what?" asked Harry in a tone of the most utter dejection. I pointed to the exit in the middle. "That! We should have taken it in the first place. On the raft we probably descended altogether something like five hundred feet from the level where we started--possibly twice that distance. And this passage which slopes upward will probably take us back." "At least, it's as good as the other," Harry agreed; and we entered it. We had not proceeded far before we found ourselves in difficulties. The gentle slope became a steep incline. Great rocks loomed up in our path. In spots the passage was so narrow that two men could hardly have walked abreast through it, and its walls were rough and irregular, with sharp points projecting unexpectedly into our very faces. Still we went forward and upward, scrambling over, under, round, between. At one point, when Harry was a few yards in front of me, he suddenly disappeared from sight as though swallowed by the mountain. Rushing forward, I saw him scrambling to his feet at the bottom of a chasm some ten feet below. Luckily he had escaped serious injury, and climbed up on the other side, while I leaped across--a distance of about six feet. "They could never have brought her through this," he declared, rubbing a bruised knee. "Do you want to go back?" I asked. But he said that would be useless, and I agreed with him. So we struggled onward, painfully and laboriously. The sharp corners of the rocks cut our feet and hands, and I had an ugly bruise on my left shoulder, besides many lesser ones. Harry's injured knee caused him to limp and thus further retarded our progress. At times the passage broadened out until the wall on either side was barely visible, only to narrow down again till it was scarcely more than a crevice between the giant boulders. The variation of the incline was no less, being at times very nearly level, and at others mounting upward at an angle whose ascent was all but impossible. Somehow we crawled up, like flies on a wall. When we came to a stream of water rushing directly across our path at the foot of a towering rock Harry gave a cry of joy and ran forward. I had not known until then how badly his knee was hurt, and when I came up to where he was bathing it in the stream and saw how black and swollen it was, I insisted that he give it a rest. But he absolutely refused, and after we had quenched our thirst and gotten an easy breath or two we struggled to our feet and on. After another hour of scrambling and failing and hanging on by our finger nails, the way began to be easier. We came to level, clear stretches with only an occasional boulder or ravine, and the rock became less cruel to our bleeding feet. The relief came almost too late, for by that time every movement was painful, and we made but slow progress. Soon we faced another difficulty when we came to a point where a split in the passage showed a lane on either side. One led straight ahead; the other branched off to the right. They were very similar, but somehow the one on the right looked more promising to us, and we took it. We had followed this but a short distance when it broadened out to such an extent that the walls on either side could be seen but dimly. It still sloped upward, but at a very slight angle, and we had little difficulty in making our way. Another half-hour and it narrowed down again to a mere lane. We were proceeding at a fairly rapid gait, keeping our eyes strained ahead, when there appeared an opening in the right wall at a distance of a hundred feet or so. Not having seen or heard anything to recommend caution, we advanced without slackening our pace until we had reached it. I said aloud to Harry, "Probably a cross-passage," and then jerked him back quickly against the opposite wall as I saw the real nature of the opening. It led to a small room, with a low ceiling and rough walls, dark as the passage in which we stood, for it contained no light. We could see its interior dimly, but well enough to discover the form of an Inca standing just within the doorway. His back was toward us, and he appeared to be fastening something to the ceiling with strips of hide. It was evident that we had not been seen, and I started to move on, grasping Harry's arm. It was then that I became aware of the fact that the wall leading away in front of us--that is, the one on the right--was marked as far as the eye could reach with a succession of similar openings. They were quite close together; from where we stood I could see thirty or forty of them. I guessed that they, too, led to rooms similar to the one in front of us, probably likewise occupied; but it was necessary to go on in spite of the danger, and I pulled again at Harry's arm. Then, seeing by his face that something had happened, I turned my eyes again on the Inca in the room. He had turned about, squarely facing us. As we stood motionless he took a hasty step forward; we had been discovered. There was but one thing to do, and we didn't hesitate about doing it. We leaped forward together, crossing the intervening space in a single bound, and bore the Inca to the floor under us. My fingers were round his throat, Harry sat on him. In a trice we had him securely bound and gagged, using some strips of hide which we found suspended from the ceiling. "By gad!" exclaimed Harry in a whisper. "Look at him! He's a woman!" It was quite evident--disgustingly so. Her eyes, dull and sunken, appeared as two large, black holes set back in her skull. Her hair, matted about her forehead and shoulders, was thick and coarse, and blacker than night. Her body was innocent of any attempt at covering. Altogether, not a very pleasant sight; and we bundled her into a corner and proceeded to look round the room, being careful to remain out of the range of view from the corridor as far as possible. The room was not luxuriously furnished. There were two seats of stone, and a couch of the same material covered with thick hides. In one corner was a pile of copper vessels; in another two or three of stone, rudely carved. Some torn hides lay in a heap near the center of the room. From the ceiling were suspended other hides and some strips of dried fish. Some of the latter we cut down with the points of our spears and retired with it to a corner. "Ought we to ask our hostess to join us?" Harry grinned. "This tastes good, after the other," I remarked. Hungry as we were, we made sad havoc with the lady's pantry. Then we found some water in a basin in the corner and drank--not without misgivings. But we were too thirsty to be particular. Then Harry became impatient to go on, and though I had no liking for the appearance of that long row of open doorways, I did not demur. Taking up our spears, we stepped out into the corridor and turned to the right. We found ourselves running a gantlet wherein discovery seemed certain. The right wall was one unbroken series of open doorways, and in each of the rooms, whose interiors we could plainly see, were one or more of the Inca Women; and sometimes children rolled about on the stony floor. In one of them a man stood; I could have sworn that he was gazing straight at us, and I gathered myself together for a spring; but he made no movement of any kind and we passed swiftly by. Once a little black ball of flesh--a boy it was, perhaps five or six years old--tumbled out into the corridor under our very feet. We strode over him and went swiftly on. We had passed about a hundred of the open doorways, and were beginning to entertain the hope that we might, after all, get through without being discovered, when Harry suddenly stopped short, pulling at my arm. At the same instant I saw, far down the corridor, a crowd of black forms moving toward us. Even at that distance something about their appearance and gait told us that they were not women. Their number was so great that as they advanced they filled the passage from wall to wall. There was but one way to escape certain discovery; and distasteful as it was, we did not hesitate to employ it. In a glance I saw that we were directly opposite an open doorway; with a whispered word to Harry I sprang across the corridor and within the room. He followed. Inside were a woman and two children. As we entered they looked up, startled, and stood gazing at us in terror. For an instant we held back, but there was nothing else for it; and in another minute we had overpowered and bound and gagged them and carried them to a corner. The children were ugly little devils and the woman very little above a brute; still we handled them as tenderly as possible. Then we crouched against the wall where we could not be seen from the corridor, and waited. Soon the patter of many footsteps reached our ears. They passed; others came, and still others. For many minutes the sound continued steadily, unbroken, while we sat huddled up against the wall, scarcely daring to breathe. Immediately in front of me lay the forms of the woman and the children; I could see their dull eyes, unblinking, looking up at me in abject terror. Still the patter of footsteps sounded from without, with now and then an interval of quiet. Struck by a sudden thought, I signaled to Harry; and when he had moved further back into his corner I sprang across the room in one bound to his side. A word or two of whispering, and he nodded to show that he understood. We crouched together flat against the wall. My thought had come just in time, for scarcely another minute had passed when there suddenly appeared in the doorway the form of an Inca. He moved a step inside, and I saw that there was another behind him. I had not counted on two of them! In the arms of each was a great copper vessel, evidently very heavy, for their effort was apparent as they stooped to place the vessels on the ground just within the doorway. As they straightened up and saw that the room before them was empty, their faces filled with surprise. At the same moment a movement came from the woman in the corner; the two men glanced at them with a start of wonder; and as I had foreseen, they ran across and bent over the prostrate forms. The next instant they, too, were prone on the floor, with Harry and me on top of them. They did not succumb without a struggle, and the one I had chosen proved nearly too much for me. The great muscles of his chest and legs strained under me with a power that made me doubtful for a moment of the outcome; but the Incas themselves had taught us how to conquer a man when you attack him from behind, and I grasped his throat with all the strength there was in my fingers. With a desperate effort he got to his knees and grasped my wrists in his powerful black hands and tore my own grip loose. He was half-way to his feet, and far more powerful than I; I changed my tactics. Wrenching myself loose, I fell back a step; then, as he twisted round to get at me, I lunged forward and let him have my fist squarely between the eyes. The blow nearly broke my hand, but he dropped to the floor. The next instant I was joined by Harry, who had overcome the other Inca with little difficulty, and in a trice we had them both bound and gagged along with the remainder of the family in the corner. Owing to my strategy in withholding our attack until the Incas had got well within the room and to one side, we had not been seen by those constantly passing up and down in the corridor without; at least, none of them had entered. We seemed by this stroke to have assured our safety so long as we remained in the room. But it was still necessary to remain against the wall, for the soft patter of footsteps could still be heard in the corridor. They now came at irregular intervals, and there were not many of them. Otherwise the silence was unbroken. "What does it all mean?" Harry whispered. "The Incas are coming home to their women," I guessed. "Though, after seeing the women, it is little wonder if they spend most of their time away from them. He is welcome to his repose in the bosom of his family." There passed an uneventful hour. Long before it ended the sound of footsteps had entirely ceased; but we thought it best to take no chances, and waited for the last minute our impatience would allow us. Then, uncomfortable and stiff from the long period of immobility and silence, we rose to our feet and made ready to start. Harry was for appropriating some of the strips of dried fish we saw suspended from the ceiling, but I objected that our danger lay in any direction other than that of hunger, and we set out with only our spears. The corridor was deserted. One quick glance in either direction assured us of that; then we turned to the right and set out at a rapid pace, down the long passage past a succession of rooms exactly similar to the one we had just left--scores, hundreds of them. Each one was occupied by from one to ten of the Incas lying on the couch which each contained, or stretched on hides on the floor. No one was stirring. Everywhere was silence save the patter of our own feet, which we let fall as noiselessly as possible. "Will it never end?" whispered Harry at length, after we had traversed upward of a mile without any sign of a cross-passage or a termination. "Forward, and silence!" I breathed for a reply. The end--at least, of the silence--came sooner than we had expected. Hardly were the last words out of my mouth when a whirring noise sounded behind us. We glanced over our shoulders as we ran, and at the same instant an Inca spear flew by not two inches from my head and struck the ground in front. Not a hundred feet to the rear we saw a group of Incas rushing along the passage toward us. Harry wheeled about, raising his spear, but I grasped him by the arm, crying, "Run; it's our only chance!" The next moment we were leaping forward side by side down the passage. It would have fared ill with any who appeared to block our way in that mad dash; but it remained clear. The corridor led straight ahead, with never a turn. We were running as we had never run before; the black walls flashed past us an indistinguishable blur, and the open doorways were blended into one. Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw that the small group of Incas was no longer small. Away to the rear the corridor was filled with rushing black forms. But I saw plainly that we were gaining on them; the distance that separated us was twice as great as when we had first started to run. "How about it?" I panted. "Can you hold out?" "If it weren't for this knee," Harry returned between breaths and through clenched teeth. "But--I'm with you." He was limping painfully, and I slackened my pace a little, but he urged me forward with an oath, and himself sprang to the front. His knee must have been causing him the keenest agony; his face was white as death. Then I uttered a cry of joy as I saw a bend in the passage ahead. We reached it, and wheeled to the right. There was solid wall on either side; the series of doors was ended. "We'll shake 'em off now," I panted. Harry nodded. A short distance ahead we came to another cross-passage, and turned to the left. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that our pursuers had not yet reached the first turn. Harry kept in the lead, and was giving me all I could do to keep up with him. We found ourselves now in a veritable maze of lanes and cross-passages, and we turned to one side or the other at every opportunity. At length I grasped Harry by the arm and stopped him. We stood for two full minutes listening intently. There was absolutely no sound of any kind. "Thank Heaven!" Harry breathed, and would have fallen to the ground if I had not supported him. We started out then in search of water, moving slowly and cautiously. But we found none, and soon Harry declared that he could go no further. We sat down with our backs against the wall of the passage, still breathing heavily and all but exhausted. In that darkness and silence the minutes passed into hours. We talked but little, and then only in whispers. Finally Harry fell into a restless sleep, if it may be called that, and several times I dozed off and was awakened by my head nodding against the stone wall. At length, finding Harry awake, I urged him to his feet. His knee barely supported his weight, but he gritted his teeth and told me to lead on. "We can wait--" I began; but he broke in savagely: "No! I want to find her, that's all--and end it. Just one more chance!" We searched for an hour before we found the stream of water we sought. After Harry had bathed his knee and drunk his fill he felt more fit, and we pushed on more rapidly, but still quite at random. We turned first one way, then another, in the never-ending labyrinth, always in darkness and silence. We seemed to get nowhere; and I for one was about to give up the disheartening task when suddenly a sound smote our ears that caused us first to start violently, then stop and gaze at each other in comprehension and eager surprise. "The bell!" cried Harry. "They are being summoned to the great cavern!" It was the same sound we had heard twice before; a sound as of a great, deep-toned bell ringing sonorously throughout the passages and caverns with a roar that was deafening. And it seemed to be close--quite close. "It came from the left," said Harry; but I disagreed with him and was so sure of myself that we started off to the right. The echoes of the bell were still floating from wall to wall as we went rapidly forward. I do not know what we expected to find, and the Lord knows what we intended to do after we found it. A short distance ahead we came to another passage, crossing at right angles, broad and straight, and somehow familiar. As with one impulse we took it, turning to the left, and then flattened ourselves back against the wall as we saw a group of Incas passing at its farther end, some two hundred yards away. There we stood, motionless and scarcely breathing, while group after group of the savages passed in the corridor ahead. Their number swelled to a continuous stream, which in turn gradually became thinner and thinner until only a few stragglers were seen trotting behind. Finally they, too, ceased to appear; the corridor was deserted. We waited a while longer, then as no more appeared we started forward and soon had reached the corridor down which they had passed. We followed in the direction they had taken, turning to the right. We had no sooner turned than we saw that which caused us to glance quickly at each other and hasten our step, while I smothered the ejaculation that rose to my lips. The corridor in which we now found ourselves stretched straight ahead for a distance, then turned to one side; and the corner thus formed was flooded with a brilliant blaze of light! There was no longer any doubt of it: we were on our way to the great cavern. For a moment I hesitated, asking myself for what purpose we hastened on thus into the very arms of our enemies; then, propelled by instinct or premonition--I know not what--I took a firmer grasp on my spear and followed Harry without word, throwing caution to the winds. Yet we avoided foolhardiness, for as we approached the last turn we proceeded slowly, keeping an eye on the rear. But all the Incas appeared to have assembled within, for the corridor remained deserted. We crept silently to the corner, avoiding the circle of light as far as possible, and, crouching side by side on the rock, looked out together on a scene none the less striking because we had seen it twice before. It was the great cavern. We saw it from a different viewpoint than before; the alcove which held the golden throne was far off to our left, nearly half-way round the vast circumference. On the throne was seated the king, surrounded by guards and attendants. As before, the stone seats which surrounded the amphitheater on every side were filled with the Incas, crouching motionless and silent. The flames in the massive urns mounted in steady tongues, casting their blinding glare in every direction. All this I saw in a flash, when suddenly Harry's fingers sank into the flesh of my arm with such force that I all but cried out in actual pain. And then, glancing at him and following the direction of his gaze, I saw Desiree. She was standing on the top of the lofty column in the center of the lake. Her white body, uncovered, was outlined sharply against the black background of the cavern above. Chapter XXII. THE BEGINNING OF THE END. Neither Harry nor I spoke; our eyes were concentrated on the scene before us, trying to comprehend its meaning. It was something indefinable in Desiree's attitude that told me the truth--what, I cannot tell. Her profile was toward us; it could not have been her eyes or any expression of her face; but there was a tenseness about her pose, a stiffening of the muscles of her body, an air of lofty scorn and supreme triumph coming somehow from every line of her motionless figure, that flashed certainty into my brain. And on the instant I turned to Harry. "Follow me," I whispered; and he must have read the force of my knowledge in my eyes, for he obeyed without a word. Back down the passage we ran, halting at its end. Harry opened his lips to speak, but I took the words from his mouth; seconds were precious. "They have fired the column--you remember. Follow me; keep your spear ready; not a sound, if you love her." I saw that he understood, and saw too, by the expression that shot into his face, that it would go ill with any Incas who tried to stop us then. We rushed forward side by side, guessing at our way, seeking the entrance to the tunnel that led to the foot of the column. A prayer was on my lips that we might not be too late; Harry's lips were compressed together tightly as a vise. Death we did not fear, even for Desiree; but we remembered the horror of our own experience on the top of that column, and shuddered as we ran. As I have said, we had entered the great cavern at a point almost directly opposite the alcove, and therefore at a distance from the entrance we sought. It was necessary to half encircle the cavern, and the passages were so often crossed by other passages that many times we had to guess at the proper road. But not for an instant did we hesitate; we flew rather than ran. I felt within me the strength and resolve of ten men, and I knew then that there was something I must do and would do before I died, though a thousand devils stood in my way. I do not know what led us; whether a remorseful Providence, who suddenly decided that we had been played with long enough, or the mere animal instinct of direction, or blind luck. But so fast did we go that it seemed to me we had left the great cavern scarcely a minute behind us when I suddenly saw the steps of a steep stairway leading down from an opening on our right. How my heart leaped then! Harry uttered a hoarse cry of exultation. The next instant we were dashing headlong down the steps, avoiding a fall by I know not what miracle. And there before us was the entrance to the tunnel. I held Harry back, almost shouting: "You stay here; guard the entrance. I'll get her." "No," he cried, pushing forward. "I can't stay." "Fool!" I cried, dashing him back. "We would be caught like rats in a trap. Defend that entrance--with your life!" I saw him hesitate, and, knowing that he would obey, I dashed forward into the tunnel. When nearly to its end I made a misstep on the uneven ground and precipitated myself against the wall. A sharp pain shot through my left shoulder, but at the time I was scarcely conscious of it as I picked myself up and leaped forward. The end was in sight. Just as I reached the foot of the spiral stairway I saw a black form descending from it. That Inca never knew what hit him. I did not use my spear; time was too precious. He disappeared in the whirlpool beneath the base of the column through which Harry and I had once miraculously escaped. But despair filled my heart as, with my feet on the first step of the spiral stairway, I cast a quick glance upward. The upper half of the inside of the column was a raging furnace of fire. How or from what it came I did not stop to inquire; I bounded up the stairway in desperate fury. I did not know then that the stone steps were baking and blistering my feet; I did not know, as I came level with the base of the flames, that every hair was being singed from my head and body--I only knew that I must reach the top of the column. Then I saw the source of the flames as I reached them. Huge vats of oil--six, a dozen, twenty--I know not how many--were ranged in a circle on a ledge of stone encircling the column, and from their tops the fire leaped upward to a great height. I saw what must be done; how I did it God only knows; I shut my eyes now as I remember it. Hooking the rim of the vat nearest me with the point of my spear, I sent it tumbling down the length of the column into the whirlpool, many feet below. Then another, and another, and another, until the ledge was empty. Some of the burning oil, flying from the overturned vats, alighted on the stairway, casting weird patches of light up and down the whole length of the column. Some of it landed on my body, my face, my hands. It was a very hell of heat; my lungs, all the inside of me, was on fire. My brain sang and whirled. My eyes felt as though they were being burned from their sockets with red-hot irons. I bounded upward. A few more steps--I could not see, I could hardly feel--and my head bumped against the stone at the top of the column. I put out my hand, groping around half crazily, and by some wild chance it came in contact with the slide that moved the stone stab. I pushed, hardly knowing what I did, and the stone flew to one side. I stuck my head through the opening and saw Desiree. Her back was toward me. As I emerged from the opening the Incas seated round the vast amphitheater and the king, seated on the golden throne in the alcove, rose involuntarily from their seats in astonished wonder. Desiree saw the movement and, turning, caught sight of me. A sudden cry of amazement burst from her lips; she made a hasty step forward and fell fainting into my arms. I shook her violently, but she remained unconscious, and this added catastrophe all but unnerved me. For a moment I stood on the upper step with the upper half of my body, swaying from side to side, extending beyond the top of the column; then I turned and began to descend with Desiree in my arms. Every step of that descent was unspeakable agony. Feeling was hardly in me; my whole body was an engine of pain. Somehow, I staggered and stumbled downward; at every step I expected to fall headlong to the bottom with my burden. Desiree's form remained limp and lifeless in my arms. I reached the ledge on which the vats had been placed and passed it; air entered my burning lungs like a breeze from the mountains. Every step now made the next one easier. I began to think that I might, after all, reach the bottom in safety. Another twenty steps and I could see the beginning of the tunnel below. Desiree's form stirred slightly in my arms. A glance showed me her eyes looking up into mine as her head lay back on my shoulder. "Why?" she moaned. "In the name of Heaven above us, why?" I had no time for answer; my lips were locked tightly together as I sought the step below with a foot that had no feeling even for the stone. We were nearly to the bottom; we reached it. I placed Desiree on her feet. "Can you stand?" I gasped; and the words were torn from my throat with a great effort. "But you!" she cried, and I saw that her eyes were filled with horror. No doubt I was a pitiful thing to look at. But there was no time to be lost, and, seeing that her feet supported her, I grasped her arm and started down the tunnel just as Harry's voice, raised in a great shout, came to us from its farther end. "No!" cried Desiree, shrinking back in terror. "Paul--" I dragged her forward. Then, as Harry's cry was repeated, she seemed to understand and sprang forward beside me. Another second wasted and we would have been too late. Just as we reached Harry's side, at the end of the tunnel, the Incas, warned by my appearance at the top of the column, appeared above on the stairway, at the foot of which Harry had made his stand. At the sight of Desiree Harry uttered a cry of joy, then gazed in astonishment as I appeared behind her. "Run for your lives!" he shouted, pointing down the passage leading to the apartments beyond. As he spoke a shower of spears descended from above, rattling on the steps and on the ground beside us. I stooped to pick up two of them, and as Desiree and I darted forward into the passage, with Harry bringing up the rear, the Incas dashed down the stairway after us. We found ourselves at once in the maze of lanes and passages leading to the royal apartments. That, I thought, was as good a goal as any; and, besides, the way led to the cavern where we had once before successfully withstood our enemies. But the way was not so easy to find. Turn and twist about as we would, we could not shake off our pursuers. Harry kept urging me forward, but I was using every ounce of strength that was left to me. Desiree, too, was becoming weaker at every step, and I could hear Harry's cry of despair as she perceptibly faltered and slackened her pace. I soon realized that we were no longer in the passage or group of passages that led to the royal apartments and the cavern beyond. But there was no time to seek our way; well enough if we went forward. We found ourselves in a narrow lane, strewn with rocks, crooked and winding. Desiree stumbled and would have fallen but for my outstretched arm. A spear from behind whistled past my ear as we again bounded forward. Harry was shouting to us that the Incas were upon us. I caught Desiree's arm and pulled her on with a last great effort. The lane became narrower still; we brushed the wall on either side, and I pushed Desiree ahead of me and followed behind. Suddenly she stopped short, turning to face me so suddenly that I was thrown against her, nearly knocking her down. "Your spear!" she cried desperately. "I can go no farther," and she sank to the ground. At the same moment there came a cry from Harry in the rear--a cry that held joy and wonder--and I turned to see him standing some distance away, gazing down the lane through which we had come. "They've given up!" he called. "They're gone!" And I saw that it was true. No sound came, and no Inca was to be seen. Then, seeing Desiree on the ground, Harry ran to us and sprang to her side. "Desiree!" he cried, lifting her in his arms. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, and he kissed her many times--her hair, her lips, her eyes. Then he placed her gently on her feet, and, supporting her with his arm, moved forward slowly. I led the way. The lane ahead of us was scarcely more than a crevice between the rocks; I squeezed my way through with difficulty. Then the walls ended abruptly, just when I had begun to think we could go no farther, and we found ourselves at the entrance to a cavern so large that no wall was to be seen on any side save the one behind us. On the instant I guessed at the reason why the Incas had ceased their pursuit so abruptly, and I turned to Harry: "I'm afraid we've jumped from the frying-pan into the fire. If this cavern holds anything like that other--you remember--" "If it does, we shall see," he replied. Supporting Desiree on either side, we struck out directly across the cavern, halting every few steps to listen for a sound, either of the Incas, which we feared, or of running water, which we desired. We heard neither. All was blackness and the most complete silence. Then I became aware, for the first time, of intolerable pains shooting up through my legs into my body. The danger past, reason returned and feeling. I could not suppress a low cry, wrung inexorably from my chest, and I halted, leaning my whole weight on Desiree's shoulder. "What is it?" she cried, and for answer--though I strained every atom of my will and strength to prevent it--I toppled to the ground, dragging her with me. What followed came to me as in a dream, though I was not wholly unconscious. I was aware that Harry and Desiree were bending over me; then I felt my head and shoulders being lifted from the ground, and a soft, warm arm supporting me. A minute passed, or an hour--I did not know--and I felt hot drops of moisture fall on my cheek. I struggled to open my eyes, and saw Desiree's face quite near my own; my head was resting on her shoulder. She was weeping silently, and great tears rolled down her cheeks unrestrained. To have seen the sun or stars shining down upon me would not have astonished me more. I gazed at her a long moment in silence; she saw that I did so, but made no effort to turn her head or avoid my gaze. Finally I found my tongue. "Where is Harry?" I asked. "He is gone to look for water," she replied; and, curiously enough, her voice was quite steady. I smiled. "It is useless. I am done for!" "That isn't true," she denied, in a voice almost of anger. "You will get well. You are--injured badly--" After a short pause she added, "for me." There was a long silence--I thought it hardly worth while to contradict her--and then I said simply, "Why are you crying, Desiree?" She looked at me as though she had not heard; then, after another silence, her voice came, so low that it barely reached my ears: "For this--and for what might have been, my friend." "But you have said--" "I know! Would you make me doubt again? Do not! Ah"--she passed her hand gently over my forehead and touched the tips of her fingers to my burning eyes--"you must have cared for me in that other world. I will not doubt it; unless you speak, and you must not. Nothing would have been too high for us. We could have opened any door--even the door to happiness." "But you said once--forgive me if I remind you of it now--you said that you are--you called yourself 'La Marana.'" She shrank back, exclaiming: "Paul! Indeed, I need to forgive you!" "Still, it is true," I persisted, turning to look at her. The movement caused me to halt, closing my eyes, while a great wave of pain swept over me from head to foot. Then I went on: "Could you expect to confine your heart? You say we could have opened any door--well, tell me, what could we have done, you and I?" "But that is what I do not think of!" cried Desiree impatiently. "I would perhaps have placed my hand on your heart, as I do now; you would perhaps have fought for me, as you have done. I might even--" She hesitated, while the ghost of a smile that had died before it reached the light appeared on her lips, as her head was lowered close, quite close, to mine. A long moment, and then, "Must I ask for it?" I breathed. She jerked her head up sharply. "You do not want it," she said dryly. I raised my hand, groping for her fingers, but could not find them. She saw, and slowly, very slowly, her hand crept to mine and was caught and held there. "Desiree--I want it," I said half fiercely, and I forgot my pain and our danger--forgot everything but her white face in dim outline above me, and her eyes, glowing and tender against her wish, and her hand that nestled in my hand. "Be merciful to me--I want it as I have never wanted anything in my life. Desiree, I love you." At that I felt her hand move quickly, as for freedom, but I held it fast. And then slowly her head was lowered. I waited breathlessly. I felt her quick breath on my face, and the next moment her lips had found my lips, hot and dry, and remained there. Then she raised her head, saying tremulously: "That was my soul, and it is the first time it has ever escaped me." At the same instant we were startled by the sound of Harry's voice in the darkness: "Desiree! Where are you?" I waited for her to answer, but she was silent, and I called out to him our direction. A moment later his form appeared at a distance, and soon he had joined us. "How about it, old man?" he asked, bending over me. Then he told us that he had found no water. He had explored two sides of the cavern, one at a distance of half a mile or more, and was crossing to find the third when he had called to us. "But there is little use," he finished gloomily. "The place is silent as the grave. If there were water we would hear it. I can't even find an exit except the crevice that let us in." Desiree's hand was still in mine. "It may be--perhaps I can go with you," I suggested. But he would not hear of it, and set out again alone in the opposite direction to that which he had taken previously. In a few minutes he returned, reporting no better success than before. On that side, he said, the wall of the cavern was quite close. There was no sign anywhere of water; but to the left there were several narrow lanes leading at angles whose sides were nearly parallel to each other, and some distance to the right there was a broad and clear passage sloping downward directly away from the cavern. "Is the passage straight?" I asked, struck with a sudden idea. "Could you see far within?" "A hundred feet or so," was the answer. "Why? Shall we follow it? Can you walk?" "I think so," I answered. "At any rate, I must find some water soon or quit the game. But that isn't why I asked. Perhaps it explains the sudden disappearance of the Incas. They knew they couldn't follow us through that narrow crevice; what if they have made for the passage?" Harry grumbled that we had enough trouble without trying to borrow more. We decided to wait a little longer before starting out from the cavern; Harry helped me to my feet to give them a trial, and though I was able to stand it was only by a tremendous effort and exertion of the will. "Not yet," I murmured between clenched teeth, and again Desiree sat on the hard rock and supported my head and shoulders in her arms, despite my earnest remonstrances. Harry stood before us, leaning on his spear. Soon he left us again, departing in the direction of the crevice by which we had entered; I detected his uneasiness in the tone with which he directed us to keep a lookout around in every direction. "We could move to the wall," I had suggested; but he shook his head, saying that where we were we at least had room to turn. When he had gone Desiree and I sat silent for many minutes. Then I tried to rise, insisting that she must be exhausted with the long strain she had undergone, but she denied it vehemently, and refused to allow me to move. "It is little enough," she said; and though I but half understood her, I made no answer. I myself was convinced that we were at last near the end. It was certain that the Incas had merely delayed, not abandoned, the pursuit, and our powers and means of resistance had been worn to nothing. Our curious apathy and half indifference spoke for itself; it was as though we had at length recognized the hand of fate and seen the futility of further struggle. For, weak and injured as I was, I still had strength in me; it was a listlessness of the brain and hopelessness of the heart that made me content to lie and wait for whatever might come. The state of my feelings toward Desiree were even then elusive; they are more so now. I had told her I loved her; well, I had told many women that. But Desiree had moved me; with her it was not the same--that I felt. I had never so admired a woman, and the thrill of that kiss is in me yet; I can recall it and tremble under its power by merely closing my eyes. Her warm hand, pressed tightly in my own, seemed to send an electric communication to every nerve in my body and eased my suffering and stilled my pain. That, I know, is not love; and perhaps I was mistaken when I imagined that it was there. "Are you asleep?" she asked presently, after I had lain perfectly quiet for many minutes. Her voice was so low that it entered my ear as the faintest breath. "Hardly," I answered. "To tell the truth, I expect never to sleep again--I suppose you understand me. I can't say why--I feel it." Desiree nodded. "Do you remember, Paul, what I said that evening on the mountain?" Then--I suppose my face must have betrayed my thought--she added quickly: "Oh, I didn't mean that--other thing. I said this mountain would be my grave, do you remember? You see, I knew." I started to reply, but was interrupted by Harry, calling to ask where we were. I answered, and soon he had joined us and seated himself beside Desiree on the ground. "I found nothing," was all he said, wearily, and he lay back and closed his eyes, resting his head on his hands. The minutes passed slowly. Desiree and I talked in low tones; Harry moved about uneasily on his hard bed, saying nothing. Finally, despite Desiree's energetic protests, I rose to my knees and insisted that she rest herself. We seemed none of us to be scarcely aware of what we were doing; our movements had a curious purposelessness about them that gave the thing an appearance of unreality--I know not what; it comes to my memory as some indistinct and haunting nightmare. Suddenly, as I sat gazing dully into the semidarkness of the cavern, I saw that which drove the apathy from my brain with a sudden shock, at the same time paralyzing my senses. I strained my eyes ahead; there could be no doubt of it; that black, slowly moving line was a band of Incas creeping toward us silently, on their knees, through the darkness. Glancing to either side I saw that the line extended completely around us, to the right and left. The sight seemed to paralyze me. I tried to call to Harry--no sound came from my eager lips. I tried to put out my hand to rouse him and to pick up my spear; my arms remained motionless at my side. Desiree lay close beside me; I could not even turn my head to see if she, too, saw, but kept my eyes, as though fascinated, on that silent black line approaching through the darkness. "Will they leap now--now--now?" I asked myself with every beat of my pulse. It could not be much longer--they were now so close that each black, tense form was in clear outline not fifty feet away. Chapter XXIII. WE ARE TWO. Whether I would have been able to rouse myself to action before the shock of the assault was actually upon us, I shall never know. It was not fear that held me, for I felt none; I think that dimly and half unconsciously I saw in that black line, silently creeping upon us, the final and inexorable approach of the remorseless fate that had pursued us ever since we had dashed after Desiree into the cave of the devil, rendering our every effort futile, our most desperate struggles the laughing-stock of the gods. I was not even conscious of danger. I sat as in a stupor. But action came, though not from me, so suddenly that I scarcely knew what had happened. There was a cry from Desiree. Harry sprang to his feet. The Incas leaped forward. I felt myself jerked violently from the ground, and a spear was thrust into my hand. Harry's form flashed past me, shouting to me to follow. Desiree was at his heels; but I saw her halt and turn to me, and I, too, sprang forward. Harry's spear whirled about his head, leaving a gap in the black line that was now upon us. Through it we plunged. The Incas turned and came at us from behind; one whose hands were upon Desiree got my spear in his throat and sank to the ground. "Cross to the left!" Harry yelled. He was fighting them off from every direction at once. I turned, calling to Desiree to follow, and dashed across the cavern. We saw the wall just ahead, broken and rugged. Again turning I called to Harry, but could not see him for the black forms on every side, and I was starting to his rescue when I saw him plunge toward us, cutting his way through the solid mass of Incas as though they had been stalks of corn. He was not a man, but a demon possessed. "Go on," he shouted. "I'll make it!" Then I turned and ran with Desiree to the wall. We followed it a short distance before we reached one of the lanes of which Harry had spoken; at its entrance he joined us, still bidding us to leave him to cover our retreat. Once within the narrow lane his task was easier. Boulders and projecting rocks obstructed our progress, but they were even greater obstacles to those who pursued us. Still they rushed forward, only to be hurled back by the point of Harry's spear. Once, turning, I saw him pick one of them up bodily and toss him whirling through the air into the very faces of his comrades. I had all I could do with Desiree and myself. Many times I scrambled up the steep face of some boulder and, after pulling her up safely after me, let her down again on the other side. Then I returned to see that Harry got over safely, and often he made it barely by inches, while flying spears struck the rock on every side. It is a wonder to me now that I was able even to stand, after my experience on the spiral stairway in the column. The soles of my feet and the palms of my hands were baked black as the Incas themselves. Blisters covered my body from head to foot, swelling, indescribably painful. Every step I took made me clench my teeth to keep from sinking in a faint to the ground; I expected always that the next would be my last--but somehow I struggled onward. It was the thought of Desiree, I think, that held me up, and Harry. Suddenly a shout came from Harry that the Incas had abandoned the pursuit. It struck me almost as a matter of indifference; nor was I affected when almost immediately afterward he called that he had been mistaken and that they had rushed forward with renewed fury and in greater numbers. "It is only a matter of time now," I said to Desiree, and she nodded. Still we went forward. The land had carried us straight away from the cavern, without a turn. Its walls were the roughest I had seen, and often a boulder which lay across our path presented a serrated face that looked as though it had but just been broken from the wall above. Still the stone was comparatively soft--time had not yet worked its leveling finger on the surfaces that surrounded us. We were standing on one of these boulders when Harry came running toward us. "They're stopped," he cried gleefully, "at least for a little. A piece of rock as big as a house gently slid from above onto their precious heads. It may have blocked them off completely." We hurried forward then; Harry helped Desiree, while I painfully brought up the rear. At every few steps they were forced to halt and wait for me, though I did my utmost to keep up with them. Harry had taken my spear that I might have both hands to help me over the rocks. Climbing, sliding, jumping, we left the Incas behind; no sound came from the rear. I began to think that they had really been completely shut off, and several times opened my mouth to call to Harry to ask him if it would not be safe to halt; for every movement I made was torture. But each time I choked back the cry; he thought it was necessary to go on and I followed. This lasted I know not how long; I was staggering and reeling forward like a drunken man, so little aware of what I was doing that when Harry and Desiree finally stopped at the beginning of a level, unbroken stretch in the lane, I stumbled directly against them before I knew they had halted. "Go on!" I gasped, struggling to my feet in a mania. Harry stooped over to assist me and set me with my back resting against the wall. Desiree supported herself near by, scarcely able to stand. "We can go no farther," said Harry. "If they come--" As he spoke I became aware of a curious movement in the wall opposite--a movement as of the wall itself. At first I thought it a delusion produced by my disordered brain, but when I saw Desiree's astonished gaze following mine, and heard Harry's cry of wonder as he turned and saw it also, I knew the thing was real. A great portion of the wall, the entire side of the passage for a length of a hundred feet or more, was sliding slowly downward. Glancing above I saw a space of several feet where the rock had departed from its bed. The only noise audible was a low, grating sound like the slow grinding of a gigantic millstone. None of us moved--if there were danger we would seem to have welcomed it. Suddenly the great mass of rock appeared to halt in its downward movement and hang as though suspended; then with a sudden jerk it seemed to free itself, swaying ponderously toward us; and the next moment it had fallen straight down into some abyss below, thundering, tumbling, sliding with terrific velocity. There was a deafening roar under our feet, the ground rocked as from an earthquake, and it seemed as though the wall against which we stood was about to fall in upon us. Dust and fragments of rock filled the air on every side, and one huge boulder, detached from the roof above, came tumbling at our feet, missing us by inches. We were completely stunned by the cataclysm, but in a moment Harry had recovered and run to the edge of the chasm opposite thus suddenly formed. Desiree and I followed. There was nothing to be seen save the blackness of space. Immediately before us was an apparently bottomless abyss, black and terrifying; the side descended straight down from our feet. Looking across we could see dimly a wall some distance away, smooth and with a faint whiteness. On either side of us other walls extended to meet the farther wall, smooth and polished as glass. "The Incas didn't do that, I hope," said Harry, turning to me. "Hardly," I answered; and in my absorbing interest in the phenomenon before me I half forgot my pain. I moved to the edge of one of the walls extending at right angles to the passage, but there was little to be made of it. It was of soft limestone, and most probably the portion that had disappeared was granite, carried away by the force of its own weight. "We are like to be buried," I observed, returning to Harry and Desiree. "Though for that matter, even that can hardly frighten us now." "For my part," said Harry, with a curious gravity beneath the apparent lightness of his words, "I have always admired the death of Porthos. Let it come, and welcome." "Are we to go further?" put in Desiree. Just as Harry opened his mouth to reply a more decisive answer came from another source. The rock that had fallen, obstructing the path of the Incas, must have left an opening that Harry had missed; or they had removed it--what matter? In some way they had forced a passage, for as Desiree spoke a dozen spears whistled through the air past our heads and we looked up to see a swarm of Incas climbing and tumbling down the face of a boulder over which we had passed to reach our resting-place. I have said that we had halted in a level, unbroken stretch that still led some distance ahead of us. At its farther end could be seen a group of rocks and boulders completely choking the lane, Beyond, other rocks arose to a still greater height--the way appeared to be impassable. But there was no time for deliberation or the weighing of chances, and we turned and made for the pile of rocks, with the Incas rushing after us. There Desiree and I halted in despair, but with a great oath Harry brushed us aside and leaped upon a rock higher than his head with incredible agility. Then, lying flat on his face and extending his arms downward over the edge, he pulled first Desiree, then myself, up after him. The whole performance had occupied a scant two seconds, and, waiting only to pick up the three spears he had thrown up the sloping surface of the rock to another yet higher and steeper. "Why don't we hold them here?" I demanded. "They could never come up that rock with us on top." Harry looked at me. "Spears," he said briefly; and, of course, he was right. They would have picked us off like birds on a limb. We scaled the second rock with extreme difficulty, Harry assisting both Desiree and me; and as we stood upright on its top I saw the Incas scrambling over the edge of the one below. Two or three of them had already started to cross; many more were coming up from behind; and one, as he made the top and arose to his feet, braced himself on the sloping rock and raised a spear high above his head. At sight of him I started, crying to Harry and Desiree. They turned. "The king!" I shouted; and I saw a shudder of terror run over Desiree's face as she, too, recognized the black form below. At the same instant the spear darted forward from the hand of the Child of the Sun, but it landed harmlessly against the rock several feet away. The next moment the Inca king had bounded across the rock toward us, followed by a score of others. I was minded to try my luck with his own weapon, but we had no spears to waste, and Harry was dragging Desiree forward and shouting to me to follow. I turned and ran after them, and just as we let ourselves down into a narrow crevice below the Incas appeared over the edge of the rock behind. Somehow we scrambled forward, with the Incas at our heels. Sharp corners of projecting rocks bruised our faces and bodies; once my leg bent double under me as I fell from a ledge onto a boulder below, and I thought it was broken; but Harry jerked me to my feet and I struggled on. Harry seemed possessed of the strength of ten men and the heart of a thousand. He pulled Desiree and me up and over boulders and rocks as though we had been feathers; the Lord knows how he got there himself! Half of the time he carried Desiree; the other half he supported me. His energy and exertions were titanic; even in the desperate excitement of our retreat I found time to marvel at it. We did not gain an inch; our pursuers kept close behind us; but we held our own. Now and then a stray spear came hurtling through the air or struck the rock near us, but they were infrequent and we were not hit. One, flying past my head, stuck in a crevice of the rock and I grasped the shaft to pull it out, but abandoned my effort when I heard Harry shouting to me from the front to come to his aid. He and Desiree were standing on the rim of a ledge that stood high above the ground of the passage. At its foot began a level stretch leading straight ahead as far as we could see. "We must lift her down," Harry was saying. He let himself over the ledge, hung by his hands, and dropped. "All right!" he called from below; and I lay flat on the rock while Desiree scrambled over the edge, holding to my hands. For a moment I held her suspended in my outstretched arms; then, at a word from Harry, I let her drop. Another moment and I was over myself, knocking Harry to the ground and tumbling on top of him as he stood beneath to break my fall. By then the Incas had reached the top of the ledge above us, and we turned and raced down the long stretch ahead. I was in front; Harry came behind with Desiree. Suddenly, as I ran, I felt a curious trembling of the ground beneath my feet, similar to the vibrations of a bridge at the passing of a heavy load. Then the ground actually swayed beneath me; and, realizing the danger, I sent a desperate shout to Harry over my shoulder and bounded forward. He was at my side on the instant, with Desiree in his arms. The ground rocked beneath our feet like a ship in a storm; and, just as I thought we were gone, my foot touched firm rock as I passed a yawning crevice a foot wide under me. One more leap to safety, and we turned just in time to see the floor of the passage which we had traversed disappear into some abyss beneath with a shattering roar. We stood at the very edge of the chasm thus suddenly formed, gazing at each other in silent wonder and awe. "The beggars are stopped now," said Harry finally. "That break in the game is ours." Looking back across the chasm, we saw the Incas tumbling by twos and threes over the boulder on the other side. As they saw the yawning abyss that separated them from their prey they stopped short and gazed across in profound astonishment. Others came to join them, until there were several hundred of the black, ugly forms huddled together on the opposite rim of the chasm, a hundred feet away. I ran over the group with a keen eye, seeking the figure of the Inca king, and soon my search was successful. He stood a step in front of the others, a little to the right. I pointed him out to Harry and Desiree. "It's up to him to walk right out again," said Harry. Desiree shivered, and proceeded to send her last invitation to the devil. Turning suddenly, she grasped Harry's spear and tore it from his hand. Before we realized her purpose, she stepped forward until her foot rested on the very edge of the chasm, and had hurled the spear across straight at the Inca king. It missed him, but struck another Inca standing near full in the breast. Quick as lightning the king turned, grasped the shaft of the spear, and pulled it forth, and with his white teeth gleaming in a snarl of furious hate, sent it whistling through the air straight at Desiree. Harry and I sprang forward with a shout of warning; Desiree stood motionless as a statue. We grasped her frantically and pulled her back, but too late. She came, but only to fall lifeless into our arms with the spear buried deep in her white throat. We laid her on the ground and knelt beside her for a moment, then Harry arose to his feet with a face white as death; and I uttered a silent and vengeful prayer as I saw him level a spear at the Inca king across the chasm. But it went wide of its mark, striking the ground at his feet. "There was another!" cried Harry, and soon he had found it where it lay on the ground and sent it, too, hurtling across. This time he missed by inches. The spear flew just past the shoulder of the king and caught one who stood behind him full in the face. The stricken savage threw his arms spasmodically above his head, reeling forward against the king. There was a startled movement along the black line; hands were outstretched in a vain effort at rescue; a savage cry burst from Harry's lips, and the next instant the king had toppled over the edge of the chasm and fallen into the bottomless pit below. Harry turned, quivering from head to foot. "Little enough," he said between his teeth, and again he knelt beside the body of Desiree and took her in his arms. But her fate spoke eloquently of our own danger, and I roused him to action. Together we picked up the form of our dead comrade and carried it to the rear. I hesitated to pull forth the barbed head of the spear, and instead broke off the shaft, leaving the point buried in the soft throat, from which a crimson line extended over the white shoulder. A short distance ahead we came to a projecting boulder, and behind that we gently laid her on the hard rock. Neither of us had spoken a word. Harry's lips were locked tightly together; a lump rose in my throat, choking all utterance and filling my eyes with tears. Harry knelt beside the white form and, gathering it gently in his arms, held it against his breast. I stood at his side, gazing down at him in mute sympathy and sorrow. For a long minute there was silence--a most intense silence throughout the cavern, during which the painful throbbing of my heart was plainly audible; then Harry murmured, in a voice of the utmost tenderness: "Desiree!" And again, "Desiree! Desiree!" until I half expected the very strength and sweetness of his emotion to bring our comrade back to life. Suddenly, with a quick, impulsive movement, he raised his head to glance at me. "She loved you," he said; and though there was neither jealousy nor anger in his voice, somehow I could not meet his gaze. "She loved you," he repeated in a tone half of wonder. "And you--you--" I answered his eyes. "She was yours," I said, with a touch of bitterness that persuaded him of the truth. "All her beauty, all her loveliness, all her charm, to be buried--Ah! God help us--" My voice broke, and I knelt on the ground beside Harry and pressed my lips to the white forehead and golden hair of what had been Le Mire. Thus we remained for a long time. It was hard to believe that death had in reality taken possession of the still form stretched as in repose before us. Her body, still warm, seemed quivering with the instinct of life; but the eyes were not the eyes of Desiree. I closed them, and arranged the tangled mass of hair as well as possible over her shoulders. As I did so the air, set in motion by my hand, caused some of the golden strands to tremble gently across her lips; and Harry bent forward with a painful eagerness, thinking that she had breathed. "Dearest," he murmured, "dearest, speak to me!" His hand sought her swelling bosom gropingly; and his eyes, as they looked pleadingly even into mine, shot into my heart and unnerved me. I rose to my feet, scarcely able to stand, and moved away. But the fate that had finally intervened for us--too late, alas! for one--did not leave us long with our dead. Even now I do not know what happened; at the time I knew even less. Harry told me afterward that the first shock came at the instant he had taken Desiree in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. I had crossed to the other side of the passage and was gazing back toward the chasm at the Incas on the other side, when again I felt the ground, absolutely without warning, tremble violently under my feet. At the same moment there was a low, curious rumble as of the thundering of distant cannon. I sprang toward Harry with a cry of alarm, and had crossed about to the middle of the passage, when a deafening roar smote my ear, and the entire wall of the cavern appeared to be failing in upon us. At the same time the ground seemed to sink directly away beneath my feet with an easy, rocking motion as of a wave of the ocean. Then I felt myself plunging downward with a velocity that stunned my senses and took away my breath; and then all was confusion and chaos--and oblivion. When I awoke I was lying flat on my back, and Harry was kneeling at my side. I opened my eyes, and felt that it would be impossible to make a greater exertion. "Paul!" cried Harry. "Speak to me! Not you, too--I shall go mad!" He told me afterward that I had lain unconscious for many hours, but that appeared to be all that he knew. How far we had fallen, or how he had found me, or how he himself had escaped being crushed to pieces by the falling rock, he was unable to say; and I concluded that he, too, had been rendered unconscious by the fall, and for some time dazed and bewildered by the shock. Well! We were alive--that was all. For we were weak and faint from hunger and fatigue, and one mass of bruises and blisters from head to foot. And we had had no water for something like twenty-four hours. Heaven only knows where we found the energy to rise and go in search of it; it is incredible that any creatures in such a pitiable and miserable condition as we were could have been propelled by hope, unless it is indeed immortal. Half walking, half crawling, we went forward. The place where we had found ourselves was a jumbled mass of boulders and broken rock, but we soon discovered a passage, level and straight as any tunnel built by man. Down this we made our way. Every few feet we stopped to rest. Neither of us spoke a word. I really had no sense of any purpose in our progress; I crept on exactly as some animals, wounded to death, move on and on until there is no longer strength for another step, when they lie down for the final breath. We saw no water nor promise of any; nothing save the long stretch of dim vista ahead and the grim, black walls on either side. That, I think, for hours; it seemed to me then for years. I dragged one leg after the other with infinite effort and pain; Harry was ahead, and sometimes, glancing back over his shoulder to find me at some distance behind, he would turn over and lie on his back till I approached. Then again to his knees and again forward. Neither of us spoke. Suddenly, at a great distance down the passage, much further than I had been able to see before, I saw what appeared to be a white wall extending directly across our path. I called to Harry and pointed it out to him. He nodded vaguely, as though in wonder that I should have troubled him about so slight an object of interest, and crawled on. But the white wall became whiter still, and soon I saw that it was not a wall. A wild hope surged through me; I felt the blood mount dizzily to my head, and I stilled the clamor that beat at my temples by an extreme effort of the will. "It can't be," I said to myself aloud, over and over; "it can't be, it can't be." Harry turned, and his face was as white as when he had knelt by the body of Desiree, and his eye was wild. "You fool," he roared, "it is!" We went faster then. Another hundred yards, and the thing was certain; there it was before us. We scrambled to our feet and tried to run; I reeled and fell, then picked myself up again and followed Harry, who had not even halted as I had fallen. The mouth of the passage was now but a few feet away; I reached Harry's side, blinking and stunned with amazement and the incredible wonder of it. I tried to shout, to cry aloud to the heavens, but a great lump in my throat choked me and my head was singing dizzily. Harry, at my side, was crying like a child, with great tears streaming down his face, as together we staggered forth from the mouth of the passage into the bright and dazzling sunshine of the Andes. Chapter XXIV. CONCLUSION. Never, I believe, were misery and joy so curiously mingled in the human breast as when Harry and I stood--barely able to stand--gazing speechlessly at the world that had so long been hidden from us. We had found the light, but had lost Desiree. We were alive, but so near to death that our first breath of the mountain air was like to be our last. The details of our painful journey down the mountain, over the rocks and crags, and through rushing torrents that more than once swept us from our feet, cannot be written, for I do not know them. The memory of the thing is but an indistinct nightmare of suffering. But the blind luck that seemed to have fallen over our shoulders as a protecting mantle at the death of Desiree stayed with us; and after endless hours of incredible toil and labor, we came to a narrow pass leading at right angles to our course. Night was ready to fall over the bleak and barren mountain as we entered it. Darkness had long since overtaken us, when we saw at a distance a large clearing, in the middle of which lights shone from the windows of a large house whose dim and shadowy outline appeared to us surrounded by a halo of peace. But we were nearly forced to fight for it. The proprietor of the hacienda himself answered our none too gentle knock at the door, and he had no sooner caught sight of us than he let out a yell as though he had seen the devil in person, and slammed the door violently in our faces. Indeed, we were hardly recognizable as men. Naked, black, bruised, and bleeding, covered with hair on our faces and parts of our bodies--mine, of recent growth, stubby and stiff--our appearance would have justified almost any suspicion. But we hammered again on the door, and I set forth our pedigree and plight in as few words as possible. Reassured, perhaps, by my excellent Spanish--which could not, of course, be the tongue of the devil--and convinced by our pitiable condition of our inability to do him any harm, he at length reopened the door and gave us admittance. When we had succeeded in allaying his suspicions concerning our identity--though I was careful not to alarm his superstitions by mentioning the cave of the devil, which, I thought, was probably well known to him--he lost no time in displaying his humanity. Calling in some hombres from the rear of the hacienda, he gave them ample instructions, with medicine and food, and an hour later Harry and I were lying side by side in his own bed--a rude affair, but infinitely better than granite--refreshed, bandaged, and as comfortable as their kindly ministrations could make us. The old Spaniard was a direct descendant of the good Samaritan--despite the slight difference in nationality. For many weeks he nursed us and fed us and coaxed back the spark of life in our exhausted and wounded bodies. Our last ounce of strength seemed to have been used up in our desperate struggle down the side of the mountain; for many days we lay on our backs absolutely unable to move a muscle and barely conscious of life. But the spark revived and fluttered. The day came when we could hobble, with his assistance, to the door of the hacienda and sit for hours in the invigorating sunshine; and thenceforward our convalescence proceeded rapidly. Color came to our cheeks and light to our eyes; and one sunny afternoon it was decided that we should set out for Cerro de Pasco on the following day. Harry proposed a postponement of our departure for two days, saying that he wished to make an excursion up the mountain. I understood him at once. "It would be useless," I declared. "You would find nothing." "But she was with us when we fell," he persisted, not bothering to pretend that he did not understand me. "She came--it must be near where we landed." "That isn't it," I explained. "Have you forgotten that we have been here for over a month? You would find nothing." As he grasped my thought his face went white and he was silent. So on the following morning we departed. Our host furnished us with food, clothing, mules, and an arriero, not to mention a sorrowful farewell and a hearty blessing. From the door of the hacienda he waved his sombrero as we disappeared around a bend in the mountain-pass; we had, perhaps, been a welcome interruption in the monotony of his lonely existence. We were led upward for many miles until we found ourselves again in the region of perpetual snow. There we set our faces to the south. From the arriero we tried to learn how far we then were from the cave of the devil, but to our surprise were informed that he had never heard of the thing. We could see that the question made him more than a little suspicious of us; often, when he thought himself unobserved, I caught him eyeing us askance with something nearly approaching terror. We journeyed southward for eleven days; on the morning of the twelfth we saw below us our goal. Six hours later we had entered the same street of Cerro de Pasco through which we had passed formerly with light hearts; and the heart which had been gayest of all we had left behind us, stilled forever, somewhere beneath the mountain of stone which she had herself chosen for her tomb. Almost the first person we saw was none other than Felipe, the arriero. He sat on the steps of the hotel portico as we rode up on our mules. Dismounting, I caught sight of his white face and staring eyes as he rose slowly to his feet, gazing at us as though fascinated. I opened my mouth to call to him, but before the words left my lips he had let out an ear-splitting yell of terror and bounded down the steps and past us, with arms flying in every direction, running like one possessed. Nor did he return during the few hours that we remained at the hotel. Two days later found us boarding the yacht at Callao. When I had discovered, to my profound astonishment, at the hacienda, that another year had taken us as far as the tenth day of March, I had greatly doubted if we should find Captain Harris still waiting for us. But there he was; and he had not even put himself to the trouble of becoming uneasy about us. As he himself put it that night in the cabin, over a bottle of wine, he "didn't know but what the senora had decided to take the Andes home for a mantel ornament, and was engaged in the little matter of transportation." But when I informed him that "the senora" was no more, his face grew sober with genuine regret and sorrow. He had many good things to say of her then; it appeared that she had really touched his salty old heart. "She was a gentle lady," said the worthy captain; and I smiled to think how Desiree herself would have smiled at such a characterization of the great Le Mire. We at once made for San Francisco. There, at a loss, I disposed of the remainder of the term of the lease on the yacht, and we took the first train for the East. Four days later we were in New York, after a journey saddened by thoughts of the one who had left us to return alone. It was, in fact, many months before the shadow of Desiree ceased to hover about the dark old mansion on lower Fifth Avenue, incongruous enough among the ancient halls and portraits of Lamars dead and gone in a day when La Marana herself had darted like a meteor into the hearts of their contemporaries. That is, I suppose, properly the end of the story; but I cannot refrain from the opportunity to record a curious incident that has just befallen me. Some twenty minutes ago, as I was writing the last paragraph--I am seated in the library before a massive mahogany table, close to a window through which the September sun sends its golden rays--twenty minutes ago, as I say, Harry sauntered into the room and threw himself lazily into a large armchair on the other side of the table. I looked up with a nod of greeting, while he sat and eyed me impatiently for some seconds. "Aren't you coming with me down to Southampton?" he asked finally. "What time do you leave?" I inquired, without looking up. "Eleven-thirty." "What's on?" "Freddie Marston's Crocodiles and the Blues. It's going to be some polo." I considered a moment. "Why, I guess I'll run down with you. I'm about through here." "Good enough!" Harry arose to his feet and began idly fingering some of the sheets on the table before me. "What is all this silly rot, anyway?" "My dear boy," I smiled, "you'll be sorry you called it silly rot when I tell you that it is a plain and honest tale of our own experiences." "Must be deuced interesting," he observed. "More silly rot than ever." "Others may not think so," I retorted, a little exasperated by his manner. "It surely will be sufficiently exciting to read of how we were buried with Desiree Le Mire under the Andes, and our encounters with the Incas, and our final escape, and--" "Desiree what?" Harry interrupted. "Desiree Le Mire," I replied very distinctly. "The great French dancer." "Never heard of her," said Harry, looking at me as if he doubted my sanity. "Never heard of Desiree, the woman you loved?" I almost shouted at him. "The woman I--piffle! I say I never heard of her." I gazed at him, trembling with high indignation. "I suppose," I observed with infinite sarcasm, "that you will tell me next that you have never been in Peru?" "Guilty," said Harry. "I never have." "And that you never climbed Pike's Peak to see the sunrise?" "Rahway, New Jersey, is my farthest west." "And that you never dived with me from the top of a column one hundred feet high?" "Not I. I retain a smattering of common sense." "And that you did not avenge the death of Desiree by causing that of the Inca king?" "So far as that Desiree woman is concerned," said Harry, and his tone began to show impatience, "I can only repeat that I have never heard of the creature. And"--he continued--"if you're trying to bamboozle a gullible world by concocting a tale as silly as your remarks to me would seem to indicate, I will say that as a cheap author you are taking undue liberties with your family, meaning myself. And what is more, if you dare to print the stuff I'll let the world know it's a rank fake." This threat, delivered with the most awful resolution and sincerity, unnerved me completely, and I fell back in my chair in a swoon. When I recovered Harry had gone to his polo game, leaving me behind, whereupon I seized my pen and hastened to set down in black and white that most remarkable conversation, that the reader may judge for himself between us. For my part, I do swear that the story is true, on my word of honor as a cynic and a philosopher. [end of text] Note: I have made the following changes to the text: PAGE PARA. LINE ORIGINAL CHANGED TO 2 1 2 sursounding surrounding 22 6 2 hunderd hundred 24 9 1 La Mire Le Mire 32 1 1 ager eager 36 4 5 earthqakes earthquakes 45 5 2 tossd tossed 56 10 1 then than 58 8 1 or our 69 8 2 geting getting 74 1 3 unstead unsteady 87 13 1 Whey Why 106 5 1 placng placing 112 4 2 aggreeable agreeable 115 1 to some some 123 1 2 Desiree arms Desiree's arms 125 3 5 had made has made 129 11 4 But was But it was 140 4 1 Lords knows Lord knows 158 5 6 begin towed being towed 168 6 2 dicussing discussing 178 6 3 Pachacamas Pachacamac 179 7 3 cabin cavern 185 2 1 was wild was a wild 192 8 3 carvern cavern* 196 8 1 perservation preservation 196 9 4 dour days four days 204 6 1 litte little 208 2 1 on my on me 209 3 4 aked asked 210 5 2 retuned returned 211 8 3 said side 212 3 3 touch tough 224 6 2 Soliel Soleil 226 5 5 aproaching approaching 243 1 3 serius serious 247 5 5 forseen foreseen 247 6 1 They The 259 4 5 peceptibly perceptibly 
7070	----	The Treasure of the Incas A Story of Adventure in Peru BY G. A. HENTY [Illustration: IT DID NOT TAKE LONG TO TRANSFER THE SACKS INTO THE BOAT _Page 339_] PREFACE TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION The mysterious loss of a large portion of the treasure of the Incas has never been completely cleared up. By torturing the natives to whom the secret had been entrusted, the Spaniards made two or three discoveries, but there can be little doubt that these finds were only a small proportion of the total amount of the missing hoards, although for years after their occupation of the country the Spaniards spared no pains and hesitated at no cruelty to bring to light the hidden wealth. The story of the boat which put to sea laden with treasure is historical, and it was generally supposed that she was lost in a storm that took place soon after she sailed. It was also morally certain that the Peruvians who left the country when the Spaniards became masters carried off with them a very large amount of treasure into that part of South America lying east of Peru. Legends are current that they founded a great city there, and that their descendants occupy it at the present time. But the forests are so thick, and the Indian tribes so hostile, that the country has never yet been explored, and it may be reserved for some future traveller, possessing the determination of my two heroes, to clear up the mystery of this city as they penetrated that of the lost treasure-ship. It need hardly be said that the state of confusion, misrule, and incessant civil wars which I have described as prevailing in Peru presents a true picture of the country at the period in which this story is laid. G. A. HENTY. CONTENTS CHAP. I. HOW IT CAME ABOUT II. THE START III. AT LIMA IV. A STREET FRAY V. AMONG THE MOUNTAINS VI. A TROPICAL FOREST VII. AN INDIAN ATTACK VIII. DEFEAT OF THE NATIVES IX. THE SIGNAL STAR X. A FRESH START XI. BRIGANDS XII. PRISONERS XIII. LETTERS FROM HOME XIV. THE CASTLE OF THE DEMONS XV. INVESTIGATIONS XVI. THE SEARCH BEGINS XVII. AT WORK XVIII. DISAPPOINTMENT XIX. THE TREASURE XX. HOME ILLUSTRATIONS IT DID NOT TAKE LONG TO TRANSFER THE SACKS INTO THE BOAT. AN INDIAN SPIES THE EXPEDITION. THEY SAW APPROACHING A PEASANT WOMAN SITTING ON A MULE. HARRY DROPPED THE BARREL OF HIS RIFLE INTO THE PALM OF HIS LEFT HAND. Map of Peru [Illustration: MAP OF PERU] THE TREASURE OF THE INCAS CHAPTER I HOW IT CAME ABOUT Two men were sitting in the smoking-room of a London club. The room was almost empty, and as they occupied arm-chairs in one corner of it, they were able to talk freely without fear of being overheard. One of them was a man of sixty, the other some five or six and twenty. "I must do something," the younger man said, "for I have been kicking my heels about London since my ship was paid off two years ago. At first, of course, it didn't matter, for I have enough to live upon; but recently I have been fool enough to fall in love with a girl whose parents would never dream of allowing her to marry a half-pay lieutenant of the navy with no chance in the world of getting employed again, for I have no interest whatever." "It is an awkward case certainly, Prendergast," the other said; "and upon my word, though I sympathize with you, I cannot blame Fortescue. He is not what you might call a genial man, but there is no doubt that he was a splendid lawyer and a wonderful worker. For ten years he earned more than any man at the bar. I know that he was twice offered the solicitor-generalship, but as he was making two or three times the official salary, he would not take it. I believe he would have gone on working till now had he not suddenly come in for a very fine estate, owing to the death, in the course of two or three years, of four men who stood between him and it. Besides, I fancy he got hints that in the general opinion of the bar he had had a wonderfully good innings, and it was about time that younger men had a share in it. What his savings were I do not know, but they must be very large. His three sons are all at the bar, and are rising men, so there was no occasion for him to go on piling up money for them. But, as I say, he has always had the reputation of being a hard man, and it is practically certain that he would never allow his daughter to marry a man whom he would regard as next door to a pauper. Now, what are you thinking of doing?" "Well, sir, Miss Fortescue has agreed to wait for me for two years, and of course I am eager to do something, but the question is what? I can sail a ship, but even could I get the command of a merchantman, it would not improve my position in the eyes of the parents of the lady in question. Now, you have been knocking about all over the world, I do wish you would give me your advice. Where is there money to be got? I am equally ready to go to the North Pole or the Equator, to enter the service of an Indian prince, or to start in search of a treasure hidden by the old bucaneers." "You talk Spanish, don't you?" "Yes; all my service has been in the Mediterranean. We were two years off the coast of Spain, and in and out of its ports, and as time hung heavily on our hands, I got up the language partly to amuse myself and partly to be able to talk fluently with my partners at a ball." The elder man did not speak for a minute or two. "You have not thought of South America?" he said at last. "No, Mr. Barnett; I don't know that I have ever thought of one place more than another." The other was again silent. "I don't think you could do better anywhere," he said slowly. "It is a land with great possibilities; at any rate it is a land where you could be understood, and of course it would be folly to go anywhere without a knowledge of the language. I was, as you know, five years out there, and came home when the war broke out between Chili and the Spaniards. I have been more in Peru than in Chili, and as Peru was still in the hands of the Spanish, it would have been impossible for me to go there again as long as the war lasted. Knocking about as I did, I heard a great deal from the natives (I mean the Indians). I gathered from them a number of their traditions, and I am convinced that they know of any number of gold mines that were formerly worked, but were blocked up when the Spaniards invaded the country, and have been kept secret ever since. "The natives have never spoken on the subject at all to the Spaniards. If they had, they would have been flogged until they revealed all they knew--that is to say, they would have been flogged to death, for no tortures will wring from an Indian anything he knows about gold. They look upon that metal as the source of all the misfortunes that have fallen upon their race. With an Englishman whom they knew and trusted, and who, as they also knew, had no wish whatever to discover gold mines, they were a little less reticent. I never asked them any questions on a subject in which I had not a shadow of interest, but I certainly had some curiosity, not of a pecuniary kind, because the matter had always been a riddle as to the hiding-place of the Incas' treasures. And from what I learned I should say it is absolutely certain that a great portion of these escaped the search of their Spanish tyrants. "Whether the men who were employed in the work all died without revealing the secret, or whether it had been trusted to a chosen few, I know not; but the natives believe that there are still a few among them to whom the secret has been passed down from father to son. Anyhow, all had heard vague traditions. Some said that part of the treasure was carried hundreds of miles inland and given over to a tribe of fierce savages, in a country into which no European can enter. Another tradition is that a portion of it was carried off by sea in a great canoe, which was never heard of again and was believed to have been lost. I am not for a moment supposing, Prendergast, that if you went out there you would have the most remote chance of discovering what the Spaniards, ever since they landed there, have been in vain trying to find, and I certainly should not think of recommending a mad-brained adventure, but undoubtedly there are many rich gold mines yet to be found. There are openings for trade, too; and I can give you introductions to merchants both in Chili and Peru. It is not a thing I should recommend to everyone, far from it; but if you want to combine adventure with a chance, however small, of making money, I don't know that you can do better than go to South America. You are fitted for no calling here; your income, counting your half-pay, would suffice to keep you out there, and a couple of years of such a life would do you no harm." "It is just what I should like," the young man said enthusiastically; "though I don't know how I should set to work if I did find a mine." "You would have to bring home specimens, with particulars of the width of the lode. Of course you would crush pieces up and wash them yourself, or get your Indian to wash them; that would give you an approximate idea of the percentage of gold. If it were rich, I could introduce you to men who would advance money for working it, giving you a share of the profits. They would send out a mining expert with you. He would verify your report, and then you would take up the concession. I don't know whether there have been any changes in the regulations, but there is no difficulty in learning how to proceed from one or other of the men to whom I will give you introductions. The thing would not be worth thinking of were it not that the man who always went with me as guide and muleteer is an Indian, and has, I am convinced, a knowledge of some of these places. He was with me all the time I was out there. I saved his life when a puma sprang upon him, and he more than once hinted that he could make me a rich man, but I had no inclination that way, my income being sufficient for all my wants. Still, on the chance that he is alive--and he was about thirty when he was with me fifteen years ago, so it is probable that he is still to the fore--I will give you a letter to him telling him that you are a dear friend of mine, and that I trust to him to do any service he can for you just as he would have done for myself. Had it not been for that I should never have mentioned the matter to you. These old mines are the dream of every Peruvian. They have been searching for them ever since the conquest of the country, and as they have failed, it is absurd to think that an Englishman would have the slightest chance of lighting upon a mine, still less of finding any of the Incas' treasures. But with the Indian's aid it is just possible that you may find something, though I should advise you most strongly not to build in any way upon the chance. I consider that you cannot possibly win Miss Fortescue; that being so, two years of knocking about will not make your position worse, and by the time you come back, you may have ceased to struggle against fate. It will afford you a remote--but distinctly remote--opportunity of bettering your position, will give you something else to think about besides that young lady's charms, and you may even come to recognize that life is, after all, possible without her. You may shake your head, lad; but you know children cry for the moon sometimes, yet afterwards come to understand that it would not be a desirable plaything." "Well, at any rate, Mr. Barnett, I am extremely obliged for your suggestion and for your offer of introductions. It is just the life that I should enjoy thoroughly. As you say, the chance that anything will come of it is extremely small, but at least there is a possibility, and I take it as a drowning man catches at a straw." "By the way, you mustn't think only of gold; silver is, after all, the chief source of the riches of Peru, and there are numbers of extraordinarily rich mines. It is calculated that three hundred millions have been produced since the first occupation by the Spaniards. Quicksilver is also very abundant; copper and lead are found too, but there is not much to be done with them at present, owing to the cost of carriage. There is good shooting in the mountains on the eastern side of the Andes, and you will find plenty of sport there." They talked over the matter for some time before they separated, and Harry Prendergast became quite excited over it. On his return to his rooms he was astonished to find the candles alight and a strong smell of tobacco pervading the place. A lad of about sixteen leapt from the easy-chair in which he had been sitting, with his feet on another. "Hullo, Harry, I didn't expect you back so soon! The maid said you were dining out, and I suppose that generally means one o'clock before you are back." "Well, what brings you here, Bert? I thought I had got you off my hands for a year at least." "I thought so, myself," the lad said coolly; "but circumstances have been too strong for me. We were running down the Channel the night before last, when a craft that was beating up ran smack into us. I don't know that it was his fault more than ours; the night was dark, and it was very thick, and we did not see each other until she was within a length of us. Luck was against us; if she had been a few seconds quicker we should have caught her broadside, but as it was she rammed us, knocking a hole in our side as big as a house, and we had just time to jump on board her. Our old craft went down two minutes after the skipper, who was of course the last man, left her. The other fellow had stove his bow in. Luckily we were only about a couple of miles off Dungeness, and though she leaked like a sieve, we were able to run her into the bay, where she settled down in two and a half fathoms of water. As soon as it was light we landed and tramped to Dover. A hoy was starting for the river that evening, and most of us came up in her, arriving at the Pool about three hours ago. It is a bad job, Harry, and I am horribly put out about it. Of course nothing could be saved, and there is all the new kit you bought for me down at the bottom. I sha'n't bother you again; I have quite made up my mind that I shall ship before the mast this time, and a five-pound note will buy me a good enough outfit for that." "We need not talk about that now, Bertie. You are certainly an unlucky beggar; this is the second time you have been wrecked." "It is a frightful nuisance," the boy said. "It is the kit I am thinking of, otherwise I should not mind. I didn't care for the skipper. He seemed all right and decent enough before we started, but I soon heard from fellows who had sailed with him before that he was a tartar; and what was worse, they said he was in the habit of being drunk two nights out of three. However, that has nothing to do with it. I am really awfully sorry, Harry. You have been a thundering good elder brother. I hated to think that you had to shell out last time, and I have quite made up my mind that you sha'n't do it again." "Well, it cannot be helped; it is no fault of yours; still, of course, it is a nuisance. Thank God that no harm has come to you, that is the principal thing. Now, sit down and go on with your pipe, you young monkey. I did not think you had taken to smoking." "One has to," the lad said, "everyone else does it; and there is no doubt that, when you have got the middle watch on cold nights with foul winds, it is a comfort." "Well, go on smoking," his brother said. "I will light up too. Now shut your mouth altogether. I want to think." They were silent for fully ten minutes, then Harry said; "I told you about that business of mine with Miss Fortescue." Bertie grinned all over his face, which, as he sat, was not visible to his brother. Then with preternatural gravity he turned towards him. "Yes, you told me about it; an uncomfortable business wasn't it?--surly old father, lovely daughter, and so on." "I will pull your ear for you, you young scamp," Harry said wrathfully, "if you make fun of it; and I have a good mind not to say what I was going to." "Say it, Harry, don't mind my feelings," the lad said. "You can't say I did not stand it well when I was here last week, and gave you no end of sympathy. Go ahead, old fellow; I dare say I shall be taken bad some day, and then I shall be able to make allowances for you." "I'll have nothing more to say to you, you young imp." "Don't say that, Harry," the lad said in a tone of alarm. "You know how sympathizing I am, and I know what a comfort it is for you to unburden yourself; but I do think that it won't be necessary to go into personal descriptions, you know, or to tell me what you said to her or she said to you, because you told me all that ten days ago, also what her tyrannical old father said. But really seriously I am awfully sorry about it all, and if there is anything that I can possibly do for you I shall be only too pleased. I don't see that it would be any advantage for me to go and give the old gentleman my opinion of him; but if you think it would, and can coach me in some of his sore points, we might see how we could work upon them." "I always thought you were a young ass, Bertie," Harry said sternly, "but I have not realized before how utterly assified you are." "All right, Harry!" the lad said cheerfully; "hit me as hard as you like, under the circumstances I feel that I cannot kick." Harry said nothing for another five minutes. "This is a serious matter," he said at last, "and I don't want any tomfoolery." "All right, Harry! I will be as serious as a judge." "I am thinking of going away for two years." The lad turned half round in his chair and had a good look at his brother. "Where are you going to?" seeing by Harry's rather gloomy face that he was quite in earnest. "I believe I am going to Peru." "What are you going there for, Harry?" the lad said quietly. "I told you," the other went on, "that Mr. Fortescue said that he had no personal objection to me, but that if I was in a position to give his daughter a home equal to that which I wanted her to leave, he would be content." Bertie nodded. "This seemed to me hopeless," Harry went on. "I told you that she was willing to wait for two years, but that she couldn't promise much longer than that, for her father had set his mind on her making a good match; he has certainly put a tremendous pressure upon her. When I was talking at the club this evening to Mr. Barnett--you know that he is our oldest friend and is one of our trustees--I told him about it, and said that though I was ready to do anything and go anywhere I could not see my way at all to making a big fortune straight away. He agreed with me. After talking it over he said he knew of but one way by which such a thing would be at all possible, but the betting would be twenty thousand to one against it. Of course I said that if there was even a possibility I would try it. Well, you know he was in Peru for some years. He says that the natives have all sorts of legends about rich mines that were hidden when the Spaniards came first, and that it is certain that, tremendous as was the amount of loot they got, a great part of the Incas' treasure was hidden away. Once or twice there had been great finds-in one case two million and a half dollars. It is believed that the secret is still known to certain Indians. When he went out there he had a muleteer, whose life he saved when he was attacked by some beast or other, and this man as much as hinted that he knew of a place where treasure might be concealed; but as Barnett was interested in beasts and plants and that sort of thing, and had a comfortable fortune, he never troubled himself about it one way or another. Well, he offered to give me a letter to this man, and he regarded it as just possible that the fellow, who seems to be a descendant of some of the people who were members of the Incas' court at the time the Spaniards came, may have some knowledge of the rich mines that were then closed down, and that he may be able to show them to me, from his feeling of gratitude to Barnett. It is but one chance in a million, and as I can see no other possibility of making a fortune in two years, I am going to try it." "Of course you will," the lad said excitedly, "and I should think that you would take me with you." "I certainly had not dreamt of doing so, Bertie. But if I have to keep on getting fresh outfits for you, the idea has come into my mind during the last half-hour that I could not do better." "Harry, you are sure to be disappointed lots of times before you hit on a treasure, and then if you were all by yourself you would get down in the mouth. Now, I should be able to keep you going, pat you on the back when you felt sick, help you to fight Indians and wild beasts, and be useful in all sorts of ways." "That is like your impudence, Bertie," the other laughed. "Seriously, I know I shall be a fool to take you, and if I really thought I had any chance to speak of I should not do so; but though I am going to try, I don't expect for a moment that I shall succeed. I feel that really it would be a comfort to have someone with me upon whom I could rely in such a life as I should have to lead. It certainly would be lonely work for one man. The only doubt in my mind is whether it will be fair to you--you have got your profession." "But I can go back to it if nothing good turns up, Harry. I can visit the firm and tell them that I am going to travel with you for a bit, and hope that on my return they will take me back again and let me finish my apprenticeship. I should think they would be rather glad, for they always build and never buy ships, and it will take them six months to replace the _Stella_. Besides, it will do me a lot of good. I shall pick up Spanish--at least, I suppose that is the language they speak out there--and shall learn no end of things. As you know, we trade with the west coast of America, so I should be a lot more useful to the firm when I come back than I am now." "Well, I will think it over, and let you know in the morning. I must certainly consult Mr. Barnett, for he is your trustee as well as mine. If we go I shall work my way out. It will be a big expense, anyhow, and I don't mean, if possible, to draw upon my capital beyond three or four hundred pounds. I believe living is cheap out there, and if I buy three or four mules I shall then have to pay only the wages for the muleteers, and the expenses of living. Of course I shall arrange for my income and half-pay to be sent out to some firm at Lima. Now, you had better go off to bed, and don't buoy yourself up with the belief that you are going, for I have by no means decided upon taking you yet." "You will decide to take me, Harry," the lad said confidently, and then added with a laugh: "the fact that you should have adopted a plan like this is quite sufficient to show that you want somebody to look after you." Harry Prendergast did not get much sleep that night. He blamed himself for having mentioned the matter at all to Bertie, and yet the more he thought over it the more he felt that it would be very pleasant to have his brother with him. The lad was full of fun and mischief, but he knew that he had plenty of sound sense, and would be a capital companion, and the fact that he had been three years at sea, and was accustomed to turn his hand to anything, was all in his favour. If nothing came of it he would only have lost a couple of years, and, as the boy himself had said, the time would not have been altogether wasted. Bertie was down before him in the morning. He looked anxiously at his brother as he came in. "Well, Harry?" "Well, I have thought it over in every light. But in the first place, Bertie, if you go with me you will have to remember that I am your commanding officer. I am ten years older than you, and besides I am a lieutenant in the King's Navy, while you are only a midshipman in the merchant service. Now, I shall expect as ready obedience from you as if I were captain of my own ship and you one of my men; that is absolutely essential." "Of course, Harry, it could not be otherwise." "Very well, then; in the next place I shall abide by what Mr. Barnett says. He is your guardian as well as trustee, and has a perfect right to put a veto upon any wild expedition of this sort. Lastly, I should hope, although I don't say that this is absolutely necessary, that you may get your employer's promise to take you back again in order that you may complete your time." "Thank you very much, Harry!" the lad said gratefully. "The first condition you may rely upon being performed, and I think the third will be all right, for I know that I have always been favourably reported upon. Old Prosser told me so himself when he said that I should have a rise in my pay this voyage. As to Mr. Barnett, of course I can't say, but I should think, as it was he who put you up to this, he must see that it would be good for you to have someone to take care of you." "I think he is much more likely to say that I shall have quite enough to do to take care of myself, without having the bother of looking after you. However, I will go and see him this morning. You had better call upon your employers." "Don't you think I had better go to Mr. Barnett with you, Harry?" "Not as you are now anyhow, Bertie. Your appearance is positively disgraceful. You evidently had on your worst suit of clothes when you were wrecked, and I can see that they have not been improved by the experience. Why, there is a split right down one sleeve, and a big rent in your trousers!" "I got them climbing on board, for I had no time to pick and choose, with the _Stella_ sinking under my feet." "Well, you may as well go as you are, but you had better borrow a needle and thread from the landlady and mend up the holes. You really cannot walk through the city in that state. I will see about getting you some more clothes when we get back, for I cannot have you coming here in these in broad daylight. Here are three guineas; get yourself a suit of pilot cloth at some outfitter's at the East End. It will be useful to you anyhow, whether you go with me or ship again here." "There is a good deal in what you say, Harry," Mr. Barnett said when Prendergast asked his opinion as to his taking his brother with him. "Two years would not make any material difference in his career as a sailor; it simply means that he will be so much older when he passes as mate. There is no harm in that. Two or three and twenty is quite young enough for a young fellow to become an officer, and I don't think that many captains care about having lads who have just got their certificate. They have not the same sense of responsibility or the same power of managing. Then, too, Bertie will certainly have a good deal of knocking about if he spends a couple of years in South America, and the knowledge he will gain of Spanish will add to his value with any firm trading on that coast. As far as you are concerned, I think it would be a great advantage to have him with you. In a long expedition, such as you propose, it is a gain to have a companion with you. It makes the work more pleasant, and two men can laugh over hardships and disagreeables that one alone would grumble at; but apart from this, it is very important in case of illness. "A lonely man laid up with fever, or accidental injury, fares badly indeed if he is at a distance from any town where he can obtain medical attendance, and surrounded only by ignorant natives. I was myself at one time down with fever for six weeks in a native hut, and during that time I would have given pretty nearly all that I was worth for the sight of a white face and the sound of an English voice. As to the fact that it is possible that the lad might catch fever, or be killed in an affray with natives, that must, of course, be faced; but as a sailor he runs the risk of shipwreck, or of being washed overboard, or killed by a falling spar. Everything considered, I think the idea of his going with you is a good one. I don't suppose that many guardians would be of the same opinion, but I have been so many years knocking about in one part of the world or another, that I don't look at things in the same light as men who have never been out of England." "I am glad you see it in that way, sir. I own that it would be a great satisfaction to have him with me. He certainly would be a cheery companion, and I should say that he is as hard as nails, and can stand as much fatigue and hardship as myself. Besides, there is no doubt that in case of any trouble two men are better than one." "I cannot advance any money out of the thousand pounds that will come to him when he is of age. By your father's will it was ordered that, in the event of his own death before that time, the interest was to accumulate. Your father foresaw that, like you, probably Bertie would take to the sea, and as the amount would be fully two thousand pounds by the time he comes of age, it would enable him to buy a share in any ship that he might, when he passed his last examination, command; but I will myself draw a cheque for a hundred pounds, which will help towards meeting expenses. I feel myself to some extent responsible for this expedition. I somewhat regret now having ever spoken to you on the subject, for I cannot conceal from myself that the chance of your making a discovery, where the Spaniards, with all their power of putting pressure on the natives for the past two or three hundred years, have failed, is so slight as to be scarcely worth consideration. "I tell you frankly that I broached the subject chiefly because I thought it was much better for you to be doing something than kicking your heels about London, and mooning over this affair with Miss Fortescue. There is nothing worse for a young man than living in London with just enough to keep him comfortably without the necessity of working. Therefore I thought you would be far better travelling and hunting for treasure in Peru, than staying here. Even if you fail, as I feel is almost certain, in the object for which you go out, you will have plenty to occupy your thoughts, and not be dwelling continually upon an attachment which in all probability will not turn out satisfactorily. I do not suppose that you are likely to forget Miss Fortescue, but by the time you return you will have accustomed yourself to the thought that it is useless to cry for the moon, and that, after all, life may be very endurable even if she does not share it. Therefore I propounded this Peruvian adventure, feeling sure that, whatever came of it, it would be a benefit to you." "No doubt it will, sir. I see myself the chance of success is small indeed, but there is none at all in any other way. It is just the sort of thing I should like, and I quite feel myself that it would be good for me to have plenty to think about; and now that you have consented to Bertie's going with me, I feel more eager than before to undertake the expedition. The place is in rather a disturbed state, isn't it?" "If you are going to wait until Peru ceases to be in a disturbed state, Harry, you may wait another hundred years. The Spanish rule was bad, but Peru was then a pleasant place to live in compared with what it is now. It is a sort of cock-pit, where a succession of ambitious rascals struggle for the spoils, and the moment one gets the better of his rivals fresh intrigues are set on foot, and fresh rebellions break out. There are good Peruvians--men who have estates and live upon them, and who are good masters. But as to the politicians, there is no principle whatever at stake. It is simply a question of who shall have the handling of the national revenue, and divide it and the innumerable posts among his adherents. But these struggles will not affect you largely. In one respect they will even be an advantage. Bent upon their own factious aims, the combatants have no time to concern themselves with the doings of an English traveller, whose object out there is ostensibly to botanize and shoot. Were one of them to obtain the undisputed control of affairs he might meddle in all sorts of ways; but, as it is, after you have once got pretty well beyond the area of their operations, you can regard their doings with indifference, knowing that the longer they go on fighting the fewer scoundrels there will be in the land. "But even were they to think that it was mining, and not science or sport that took you out there, they would scarcely interfere with you. It is admitted by all the factions that Peru needs capital for her development, and at present that can best be got from this country. The discovery of a fresh mine means employment to a large number of people, and the increase of the revenues by a royalty or taxation. English explorers who have gone out have never had any reason to complain of interference on the part of the authorities. You will find the average better class of Peruvians a charming people, and extremely hospitable. The ladies are pretty enough to turn the head of anyone whose affections are not already engaged. The men are kindly and courteous in the extreme. However, you would have little to do with these. "In the mountains you would largely depend upon your rifle for food, and on what you could get in the scattered native villages. The Indians have no love for the Peruvians. They find their condition no better off under them than it was under the Spaniards. Once they find out that you are English they will do all in their power for you. It is to Cochrane and the English officers with him that they owe the overthrow and expulsion of their Spanish tyrants, and they are vastly more grateful than either the Chilians or Peruvians have shown themselves to be." On returning to their lodgings Harry met his brother, who had been into the city. "Old Prosser was very civil," said Bertie. "He said that as their ships were chiefly in the South American trade it would be a great advantage for me to learn to speak Spanish well. They had not yet thought anything about whether they should order another ship to replace the _Stella_; at any rate, at present they had no vacancy, and would gladly give me permission to travel in South America, and would find me a berth to finish my apprenticeship when I returned. More than that, they said that as I had always been so favourably reported upon they would put me on as a supernumerary in the _Para_, which will sail in a fortnight for Callao. I should not draw pay, but I should be in their service, and the time would count, which would be a great pull, and I should get my passage for nothing." "That is capital. Of course I will take a passage in her too." "And what does Mr. Barnett say?" "Rather to my surprise, Bertie, he did not disapprove of the plan at all. He thought it would be a good thing for me to have you with me in case of illness or anything of that sort. Then no doubt he thought to some extent it would keep you out of mischief." "I don't believe he thought anything of the sort. Did he say so?" "Well, no, he didn't; but I have no doubt he felt it in some way a sort of relief." "That is all very fine. I know, when I have been down to his place in the country between voyages, I have always been as well behaved as if I had been a model mid." "Well, I have heard some tales of your doings, Bertie, that didn't seem quite in accord with the character you give yourself." "Oh, of course I had a few larks! You cannot expect a fellow who has been away from England for a year to walk about as soberly as if he were a Methodist parson!" "No, I should not expect that, Bertie. But, on the other hand, I should hardly have expected that he would, for example, risk breaking his neck by climbing up to the top of the steeple and fastening a straw-hat on the head of the weathercock." "It gave it a very ornamental appearance; and that weathercock was never before watched so regularly by the people of the village as it was from that time till the hat was blown away in a gale." "That I can quite believe. Still, Mr. Barnett told me that the rector lodged a complaint about it." "He might complain as much as he liked; there is no law in the land, as far as I know, that makes the fixing of a straw-hat upon a weathercock a penal offence. It did no end of good in the village, gave them something to talk about, and woke them up wonderfully." "And there were other things too, I think," his brother went on. "Oh, well, you need not go into them now! they are an old story. Besides, I fancy I have heard of various tricks played by Mr. Midshipman Harry Prendergast, and, as I heard them from your lips, I cannot doubt but that they were strictly veracious. Well, this is jolly now. When are we going to begin to get our outfit?" "We will lose no time about that. But really there is not much to get--a couple of good rifles and two brace of pistols, with a good store of ammunition, those clothes you have just bought, and two or three suits of duck for the voyage. I shan't get any special kit until we arrive there, and can take the advice of people at Lima whether we had better travel in European clothes or in those worn by the Peruvians. Of course saddles and bridles and all that sort of thing we can buy there, and we shall want a small tent to use when we get into out-of-the-way places. I shall take three hundred pounds in gold. I have no doubt we can exchange it into silver profitably; besides, it is much more handy for carrying about. I shall go down this afternoon and see Prosser and secure a berth." "I think you will have to arrange that with the captain. Very few of our ships have accommodation for passengers, but the captains are allowed to take one or two if they like." "All right! At any rate I must go to the office first. They can refer me to the skipper if they like; that would be better than my going to him direct." CHAPTER II THE START Harry Prendergast went down to Leadenhall Street and saw the managing owner of the _Para_. As Bertie had anticipated, Mr. Prosser, after hearing Harry's statement that he wished to take a passage to Callao in the vessel advertised to start in a week's time, and that he was much obliged to them for giving Bertie a berth as supernumerary midshipman, said: "We shall certainly have pleasure in putting your brother's name on the ship's books. He has already explained to me his desire to go out with you; we have had every reason to be satisfied with him since he entered our service, and he had better draw pay as usual, as his service during the voyage will then count towards his time. As for yourself, we do not book passengers, it is more bother than it is worth; but we have no objection to our masters taking one or two. The addition of a mouth or so practically makes very little difference in the amount of ships' stores consumed. The masters pay us a small sum a head and make their own terms with the passengers they take. In that way we are saved all complaints as to food and other matters. Of course a passenger would put on board for himself a stock of such wines, spirits, and little luxuries as he may choose. "You will find Captain Peters down at the docks. The last cargo has been discharged, and they are giving an overhaul to the rigging and making a few repairs; he is not a man to leave his ship if he can help it while work is going on there." Harry at once went down. "Well, sir," the captain said, when he had told him that he wished to take a passage to Callao, and that the owners had referred him to him, "I had fully made up my mind that I would not take passengers again. On my last voyage they were always grumbling at the food, expecting to be treated as if they were in a first-class hotel." "I am not likely to grumble, Captain; I have been knocking about the King's service since I was fourteen." "Oh, you are a royal navy man, are you, sir?" "I am; I am a lieutenant." "That makes a difference; and I have no doubt we can arrange the matter to our satisfaction." "I may tell you," Harry said, "that I have a younger brother coming out with me. He is an apprentice nearly out of his time, and was on board the _Stella_ when she was sunk in the Channel. Your owners have kindly arranged that he shall go out with you as a supernumerary; that is one reason why I wish to go in your ship." The Master thought for a minute or two. "Well, Mr. Prendergast," he said, "I like having one of you naval gentlemen on board; if anything goes wrong it is a comfort to have your advice. If we have bad weather round the Horn, could I rely upon you to give me a helping hand should I need it? I don't mean that you should keep watch or anything of that sort, but that you should, as it were, stand by me. I have a new first mate, and there is no saying how he may turn out. No doubt the firm would make every enquiry. Still, such enquiries don't mean much; a master doesn't like to damn a man by refusing to give him a good character. I dare say he is all right. Still, I should certainly feel very much more comfortable if I had a naval officer with me. Now, sir, I pay the firm twelve pounds for each passenger I take as his share of the cabin stores; you pay me that, and I will ask for nothing for your passage. I cannot say fairer than that." "You cannot indeed, Captain, and I feel very much obliged to you for the offer--very much obliged. It will suit me admirably, and in case of any emergency you may rely upon my aid; and if you have a spell of bad weather I shall be quite willing to take a watch, for I know that in the long heavy gales you meet with going round the Horn the officers get terribly overtaxed." "And how about your brother?" the captain said; "as he is to be a supernumerary, I suppose that only means that the firm are willing that he shall put in his time for his rating. I have never had a supernumerary on board, but I suppose he is to be regarded as a passenger rather than one of the ship's complement." "No, Captain, he is to be on the pay-sheet; and I think he had much better be put into a watch. He would find the time hang very heavy on his hands if he had nothing to do, and I know he is anxious to learn his profession thoroughly. As he is to be paid, there is no reason why he should not work." "Very well; if you think so we will say nothing more about it. I thought perhaps you would like to have him aft with you." "I am much obliged to you, but I think the other way will be best; and I am sure he would feel more comfortable with the other apprentices than as a passenger." "Are you going out for long, may I ask you, Mr. Prendergast?" "For a couple of years or so. I am going to wander about and do some shooting and exploring and that sort of thing, and I am taking him with me as companion. I speak Spanish fairly well myself, and shall teach him on the voyage, if you will allow me to do so. A knowledge of that language will be an advantage to him when he comes back into Prosser & Co.'s service." "A great advantage," the captain agreed. "Most of us speak a little Spanish, but I have often thought that it would pay the company to send a man who could talk the lingo well in each ship. They could call him supercargo, and I am sure he would pay his wages three or four times over by being able to bargain and arrange with the Chilians and Peruvians. In ports like Callao, where there is a British consul, things are all right, but in the little ports we are fleeced right and left. Boatmen and shopkeepers charge us two or three times as much as they do their own countrymen, and I am sure that we could get better bargains in hides and other produce if we had someone who could knock down their prices." "When do you sail, Captain?" "This day week. It will be high tide about eight, and we shall start to warp out of dock a good half-hour earlier, so you can either come on board the night before or about seven in the morning." "Very well, sir; we shall be here in good time. I shall bring my things on board with me; it is of no use sending them on before, as they will not be bulky and can be stored away in my cabin." "This will be your state-room," the captain said, opening a door. "I have the one aft, and the first mate has the one opposite to you. The others are empty, so you can stow any baggage that you have in one of them; the second and third officers and the apprentices are in the deck-house cabins." "In that case, Captain, I will send the wine and spirits on board the day before. Of course I shall get them out of bond; I might have difficulty in doing that so early in the morning. You will perhaps be good enough to order them to be stowed in one of the empty cabins." "That will be the best plan," the captain said. "When do the apprentices come on board?" "The morning before we sail. There is always plenty to be done in getting the last stores on board." "All right! my brother will be here. Good-morning, Captain, and thank you!" The following morning at eleven Harry Prendergast was standing in front of the entrance to the British Museum. A young lady came up. "It is very imprudent of you, Harry," she said, after the first greeting, "to ask me to meet you." "I could not help it, dear; it was absolutely necessary that I should see you." "But it is of no use, Harry." "I consider that it is of particular use, Hilda." "But you know, Harry, when you had that very unpleasant talk with my father, I was called in, and said that I had promised to wait two years for you. When he found that I would not give way, he promised that he would not press me, on the understanding that we were not to meet again except in public, and I all but promised." "Quite so, dear; but it appears to me that this is surely a public place." "No, no, Harry; what he meant was that I was not to meet you except at parties." "Well, I should have asked you to meet me to-day even if I had had to storm your father's house to see you. I am going away, dear, and he could scarcely say much if he came along and found us talking here. You see, it was not likely that I should stumble across a fortune in the streets of London. I have talked the matter over with Barnett--you know our trustee, you have met him once or twice--and we came to the conclusion that the only possible chance of my being able to satisfy your father as to my means, was for me to go to Peru and try to discover a gold mine there or hidden treasure. Such discoveries have been made, and may be made again; and he has supplied me with a letter to an Indian, who may possibly be able to help me." "To Peru, Harry! Why, they are always fighting there." "Yes, they do a good deal of squabbling, but the people in general have little to do with it; and certainly I am not going out to take any part in their revolutions. There is not a shadow of doubt that a number of gold mines worked by the old people were never discovered by the Spaniards, and it is also certain that a great portion of the treasures of the Incas is still lying hid. Barnett saved the life of a muleteer out there, and from what he said he believed that the man did know something about one of these lost mines, and might possibly let me into the secret. It is just an off chance, but it is the only chance I can see. You promised your father that you would never marry without his consent, and he would never give it unless I were a rich man. If nothing comes of this adventure I shall be no worse off than I am at present. If I am fortunate enough to discover a rich mine or a hidden treasure, I shall be in a position to satisfy his demand. I am going to take Bertie with me; he will be a cheerful companion, and even now he is a powerful young fellow. At any rate, if I get sick or anything of that sort, it would be an immense advantage to have him with me." "I don't like the idea of your going, Harry," she said tearfully. "No, dear; and if I had the chance of seeing you sometimes, and of some day obtaining your father's consent to the marriage, all the gold mines in Peru would offer no temptation to me. As it is, I can see nothing else for it. In some respects it is better; if I were to stay here I should only be meeting you frequently at dances and dinners, never able to talk to you privately, and feeling always that you could never be mine. It would be a constant torture. Here is a possibility--a very remote one, I admit, but still a possibility--and even if it fails I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that I have done all that a man could do to win you." "I think it is best that you should go somewhere, Harry, but Peru seems to be a horrible place." "Barnett speaks of it in high terms. You know he was four or five years out there. He describes the people as being delightful, and he has nothing to say against the climate." "I will not try to dissuade you," she said bravely after a pause. "At present I am hopeless, but I shall have something to hope and pray for while you are away. We will say good-bye now, dear. I have come to meet you this once, but I will not do so again, another meeting would but give us fresh pain. I am very glad to know that your brother is going with you. I shall not have to imagine that you are ill in some out-of-the-way place without a friend near you; and in spite of the dangers you may have to run, I would rather think of you as bravely doing your best than eating your heart out here in London. I shall not tell my father that we have met here; you had better write to him and say that you are leaving London at once, and that you hope in two years to return and claim me in accordance with his promise. I am sure he will be glad to know that you have gone, and that we shall not be constantly meeting. He will be kinder to me than he has been of late, for as he will think it quite impossible that you can make a fortune in two years he will be inclined to dismiss you altogether from his mind." For another half-hour they talked together, and then they parted with renewed protestations on her part that nothing should induce her to break her promise to wait for him for two years. He had given her the address of one of the merchants to whom Mr. Barnett had promised him a letter of introduction, so that she might from time to time write, for the voyage would take at least four months and as much more would be required for his first letter to come back. He walked moodily home after parting with her. "Hullo, Harry! nothing wrong with you, I hope? why, you look as grave as an owl." "I feel grave, Bertie. I have just said good-bye to Hilda; and though I kept up my spirits and made the best of this expedition of ours, I cannot but feel how improbable it is that we shall meet again--that is to say, in our present relations; for if I fail I certainly shall not return home for some years; it would be only fair to her that I should not do so. I know that she would keep on as long as there was any hope, but I should not care to think that she was wasting her life. I was an ass to believe it could ever be otherwise, and I feel that the best thing for us both would have been for me to go away as soon as I found that I was getting fond of her." "Well, of course I cannot understand it, Harry, and it seems to me that one girl is very like another; she may be a bit prettier than the average, but I suppose that comes to all the same thing in another twenty years. I can understand a man getting awfully fond of his ship, especially when she is a clipper. However, some day I may feel different; besides, how could you tell that her father would turn out such a crusty old beggar?" "I suppose I did not think about it one way or the other, Bertie," Harry said quietly. "However, the mischief is done, and even if there was no chance whatever of making money I should go now for my own sake as well as hers. Well, it is of no use talking more about it; we will go out now and buy the rifles. I shan't get them new, one can pick up guns just as good at half the price, and as I know something about rifles I am not likely to be taken in. Of course I have got my pistols and only have a brace to buy for you. You will have time on the voyage to practise with them; if you did not do that you would be as likely to shoot me as a hostile Indian." "Oh, that is bosh!" the boy said; "still, I certainly should like to be a good shot." After getting the rifles and pistols, Harry went into the city and ordered six dozen of wine and three dozen of brandy to be sent on board out of bond; he also ordered a bag of twenty pounds of raw coffee, a chest of tea, and a couple of dozen bottles of pickles and sauces, to be sent down to the docks on the day before the _Para_ sailed. Another suit of seafaring clothes and a stock of underclothing was ordered for Bertie. Harry spent the intervening time before the vessel sailed in looking up his friends and saying good-bye to them, and drove down to the docks at the appointed time, his brother having joined the ship on the previous day. The _Para_ was a barque-rigged ship of some eight hundred tons. At present she did not show to advantage, her deck being littered with stores of all kinds that had come on board late. The deck planks where they could be seen were almost black, the sails had been partly loosed from the gaskets, and to an eye accustomed to the neatness and order of a man-of-war her appearance was by no means favourable; but her sides shone with fresh paint, and, looking at her lines from the wharf, Harry thought she would be both fast and a good sea-boat. She was not heavily laden, and stood boldly up in the water. Nodding to Bertie, who was working hard among the men, he went up on to the poop, from which Captain Peters was shouting orders. "Glad to see you, sir," the captain said; "she looks rather in a litter at present, doesn't she? We shall get her all ataunto before we get down to the Nore. These confounded people won't send their stores on board till the last moment. If I were an owner I should tell all shippers that no goods would be received within five or six hours of the ship's time for sailing; that would give us a fair chance, instead of starting all in a muddle, just at the time, too, when more than any other one wants to have the decks free for making short tacks down these narrow reaches. I believe half the wrecks on the sands at the mouth of the river are due to the confusion in which the ships start. How can a crew be lively in getting the yards over when they have to go about decks lumbered up like this, and half of them are only just recovering from their bout of drink the day before?" Up to the last moment everyone on board was hard at work, and when the order was given to throw off the hawsers the deck was already comparatively clear. Half an hour later the vessel passed out through the dock gates, with two boats towing ahead so as to take her well out into the river; the rest of the crew were employed in letting the sails drop. As soon as she gathered way the men in the boats were called in, the boats themselves being towed behind in case they might again be required. The passage from the Pool to the mouth of the river was in those days the most dangerous portion of the voyage. There were no tugs to seize the ships and carry them down to the open water, while the channels below the Nore were badly buoyed and lighted, and it was no uncommon thing for twenty vessels to get upon the sands in the course of a single tide. The wind was light, and being northerly helped them well on their way, and it was only in one or two reaches that the _Para_ was unable to lay her course. She overtook many craft that had been far ahead of her, and answered the helm quickly. "She is both fast and handy, I see," Harry Prendergast, who had been watching her movements with interest, remarked. "Yes; there are not many craft out of London can show her their heels when the wind is free. She does not look quite so well into the wind as I should wish; still, I think she is as good as most of them." "I suppose you will get down to Gravesend before the tide turns?" "Yes, we shall anchor there. The wind is not strong enough for us to stem the tide, which runs like a sluice there. Once past the Nore one can do better, but there is no fighting the tide here unless one has a steady breeze aft. I never feel really comfortable till we are fairly round the South Foreland; after that it is plain sailing enough. Though there are a few shoals in the Channel, one can give them a wide berth; fogs are the things we have to fear there." "Yes. I have never been down the river, having always joined my ships either at Portsmouth or Plymouth, so I know very little about it; but I know from men who have been on board vessels commissioned at Chatham or Sheerness that they are thankful indeed when they once get round the Goodwins and head west." "Well, Mr. Prendergast, I am against these new-fangled steamboats--I suppose every true sailor is; but when the _Marjory_ began to run between London and Gravesend eighteen years ago--in '15 I think it was--folks did say that it would not be long before sailing craft would be driven off the sea. I did not believe that then, and I don't believe it now; but I do say that I hope before long there will be a lot of small steamers on the Thames, to tow vessels down till they are off the North Foreland. It would be a blessing and a comfort to us master mariners. Once there we have the choice of going outside the Goodwins, or taking a short cut inside if the wind is aft. Why, sir, it would add years to our lives and shorten voyages by weeks. There we are, now, sometimes lying off the Nore, five hundred sail, waiting for the wind to shift out of the east, and when we do get under weigh we have always to keep the lead going. One never knows when one may bump upon the sands. Some masters will grope their way along in the dark, but for my part I always anchor. There are few enough buoys and beacons in daytime, but I consider that it is tempting Providence to try and go down in a dark night. The owners are sensible men and they know that it is not worth while running risks just to save a day or two when you have got a four months' voyage before you. Once past Dover I am ready to hold on with anyone, but between the Nore and the North Foreland I pick my way as carefully as a woman going across a muddy street." "You are quite right, Captain; I thoroughly agree with you. More ships get ashore going down to the mouth of the Thames than in any other part of the world; and, as you say, if all sailing ships might be taken down by a steamer, it would be the making of the port of London." "Your brother is a smart young chap, Mr. Prendergast. I was watching him yesterday, and he is working away now as if he liked work. He has the makings of a first-rate sailor. I hold that a man will never become a first-class seaman unless he likes work for its own sake. There are three sorts of hands. There is the fellow who shirks his work whenever he has a chance; there is the man who does his work, but who does it because he has to do it, and always looks glad when a job is over; and there is the lad who jumps to his work, chucks himself right into it, and puts his last ounce of strength on a rope. That is the fellow who will make a good officer, and who, if needs be, can set an example to the men when they have to go aloft to reef a sail in a stiff gale. So, as I understand, Mr. Prendergast, he is going to leave the sea for a bit. It seems a pity too." "He will be none the worse for it, Captain. A year or so knocking about among the mountains of Peru will do more good to him than an equal time on board ship. It will sharpen him up, and give him habits of reliance and confidence. He will be all the better for it afterwards, even putting aside the advantage it will be to him to pick up Spanish." "Yes, it may do him good," the captain agreed, "if it does not take away his liking for the sea." "I don't think it will do that. If the first voyage or two don't sicken a lad, I think it is pretty certain he is cut out for the sea. Of course it is a very hard life at first, especially if the officers are a rough lot, but when a boy gets to know his duty things go more easily with him; he is accustomed to the surroundings, and takes to the food, which you know is not always of the best, with a good appetite. Bertie has had three years of it now, and when he has come home I have never heard a grumble from him; and he is not likely to meet with such luxuries while we are knocking about as to make him turn up his nose at salt junk." The tide was already turning when they reached Gravesend. As soon as the anchor was down the steward came up to say that dinner was ready. "I am not at all sorry," Harry said as he went below with the captain. "I ate a good breakfast before I started at half-past six, and I went below and had a biscuit and bottle of beer at eleven, but I feel as hungry as a hunter now. There is nothing like a sea appetite. I have been nearly two years on shore, and I never enjoyed a meal as I do at sea." The crew had been busy ever since they left the dock, and the deck had now been scrubbed and made tidy, and presented a very different appearance from that which met Harry's eye as he came on board. Johnson, the first mate, also dined with the skipper. He was a tall, powerfully-built man. He was singularly taciturn, and took no share in the conversation unless directly asked. He seemed, however, to be able to appreciate a joke, but never laughed audibly, contenting himself with drawing his lips apart and showing his teeth. The wind was light and baffling, so that they did not round the South Foreland until the seventh day after leaving dock. After that it was favourable and steady, and they ran without any change until they approached the line; then there was a fortnight of calm. At last they got the wind again, and made a rapid run until within five hundred miles of Cape Horn. The captain was in high glee. "We have done capitally so far, Mr. Prendergast. I don't think I ever made so rapid a run. If she goes on like this we shall reach Callao within three months of starting." "I don't think the weather will continue like this," the mate said. This was the first original observation he had made since he had sailed, and Harry and the captain looked at him in surprise. "You think there is going to be a change, Mr. Johnson?" the captain said, after a short pause to recover from his astonishment. The mate nodded. "Glass falling, sky hazy." "Is the glass falling? I am ashamed to say I have not looked at it for the past twenty-four hours. It has stuck so long at the same point that I have quite ceased to look at it two or three times a day as I usually do." "It has not fallen much, but it is sinking." The captain got up from the table, and went to look at the glass. "You are right, it has fallen a good eighth; but that may mean a change of wind. Did you notice any change, Mr. Prendergast?" "No, I can't say that I did. I looked up, as a sailor always does, when I was on deck this morning, but it was clear enough then, and I have not noticed it particularly since." But when they went up on deck half an hour later both agreed that the mate was right. The change overhead was slight, but away to the west a dull reddish mist seemed to obscure the horizon. "We will get the upper sails off at once, Mr. Johnson. These storms come so suddenly off the coast that it is as well to lose no time in shortening sail when one sees any indication of such a change." The mate at once gave the necessary orders. The sailors started up with looks of surprise. "Look sharp, men!" the mate said. "We shall have wind, and plenty of it. It will be here before long." The men, who were by no means sorry for a spell of work after going so long without shifting sail or tack, worked hard, and the white sheets of canvas were soon snugly furled. By this time all the sailors who had been to sea for any time recognized the utility of their work. The low bank had risen and extended the whole width of the western horizon. "What do you think, Mr. Prendergast? Have we got enough off her?" "I don't know about your storms here, Captain; but if it were in the Levant I should get every stitch of canvas off her excepting closely-reefed topsails, a storm jib, and fore stay-sail. The first burst over, one can always shake out more canvas. However, you know these seas, and I do not." "I think you are right. These pamperos, as we call them, are not to be trifled with." "In that case there is no time to be lost, Captain, and with your permission I will lend a hand." "All hands take in sail!" the captain shouted. The mate led the way up the starboard shrouds, while Harry, throwing off his coat, mounted those to port, closely followed by Bertie. Five minutes' hard work, and the _Para_ was stripped for the struggle. "That is a good job done," the skipper said to Harry as he reached the deck. "A very good job, sir. The wind may come, but we are prepared for it; there is nothing like being ready in time." "She is in good trim for it," said the captain, "not above two-thirds laden, and as the wind is off the land, there is nothing to worry us except the Falklands. I shall go outside them. Of course that will lengthen the voyage, but with this westerly wind I should not care about being between them and the mainland. You think the same, Mr. Prendergast?" "I do, sir; they are a scattered group, and it would not be pleasant to have them under lee." It had grown sensibly darker, but the line of mist had not risen higher. Harry remarked upon this. "I almost doubt whether it is coming after all," he said. The captain shook his head. "It does not spread over the sky," he said, "because it is largely dust blown off the land. After the first burst you will see that we shall have a bright blue sky and a roaring wind, just as one gets it sometimes in an easterly gale in the Channel. We shall have it in another five minutes, I fancy. I don't think it will be very strong, or we should have had it here before this." It was not long before a dull, moaning sound was heard, the brown-red fog changed its appearance, swirls of vapour seemed to dash out in front of it, and the whole swelled and heaved as if it were being pushed forward by some tremendous pressure in its rear. The ship's head was pointing nearly east, the canvas hung down motionless, and there was not a breath of wind. "Hold on all!" the captain shouted. Half a minute later the billowly clouds swept across the vessel, and a sudden darkness overspread them. Then there was a glow of white light, a line of foam approached as fleet as a race-horse, and with a shriek the gale was upon them. The vessel shook from stem to stern as if she had struck against a rock, and her bow was pressed down lower and lower until she seemed as if she were going to dive head-foremost. But as she gathered way, her bow rose, and in a minute she was flying along at some eighteen knots an hour. "She is all right now, Mr. Prendergast," the captain said. "It is well we stripped her so thoroughly, and that she is not heavily laden." Four men had been placed at the wheel, and it needed all their strength to keep her from yawing. In half an hour the sea began to get up, and the captain laid her course south-east, which put the wind on her quarter. "It is well we were not a degree or so farther south, Captain." "Yes; it would have been as much as we could do to weather the Falklands; for with this small amount of sail we should have made a terrible amount of leeway. As it is, all is fair sailing." The darkness gradually passed away, and in an hour after the gale had struck her the _Para_ was sailing under a bright blue sky. Although but few points off the wind, she was lying down till her lee scuppers were under water. The spray was flying over her sparkling in the sun; the sailors were crouched under the weather bulwark, lashed to belaying-pins and stanchions to prevent themselves from shifting down to leewards. Six hours later it was evident that there was some slight diminution in the force of the wind. "She is going about fourteen knots now," the captain said; "we can head her more to the south. We must be nearly abreast of the islands, and according to my reckoning forty or fifty miles to the east of them." It was now dark, and the watch was sent below. "To-morrow morning we shall be able to get some more sail on her," the master said, "and I hope by the next morning the squall will be over, for we shall then have made our southing, and the wind will be right in our teeth when we turn her head west. There is no saying which way it will come when the squall dies out. What do you think, Johnson?" "We are pretty sure to get it hot from one quarter or another," the man said. "I should say most likely from the south." "Except for the cold that would be better than west," Harry remarked. "Yes, if it is not too strong; but it is likely to be strong. After such a gale as we have had, it seldom settles down for some time. As like as not there will be bad weather for the next month." The next morning when Harry went on deck he saw that the reefs had been shaken out of the topsails and the spanker hoisted. There was still a fresh wind, but it had backed round more to the south, and there was so sharp a nip in it that he went below and put on a pea-jacket. Then he beckoned to Bertie, who was off duty, to join him on the poop. "That has been a smart blow, Bertie." "Yes, but I had it worse than that the last time I came round the Horn. I think we shall be shortening sail again before long. The clouds are banking up to the south-west. She is a good sea-boat, isn't she?" "She has behaved uncommonly well. We shall want all our clothes before night, Bertie. It was May when we started, and it is nearly mid-winter down here." "There is one thing, we shan't have so much risk of coming across drifting icebergs, most of them will be frozen up hard and fast down in the south. They don't matter much when the weather is clear, but if it is thick one has an awful time of it. On my first voyage it was like that, and I tell you I didn't think I was going to see England again. We had some desperately close shaves." The wind speedily freshened, and by evening the ship was under close-reefed canvas again. The clouds were flying fast overhead and the air was thick. Before the evening watch was set the ship was brought round on the other tack, and was running to the east of south. "We will lie on this course till morning, Mr. Prendergast," said the captain, "and then if the wind holds, I think we shall be able to make a long leg and weather the Horn." For six days the storm raged with unabated violence. The cold was intense, the spray breaking over the bows froze as it fell, and the crew were engaged for hours at a time in breaking up the masses of ice thus formed. Harry had volunteered to take a watch in turn with the first and second mates. The captain was almost continuously on deck. Twice they encountered icebergs, and once in a driving snow-storm nearly ran foul of one. Fortunately it was daylight, and the whole crew being on deck, they were able to put the vessel about just in time. During this time the vessel had only gained a few miles' westing. All on board were utterly exhausted with the struggle against the bitter wind; their hands were sore and bleeding through pulling upon frozen ropes, their faces inflamed, and their eyelids so swollen and sore that they could scarcely see. Then the wind began to abate, and more sail being got on the _Para_, she was able to lie her course. CHAPTER III AT LIMA Three days later the sky cleared, and the captain, getting an observation, found that they had rounded the southernmost point of the Cape. Another day and the _Para's_ head was turned north, and a week later they were running smoothly along before a gentle breeze, with the coast of Chili twenty miles away. The heavy wraps had all been laid aside, and although the air was still frosty, the crew felt it warm after what they had endured. The upper spars and yards had all been sent up, and she was now carrying a crowd of canvas. The mate had thawed out under the more congenial surroundings. He had worked like a horse during the storm, setting an example, whether in going aloft or in the work of clearing off the ice from the bows, and even when his watch was relieved he seldom went below. "Well, I hope, Mr. Johnson, we shall sail together until you get your next step," the captain said. "I could not wish for a better first officer." "I want nothing better, sir. She is a fine ship, well manned and well commanded. I begin to feel at home in her now; at first I didn't. I hate changes; and though the last captain I sailed with was a surly fellow, we got on very well together. I would rather sail with a man like that than with a skipper who is always talking. I am a silent man myself, and am quite content to eat my meal and enjoy it, without having to stop every time I am putting my fork into my mouth to answer some question or other. I was once six months up in the north without ever speaking to a soul. I was whaling then, and a snow-storm came on when we were fast on to a fish. It was twenty-four hours before it cleared off, and when it did there was no ship to be seen. We were in an inlet at the time in Baffin's Bay. We thought that the ship would come back, and we landed and hauled up the boat. The ship didn't come back, and, as I learned long afterwards, was never heard of again. I suppose she got nipped between two icebergs. "Winter was coming on fast, and the men all agreed that they would rather try and make their way south overland than stay there. I told them that they were fools, but I admit that the prospect of a winter there was enough to frighten any man. I did not like it myself, but I thought it was wiser to remain there than to move. Some of the men went along the shore, or out in the boat, and managed to kill several sea-cows. They made a sledge, piled the meat on it, and started. "Meanwhile I had been busy building a sort of hut. I piled great stones against the foot of the cliffs, and turned the boat upside down to form a roof. The men helped me to do that job the last thing before they started. Then I blocked up the entrance, leaving only just room for me to crawl in and out. The snow began to fall steadily three days after the others had gone, and very soon covered my hut two feet deep. I melted the blubber of the whale in the boat's baler, for we had towed the fish ashore. The first potful or two I boiled over a few bits of drift-wood. After that it was easy enough, as I unravelled some of the boat's rope, dipped it in the hot blubber, and made a store of big candles. There was a lot of meat left on the sea-cows, so I cut that up, froze it, and stowed as much as I could in the hut. I was bothered about the rest, as I knew the bears were likely to come down; but I found a ledge on the face of the perpendicular rock, and by putting the boat's mast against it I was able to get up to it. Here I piled, I should say, a ton of meat and blubber. Then I set to work and collected some dried grass, and soon I had enough to serve as bed and covers. It took me a month to do all this, and by that time winter was down on me in earnest. I had spent my evenings in making myself, out of the skins of the three cows, breeches, high boots, and a coat with a hood over the head, and in order to make these soft I rubbed them with hot oil. They were rough things, but I hoped that I might get a bear later on. Fortunately the boat had two balers, for I required one in which to melt the snow over the lamp. "Well, sir, I lived there during that winter. I did not find it altogether dull, for I had several bits of excitement. For a month or so bears and wolves came down and fought over the carcass of the whale. When that was eaten up they turned their attention to me, and over and over again they tried to break in. They had better have left me alone, for though they were strong enough to have pulled away the rocks that blocked the entrance, they could not stand fire. As I had any amount of rope, I used to soak it in rock-oil, set it on fire, and shove it out of the entrance. Twice small bears managed to wriggle up the passage, but I had sharpened the boat-hook and managed to kill them both. One skin made me a whole suit, and the other a first-rate blanket. Not that it was ever unpleasantly cold, for a couple of my big candles, and the thick coating of snow over it, kept the place as warm as I cared for. Occasionally, when the bears had cleared off, I went out, climbed the mast, and got fresh supplies down. They had made desperate efforts to get at the meat, but the face of the rock was luckily too smooth for them to get any hold. When spring came and the ice broke up, I planted the mast on the top of the cliff with the sail fastened as a flag, and a month after the sea was clear a whaler came in and took me off. That was how I pretty well lost the use of my tongue, and though I am better than I was, I don't use it much now except on duty." "That certainly accounts for it," Harry said; "you must have had an awful time." "I don't think I minded it very much, sir. Except when I was bothered by the bears I slept a good lot. I think at first I used to talk out loud a good deal. But I soon dropped that, though I used to whistle sometimes when I was cooking the food. I don't think I should have held on so long if I had only had the sea-cow flesh, but the bears made a nice change, and I only wished that one or two more had managed to crawl in." "I wonder you were able to kill them with a boat-hook." "I didn't, sir. You know every whaler carries an axe to cut the line if necessary, and I was able to split their skulls as they crawled in before they could get fairly on to their feet and use their paws. I was getting very weak with scurvy towards the end; but as soon as the snow melted plants began to shoot, and I was able to collect green stuff, so that I was nearly well by the time I was picked up." The weather continued fine all the time they were coasting up the Chilian coast. They were a week at Valparaiso getting out the cargo they had brought for that town, and did some trading at smaller ports; but at last, just four months after leaving England, they dropped anchor off Callao. "Well, it has been a jolly voyage, Harry," his brother said as they were rowed ashore, after a hearty farewell from the captain and the first officer. "I am glad you enjoyed it, Bertie. I was sorry all the time I hadn't taken a passage for you aft." "I am better pleased to have been at work; it would have been awfully slow otherwise. The mates were both good fellows, and I got on well with the other apprentices. I tried at first not to turn out on night watch, as I was not obliged to do so, but I soon gave it up; it seemed disgusting to be lying there when the others had to turn out. It has been a jolly voyage, but I am glad that we are here at last, and are going to set to work in search of treasures." "I had begun to think that we should not get on shore to-day," Harry said as they neared the landing-place. "What with three hours' waiting for the medical officer, and another three for that bumptious official whom they call the port officer, and without whose permission no one is allowed to land, I think everyone on board was so disgusted that we should have liked nothing better than to pitch the fellow overboard. It was rather amusing to watch all those boatmen crowding round shouting the praises of their own craft and running down the others. But a little of it goes a long way. It is the same pretty nearly at every port I have entered. Boatmen are harpies of the worst kind. It is lucky that we had so little baggage; a tip of a couple of dollars was enough to render the custom-house officer not only civil but servile." As they mounted the steps they were assailed by a motley crowd, half of whom struggled to get near them to hold out their hands for alms, while the other half struggled and fought for the right of carrying their baggage. Accustomed to such scenes, Harry at once seized upon two of them, gave them the portmanteaux, and, keeping behind them, pushed them through the crowd, telling them to lead the way to the hotel that the captain had recommended as being the least filthy in the place. They crossed a square covered with goods of all kinds. There were long rows of great jars filled with native spirit, bales of cinchona bark, piles of wheat from Chili, white and rose-coloured blocks of salt, pyramids of unrefined sugar, and a block of great bars of silver; among these again were bales and boxes landed from foreign countries, logs of timber, and old anchors and chains. Numbers of people who appeared to have nothing to do sauntered about or sat on logs. In odd corners were native women engaged in making the picanties upon which the poor largely exist; these were composed of fresh and salt meat, potatoes, crabs, the juice of bitter oranges, lard, salt, and an abundance of pepper pods. "That is the sort of thing we shall have to eat, Bertie." "Well, I should not mind if I had not got to look on at the making; they smell uncommonly good." The hotel was larger and even more dirty than the captain's description had led them to expect. However, the dinner that was served to them was better than they had looked for, and being very hungry after their long wait, they did full justice to it. "It might have been a good deal worse, Bertie." "I should think so; after four months of salt junk it is splendid!" A cup of really good coffee, followed by a little glass of native spirits, added to their satisfaction. They had hesitated before whether to push on at once to Lima or wait there till next morning. Their meal decided them--they would start at daybreak, so as to get to Lima before the sun became really hot. Harry asked the landlord to bargain for two riding mules and one for baggage to be ready at that hour, and they then strolled out to view the place, although Bertie assured his brother that there was nothing whatever to see in it. "That may be, Bertie; but we are not going to begin by being lazy. There is always something to see in foreign lands by those who keep their eyes open." After an hour's walk Harry was inclined to think that his brother was right. The houses were generally constructed of canes, plastered with mud, and painted yellow. As the result of earthquakes, scarce a house stood upright--some leaned sideways, and looked as if they were going to topple over into the road; while others leaned back, as if, were you to push against them, they would collapse and crush the inmates. Their night was not a pleasant one. The beds were simple, consisting only of hides stretched across wooden frames, but, as they very speedily found, there were numerous other inhabitants. They therefore slept but little, and were heartily glad when the first gleam of dawn appeared. Slipping on their clothes, they ran down to the shore and had a bath. By the time they returned breakfast was ready--coffee, fish, and eggs. The mules did not appear for another hour, by which time their patience was all but exhausted. The portmanteaux were speedily strapped on to the back of the baggage mule, and they mounted the two others. The muleteer had brought one for himself, and, fastening the baggage animal behind it, they started. It was six miles to Lima, but as the city is five hundred and twelve feet above the sea, the ascent was steady and somewhat steep. The road was desperately bad, and the country uninteresting, being for the most part dried up. Occasionally they saw great mounds of adobe bricks, the remains of the ancient habitations. As they neared the town vegetation became general, small canals irrigating the country. Here were fruit and vegetable gardens, with oranges, plantains, vines, and flowers. Passing through a gate in the walls they entered the town, which afforded a pleasant contrast to the squalid misery of Callao. The city, however, could not be called imposing; the houses were low and irregular, fantastically painted in squares or stripes, and almost all had great balconies shut in with trellis-work. Few of the houses had any windows towards the street, the larger ones being constructed with a central courtyard, into which the rooms all opened. The streets were all built at right angles, the principal ones leading from the grand square, in which stood the cathedral and the palace of the Spanish viceroys, the other sides consisting of private houses, with shops and arcades below them. The hotel to which they had been recommended was a large building with a courtyard, with dining and other rooms opening from it, and above them the bedrooms. In comparison with the inn at Callao it was magnificent, but in point of cleanliness it left a great deal to be desired. After settling themselves in their room they went out. The change in temperature since they had left Callao had been very great. "The first thing to do, Bertie, is to buy ourselves a couple of good ponchos. You see all the natives are wearing them." "We certainly want something of the sort, Harry. I thought it was heat that we were going to suffer from, but it seems just the other way. To judge from the temperature we might be in Scotland, and this damp mist chills one to the bone." "I am not much surprised, for of course I got the subject up as much as I could before starting; and Barnett told me that Lima was altogether an exceptional place, and that while it was bright and warm during the winter months, from May till November on the plains only a few miles away, even in the summer months there was almost always a clammy mist at Lima, and that inside the house as well as outside everything streamed with moisture. He said that this had never been satisfactorily accounted for. Some say that it is due to the coldness of the river here--the Rimac--which comes down from the snowy mountains. Others think that the cold wind that always blows down the valley of the river meets the winds from the sea here, and the moisture contained in them is thus precipitated. I believe that a few miles higher up we shall get out of this atmosphere altogether. Still, the ponchos will be very useful, for it will be really cold up in the mountains. They serve for cloaks in the daytime and blankets at night. The best are made of the wool of the guanacos, a sort of llama. Their wool is very fine, and before we start we will get two of coarser wool to use as blankets to sleep on, while we have the finer ones to cover us." There was no difficulty in finding a shop with the goods they wanted, and the prices, even of the best, were very moderate. They next bought two soft felt hats with broad brims. "That is ever so much more comfortable. We will wait until to-morrow before we begin what we may call business, Bertie. Of course I shall deliver the other letters of introduction that Mr. Barnett gave me; but the principal one--that to his former muleteer--is more important than all put together. If anything has happened to him, there is an end of any chance whatever of finding treasure. Of course he may have moved away, or be absent on a journey with his mules, in which case we shall have either to follow him or wait for his return." "That would be a frightful nuisance." "Yes; still, it is one of the things that we foresaw might happen." "I vote we go at once, Harry, and see if he is here." "I don't think we shall find him here; for Barnett said that he lived in the village of Miraflores, five miles away on the north, and that if he is not there, Señor Pasquez, to whom I have a letter, will be likely to tell me where he is to be found, for he is often employed by him. However, I am as anxious as you to see him. As it is only eleven o'clock yet, there is no reason why we should not go to Miraflores. They will get mules for us at the hotel, and tell us which road to take." It was not necessary, however, to go into the hotel, for when they returned, two or three men with mules were waiting to be hired. They engaged two animals, and as the man of whom they hired them had a third, and he was ready to accompany them for a small fee, they agreed to take him with them. Before they were a mile out of the town the mist cleared off and the sun shone brightly. The heat, however, was by no means too great to be pleasant. Miraflores was a charming village, or rather small town, nestling among gardens and orchards. "I want to find a muleteer named Dias Otero," Harry said to their guide as they rode into the place. "I know him well," he said. "Everyone about here knows Dias. His wife was a cousin of my mother's." "Do you know whether he is at home now?" "Yes, señor; I saw him in Lima three days ago. He had just come down from the mountains. He had been away two months, and certainly will not have started again so soon. Shall I lead you to his house at once?" "Do so; it is to see him that I have come to this town. He worked for a long time with a friend of mine some years ago, and I have brought a message from him. I may be some time talking with him, so when I go in you can tie up your mules for a while." "That is his house," the man said presently. It lay in the outskirts of the town, and was neater than the generality of houses, and the garden was a mass of flowers. They dismounted, handed over the mules to their owner, and walked to the door. An Indian of some five-and-forty years came out as they did so. "Are you Dias Otero?" Harry asked. "The same, señor." "I have just arrived from England, and bring a letter to you from Señor Barnett, with whom you travelled for two or three years some time ago." The man's face lit up with pleasure. "Will you enter, señor. Friends of Señor Barnett may command my services in any way. It is a delight to hear from him. He writes to me sometimes, but in these troubles letters do not always come. I love the señor; there never was a kinder master. He once saved my life at the risk of his own. Is there any hope of his coming out again?" "I do not think so, Dias. He is strong and well, but I do not think he is likely to start again on a journey of exploration. He is my greatest friend. My brother and I were left under his charge when we were young, and he has been almost a father to us. It is he who has sent us out to you. Here is his letter." "Will you read it to me, señor. I cannot read; I am always obliged to get somebody to read my letters, and write answers for me." The letter was of course in Spanish, and Harry read: "Dear friend Dias, "I am sending out to you a gentleman, Mr. Prendergast, an officer of the British Navy, in whom I am deeply interested. His brother accompanies him. I beg that you will treat them as you would me, and every service you can render him consider as rendered to myself. From a reason which he will no doubt explain to you in time, it is of the deepest importance to him that he should grow rich in the course of the next two years. He asked my advice, and I said to him, 'There is no one I know of who could possibly put you in the way of so doing better than my friend Dias Otero. I believe it is in his power to do so if he is willing.' I also believe that for my sake you will aid him. He will place himself wholly in your hands. He does not care what danger he runs, or what hardships he has to go through in order to attain his purpose. I know that I need not say more to you. He has two years before him; long before that I am sure you will be as interested in him as you were in me. He has sufficient means to pay all expenses of travel for the time he will be out there. I know that you are descended from nobles of high rank at the court of the Incas when the Spaniards arrived, and that secrets known to but few were passed down from father to son in your family. If you can use any of those secrets to the advantage of my friend, I pray you most earnestly to do so. I trust that this letter will find you and your good wife in health. Had I been ten years younger I would have come out with my friends to aid them in their adventure, but I know that in putting them into your hands I shall be doing them a vastly greater service than I could do were I able to come in person." When Harry ceased, the Indian sat for some time without speaking, then he said: "It is a matter that I must think over, señor. It is a very grave one, and had any other man than Señor Barnett asked this service of me no money could have tempted me to assent to it. It is not only that my life would be in danger, but that my name would be held up to execration by all my people were I to divulge the secret that even the tortures of the Spaniards could not wring from us. I must think it over before I answer. I suppose you are staying at the Hotel Morin; I will call and see you when I have thought the matter over. It is a grave question, and it may be three or four days before I can decide." "I thank you, Dias; but there is no occasion for you to give a final decision now. Whether or no, we shall travel for a while, and I trust that you will go with us with your mules and be our guide, as you did to Mr. Barnett. It will be time enough when you know us better to give us a final answer; it is not to be expected that even for Señor Barnett's sake you would do this immense service for strangers, therefore I pray you to leave the matter open. Make arrangements for your mules and yourself for a three months' journey in the mountains, show us what there is to see of the gold and silver placers, and the quicksilver mines at Huanuco. At the end of that time you will know us and can say whether you are ready to aid us in our search." The native bowed his head gravely. "I will think it over," he said; "and now, señors, let us put that aside. My wife has been busy since you entered in preparing a simple meal, and I ask you to honour me by partaking of it." "With pleasure, Dias." It consisted of _puchero_, a stew consisting of a piece of beef, cabbage, sweet-potatoes, salt pork, sausage-meat, pigs' feet, yuccas, bananas, quinces, peas, rice, salt, and an abundance of Chili peppers. This had been cooked for six hours and was now warmed up. Two bottles of excellent native wine, a flask of spirits, and some water were also put on the table. The Indian declined to sit down with them, saying that he had taken a meal an hour before. While they ate he chatted with them, asking questions of their voyage and telling them of the state of things in the country. "It is always the same, señors, there is a revolution and two or three battles; then either the president or the one who wants to be president escapes from the country or is taken and shot, and in a day or two there is a fresh pronunciamiento. We thought that when the Spaniards had been driven out we should have had peace, but it is not so; we have had San Martin, and Bolivar, and Aguero, and Santa Cruz, and Sucre. Bolivar again finally defeated the Spaniards at Ayacucho. Rodil held possession of Callao castle, and defended it until January of this year. We in the villages have not suffered--those who liked fighting went out with one or other of the generals; some have returned, others have been killed--but Lima has suffered greatly. Sometimes the people have taken one side, sometimes the other, and though the general they supported was sometimes victorious for a short time, in the end they suffered. Most of the old Spanish families perished; numbers died in the castle of Callao, where many thousands of the best blood of Lima took refuge, and of these well-nigh half died of hunger and misery before Rodil surrendered." "But does not this make travelling very unsafe?" The Indian shrugged his shoulders. "Peru is a large country, señor, and those who want to keep out of the way of the armies and lighting can do so; I myself have continued my occupation and have never fallen in with the armies. That is because the fighting is principally in the plains, or round Cuzco; for the men do not go into the mountains except as fugitives, as they could not find food there for an army. It is these fugitives who render the road somewhat unsafe; starving men must take what they can get. They do not interfere with the great silver convoys from Potosi or other mines--a loaf of bread is worth more than a bar of silver in the mountains--but they will plunder persons coming down with goods to the town or going up with their purchases. Once or twice I have had to give up the food I carried with me, but I have had little to grumble at, and I do not think you need trouble yourself about them; we will take care to avoid them as far as possible." After chatting for an hour they left the cottage, and, mounting their mules, returned to Lima. "I think he will help us, Harry," Bertie said as soon as they set out. "I think so too, but we must not press him to begin with. Of course there is a question too as to how far he can help us. He may know vaguely where the rich mines once existed; but you must remember that they have been lost for three hundred years, and it may be impossible for even a man who has received the traditions as to their positions to hit upon the precise spot. The mountains, you see, are tremendous; there must be innumerable ravines and gorges among them. It is certain that nothing approaching an accurate map can ever have been made of the mountains, and I should say that in most cases the indications that may have been given are very vague. They would no doubt have been sufficient for those who lived soon after the money was hidden, and were natives of that part of the country and thoroughly acquainted with all the surroundings, but when the information came to be handed down from mouth to mouth during many generations, the local knowledge would be lost, and what were at first detailed instructions would become little better than vague legends. You know how three hundred years will alter the face of a country--rocks roll down the hills, torrents wash away the soil, forests grow or are cleared away. I believe with you that the Indian will do his best, but I have grave doubts whether he will be able to locate any big thing." "Well, you don't take a very cheerful view of things, Harry; you certainly seemed more hopeful when we first started." "Yes. I don't say I am not hopeful still, but it is one thing to plan out an enterprise at a distance and quite another when you are face to face with its execution. As we have come down the coast, and seen that great range of mountains stretching along for hundreds of miles, and we know that there is another quite as big lying behind it, I have begun to realize the difficulties of the adventures that we are undertaking. However, we shall hear, when Dias comes over to see us, what he thinks of the matter. I fancy he will say that he is willing to go with us and help us as far as he can, but that although he will do his best he cannot promise that he will be able to point out, with anything like certainty, the position of any of the old mines." Next day they called on Señor Pasquez, who received them very cordially. "So you are going to follow the example of Señor Barnett and spend some time in exploring the country and doing some shooting. Have you found Dias?" "Yes, señor, and I think he will go with us, though he has not given a positive answer." "You will be fortunate if you get him; he is one of the best-known muleteers in the country, and if anyone comes here and wants a guide Dias is sure to be the first to be recommended. If he goes with you he can give you much useful advice; he knows exactly what you will have to take with you, the best districts to visit for your purpose, and the best way of getting there. For the rest, I shall be very happy to take charge of any money you may wish to leave behind, and to act as your banker and cash any orders you may draw upon me. I will also receive and place to your account any sums that may be sent you from England." "That, sir, is a matter which Mr. Barnett advised me to place in your hands. After making what few purchases we require, and taking fifty pounds in silver, I shall have two hundred and fifty pounds to place in your hands. Mr. Barnett will manage my affairs in my absence, and will send to you fifty pounds quarterly." "You will find difficulty in spending it all in two years," the merchant said with a smile. "If you are content to live on what can be bought in the country, it costs very little; and as for the mules, they can generally pick up enough at their halting-places to serve them, with a small allowance of grain. You can hire them cheaply, or you can buy them. The latter is cheaper in the end, but you cannot be sure of getting mules accustomed to mountains, and you would therefore run the risk of their losing their foothold, and not only being dashed to pieces but destroying their saddles and loads. However, if you secure the services of Dias Otero, you will get mules that know every path in the mountains. He is famous for his animals, and he himself is considered the most trusty muleteer here; men think themselves lucky in obtaining his services. I would send him with loads of uncounted gold and should be sure that there would not be a piece missing." Next day Dias came to the hotel. "I have thought it over, señor," he said. "I need not say that were it only ordinary service, instead of exploring the mountains, I should be glad indeed to do my best for a friend of Señor Barnett; but as to the real purpose of your journey I wish, before making any arrangement, that the matter should be thoroughly understood. I have no certain knowledge whatever as to any of the lost mines, still less of any hidden treasures; but I know all the traditions that have passed down concerning them. I doubt whether any Indians now possess a certain knowledge of these things. For generations, no doubt, the secrets were handed down from father to son, and it is possible that some few may still know of these places; but I doubt it. Think of the hundreds and thousands of our people who have been killed in battle, or died as slaves in the mines, and you will see that numbers of those to whom the secrets were entrusted must have taken their knowledge to the grave with them. "In each generation the number of those who knew the particulars of these hiding-places must have diminished. Few now can know more than I do, yet I am sure of nothing. I know generally where the mines were situated and where some treasures were concealed, and what knowledge I have I will place at your service; but so great a care was used in the concealment of the entrances to the mines, so carefully were the hiding-places of the treasures chosen, and so cunningly concealed, that, without the surest indications and the most minute instructions, we might search for years, as men indeed have done ever since the Spanish came here, without finding them. I am glad that I can lay my hand upon my heart and say, that whatever may have been possessed by ancestors of mine, no actual details have ever come down to me; for, had it been so, I could not have revealed them to you. We know that all who were instructed in these were bound by the most terrible oaths not to reveal them. Numbers have died under the torture rather than break those oaths; and even now, were one of us to betray the secrets that had come down to him, he would be regarded as accursed. No one would break bread with him, every door would be closed against him, and if he died his body would rot where it fell. But my knowledge is merely general, gathered not only from the traditions known to all our people, but from confidences made by one member of our family to another. Full knowledge was undoubtedly given to some of them; but all these must have died without initiating others into the full particulars. Such knowledge as I have is at your disposal. I can take you to the localities, I can say to you, 'Near this place was a great mine,' but unless chance favours you you may search in vain." "That is quite as much as I had hoped for, Dias, and I am grateful for your willingness to do what you can for us, just as you did for Señor Barnett." CHAPTER IV A STREET FRAY "Now, señor," Dias said, "as we have settled the main point, let us talk over the arrangements. What is the weight of your baggage?" "Not more than a mule could carry. Of course we shall sling our rifles over our shoulders. We have a good stock of ammunition for them and for our pistols. We shall each take two suits of clothes besides those we wear, and a case of spirits in the event of accident or illness. We shall each have three flannel shirts, stockings, and so on, but certainly everything belonging to us personally would not mount up to more than a hundred and fifty pounds. We should, of course, require a few cooking utensils, tin plates, mugs, and cups. What should we need besides these?" "A tent and bedding, señor. We should only have, at the start, to carry such provisions as we could not buy. When we are beyond the range of villages in the forests we might often be weeks without being able to buy anything; still, we should probably be able to shoot game for food. We should find fruits, but flour we shall have to take with us from the last town we pass through before we strike into the mountains, and dried meat for an emergency; and it would be well to have a bag of grain, so that we could give a handful or so to each of the mules. I am glad you have brought some good spirits--we shall need it in the swamps by the rivers. Your tea and coffee will save your having to buy them here, but you will want some sugar. We must take two picks and a shovel, a hammer for breaking up ore, a small furnace, twenty crucibles and bellows, and a few other things for aiding to melt the ore. You would want for the journey five baggage mules, and, of course, three riding mules. I could hardly manage them, even with aid from you, in very bad places, and I would rather not take any strange man with me on such business as we have in hand. But some assistance I must have, and I will take with me my nephew José. He has lost his father, and I have taken him as my assistant, and shall train him to be a guide such as I am. He is but fifteen, but he already knows something of his business, and such an expedition will teach him more than he would learn in ten years on the roads." "That would certainly be far better than having a muleteer whom you could not trust, Dias. My brother and myself will be ready to lend you a hand whenever you want help of any kind. We have not had any experience with mules, but sailors can generally turn their hands to anything. Now, how about the eight mules?" "I have five of my own, as good mules as are to be found in the province; we shall have to buy the three others for riding. Of course I have saddles and ropes." "But you will want four for riding." "No, señor; yours and the one I ride will be enough. José at times will take my place, and can when he likes perch on one of the most lightly laden animals." "How much will the riding mules cost?" "I can get fair ones for about fifty dollars apiece; trade is slack at present owing to the troubles, and there are many who would be glad to get rid of one or two of their train." "And now, Dias, we come to the very important question, what are we to pay you for yourself, your nephew, and the five mules--say by the month?" "I have been thinking the matter over, señor--I have talked it over with my wife"--he paused for a moment, and then said: "She wishes to go with me, señor." Harry opened his eyes in surprise. "But surely, Dias, you could not think of taking her on such an expedition, where, as you say yourself, you may meet with many grave dangers and difficulties?" "A woman can support them as well as a man," Dias said quietly. "My wife has more than once accompanied me on journeys when I have been working on contract. We have been married for fifteen years, and she has no children to keep her at home. She is accustomed to my being away for weeks. This would be for months, perhaps for two years. I made no secret to her that we might meet with many dangers. She says they will be no greater for her than for me. At first she tried to dissuade me from going for so long a time; but when I told her that you were sent me by the gentleman who saved my life a year after I married her, and that he had recommended you to me as standing to him almost in the relation of a son, and I therefore felt bound to carry his wishes into effect, and so to pay the debt of gratitude that I owed him, she agreed at once that it was my duty to go and do all in my power for you, and she prayed me to take her with me. I said that I would put it before you, señor, and that I must abide by your decision." "By all means bring her with you, Dias. If you and she are both willing to share the dangers we should meet with, surely we cannot object in any way." "Thank you, señor; you will find her useful. You have already seen that she can cook well; and if we have José to look after the animals when we are searching among the hills, you will find it not unpleasant, when we return of an evening, to find a hot supper ready for us." "That is quite true, and I am sure we shall find your wife a great acquisition to our party. The only difference will be, that instead of one large tent we must have two small ones--it does not matter how small, so long as we can crawl into them and they are long enough for us to lie down. And now about payment?" "I shall not overcharge you," Dias said with a smile. "If my wife had remained behind I must have asked for money to maintain her while we were away. It would not have been much, for she has her garden and her house, and there is a bag hid away with my savings, so that if she had been widowed she could still live in the house until she chose someone else to share it with her; she is but thirty-two, and is as comely as when I first married her. However, as she is going with us, there will be no need to trouble about her. If misfortune comes upon us and I am killed, it is likely she will be killed also. We shall have no expenses on the journey, as you will pay for food for ourselves and the animals. You will remember, señor, that I make this journey not as a business matter--no money would buy from me any information that I may have as to hidden mines or treasures,--I do it to repay a debt of gratitude to my preserver, Don Henry Barnett, and partly because I am sure that I shall like you and your brother as I did him. I shall aid you as far as lies in my power in the object for which you are undertaking this journey. Therefore until it is finished there shall be no talk about payment. You may have many expenses beyond what you calculate upon. If we meet with no success, and return to Lima empty-handed, I shall have lost nothing. I shall have had no expenses at home, my wife and I will have fed at your expense, and José will have learned so much that he would be as good a guide as any in the country. You could then give me the three mules you will buy, to take the place of any of mine that may have perished on the journey, and should you have them to spare, I will take a hundred dollars as a _bueno mano_. If we succeed, and you discover a rich mine or a hidden treasure, you shall then pay me what it pleases you. Is it a bargain?" "The bargain you propose is ridiculously one-sided, Dias, and I don't see how I could possibly accept the offer you make to me." "Those are my terms, señor," Dias said simply, "to take or to leave." "Then I cannot but accept them, and I thank you most heartily;" and he held out his hand to Dias, and the Indian grasped it warmly. "When do you propose we shall start?" "Will this day week suit you, señor? There are the mules to buy, and the tents to be made--they should be of vicuña skin with the wool still on, which, with the leather kept well oiled, will keep out water. We shall want them in the hills, but we shall sometimes find villages where we can sleep in shelter." "Not for us, Dias. Mr. Barnett has told me that the houses are for the most part alive with fleas, and I should prefer to sleep in a tent, however small, rather than lie in a bed on the floor of any one of them. We don't want thick beds, you know--a couple of thicknesses of well-quilted cotton, say an inch thick each, and two feet wide. You can get these made for us, no doubt." The Indian nodded. "That would be the best for travel; the beds the Peruvian caballeros use are very thick and bulky." "You will want two for yourself and your wife, and two for José. By the by, we shall want a tent for him." Dias smiled. "It will not be necessary, señor; muleteers are accustomed to sleep in the open air, and with two thick blankets, and a leathern coverlet in case of rain, he will be more than comfortable. I shall have five leather bags made to hold the beds and blankets. But the making of the beds and tents will take some time--people do not hurry in Lima,--and there will be the riding saddles and bridles to get, and the provisions. I do not think we can be ready before another week. It will be well, then, that you should, before starting away, visit the ruins of Pachacamac. All travellers go there, and it will seem only natural that you should do so, for there you will see the style of the buildings, and also the explorations that were everywhere made by the Spaniards in search of treasure." "Very well, Dias; then this day week we shall be ready to start. However, I suppose I shall see you every day, and learn how you are getting on with your preparations." Bertie had been sitting at the window looking down into the street while this conversation was going on. "Well, what is it all about?" he asked, turning round as the Indian left the room. "Is it satisfactory?" "More than satisfactory," his brother answered. "In the first place his nephew, a lad of fifteen, who is training as a mule-driver, is going with us, which is much better than getting an outsider; in the next place his wife is going with us." "Good gracious!" Bertie exclaimed, "what in the world shall we do with a woman?" "Well, I think we shall do very well with her, Bertie; but well or ill she has to go. She will not let her husband go without her, which is natural enough, considering how long we shall be away, and that the journey will be a dangerous one. But really I think she will be an acquisition to the party. She is bright and pretty, as you no doubt noticed, and what is of more importance, she is a capital cook." "She certainly gave us a good meal yesterday," Bertie said, "and though I could rough it on anything, it is decidedly pleasanter to have a well-cooked meal." "Well, you see, that is all right." "And how many mules are we to take?" "Five for baggage, and three for riding. I have no doubt Dias's wife will ride behind him, and the boy, when he wants to ride, will perch himself on one of the baggage mules. Dias has five mules, and we shall only have to buy the three for riding." "What is it all going to cost, Harry?" Bertie said when his brother had told him all the arrangements that had been made. "That is the most important point after all." "Well, you will be astonished when I tell you, Bertie, that if we don't succeed in finding a treasure of any kind I shall only have to pay for the three riding mules, and the expenses of food and so on, and a hundred dollars." "Twenty pounds!" Bertie said incredulously; "you are joking!" "No, it is really so; the man said that he considered that in going with me he is only fulfilling the obligation he is under to Mr. Barnett. Of course I protested against the terms, and would have insisted upon paying the ordinary prices, whatever they might be, for his services and the use of his mules; but he simply said that those were the conditions on which he was willing to go with me, and that I could take them or leave them, so I had to accept. I can only hope that we may find some treasure, in which case only he consented to accept proper payment for his services." "Well, it is awfully good of him," Bertie said; "though really it doesn't seem fair that we should be having the services of himself, his wife, his boy, and his mules for nothing. There is one thing, it will be an extra inducement to him to try and put us in the way of finding one of those mines." "I don't think so, Bertie; he said that not for any sum of money whatever would he do what he is going to do, but simply from gratitude to Barnett. It is curious how the traditions, or superstitions, or whatever you like to call them, of the time of the Incas have continued to impress the Indians, and how they have preserved the secrets confided to their ancestors. No doubt fear that the Spaniards would force them to work in the mines till they died has had a great effect in inducing them to conceal the existence of these places from them. Now that the Spaniards have been cleared out there is no longer any ground for apprehension of that kind, but they may still feel that the Peruvians would get the giant's share in any mine or treasure that might be found, and that the Indians would, under one pretence or another, be defrauded out of any share of it. It is not wonderful that it should be so considering how these poor people have been treated by the whites, and it would really seem that the way in which Spain has gone to the dogs is a punishment for her cruelties in South America and the Islands. It may be said that from the very moment when the gold began to flow the descent of Spain commenced; in spite of the enormous wealth she acquired she fell gradually from her position as the greatest power in Europe. "In 1525, after the battle of Pavia, Spain stood at the height of her power. Mexico was conquered by Cortez seven years before, Peru in 1531, and the wealth of those countries began to flow into Spain in enormous quantities, and yet her decline followed speedily. She was bearded by our bucaneers among the Islands and on the western coast; the Netherlands revolted, and after fierce fighting threw off her yoke; the battle of Ivry and the accession of Henry of Navarre all but destroyed her influence in France; the defeat of the Armada and the capture of Cadiz struck a fatal blow both to her power on the sea and to her commerce, and within a century of the conquest of Peru, Spain was already an enfeebled and decaying power. It would almost seem that the discoveries of Columbus, from which such great things were hoped, proved in the long run the greatest misfortune that ever befell Spain." "It does look like it, Harry; however, we must hope that whatever effect the discovery of America had upon Portugal or Spain, it will make your fortune." Harry laughed. "I hope so, Bertie, but it is as well not to be too hopeful. Still, I have great faith in Dias, at any rate I feel confident that he will do all he can; but he acknowledges that he knows nothing for certain. I am sure, however, that he will be a faithful guide, and that though we may have a rough time, it will not be an unpleasant one. Now, you must begin to turn to account what Spanish you have learned during the voyage; I know you have worked regularly at it while you have not been on duty." "I have learned a good lot," Bertie said; "and I dare say I could ask for anything, but I should not understand the answers. I can make out a lot of that Spanish _Don Quixote_ you got for me, but when Dias was talking to you I did not catch a word of what he was saying. I suppose it will all come in time." "But you must begin at once. I warn you that when I am fairly off I shall always talk to you in Spanish, for it would look very unsociable if we were always talking together in English. If you ride or walk by the side of the boy you will soon get on; and there will be Donna Maria for you to chat away with, and from what we saw of her I should say she is sociably inclined. In three months I have no doubt you will talk Spanish as well as I do." "It will be a horrid nuisance," Bertie grumbled; "but I suppose it has got to be done." Three days later Dias said he thought they might as well start the next day to Pachacamac. "We shall only want the three riding mules and one for baggage. Of course we shall not take José or my wife. By the time we return everything will be ready for us." "I shall be very glad to be off, Dias. We know no one here except Señor Pasquez; and although he has been very civil and has begged us to consider his house as our own, he is of course busy during the day, and one can't do above a certain amount of walking about the streets. So by all means let us start to-morrow morning. We may as well go this time in the clothes we wear, it will be time enough to put on the things we have bought when we start in earnest." Starting at sunrise, they rode for some distance through a fertile valley, and then crossed a sandy plain until they reached the little valley of Lurin, in which stand the ruins of Pachacamac. This was the sacred city of the natives of the coast before their conquest by the Incas. During their forty-mile ride Dias had told them something of the place they were about to visit. Pachacamac, meaning "the creator of the world," was the chief divinity of these early people, and here was the great temple dedicated to him. The Incas after their conquest erected a vast Temple of the Sun, but they did not attempt to suppress the worship of Pachacamac, and the two flourished side by side until the arrival of the Spaniards. The wealth of the temple was great; the Spaniards carried away among their spoils one thousand six hundred and eighty-seven pounds of gold and one thousand six hundred ounces of silver; but with all their efforts they failed to discover the main treasure, said to have been no less than twenty-four thousand eight hundred pounds of gold, which had been carried away and buried before their arrival. "If the Spaniards could not succeed in getting at the hiding-place, although, no doubt, they tortured everyone connected with the temple to make them divulge the secret, it is evident there is no chance for us," Harry said. "Yes, señor, they made every effort; thousands of natives were employed in driving passages through the terraces on which the temple stood. I believe that they did find much treasure, but certainly not the great one they were searching for. There is no tradition among our people as to the hiding-place, for so many of the natives perished that all to whom the secret was known must have died without revealing it to anybody. Had it not been so, the Spaniards would sooner or later have learned it, for although hundreds have died under torture rather than reveal any of the hiding-places, surely one more faint-hearted than the rest would have disclosed them. Certain it is that at Cuzco and other places they succeeded in obtaining almost all the treasures buried there, though they failed in discovering the still greater treasures that had been carried away to be hidden in different spots. But Pachacamac was a small one in comparison with Cuzco, and it was believed that the treasures had not been carried far. Tradition has it that they were buried somewhere between this town and Lima. Doubtless all concerned in the matter fled before the Spaniards arrived, at any rate with all their cruelty the invaders never discovered its position. The report that it was buried near may have been set about to prevent their hunting for it elsewhere, and the gold may be lying now somewhere in the heart of the mountains." Harry Prendergast and his brother looked in astonishment at the massive walls that rose around the eminence on which the temple had stood. The latter had disappeared, but its situation could be traced on the plateau buttressed by the walls. These were of immense thickness, and formed of huge adobe bricks almost as hard as stone; even the long efforts of the Spaniards had caused but little damage to them. The plateau rose some five hundred feet above the sea, which almost washed one face of it. Half-way up the hill four series of these massive walls, whose tops formed terraces, stood in giant steps some fifty feet high. Here and there spots of red paint could be seen, showing that the whole surface was originally painted. The ascent was made by winding passages through the walls. On the side of the upper area facing the sea could be seen the remains of a sort of walk or esplanade, with traces of edifices of various kinds. On a hill a mile and a half away were the remains of the Incas' temple and nunnery, the style differing materially from that of the older building; it was still more damaged than the temple on the hill by the searchers for treasure. Pachacamac was the most sacred spot in South America, vast numbers of pilgrims came here from all points. The city itself had entirely disappeared, covered deeply in sand, but for a long distance round, it had, like the neighbourhood of Jerusalem and Mecca, been a vast cemetery, and a small amount of excavation showed the tombs of the faithful, occupied in most cases by mummies. "We will ride across to the Incas' temple. There is not much to see there, but it is as well that you should look at the vaults in which the treasures were hid. There are similar places at Cuzco and several of the other ruins." "It may certainly be useful to see them," Harry agreed, and they rode across the plain. Leaving their mules outside they entered the ruins. The Indian led them into some underground chambers. He had brought a torch with him, and this he now lit. "You have to be careful or you might otherwise tumble into one of these holes and break a limb; and in that case, if you were here by yourselves, you would certainly never get out again." They came upon several of these places. The openings were sometimes square and sometimes circular, and had doubtless been covered with square stones. They were dug out of the solid ground. For about six feet the sides of the pit were perpendicular; in some it swelled out like a great vase with a broad shoulder, in others it became a square chamber of some size. "Some of these places were no doubt meant to store grain and other provisions," the Indian said, "some were undoubtedly treasuries." "Awkward places to find," Harry said; "one might spend a lifetime in searching for them in only one of these temples." "They were the last places we should think of searching," Dias said. "For years the Spaniards kept thousands of men at work. I do not say that there may not be some few places that have escaped the searchers, but what they could not with their host of workers find certainly could not be found by four or five men. It is not in the temples that the Incas' wealth has been hidden, but in caves, in deep mountain gorges, and possibly in ruins on the other side of the mountains where even the Spaniards never penetrated. There are such places. I know of one to which I will take you if our search fails elsewhere. It is near the sea, and yet there are not half a dozen living men who have ever seen it, so strangely is it hidden. Tradition says that it was not the work of the Incas, but of the people before them. I have never seen it close. It is guarded, they say, by demons, and no native would go within miles of it. The traditions are that the Incas, when they conquered the land, found the place and searched it, after starving out the native chief who had fled there with his followers and family. Some say that they found great treasure there, others that they discovered nothing; all agree that a pestilence carried off nearly all those who had captured it. Others went, and they too died, and the place was abandoned as accursed, and in time its very existence became forgotten; though some say that members of the tribe have always kept watch there, and that those who carelessly or curiously approached it have always met with their death in strange ways. Although I am a Christian, and have been taught to disbelieve the superstitions of my countrymen, I would not enter it on any condition." "If we happen to be near it I shall certainly take a close look at it," Harry said with a laugh. "I don't fancy we should see anything that our rifles and pistols would find invulnerable." It was getting dark by the time they had finished their inspection of the rooms, so, riding two or three miles away, they encamped in a grove up the valley. Next morning they returned to Lima. Dias had given out that the two white señors intended to visit all the ruined temples of the Incas, and as other travellers had done the same their intention excited neither surprise nor comment. On the following evening after dark Harry and his brother were returning from the house of Señor Pasquez. "It is a pleasant house," Harry said; "the girls are pretty and nice, they play and sing well, and are really charming. But what a contrast it was the other morning when we went in there and accidentally ran against them when we were going upstairs with their father, utterly untidy, and, in fact, regular sluts--a maid of all work would look a picture of neatness beside them." Bertie was about to answer, when there was an outburst of shouts from a wine-shop they were passing, and in a moment the door burst open and half a dozen men engaged in a fierce conflict rushed out. Knives were flashing, and it was evident that one man was being attacked by the rest. By the light that streamed out of the open door they saw that the man attacked was Dias. It flashed across Harry's mind that if this man was killed there was an end to all hope of success in their expedition. "Dash in to his rescue, Bertie," he cried; "but whatever you do, mind their knives." With a shout he sprang forward and struck to the ground a man who was dodging behind Dias with uplifted knife, while Bertie leapt on to the back of another, the shock throwing the man down face forward. Bertie was on his feet in a moment, and brought the stick he carried with all his force down on the man's head as he tried to rise. Then, springing forward again, he struck another man a heavy blow on the wrist. The knife dropped from the man's hand, and as he dashed with a fierce oath upon Bertie the stick descended again, this time on his head, and felled him to the ground. In the meantime one of the assailants had turned fiercely on Harry and aimed a blow at him with his knife; but with the ease of a practised boxer Harry stepped back, and before the man could again raise the knife he leaped in and struck him a tremendous blow on the point of his chin. The fifth man took to his heels immediately. The other four lay where they had fallen, evidently fearing they would be stabbed should they try to get on to their feet. "Are you hurt, Dias?" Harry exclaimed. "I have several cuts, señor, but none of them, I think, serious. You have saved my life." "Never mind that now, Dias. What shall we do with these fellows--hand them over to the watch?" "No, señor, that would be the last thing to do; we might be detained here for months. I will take all their knives and let them go." "Here are two of them," Bertie said, picking up those of the men he had struck. Dias stood over the man Harry had first knocked down, and with a fierce whisper ordered him to give up his knife, which he did at once. The other was still stupid from the effect of the blow and his fall, and Dias had only to take his knife from his relaxed fingers. "Now, señor, let us be going before anyone comes along." "What was it all about, Dias?" Harry asked as he walked away. "Many of the muleteers are jealous, señor, because I always get what they consider the best jobs. I had gone into the wine-shop for a glass of pulque before going round to see that the mules were all right. As I was drinking, these men whispered together, and then one came up to me and began to abuse me, and directly I answered him the whole of them drew their knives and rushed at me. I was ready too, and wounded two of them as I fought my way to the door. As I opened it one of them stabbed me in the shoulder, but it was a slanting blow. Once out they all attacked me at once, and in another minute you would have had to look for another muleteer. 'Tis strange, señors, that you should have saved my life as Mr. Barnett did. It was a great deed to risk your lives with no weapons but your sticks against five ruffians with their knives." "I did not use my stick," Harry said. "I am more accustomed to use my fists than a stick, and can hit as hard with them, as you saw. But my brother's stick turned out the most useful. He can box too, but cannot give as heavy a blow as I can. Still, it was very lucky that I followed your advice, and bought a couple of heavy sticks to carry with us if we should go out after dark. Now you had better come to the hotel, and I will send for a surgeon to dress your wound." "It is not necessary, señor; my wife is waiting for me in my room, she arrived this afternoon. Knife cuts are not uncommon affairs here, and she knows quite enough to be able to bandage them." "At any rate we shall have to put off our start for a few days." "Not at all, señor; a bandage tonight and a few strips of plaster in the morning will do the business. I shall be stiff for a few days, but that will not interfere with my riding, and José will be able to load and unload the mules, if you will give him a little assistance. Adios! and a thousand thanks." "That was a piece of luck, Bertie," Harry said when they had reached their room in the hotel. "In the first place, because neither of us got a scratch, and in the second, because it will bind Dias more closely to us. Before, he was willing to assist us for Barnett's sake, now it will be for our own also, and we may be quite sure that he will do his best for us." "It is my first scrimmage," Bertie said, "and I must say that I thought, as we ran in, that it was going to be a pretty serious one. We have certainly come very well out of it." "It was short and sharp," Harry laughed. "I have always held that the man who could box well was more than a match for one with a knife who knew nothing of boxing. One straight hit from the shoulder is sure to knock him out of time." Next morning Dias and his wife came up early. The former had one arm in a sling. As they entered, the woman ran forward, and, throwing her arms round Bertie, she kissed him on both cheeks. The lad was too much surprised at this unexpected salute to return it, as his brother did when she did the same to him. Then, drawing back, she poured out her thanks volubly, the tears running down her cheeks. "Maria asked me if she might kiss you," Dias said gravely when she stopped. "I said that it was right that she should do so, for do we not both owe you my life?" "You must not make too much of the affair, Dias; four blows were struck, and there was an end to it." "A small matter to you, señor, but a great one to us. A Peruvian would not interfere if he saw four armed men attacking one. He would be more likely to turn down the next street, so that he might not be called as a witness. It is only your countrymen who would do such things." "And you still think that you will be ready to start the day after to-morrow?" "Quite sure, señor. My shoulder will be stiff and my arm in a sling for a week, but muleteers think nothing of such trifles,--a kick from a mule would be a much more serious affair." "You don't think those rascals are likely to waylay us on the road, and take their revenge?" "Not they, señor. If you could do such things unarmed, what could you not do when you had rifles and pistols? The matter is settled. They have not been seriously hurt. If one of them had been killed I should be obliged to be careful the next time I came here; as it is, no more will be said about it. Except the two hurt in the wine-shop they will not even have a scar to remind them of it. In two years they will have other things to think about, if it is true that Colombia means to go to war with Chili." "What is the quarrel about, Dias?" "The Colombians helped us to get rid of the Spaniards, but ever since they have presumed a right to manage affairs here." "Perhaps nothing will come of it." "Well, it is quite certain that there is no very good feeling between Chili, Bolivia, Colombia, and Peru." "I suppose they will be fighting all round some day?" "Yes, and it will interfere with my business. Certainly we are better off than when the Spaniards were here; but the taxes are heavy, and things don't go as people expected they would when we got rid of the Spaniards. All the governments seem jealous of each other. I don't take any interest in these matters except so far as they interfere with trade. If every man would attend to his own affairs it would be better for us all." "I suppose so, Dias; but one can hardly expect a country that has been so many years governed by a foreign power to get accustomed all at once to governing itself." "Now, señor, I shall be glad if you will go with me and look at the stores that are already collected. I think you will find that everything is ready." CHAPTER V AMONG THE MOUNTAIN Two days later the mules were brought round to the door at sunrise, and Harry and his brother sallied out from the hotel, dressed for the first time in the Peruvian costume. They were both warmly clothed. On their heads were felt hats with broad brims, which could be pulled down and tied over the ears, both for warmth and to prevent their being blown away by the fierce winds that sweep down the gorges. A thick poncho of llama wool fell from their shoulders to their knees, and loosely tied round their necks were thick and brightly-coloured scarves. They wore high boots, and carried large knives stuck in a strap below the knee. The rifles were fastened at the bow of their saddles, and their wallets, with provisions for the day, were strapped behind. By the advice of Dias each had in his pocket a large pair of green goggles, to protect their eyes from the glare of sun and snow. They tied these on before coming downstairs, and both agreed that had they met unexpectedly in the street they would have passed each other without the slightest recognition. "It is a pity, Harry," Bertie said seriously, "that you did not have your portrait taken to send home to a certain young lady. You see, she would then have been able to hang it up in her room and worship it privately, without anyone having the slightest idea that it was her absent lover." "You young scamp," Harry said, "I will pull your ears for you." "If you attempt anything of the sort, I shall tie the brim of my hat tightly over them. I really think it is very ungrateful of you not to take my advice in the spirit in which I gave it." "If you intend to go on like this, Bert, I shall leave you behind." "You can't do it." "Oh, yes, I can! I might give you in charge for some crime or other; and in lack of evidence, the expenditure of a few dollars would, I have no doubt, be sufficient to induce the judge, magistrate, or whatever they call him, to give you six months' imprisonment." "Then you are an unnatural brother, and I will make no more suggestions for your good." So they had come downstairs laughing, though feeling a little shy at their appearance as they issued out of the courtyard. Speedily, however, they gained courage as they saw that passers-by paid no attention to them. They had spent the previous afternoon in packing the bundles, in which every item was put away so that it could be got at readily, and in making sure that nothing had been omitted. The five baggage mules were fastened one behind another, and José stood at the head of the leading one. As they came out Dias swung his wife on to a cushion strapped behind his saddle, and mounted himself before her. Harry and his brother climbed into theirs. They had both refused to put on the heavy and cruel spurs worn by the Peruvians, but had, at the earnest request of the Indian, put them in their saddle-bags. "You will want them," he said. "You need not use them cruelly, but you must give your mules an occasional prick to let them know that you have spurs." On leaving the town the road ran up the valley of the Rimac, a small river, but of vital importance to the country through which it passes, as small canals branching from it irrigate the land. "The Spaniards have done some good here at least," Harry said to Dias, who was riding beside him. "Some of these canals were constructed in their time, but the rest existed long before they came here, and, indeed, long before the Incas came. The Incas' work lies chiefly beyond the mountains; on this side almost all the great ruins are of cities and fortresses built by the old people. Cuzco was the Incas' capital, and almost all the towns between the two ranges of the Andes were their work. It is true that they conquered the people down to the sea, but they do not seem to have cared to live here. The treasures of Pachacamac and the other places on the plains were those of the old people and the old religion. The inhabitants of the plains are for the most part descendants of those people. The Incas were strong and powerful, but they were not numerous. That was why the Spaniards conquered them so easily. The old people, who regarded them as their masters, did not care to fight for them, just as the Peruvians did not care to fight for the Spaniards." "I expect it was a good deal like the Normans in England," Bertie put in. "They conquered the Saxons because they were better armed and better disciplined, but they were few in number in comparison with the number they governed, and in their quarrels with each other the bulk of the people stood aloof; and it was only when the Normans began their wars in France and Scotland, and were obliged to enlist Saxon archers and soldiers, that the two began to unite and to become one people." "I have no doubt that was so, Bertie; but you are breaking our agreement that you should speak in Spanish only." "Oh, bother! you know very well that I cannot talk in it yet, and you surely do not expect that I am going to ride along without opening my lips." "I know you too well to expect that," Harry laughed, "and will allow an occasional outbreak. Still, do try to talk Spanish, however bad it may be. You have got cheek enough in other things, and cheek goes a long way in learning to talk a foreign language. You have been four months at your Spanish books, and should certainly begin to put simple sentences together." "But that is just what one does not learn from books," the lad said. "At any rate, not from such books as I have been working at. I could do a high-flown sentence, and offer to kiss your hand and to declare that all I have is at your disposal. But if I wanted to say, 'When are we going to halt for dinner? I am feeling very peckish,' I should be stumped altogether." "Well, you must get as near as you can, Bertie. I dare say you cannot turn slang into Spanish; but you can find other words to express your meaning, and when you cannot hit on a word you must use an English one. Your best plan is to move along on the other side of Dias, and chat to his wife." "What have I got to say to her?" "Anything you like. You can begin by asking her if she has ever gone a long journey with her husband before, how far we shall go to-day--things of that sort." "Well, I will try anyhow. I suppose I must. But you go on talking to Dias, else I shall think that you are both laughing at me." Five miles from Lima they passed through the little village of Quiraz. Beyond this they came upon many cotton plantations, and in the ravines by the side of the valley or among the ruins of Indian towns were several large fortresses. They also passed the remains of an old Spanish town and several haciendas, where many cattle and horses were grazing. They were ascending steadily, and after passing Santa Clara, eleven miles from Lima, the valley narrowed and became little more than a ravine. On either side were rents made in the hills by earthquakes, and immense boulders and stones were scattered about at the bottom of the narrow gorge. Four hours' travelling brought them to Chosica, where the valley widened again near the foot of the hills. Here they halted for the day. There was an inn here which Dias assured them was clean and comfortable, and they therefore took a couple of rooms for the night in preference to unpacking their tents. "It is just as well not to begin that till we get farther away," Harry said. "We have met any number of laden mules coming down, and if we were to camp here we should cause general curiosity." He accordingly ordered dinner for himself and his brother, Dias preferring to take his meal in a large room used by passing muleteers. The fare was as good as they had had at the hotel at Lima. "I am not sorry that we halted here," Bertie said; "I feel as stiff as a poker." "I think you got on very well, Bertie, with Mrs. Dias. I did not hear what you were saying, but you seemed to be doing stunningly." "She did most of the talking. I asked her to speak slowly, as I did not manage to catch the sense of what she said. She seems full of fun, and a jolly little woman altogether. She generally understood what I meant, and though she could not help laughing sometimes, she did it so good-temperedly that one did not feel put out. Each time I spoke she corrected me, told me what I ought to have said, and made me say it after her. I think I shall get on fairly well at the end of a few weeks." "I am sure you will, Bertie; the trouble is only at the beginning, and now that you have once broken the ice, you will progress like a house on fire." There were still four hours of daylight after they had finished their meal, so they went out with Dias to explore one of the numerous burying-grounds round the village. It consisted of sunken chambers. In these were bones, with remains of the mats in which the bodies had been clothed. These wrappings resembled small sacks, and they remarked that the people must have been of very small size, or they could never have been packed away in them. With them had been buried many of the implements of their trade. One or two had apparently not been opened. Here were knitting utensils, toilet articles, implements for weaving, spools of thread, needles of bone and bronze. With the body of a girl had been placed a kind of work-box, containing the articles that she had used, and the mummy of a parrot, some beads, and fragments of an ornament of silver. Dias told them that all these tombs were made long before the coming of the Incas. He said that round the heads of the men and boys were wound the slings they had used in life, while a piece of cotton flock was wrapped round the heads of the women. Many of the graves communicated with each other by very narrow passages; the purpose of these was not clear, but probably they were made to enable the spirits of the dead to meet and hold communion with each other. "I don't want to see any more of them," Bertie said after they had spent three hours in their investigations; "this sort of thing is enough to give one a fit of the blues." Beyond Chosica civilization almost ceased. The road became little more than a mule track, and was in many places almost impassable by vehicles of any kind. Nothing could be wilder than the scenery they passed. At times rivers ran through perpendicular gorges, and the track wound up and down steep ravines. Sometimes they would all dismount, though Dias assured them it was not necessary; still, it made a change from the monotonous pace of little over two miles an hour at which the mules breasted the steep incline. José rode on the first of the baggage mules, which was very lightly loaded; he generally sang the whole time. When on foot, Donna Maria stepped gaily along and Bertie had hard work to keep pace with her. He was making rapid progress with the language, though occasionally a peal of laughter from his companion told of some egregious error. There were villages every few miles, but now when they halted they did so as a rule a mile before they got to one of these. Dinner was cooked over a fire of dead sticks, and after the meal Harry's tent was erected and the bed spread in it. The Indians went on to the village for the night, while Harry and his brother sat and smoked for a time by the fire and then turned in. At daybreak Dias rode back leading their riding mules and a baggage animal; the tent, beds, and the cooking utensils were packed up, and they rode in to the village and passed on at a trot until they overtook Maria and José, who had started with the other four mules when Dias rode away. At last they reached the head of the pass, and two days' journey took them to Oroya, standing on an elevated plateau some ten thousand feet above the sea, and five thousand below the highest point of the road. The scenery had now completely changed. Villages were scattered thickly over the plain, cultivation was general. The hillsides were lined by artificial terraces, on which were perched chalets and small hamlets--they had seen similar terraces on the way up. These were as the Spaniards found them, and must at one time have been inhabited by a thriving population. Even now gardens and orchards flourished upon them up to the highest points on the hills. Oroya was a large place, and, avoiding the busy part of the town, they hired rooms, as it was necessary to give the mules two days' rest. On the first evening after their arrival they gathered round a fire, for the nights were cold, and even in the daytime they did not find their numerous wraps too hot for them. "Now, Dias," Harry said, "we must talk over our plans. You said that we would not decide upon anything till we got here." "In the first place, señor, I think it would be well to go to the north to see the Cerro de Pasco silver mine, they say it is the richest in the world. It is well that you should see the formation of the rocks and the nature of the ore; we may in our journeyings come across similar rock." "It is gold rather than silver that one wants to find, Dias. I do not say that a silver mine would not be worth a very large sum of money, but it would be necessary to open it and go to a large expense to prove it. Then one would have to go to England and get up a company to work it, which would be a long and difficult matter. Still, I am quite ready to go and see the place." Dias nodded. "What you say is true, señor. I could take you to a dozen places where there is silver. They may be good or may not, but even if they were as rich as Potosi the silver would have to be carried to Lima, so great a distance on mules' backs that it would swallow up the profits. And it would be almost impossible to convey the necessary machinery there, indeed to do so would involve the making of roads for a great distance." "At the same time, Dias, should you know of any silver lodes that might turn out well, I would certainly take some samples, and send two or three mule-loads of the stuff home. They might be of no good for the purpose for which I have come out here, but in time I might do something with them; the law here is that anyone who finds a mine can obtain a concession for it." "That is so, señor, but he must proceed to work it." "I suppose it would be sufficient to put two or three men on for that purpose." "But if you were away for a year difficulties might arise. It would be better for you only to determine the course of the lode, its thickness and value, to trace it as far as possible, and then hide all signs of the work, and not to make your claim until you return here." "Very well, I will take your advice, Dias. And now about the real object of our journey." "I have been thinking it over deeply," Dias said. "First as to mines; at present almost all the gold that is obtained is acquired by washing the sands of rivers. Here and there gold has been found in rocks, but not in sufficient quantities to make mining pay. The rivers whose sands are richest in gold are in the mountains that lie behind Lake Titicaca, which lies to the south of Cuzco and on the border of Bolivia. No one doubts that in the time of the Incas there existed gold mines, and very rich ones; for if it had not been so it is impossible to account for the enormous amount of gold obtained by the Spanish conquerors, and no one doubts that they got but a small portion of the gold in existence when they arrived. It is of no use whatever for us to search the old ruins of the Incas in Cuzco, or their other great towns; all that can be found there has already been carried away. "Now you see, señor, Huanuco, Jauja, Cuzco, and Puno all lie near the eastern range of the Andes, and when the alarm caused by the arrogant conduct of the Spaniards began, it was natural that the treasures should be sent away into the heart of those mountains. The towns on the western sides of this plateau, Challhuanca, Tanibobamba, Huancavelica, would as naturally send theirs for safety into the gorges of the western Andes, but all traditions point to the fact that this was not done by the Incas. As soon as the Spaniards arrived and struck the first blow, the great chiefs would naturally call together a band of their followers on whose fidelity they could rely, load the treasures on llamas, of which they possessed great numbers, and hurry them off to the mountains. "It is among the mountains, therefore, that our search must be made. All our traditions point to the fact that it was along the eastern range of the Cordilleras, and the country beyond, that by far the greater portion of the treasures were taken for concealment. At any rate, as we have but eighteen months for the search it is on that side that we must try, and ten times that length of time would be insufficient for us to do it thoroughly. As to the gold mines, it is certain that they lie in that portion of the range between Cuzco and Lake Titicaca. It was near Puno, a short distance from the lake, that the Spaniards, owing to the folly of an Indian, found great treasures in a cave. They would probably have found much more had not a stream suddenly burst out which flooded the whole valley and converted it into a lake. Which do you think we had better look for first, gold mines or hidden treasures?" "Of course that must depend on you, Dias, and how much you know about these matters. I need not say that a hidden treasure would be of vastly more use to me than the richest gold mine in the world. To obtain the gold from a mine an abundance of labour is required, besides machinery for crushing quartz and separating the gold from it. In the bed of a river, if it is rich and abounding in nuggets, three or four men, with rough machinery, could wash out a large quantity of gold in a short time, and a place of that sort would be far better than a rich mine, which could not be worked without a large amount of capital." "I have heard tales of such places on the other side of the mountains to the south. From time to time gold-seekers have returned with as much as they could carry, but not one in a hundred of those that go ever come back; some doubtless die from hunger and hardship, but more are killed by the Indians. Most of the tribes there are extremely savage, and are constantly at war with each other, and they slay every white man who ventures into their country." "Then is it not probable, Dias, that the gold could have come from their country?" "Not from the plains, but from the streams running down into them; and although the Incas never attempted to subdue the tribes beyond the mountains, they may have had bodies of troops to protect the workers from incursions by these savages." "Are there many wild beasts there?" "In some parts of the mountains pumas and jaguars abound." "That is not altogether satisfactory, though I should not mind if we fell in with one occasionally. But how about game, Dias?" "The chief game are the wild vicuñas, which are very numerous in some parts; but they are very shy and difficult to hunt. Deer are plentiful, and there are foxes, bears, and hogs; but the great article of food is fish. On the plains the manatee, which is very like the seal, is caught; turtles are found in great numbers, and the people make oil from their eggs; and the buffo, a sort of porpoise, also abounds. The natives do not eat these, except when very pressed for food; they catch them for the sake of their oil. There are many kinds of fish: the sunaro, which I heard an English traveller say are like the fish the English call the pike; these grow to the length of seven or eight feet. And many smaller kinds of fish are caught by throwing the juice of the root of the barbasto into small streams. This makes the fish stupid, and they float on the surface so that they may easily be caught by hand. There are also many sorts of fruit." "Well, then, we ought to do fairly well, Dias." "Yes, señor; but many of these creatures are only found in the forests and in the rivers of the plains, and they are so much hunted by the savages there that they are very shy. But there are some creatures with which we certainly do not wish to meet, and unfortunately these are not uncommon. I mean the alligators and the great serpents. The natives fear the alligators much, for their weapons are of no avail against them, and they would never venture to attack a great snake." "And besides these, what other disagreeables are there, Dias?" Bertie asked cheerfully. "There is one other disagreeable," Dias replied, "and it is a serious one. There are in the mountains many desperate men. Some have slain an enemy who had friends influential enough to set the law in motion against them, or have escaped from prison; some have resisted the tax-collectors; many have been suspected of plotting against the government; and others are too lazy to work." "And how do they live?" Harry asked. "They live partly on game and partly on plunder. They steal from cultivators; they are paid a small sum by all muleteers passing through the mountains; they rob travellers who are worth robbing; and sometimes they carry off a proprietor of land, and get a ransom for him. Occasionally they will wash the sand, and get gold enough to send one of their number into a town to buy articles they require." "And do they go in large bands?" "No, señor; as a rule some ten or twelve keep together under the one they have chosen as their chief. Sometimes, if people make complaints and troops are sent against them, they will join to resist them; but this is not often. The authorities know well enough that they have no chance of catching these men among the mountains they are so well acquainted with, and content themselves with stationing a few troops in the villages." "And is it through the robbers or the savages that so few of the gold explorers ever return?" "It is chiefly, I think, from hardship," Dias said; "but undoubtedly many who venture down near the Indians' country are killed by them. Some who have done well, and are returning with the gold they have accumulated, fall victims to these robbers. You must not, of course, suppose that there are great numbers of them, señor. There may be some hundreds, but from Huancabamba--the northern frontier of the western Cordilleras, where the Maranon crosses the eastern range--down to Lake Titicaca on the one side, and Tacna on the other, is nigh a thousand miles, and the two ranges cover more square leagues than can be reckoned, and even a thousand men scattered over these would be but so many grains of sand on a stretch of the sea-shore." "It certainly sounds like it, Dias; but perhaps those worthy people congregate chiefly in the neighbourhood of the passes." "That is so, señor; but even through these a traveller might pass many times without being troubled by them." "Have you fallen in with them often, Dias?" "Yes; but, as you see, they have done me no harm. Sometimes, when I get to the end of my journey, the mules are not so heavily laden as when I started; but generally the people for whom I work say to me, 'Here are so many dollars, Dias; they are for toll.' There are places in the villages at the foot of the most-frequented passes where it is understood that a payment of so many dollars per mule will enable you to pass without molestation. In return for your money, you receive a ribbon, or a rosette, or a feather, and this you place in your hat as a passport. You may meet a few men with guns as you pass along, but when they see the sign they salute you civilly, ask for a drink of wine if you are carrying it, then wish you good-day. It is only in little-frequented passes that you have to take your chance. I may say that though these men may plunder, they never kill a muleteer. They know that if they did, all traffic on that road would cease, and the soldiers would find guides who knew every path and hiding-place in the mountains." "Anyhow, I think it is well, Dias, that I took your advice, and handed over my gold to Señor Pasquez, for if we do fall into the hands of any of these gentry, we can lose practically nothing." "No money, señor, but we might lose everything else, except perhaps the mules, which they could not use in the mountains. But if they were to take our blankets, and tents, and provisions, and your firearms, we should be in a bad way if we happened to be a couple of hundred miles in the heart of the mountains." "Well, I don't think they will take them," Harry said grimly, "without paying pretty dearly for them. With your gun and our rifles, and that old fowling-piece which you got for José, which will throw a fairly heavy charge of buck-shot, I think we can make a very good fight against any band of eight men, or even one or two more." "I think so," Dias said gravely. "It is seldom I miss my mark. Still, I hope we shall not be troubled with them, or with the Indians. You see, it is not so much an attack by day that we have to fear, as a surprise at night. Of course, when we are once on the hills, José and I will keep watch by turns. He is as sharp as a needle. I should have no fear of any of these robbers creeping up to us without his hearing them. But I can't say so much for him in the case of the Indians, who can move so noiselessly that even a vicuña would not hear them until they were within a spear's-throw." "The spear is their weapon then, Dias?" "Some tribes carry bows and arrows, others only spears, and sometimes they poison the points of both these weapons." "That is unpleasant. Are there remedies for the poisons?" "None that I know of, nor do I think the savages themselves know of any. The only chance is to pour ammonia at once into the hole that is made by an arrow, and to cut out all the flesh round a spear-wound, and then to pour in ammonia or sear it with a hot iron." "That accounts for your buying that large bottle of ammonia at Lima. I wondered what you wanted it for. When we get into the country these unpleasant people inhabit, I will fill my spirit-flask with it, so that it will always be handy if required. Now we understand things generally, Dias. It only remains for you to decide where we had best leave the plain and take to the mountains." Dias was silent for a minute. "I should say, señor, that first we had better journey down to Cuzco and then down to Sicuani, where the western Cordilleras, after making a bend, join the eastern branch, and there cross the Tinta volcano. On the other side are many gorges. In one of these I know there is some very rich gold sand. Explorers have sought for this spot in vain, but the secret has been well kept by the few who know it. It has been handed down in my father's family from father to son ever since the Spaniards came. He told it to me, and I swore to reveal it to none but my son. I have no son, and the secret therefore will die with me. Whether it has been passed down in any other family I cannot say. It may be, or it may not be; but as I owe you my life, and also the debt of gratitude to Señor Barnett, I feel that you are more to me than a son. Moreover, the secret was to be kept lest it should come to the knowledge of the Spaniards. The Spaniards have gone, and with them the reason for concealment, so I feel now that I am justified in taking you there." "I am glad of that, Dias. Assuredly the gold can be of service to no man as long as it lies there, and it would be better to utilize it than allow it to waste. I need not say how grateful I shall feel if you can put me in the way of obtaining it." "That I cannot absolutely promise," he said. "I have the indications, but they will be difficult to find. Three hundred years bring great changes--rocks on which there are marks may be carried away by torrents, figures cut in the cliffs may be overgrown by mosses or creepers. However, if but a few remain, I hope to be able to find my way. If I fail we must try elsewhere; but this is the only one of which I have been told all the marks. I know generally several places where great treasure was hidden, but not the marks by which they could be discovered, and as we may be sure that every measure was taken to hide the entrances to the caves, the chances would be all against our lighting upon them. I may say, señor, that, great as was the treasure of the Incas, that of the Chimoos or Chincas, a powerful people who inhabited part of this country, was fully as large; and traditions say that most of the treasures hidden were not those of the Incas, but of the Chimoos, who buried them when their country was invaded by the Incas. "This is certainly the case with most of the treasures hidden to the west of the mountains. It was so at Pachacamac; it was so at Truxillo, where the Spaniards found three million and a half dollars of gold; and it is known that this was but a small hoard, and that the great one, many times larger, has never been discovered. Probably the secret has long been lost; for if there are but few who know where the Incas buried their gold, it may well be believed that the exact locality of the Chimoo treasures, which were buried more than eight hundred years ago, is now unknown, and that nothing but vague traditions have been handed down." "That one can quite understand," Harry agreed, "when we consider how many of the Chimoos must have fallen in the struggle with the Incas, and how more than half the population were swept away by the Spaniards, to say nothing of those who have died in the wars of the last thirty years. It seems strange, however, that the treasures in the temple of Pachacamac were left untouched by the Incas and allowed to accumulate afterwards." "It was so generally regarded as the sacred city," Dias said, "that, powerful as they were, the Incas did not attempt to interfere with it, as to do so would certainly have stirred up a formidable insurrection of the natives throughout the whole of their territory; and instead, therefore, of taking possession of the temple and dedicating it to their own god, they allowed it to remain untouched and the worship of the old gods to be carried on there, contenting themselves with building a temple of their own to the Sun-god close at hand." "Whether any treasure we find belonged to the Incas or to the Chimoos is of no consequence whatever. I certainly think that before entering upon what would seem to be almost a hopeless search for such stores, we should try this place that you know of. In that case it seems to me, Dias, that if we had gone down the coast to Islay, and up through Arequipa to Cuzco, our journey would have been considerably shorter." "That is true, señor, but we should have found it difficult to take a passage for our mules; the steamers are but small craft, with poor accommodation even for passengers. And besides, until we had made all our arrangements for the journey from Lima, I could hardly say that I had made up my mind to bring you to this place. Only when you and your brother saved my life did I feel that I was bound to aid you, even to the point of divulging the secret. It is different now from what it was when it was first handed down. At that time the Spaniards were mercilessly slaying all known to be in the possession of any secret connected with gold, and every discovery of gold entailed the forced labour of thousands more of the natives. Well, señor, all that is changed; we are our own masters, and those who find mines are allowed to work them on payment of certain royalties. There is, therefore, no good in keeping a secret that has been useless for hundreds of years." "Certainly, Dias, you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you are injuring no one by the act, and are besides doing a very good action to my brother and myself. "Well, Bertie," Harry said when Dias had left the room, "I think we may congratulate ourselves. For the first time I really think there is a chance of the expedition turning out a success." "It certainly looks like it," Bertie agreed. "For your sake I hope it will be so. As for me, I am quite content; what with Indians and brigands, wild beasts, alligators, and snakes, the journey is likely to be an exciting one." CHAPTER VI A TROPICAL FOREST It took them over three weeks to reach Cuzco. They did not hurry, for they wished to keep the mules in good condition for the serious work before them. They were travelling across a plateau thickly dotted with villages and small towns, and everywhere richly cultivated. Near the summit of the mountains large flocks of alpacas were grazing, and lower down herds of cattle and sheep, while near the plain were patches of wheat, barley, and potatoes, which in turn were succeeded by fields of maize, apple and peach trees, and prickly-pears. At the foot were fields of sugar-cane, oranges, citron, pine-apples, cacao, and many other tropical fruits; while in the deeper ravines cotton was grown in abundance for the wants of the population. Here, in fact, were all varieties of climate, from the perpetual snow on the summits of the lofty mountains to a tropical heat in the valleys. "If the Incas had been contented with this glorious plateau, which for centuries constituted their kingdom, and had passed a law against the gathering of gold and the mining for silver, they might still have been lords here," Harry said one day. "There would have been nothing to tempt the avarice of the Spaniards, for owing to the distance of the mines from the coast, the cost of carriage would have been immense, and the long sea journey would have rendered the exportation of the natural products of the country impossible. Some of the more sober-minded of the Dons might have settled down here and taken wives from among the daughters of the nobles, and, bringing with them the civilization of Spain, become valuable colonists. The Incas, before they extended their conquest over the whole of the west of South America, must have been a comparatively simple people, and would have had none of the habits of luxury and magnificence that tempted the Spaniards. The gold of South America was the ruin of the Incas, as it was afterwards the chief cause of the ruin of Spain." "Well, Harry, then I should very strongly advise you to give up treasure-hunting and to remain poor, for the curse of the gold may not have worked itself out yet." "I must risk that, Bertie. I have no desire for luxury or magnificence; it is for a laudable purpose that I seek the gold. However, if you have any scruples on the subject there is no occasion for you to have any share in what I may discover." "No, I think I will agree with you and risk it; though certainly at present I don't see what advantage any amount of money would be to me." The houses of the peasants were for the most part comfortable, although small, for since the expulsion of the Spaniards, the people had had no reason to make a pretence of poverty. During the Spanish rule no one dared, by the size of his house or by his mode of living, to show signs of wealth above his fellows, for to do so would be to expose himself to the cruel exactions of the tax-collectors and local officials; and even now they had hardly recognized the change that had taken place, and remained wedded to the habits that had become rooted in them by centuries of oppression. The travellers had no difficulty whatever in purchasing food and forage on the way. They always slept in their tents now, and preferred Donna Maria's cooking to that which they could obtain in the small and generally dirty inns in the towns. By the time they reached Cuzco, Bertie was able to converse in Spanish with some fluency. On the way he rode either beside Dias and his wife, or with José; in either case an animated conversation was kept up, sometimes on the stirring events of the war of independence and the subsequent struggles, sometimes about life in England, its ways and customs, concerning which neither Maria nor José had any knowledge whatever. Bertie also endeavoured to gain some information concerning the history of Peru prior to the rising against Spain; but neither the woman nor boy knew anything of the subject beyond the fact that the Incas were great people, and that the natives still mourned for them. "You see that black apron most of the women wear over one hip, as a sign of mourning; it is still worn for the Incas. They must have been good people, and not cruel like the Spanish, or they would not be so much regretted," Maria said. "I don't wear the apron, because both Dias and I are of mixed blood, descendants on one side of natives, and on the other of Creoles, that is of Spaniards whose families were settled here, and who hated their countrymen just as much as we do. Well, there is Cuzco in sight. I have never seen it, and am glad that we shall stay there for a few days." The old capital of the Incas lay at the end of a valley about two miles in length, and about a mile in width. To the north of the city rose an abrupt hill, crowned by the great citadel with its three lines of walls, the hill being divided from those forming the side of the valley by two deep ravines, in which flowed little streams that ran through the city. The appearance of the town was striking. There were numerous churches, its streets ran at right angles to each other, and the massive stone houses dated from the early Spanish days, though they were surmounted for the most part by modern brickwork additions. Where the great Temple of the Sun once stood, the church of Santo Domingo had been built, a portion of the splendid building of the old faith being incorporated in it. "What is the use of staying here?" Bertie asked his brother impatiently, two days after they had arrived at Cuzco. "I dare say these old ruins and fortresses, and so on, are very interesting to people who understand all about the Incas; but as I know nothing about them, I don't see how you can expect me to get up any interest in an old wall because you tell me that it is one of the remains of a palace belonging to some old chap I never heard of. I shall be very glad when Dias says that the mules have had enough rest and that we can set out on our business." "I am afraid you are a Goth, Bert," Harry said, looking at him with an expression of pity. "Here you are in one of the most interesting cities of the world, a place that thousands and thousands of people would travel any distance to investigate, and in forty-eight hours you are tired of it. You have no romance in your nature, no respect for the past; you are a Goth and a Philistine." "I am afraid you are mixing up localities, Harry. I may be a Goth or a Philistine, but perhaps you are not aware that these peoples or tribes had no connection with each other. Your education in matters unconnected with the Royal Navy seems to have been even more deplorably neglected than my own." "Shut up, youngster!" "No, Lieutenant Prendergast, you are not on the quarter-deck of one of Her Majesty's ships at present. You are not even the leader of a small caravan on the march. We are in this locanda on terms of perfect equality, save and except in any small advantage that you may possess in the matter of years." Harry laughed. "Well, Bertie, I do not altogether disagree with what you say. If I had come here to get up the history of the Incas, and investigate the ruins of their palaces, I should be content to stay here for some weeks; but as it is, I am really just as anxious as you are to be on the move. I was speaking to Dias half an hour ago, and he says that in two more days we shall be able to start again. We have been discussing how much flour and other things it is absolutely necessary to take. Of course the better provided we are the more comfortable we shall be; but on the other hand, as Dias says, it is of great importance that the mules should carry as little weight as possible. "In crossing the passes we shall have the benefit of the old roads of the Incas, but once we leave these the difficulties will be enormous. Dias said that it might be better to dispose of our mules altogether and get trained llamas in their place, as these can climb over rocks where no mule could obtain a foothold. But then it would be necessary to take with us one or two natives accustomed to their ways, and this would not suit us at all. However, I do think that it would be worth while to take two or three of these animals with us. They can carry a hundred pounds apiece; but as we may be going over extraordinarily rough country, fifty pounds would be sufficient. The advantage would be that we could establish a sort of central camp at the farthest spot to which the mules could go, and then make exploring expeditions with the llamas to carry provisions and tools. The llamas are not bad eating, so that if we found no other use for them they would assist our commissariat." "How far can they go in a day, Harry?" "Ten or twelve miles, and you may be sure that that is as much as we can do when we are among the mountains." "Then I should think they would be very useful. I suppose there will be no difficulty in buying them?" "None at all. A good many are brought in for sale to the market every day. Of course it would be necessary to get strong animals accustomed to burdens." Before starting there was another long consultation between Harry and Dias as to which course it would be better to adopt. The most-frequented pass through the mountains was that to Paucartambo, forty miles north-east from Cuzco, at the mouth of the pass that leads down into the plains. Between this town and the Carabaya range, a hundred and fifty miles to the south, was to be found the rich gold deposit to which Dias had referred. So far, however, as the traditions he had received informed him, it was situated near the slopes of the Tinta volcano, and between that and Ayapata. The direct road to this spot was extremely difficult, and he was of opinion that the journey could be more easily performed by going to Paucartambo and then skirting the foot of the mountains. "You will find no difficulty in obtaining food as you go along," he said; "wild turkeys, pheasants, and other birds are to be met with in that district. Moreover, there are many plantations which have been deserted owing to the depredations of the Chincas, a tribe who live on the tributaries of the Pueros, or as it used to be called, Rio Madre de Dios. Here you will find fields of maize still growing, sugar-cane, cacao, and rice. One after another the estates have been abandoned; at some of them the whole of the people on the farms were massacred, and in all the danger was so great that the proprietors found it impossible to work them. The one drawback to that road is that we may fall in with the Chincas, in which case they will certainly attack us. However, they are widely scattered through the forests, and we may not fall in with them. On the other hand, the track by the Tinta mountain from Sicuani is extremely difficult and dangerous, We might lose several of our animals in traversing it, and should have to depend entirely on what we carried for food." "Then by all means let us go the other way, Dias. Were we to lose some of our mules it would be impossible to replace them, and it would be useless to find gold if we could not carry it away." Two days later they started, four llamas having been added to the caravan. Dias explained that it would not be necessary to take any natives to attend to these animals, as, once started, they would follow the mules without difficulty, especially if they were fed with them before starting. Three days' travelling brought them to the little town, which lay very high up in the hills. The cold here was bitter, and the party needed all their wraps, and were glad to get in motion as soon as it was light. Passing over a range of mountains above Paucartambo, where a thin layer of snow crunched under their feet, they began the tremendous descent into the plain. In a short time the morning mist cleared away. The road led through a tropical forest. It took them over three hours to reach the river Chirimayu, a descent of eleven thousand feet in the course of eight miles. Here they halted by the side of a splendid waterfall. The hills rose up perpendicularly on every side except where the little river made its way through the gorge; they were covered with brushwood, ferns, and creepers, thick with flowers of many colours, while lofty palms and forest trees grew wherever their roots could find a hold. Splendid butterflies of immense size flitted about; birds of many kinds and beautiful plumage flew hither and thither among the trees; humming-birds sucked the honey from the bright flowers; parrots chattered and screamed in the upper branches of the trees, and the foam and spray of the torrent sparkled in the sun. Harry and his brother stood struck with admiration at the loveliness of the scene, even Donna Maria and José ceased their chatter as they looked at a scene such as they had never before witnessed. "It is worth coming all the way from England to see this, Bertie." "It is, indeed. If it is all like this I sha'n't mind how long Dias takes to find the place he is in search of." At a word from Dias they all set to work to take the burdens off the animals. A place was cleared for the tents. When these had been erected José collected dried sticks. A fire was soon lighted, and Maria began to prepare breakfast. "Is it unhealthy here, Dias?" "Not here, señors; we are still many hundred feet above the plain. In the forest there it is unhealthy for whites, the trees grow so thickly that it is difficult to penetrate them, swamps and morasses lie in many places, and the air is thick and heavy. We shall not go down there until we need. When we must descend we shall find an abundance of maize, and fruits of all sorts. The savages kill the people they find on the estates, but do not destroy the crops or devastate the fields. They are wise enough to know that these are useful to them, and though they are too lazy to work themselves they appreciate the good things that others have planted." "It is rather early to make a halt, Dias." "We have work to do, señor. In the first place we must find a spot where large trees stand on the bank of the torrent. Two or three of these must be felled so that they fall across it; then we shall have to chop off the branches, lay them flat side by side, and make a bridge over which to take animals. After breakfast we must set about this work, and it will be too late before we finish to think of going farther to-day." "It is well that we bought four good axes and plenty of rope at Cuzco," Harry said. "We shall want them very often, señor. Three large torrents come down between this and the Tinta volcano, besides many smaller ones. Some rise from the hills to the north of us. These fall into others, which eventually combine to make the Madre de Dios. So far as is known boats can descend the river to the Amazon without meeting with any obstacle, from a point only a few miles from the head of the Pueros, which we shall presently cross. The fact that there are no cataracts during the whole course from the hills to the junction of the rivers, shows how perfectly flat the great plain is." "And did either the Incas or the Spaniards ever conquer the Chincas and cultivate these splendid plains?" "The Incas drove them back some distance, señor, and forced them to pay a tribute, but they never conquered them. Doubtless they cultivated the land for some leagues from the foot of the mountains, as did the Spaniards, and it was considered the most fertile part of the Montaña, as their possessions this side of the Cordilleras were called. The Spaniards tried to push farther, but met with such stout opposition by the savages that they were forced to desist." All were ready when Maria announced breakfast. After the meal they sat smoking for half an hour, reluctant to commence the heavy work before them. "We had better be moving, señor," Dias said as he rose to his feet, "or we shall not get the bridge made before dark." A hundred yards from the camp they found three large trees growing close to each other near the edge of the stream. Bertie looked at them with an air of disgust. "This will be worse for the hands than rowing for twelve hours in a heavy boat." "I dare say it will," Harry agreed; "but it has got to be done, and the sooner we set about it the better." "I shall take off my flannel shirt," Bertie said. "You had better not, señor," Dias said, as he saw what the lad was about to do. "There are many insects here that will sting you, and the bites of some of them swell up and turn into sores. Now, señor, I will take this tree. The next is not quite so large, will you take that? I will help you when I am finished with my own. Your brother and José can work by turns at the other." It was hard work, for the trees were over two feet across near the foot. Dias had felled his before the others had cut half-way through, and he then lent his aid to Harry, who was streaming with perspiration. "You are not accustomed to it, señor. You will manage better when you have had two or three months' practice at the work." "I did not bargain for this, Harry," Bertie said as he rested for the twentieth time from his work. "Jaguars and alligators, Indians and bandits, and hard climbing I was prepared for, but I certainly never expected that we should have to turn ourselves into wood-cutters." "It is hard work, Bertie, but it is useless to grumble, and, as Dias says, we shall become accustomed to it in two or three months." "Two or three months!" Bertie repeated with a groan; "my hands are regularly blistered already, and my arms and back ache dreadfully." "Well, fire away! Why, José has done twice as much as you have, and he has hardly turned a hair. I don't suppose that he has had much more practice than you have had, and he is nothing like so strong." "Oh, I dare say! if he has never cut, his ancestors have, and I suppose it is hereditary. Anyhow, I have been doing my best. Well, here goes!" Harry laughed at his brother's theory for explaining why José had done more work than he had. He was himself by no means sorry that Dias had come to his assistance, and that his tree was nearly ready to fall. José climbed it with the end of a long rope, which he secured to an upper bough. Dias then took the other end of the rope, crossed the torrent by the tree he had felled, and when José had come down and Harry had given a few more cuts with the axe, he was able to guide the tree in its fall almost directly across the stream. Then he took Bertie's tree in hand. In ten minutes this was lying beside the others. It took three hours' more work to cut off the branches and to lay the trees side by side, which was done with the aid of one of the mules. The smaller logs were packed in between them to make a level road, and when this was done the workers went back to the little camp. The sun was already setting, and Donna Maria had the cooking-pots simmering over the fire. "That has been a hard day's work," Harry said, when he and his brother threw themselves down on the grass near the fire. "Hard is no name for it, Harry. I have never been sentenced to work on a tread-mill, but I would cheerfully chance it for a month rather than do another day's work like this. The palms of my hands feel as if they had been handling a red-hot iron, my arms and shoulders ache as if I had been on a rack. I seem to be in pain from the tips of my toes to the top of my head." Harry laughed. "It is only what every settler who builds himself a hut in the backwoods must feel, Bert. It is the work of every wood-cutter and charcoal-burner; it is a good deal like the work of every miner. You have been brought up too soft, my boy." "Soft be hanged!" the lad said indignantly; "it is the first time I have heard that the life of an apprentice on board a ship was a soft one. I have no doubt you feel just as bad as I do." "But you don't hear me grumbling, Bert; that is all the difference. I expect that, of the two, I am rather the worse, for my bones and muscles are more set than yours, and it is some years now since I pulled at either a rope or an oar." Bertie was silent for a minute or two, and then said rather apologetically: "Well, Harry, perhaps I need not have grumbled so much, but you see it is a pretty rough beginning when one is not accustomed to it. We ought to have had a short job to begin with, and got into it gradually, instead of having six hours on end; and I expect that the backwoods settler you were talking about does not work for very long when he first begins. If he did he would be a fool, for he certainly would not be fit for work for a week if he kept on till he had nearly broken his back and taken the whole skin off his hands by working all day the first time he tried it." "There is something in that, Bertie; and as we are in no extraordinary hurry I do think we might have been satisfied with felling the trees to-day, and cutting off the branches and getting them into place to-morrow. Still, as Dias seemed to make nothing of it, I did not like to knock off at the very start." "The meal is ready, señor," Maria said, "and I think we had better eat it at once, for the sky looks as if we were going to have rain." "And thunder too," Dias said. "You had better begin; José and I will picket the mules and hobble the llamas. If they were to make off, we should have a lot of trouble in the morning." The aspect of the sky had indeed changed. Masses of cloud hung on the tops of the hills, and scud was flying overhead. Maria placed one of the cooking-pots and two tin plates, knives, and forks beside Harry and his brother, with two flat cakes of ground maize. "Sit down and have your food at once," Harry said to her. "The rain will be down in bucketfuls before many minutes." They were soon joined by Dias and José, the latter bringing up a large can of water from the stream. They had just finished when large drops of rain began to patter on the ground. "Never mind the things," Harry said as he leapt to his feet. "Crawl under shelter at once; it is no use getting a wetting." All at once made for the tents; and they were but just in time, for the rain began to fall in torrents, and a peal of thunder crashed out overhead as they got under the canvas. "This is our first experience of this sort of thing," Harry said, as he and his brother lit their pipes half-sitting and half-reclining on their beds. "I rather wondered why Dias put the tents on this little bit of rising ground, which did not look so soft or tempting as the level; but I see now that he acted very wisely, for we should have been flooded in no time if we had been lower down. As it is, I am by no means sure that we shan't have the water in. Another time we will take the precaution to make trenches round the tents when we pitch them. However, we have got a waterproof sheet underneath the beds, so I expect it will be all right." "I hope so. Anyhow, we had better see that the edges are turned up all round, so that the water cannot run over them. By Jove! it does come down. We can hardly hear each other speak." Suddenly the entrance to the tent was thrust aside. "Here is a candle, señors." It was thrown in, and Dias ran back into his own tent, which was but a few yards away, before Harry could remonstrate at his coming out. "The candle will be useful, anyhow," Bertie said. "It is almost pitch-dark now. What with the sun going down and the clouds overhead, it has turned from day into night in the past five minutes." Striking a match he lit the candle, and stuck it in between his shoes, which he took off for the purpose. "That is more cheerful, Harry." "Hullo! what is that?" A deep sound, which was certainly not thunder, rose from the woods. It was answered again and again from different directions. "They must be either pumas or jaguars, which are always called here lions and tigers, and I have no doubt Dias will know by the roar which it is. I should not mind if it were daylight, for it is not pleasant to know that there are at least half a dozen of these beasts in the neighbourhood. We may as well drop the cartridges into our rifles and pistols. I believe neither of these beasts often attacks men, but they might certainly attack our mules." The storm continued, and each clap of thunder was succeeded by roars, snarls, and hissing, and with strange cries and shrieks. During a momentary lull Harry shouted: "Is there any fear of these beasts attacking us or the mules, Dias?" "No, señor, they are too frightened by the thunder and lightning to think of doing so." "What are all those cries we hear?" "Those are monkeys, señor. They are frightened both by the storm and by the roaring of the lions and tigers." "Which is the bigger, Harry, the puma or the jaguar?" "I believe the jaguar is the bigger, but the puma is the more formidable and fiercer. The latter belongs to the same family as the lion, and the former to that of the leopards. The jaguar is more heavily built than the leopard, and stronger, with shorter legs, but it is spotted just as the leopard is. The puma is in build like the lion, but has no mane. Both prey on animals of all kinds. The natives say they catch turtles, turn them over on their backs as a man would do, and tear the shells apart. They will also eat fish; but they are both scourges to the Indians and white planters, as they will kill sheep, horses, and cattle. Of course, if they are attacked by men and wounded, they will fight desperately, as most wild creatures will; but if man does not molest them, they are quite content to leave him alone, unless he chances to pass under a tree among the branches of which they are lying in wait for prey. Both of them can climb trees." "Well, I thought I should have slept like a log, Harry, after the work that I have done, but what with the thunder and the patter of the rain, and all those noises of beasts, I don't think I am likely to close my eyes." "We shall get accustomed to the noises after a time, Bert; but at present I feel as if I were in the middle of a travelling menagerie which had been caught in a thunderstorm. It is curious that all animals should be frightened at lightning, for they cannot know that it is really dangerous." "Yes, I know. We had two dogs on the last ship I was in. A clap of thunder would send them flying down the companion into the cabin, and they would crouch in some dark corner in a state of absolute terror. They would do just the same if cannon were fired in salute, or anything of that sort. I suppose they thought that was thunder." In spite, however, of the noises, Harry and his brother both dropped off to sleep before long, being thoroughly worn out by the day's work. They were awakened by Dias opening the front of their little tent. "The sun is up, señors, and it is a fine morning after the storm. Maria has got coffee ready, baked some cakes, and fried some slices of meat." "All right, Dias! we will be out directly. We will first run up the bank a short distance, and have a dip." "You won't be able to swim, señor. The bed of the torrent is full, and no swimmer could breast the water." "All right! we will be careful." Throwing on their ponchos, they went down to the stream and ran along the bank. "The water is coming down like a race-horse, Bert, but just ahead it has overflowed its banks. We can have a bath there safely, though it is not deep enough for swimming." After ten minutes' absence they returned to the camp, completed their dressing, and sat down to breakfast. "What were all those frightful noises, Dias? Were they pumas or jaguars?" "They were both, señor. You can easily tell the difference in the sounds they make. The jaguar's is between a roar and a snarl, while the puma's is a sort of a hissing roar." As soon as breakfast was over, the tents were packed up and the mules and llamas laden. Dias had given them a feed all round an hour before. The course they should take had been already agreed upon; they must descend to the plain, for it would be next to impossible to cross the ravines on the mountain-side. "Each stream coming down from the hills," Dias said, "must be followed nearly up to its source, but for the next seventy or eighty miles the search need not be so careful as it must be afterwards. The place cannot be far from Tinta, but somewhere this side of it. We need not hurry, for there are two months to spare." "How do you mean, Dias?" "On a day that answers to the 21st of March, Coyllur--that is a star--will rise at midnight in a cleft in a peak. It can be seen only in the valley in which the stream that contains the gold runs down. This is what my father taught me; therefore there must be mountains to the south-east, and this can only be where the Cordilleras run east, which is the case at Tinta." "That is excellent as far as it goes, if we happen to be in the right valley at the time, Dias, but it would not help us in the slightest if we were in any other valley. And we should have to wait a year before trying in another place." "Yes, señor, but there are marks on the rocks of a particular kind. There are marks on rocks in other valleys, so that these should not be distinguished by Spaniards searching for the place. I should know the marks when I saw them." "Then in that case, Dias, the star would not be of much use to us." "I know not how that might be, señor, but as these instructions have been handed down from the time when the Spaniards arrived, it must surely in some way be useful, but in what way I cannot say." "At any rate, Dias, what with those marks you speak of, and the star, it will be hard if we cannot find it. I suppose you are sure that the place is rich if we do light upon it?" "Of that there can be no doubt, señor. Tradition says that it was the richest spot in the mountains, and was only worked when the king had need of gold, either for equipping an army or on some special occasion. At such a time it would be worked for one month, and then closed until gold was again required. However, as we go that way we shall explore other valleys. Gold is found more or less in all of them. Possibly we may find some rich spot which we can fall back upon if we fail in our search." "But I hardly see how we can fail, with the star and those marks on the rocks to aid us." "The marks may have disappeared, señor, and in that case we may not be in the right spot when the star rises; or again, the Incas may have closed the approach in some way to make the matter sure. I cannot promise that we shall find the gold; but I shall do my best with the knowledge that has come down to me. If I fail, we must try in other directions. When the Spaniards came, forty thousand of the Incas' people left Cuzco and the neighbouring towns, and journeyed away down the mountains and out to the west. Since then no reliable news concerning them has been heard, but rumours have from time to time come from that direction to the effect that there is a great and wealthy city there. I say not that if we failed here we should attempt to find it. The dangers from the savages would be too great. There would be great forests to traverse, many rivers to be crossed. We might travel for years without ever finding their city. When we got there, we might be seized and put to death, and if we were spared we might not be able to make off with the treasure. I mention it to show that gold may be found in many other places besides this valley we are seeking." "I quite agree with you, Dias, that unless we could get some indication of the position of this city, if it now exists, it would be madness to attempt to search for it. I want gold badly, but I do not propose that we should all throw away our lives in what would be almost a hopeless adventure. Even if I were ready to risk my own life on such a mad enterprise, I would not ask others to do the same." Crossing the stream, they made their way down through the forest. It was toilsome work, as they often had to clear a way with axes through the undergrowth and tangle of creepers. But at noon they reached level ground. The heat was now intense, even under the trees, and the air close and oppressive. On the way down Harry shot a wild turkey. When they halted, this was cut up and broiled over a fire, and after it had been eaten all lay down and slept for two or three hours. "Ought we not to set a guard?" Harry had asked. "No, señor, I do not think it necessary. José will lie down by the side of the llamas, and even if the mules should not give us a warning of any man or beast approaching, the llamas will do so. They are the shyest and most timid of creatures, and would detect the slightest movement." For the next three weeks they continued their way. During this time five or six ravines were investigated as far as they could be ascended. Samples were frequently taken from sand and gravel and washed, but though particles of gold were frequently found, they were not in sufficient quantity to promise good results from washing. "If we had a band of natives with us," Dias said, "we should no doubt get enough to pay well--that is to say, to cover all expenses and leave an ounce or two of profit to every eight or ten men engaged--but as matters stand we should only be wasting time by remaining here." They had no difficulty in obtaining sufficient food; turkeys and pheasants were occasionally shot; a tapir was once killed, and, as they had brought hooks and lines with them, fish were frequently caught in the streams. These were of small size, but very good eating. But, as Dias said, they could not hope to find larger species, except far out in the plains, where the rivers were deep and sluggish. The work was hard, but they were now accustomed to it. They often had to go a considerable distance before they could find trees available for bridging the torrents, but, on the other hand, they sometimes came upon some of much smaller girth than those they had first tackled. The labour in getting these down was comparatively slight. Sometimes these stood a little way from the stream, but after they were felled two mules could easily drag them to the site of the bridge. When on the march, Harry and his brother carried their double-barrelled guns, each with one barrel charged with shot suitable for pheasants or other birds, the other with buck-shot. Dias carried a rifle. Very seldom did they mount their mules, the ground being so rough and broken, and the boughs of the trees so thick, that it was less trouble to walk at the heads of their animals than to ride. CHAPTER VII AN INDIAN ATTACK One day when they returned from exploring a valley, Harry and his brother, taking their rifles, strolled down an open glade, while Dias and José unpacked the animals. They had gone but a hundred yards when they heard a sound that was new to them. It sounded like the grunting of a number of pigs. Dias was attending to the mules. Harry and Bertie caught up their guns. Presently a small pig made its appearance from among some trees. Harry was on the point of raising his gun to his shoulder when Dias shouted, "Stop, do not shoot!" "What is the matter, Dias?" he asked in surprise, as the latter ran up. "That is a peccary." "Well, it is a sort of pig, isn't it?" "Yes, señor. But if you were to kill it, we might all be torn in pieces. They travel through the forests in great herds, and if one is injured or wounded, the rest will rush upon its assailants. You may shoot down dozens of them, but that only redoubles their fury. The only hope of escape is to climb a tree; but they will keep watch there, regardless of how many are shot, until hunger obliges them to retire. They are the bravest beasts of the forests, and will attack and kill even a lion or a tiger if it has seized one of their number. I beg you to stroll back quietly, and then sit down. I will go to the head of the mules. If the herd see that we pay no attention to them, they may go on without interfering with us. If we see them approaching us, and evidently intending to attack, we must take to the trees and try to keep them from attacking the mules; but there would be small chance of our succeeding in doing so." He and José at once went up to the mules, and stood perfectly quiet at their head. Harry and Bertie moved closely up, laid their double-barrelled guns beside them, and then sat down. By this time forty or fifty of the peccaries had issued from the trees; some were rooting among the herbage, others stood perfectly quiet, staring at the group on the rise above them. Seeing no movement among them nor any sign of hostility, they joined the others in their search for food, and in a quarter of an hour the whole herd had moved off along the edge of the forest. "Praise be to the saints!" Dias said, taking off his hat and crossing himself. "We have escaped a great danger. A hunter would rather meet a couple of lions or tigers than a herd of peccaries. These little animals are always ready to give battle, and once they begin, fight till they die. The more that are killed the more furious do the others become. Even in a tree there is no safety. Many a hunter has been besieged in a tree until, overpowered by thirst, he fell to the ground and was torn to pieces." "What do they eat?" Harry asked. "They will eat anything they kill, but their chief food is roots. They kill great numbers of snakes. Even the largest python is no match for a herd of peccaries if they catch him before he can take refuge in a tree." "Well, then, it is very lucky that you stopped us before we fired." "Fortunate indeed, señor. By taking to the trees we might have saved our lives, but we should certainly have lost our mules. Both pumas and tigers kill the little beasts when they come across stragglers. And it is well that they do, for otherwise the woods would be full of them, though fortunately they do not multiply as fast as our pigs, having only two or three in a litter. They are good eating, but it is seldom that a hunter can shoot one, for if he only wounds it, its shrieks will call together all its companions within a mile round." "Then we must give up the idea of having pork while we are among the mountains." "Now, are you going to keep me here all day, Dias?" Maria called suddenly. "It seems to me that you have forgotten me altogether." Harry and Bertie could not help laughing. Dias had, on returning to the mules, taken his wife and seated her on a branch six feet from the ground, in order that, should the peccaries attack them, he might be ready at once to snatch up his rifle and join in the fight without having first to think of the safety of his wife. He now lifted her down. The action did even more than what Dias had said to convince Harry of the seriousness of the danger to which they had been exposed, for as a rule Donna Maria had scoffed at any offers of aid, even in the most difficult places, and with her light springy step had taxed the power of the others to keep up with her. These offers had not come from Dias, who showed his confidence in his wife's powers by paying no attention whatever, and a grim smile had often played on his lips when Harry or his brother had offered her a hand. That his first thought had been of her now showed that he considered the crisis a serious one. "I thought Dias had gone mad," she said, as she regained her feet. "I could not think what was the matter when he began to shout and ran towards you. I saw nothing but a little pig. Then, when he came slowly back with you and suddenly seized me and jerked me up on to that bough, I felt quite sure of it, especially when he told me to hold my tongue and not say a word. Was it that little pig? I saw lots more of them afterwards." "Yes; and if they had taken it into their heads to come this way you would have seen a good deal more of them than would be pleasant," Dias said. "With our rifles we could have faced four lions or tigers with a better hope of success than those little pigs you saw. They were peccaries, a sort of wild pig, and the most savage little beasts in the forest. They would have chased us all up into the trees and killed all the mules." "Who would have thought it!" she said. "Why, when I was a girl I have often gone in among a herd of little pigs quite as big as those things, and never felt the least afraid of them. I must have been braver than I thought I was." "You are a good deal sillier than you think you are, Maria," Dias said shortly. "There is as much difference between our pig and a peccary as there is between a quiet Indian cultivator on the Sierra and one of those savage Indians of the woods." "I suppose I can light a fire now, Dias. There is no fear of those creatures coming back again, is there?" "No, I should think not. Fortunately they are going in the opposite direction, otherwise I should have said that we had better stop here for a day or two in case they should attack us if we came upon them again." The next day, as they were journeying through the forest, at the foot of the slopes José gave a sudden exclamation. "What is it?" Dias asked. "I saw a naked Indian standing in front of that tree; he has gone now." "Are you sure, José?" "Quite sure. He was standing perfectly still, looking at us, but when I called to you he must have slipped round the tree. I only took my eyes off him for a moment; when I looked again he was gone." "Then we are in for trouble," Dias said gravely. "Of course it was one of the Chincas. No doubt he was alone, but you may be sure that he has made off to tell his companions he has seen us. He will know exactly how many we are, and how many animals we have. It may be twenty-four hours, it may be three or four days, before he makes his appearance again; but it is certain that, sooner or later, we shall hear of him. Hunters as they are, they can follow a track where I should see nothing; and so crafty are they, that they can traverse the country without leaving the slightest sign of their passage. The forest might be full of them, and yet the keenest white hunter would see no footprint or other mark that would indicate their presence." "What had we better do, Dias?" "We shall probably come to another stream before nightfall, señor. This we will follow up until we get to some ravine bare of trees. There we can fight them; in the forest we should have no chance. They would lie in ambush for us, climb into the trees and hide among the foliage, and the first we should know of their presence would be a shower of arrows; and as they are excellent marksmen, we should probably be all riddled at the first volley. There can be no sauntering now, we must push the animals forward at their best speed. I will lead the way. Do you, señor, bring up the rear and urge the mules forward. I shall try and pick the ground where the trees are thinnest, and the mules can then go at a trot. They cannot do so here, for they would always be knocking their loads off." It was evening before they arrived at a stream. Here they made a short halt while they gave a double handful of grain to each of the animals, then they pushed on again until it was too dark to go farther. "Will it be safe to light a fire, Dias?" "Yes, that will make no difference. They are not likely to attack us at night. Savages seldom travel after dark, partly because they are afraid of demons, partly because they would be liable to be pounced upon by wild beasts. But I do not think there is any chance of their overtaking us until tomorrow. The man José saw may have had companions close at hand, but they will know that we are well armed, and will do nothing until they have gathered a large number and feel sure that they can overpower us. They will probably take up the track to-morrow at daylight; but we have made a long march, and can calculate that we shall find some defensible position before they overtake us. José and I will keep watch to-night." "We will take turns with you, Dias." "No, señor; my ears are accustomed to the sounds of the forests, yours are not. If you were watching I should still have no sleep." The night passed without an alarm. An hour before daylight Dias gave all the animals a good feed of corn, and as soon as it was light they again started. They were already some distance up the mountain, and after eight hours' travelling they arrived at a gorge that suited their purpose. For two hundred yards the rocks rose perpendicularly on each side of the stream, which was but some thirty feet wide. No rain had fallen for some days, and the water was shallow enough at the foot of the cliff for the mules to make their way among the fallen rocks, through which it rushed impetuously. At the upper end the cliffs widened out into a basin some fifty yards across. "We cannot do better than halt here," Dias said. "In two or three hours we can form a strong breast-work on the rocks nearly out to the middle of the stream, where the current is too swift for anyone to make his way up against it." "Are they likely to besiege us long, Dias?" "That I cannot say; but I do not think they will give it up easily. Savages learn to be patient when roaming the forest in search of game. Their time is of no value to them; besides, they are sure to lose many if they attack, and will therefore try to get their revenge." "They may have to give it up from want of food." Dias shook his head. "There are sure to be plenty of fish in the river, and they will poison some pool and get an abundance. With their bows and arrows they can bring down monkeys from the trees, and can snare small animals. However, señor, we can talk over these things to-morrow. We had best begin the breast-work at once while Maria is cooking dinner, which we need badly enough, for we have had nothing but the maize cakes we ate before starting." Working hard till it was dark, they piled up rocks and stones till they formed a breast-work four feet high on both sides. Some twelve feet in the centre were open. They had chosen a spot where so many fallen rocks lay in the stream that it needed comparatively little labour to fill up the gaps between them. "I thought wood-chopping bad enough," Bertie said as they threw themselves down on the ground after completing their labour, "but it is a joke to this. My back is fairly broken, my arms feel as if they were pulled out of the sockets, my hands are cut, I have nearly squeezed two nails off." "It has been hard work," Harry agreed; "still, we have made ourselves fairly safe, and we will get the walls a couple of feet higher in the morning. We shall only want to add to them on the lower face in order to form a sort of parapet that will shelter us as we lie down to fire, so it won't be anything like such hard work. Then we will fill in the rocks behind with small stones and sand to lie down upon." "They will never be able to fight their way up to it," Dias said. "We need have no fear on that score. The question is, can they get down into this valley behind us; the rocks look very steep and in most places almost perpendicular." "They are steep, señor; but trees grow on them in many places, and these savages are like monkeys. We shall have to examine them very carefully when we have finished the wall. If we find that it is possible for anyone to get down, we must go up the next gorge and see if we can find a better position." "I suppose you think we are safe for to-night, Dias?' "I don't think they will try to come up through the stream. They have keen eyes, but it would be so dark down there that even a cat could not see. They will guess that we have stopped here, and will certainly want to find out our position before they attack. One or two may come up as scouts, and in that case they may attack at daybreak. Of course two of us will keep watch; we can change every three hours. I will take the first watch with your brother, and you and José can take the next." "José had better sleep," Maria put in; "he watched all last night. My eyes are as good as his, and I will watch with Don Harry." Harry would have protested, but Dias said quietly: "That will be well, Maria, but you will have to keep your tongue quiet. These savages have ears like those of wild animals, and if you were to raise your voice you might get an arrow in the brain." "I can be silent when I like, Dias." "It is possible," Dias said dryly; "but I don't remember in all these years we have been married that I have known you like to do so." "I take that as a compliment," she said quietly, "for it shows at least that I am never sulky. Well, Don Harry, do you accept me as a fellow watcher?" "Certainly I shall be very glad to have you with me; and I don't think that you need be forbidden to talk in a low tone, for the roar of the water among the rocks would prevent the sound of voices from being heard two or three yards away." Accordingly, as soon as it became dark Dias went to the wall with Bertie. José, after a last look at the mules, wrapped himself in a blanket and lay down. "I think I had better turn in to the tent," Harry said; "we have had two days' hard work, and the building of that wall has pretty nearly finished me, so if I don't get two or three hours' sleep to-night I am afraid I shall not be a very useful sentinel." Five minutes later he was sound asleep, and when his brother roused him he could hardly believe that it was time for him to go on duty. "Dias is waiting there. Will you come down?" the latter said. "You were sleeping like a top; I had to pull at your leg three times before you woke." "I am coming," Harry said as he crawled out. "I feel more sleepy than when I lay down, and will just run down to the stream and sluice my head, that will wake me up in earnest, for the water is almost as cold as ice." When he came back he was joined by Donna Maria, and, taking both his shot-gun and rifle, he went forward with her to the barricade. "So you have neither seen nor heard anything, Dias?" "Nothing whatever, señor." "I have had a good sleep, Dias; we will watch for the next four hours. It is eleven o'clock now, so you will be able at three to take it on till daylight." "I will send and call you again an hour before that," Dias said. "If they attack, as I expect they will as soon as the dawn breaks, we had better have our whole force ready to meet them." So saying Dias went off. "This is scarcely woman's work, Donna Maria." "It is woman's work to help defend her life, señor, as long as she can. If I found that the savages were beating us I should stab myself. They would kill you, but they might carry me away with them, which would be a thousand times worse than death." "I don't think there is any fear of their beating us," Harry said; "certainly not here. We ought properly to be one on each side, but really I shirk the thought of wading through the river waist-deep at that shallow place we found a hundred yards up; it would be bad enough to go through it, worse still to lie for four hours in wet clothes." "Besides, we could not talk then, señor," Maria said with a little laugh, "and that would be very dull." "Very dull. Even now we must only talk occasionally; we shall have to keep our eyes and ears open." "I don't think either of them will be much good," she said; "I can see the white water but nothing else, and I am sure I could not hear a naked footstep on the rocks." "It is a good thing the water is white, because we can make out the rocks that rise above the surface. When our eyes get quite accustomed to the dark we should certainly be able to see any figures stepping upon them or wading in the water." "I could see that now, señor. I think it will be of advantage to talk, for I am sure if I were to lie with my eyes straining, and thinking of nothing else, they would soon begin to close." Talking occasionally in low tones, but keeping up a vigilant watch, they were altogether hidden from the view of anyone coming up the stream, for they exposed only their eyes and the top of their heads above the rough parapet. No attempt had been made to fill up the spaces between the stones, so that, except for the rounded shape, it would be next to impossible to make them out between the rough rocks of the crest. Harry had laid his double-barrelled gun on the parapet in front of him. He had loaded both barrels with buck-shot, feeling that in the darkness he was far more likely to do execution with that weapon than with a rifle. They had been some two hours on watch when Donna Maria touched his arm significantly. He gazed earnestly but could see nothing. A minute later, however, a rock about fifteen yards away seemed to change its shape. Before, it had been pointed, but just on one side of the top there was now a bulge. "Do you see them?" Maria whispered. "I can make out one above the rocks; the other is standing against the wall." [Illustration: AN INDIAN SPIES THE EXPEDITION.] There was no movement for two or three minutes, and Harry had no doubt that they were examining the two black lines of stones between which the water was rushing. "There are two others on this side, señor," Maria whispered. The pause was broken by the sharp tap of two arrows striking on the stones a few inches below their heads. "Well, you have begun it," Harry muttered. He had already sighted his gun at the head half-hidden by the rock. He now pulled the trigger, and then, turning, he fired the other barrel, aiming along the side of the canyon where the two men seen by his companion must be standing. The head disappeared, and loud cries broke from the other side. The stillness that had reigned in the valley was broken by a chorus of shrieks and roars, and the air overhead thrilled with the sound of innumerable wings. Harry on firing had laid down the fowling-piece and snatched up his rifle. "Do you see any others?" "Two have run away; the one against the rocks on the other side was wounded, for I saw him throw up his arms, and it was he who screamed. The man by him dropped where he stood; the one behind the rock is killed, I saw his body carried away in the white water." Half a minute later Dias and Bertie came up. "So they have come, señor?" "Yes, there were four of them. Your wife saw them, though I could only make out one. They shot two arrows at us, and I answered them. The man I saw was killed, and Donna Maria said that one on the other side also fell, and another was wounded." "That was a good beginning," Dias said. "After such a lesson they will attempt nothing more to-night, and I doubt whether they will come down in the morning. They can get sight of the barricades from that bend a hundred yards down, and I don't think they will dare come up when they see how ready we are for them." "Well, we will work out our watch anyhow, Dias. Now that I see how sharp Donna Maria's eyes are I have not the least fear of being surprised." "I will stop with you," Bertie said; "I shall have no chance of going off to sleep again after being wakened up like that." "If you are going to stop, Bertie, you had better go back and fetch a blanket, it is chilly here; then if you like you can doze off again till your watch comes." "There is no fear of that, Harry. I have been eight-and-forty hours on deck more than once. I will warrant myself not to go to sleep." In spite of this, however, in less than ten minutes after his return Bertie's regular breathing showed that he was sound asleep. Harry and Maria continued their watch, but no longer with the same intentness as before. They were sure that Dias would not have lain down unless he felt perfectly certain that the Chincas would make no fresh move until the morning, and they chatted gaily until, at two o'clock, Dias came up. "Everything is quiet here, Dias. My brother is fast asleep, but I will wake him now that you have come up." "Do not do so, señor; he worked very hard building the walls today. If I see anything suspicious I will rouse him. We may have work tomorrow, and it is much better that he should sleep on." "Thank you, Dias! the fatigue has told on him more than on us; his figure is not set yet, and he feels it more." He walked back to the tents with Maria. "If you wake just as daylight breaks please rouse me," he said. "I shall wake, señor; I generally get up at daybreak. That is the best time for work down in the plain, and I generally contrive to get everything done before breakfast at seven." Harry slept soundly until he was called. "The sky is just beginning to get light, señor." He turned out at once. José was already feeding the mules. "You had better come along with me, José, and bring that gun of yours with you. If the savages do attack, it will be well to make a forcible impression on them." Greatly pleased with the permission, José took up the old musket he carried and accompanied Harry. "What have you got in that gun, José?" "The charge of buck-shot that you gave me the other day, señor." "All right! but don't fire unless they get close. The shot will not carry far like a bullet; but if fired when they are close it is better than any bullet, for you might hit half a dozen of them at once." José had been allowed to practise at their halting-places, and though he could not be called a good shot, he could shoot well enough to do good execution at thirty or forty yards. Bertie was still asleep. "Everything quiet, Dias?" "I have seen nothing moving since I came out." "Now, Bertie," Harry said, stirring his brother up with his foot. "All hands on deck!" Bertie sat up and opened his eyes. "What is up now?" he said. "Ay, what, is it you, Harry, and José too? I must have been asleep!" "Been asleep! Why, you went off in the middle of my watch, and Dias has been on the look-out for over three hours." "Oh, confound it! You don't mean to say that I have slept for over five hours? Why didn't you wake me, Dias?" he asked angrily. "Two eyes were quite enough to keep watch," Dias said. "I should have waked you if I had seen anything of the savages. Besides, Don Harry said you might as well go on sleeping if nothing happened, and I thought so too." "I feel beastly ashamed of myself," Bertie said. "I don't want to be treated like a child, Harry." "No, Bertie, and I should not think of treating you so; but you had had very hard work, and were completely knocked up, which was not wonderful; and you may want all your strength to-day. Besides, you know, you would have been of no use had you been awake, for you could have seen nothing. Donna Maria's eyes were a good deal sharper than mine, and I am quite sure that, tired as you were, Dias would have seen them coming long before you would. We had better lie down again, for it will be light enough soon for them to make us out. How far do their arrows fly, Dias?" "They can shoot very straight up to forty or fifty yards, but beyond that their arrows are of very little use." "Well, then, we shall be able to stop them before they get to that ravine." Presently, as it became light, a figure showed itself at the turn of the ravine. "Don't fire at him," Harry said; "it is better that they should think that our guns won't reach them. Besides, if the beggars will leave us alone, I have no wish to harm them." In a minute or two the figure disappeared behind the bend and two or three others came out. "They think that our guns won't carry so far, or we should have shot the first man." For a quarter of an hour there were frequent changes, until at least fifty men had taken a look at them. "Now there will be a council," Harry said as the last disappeared. "They see what they have got before them, and I have no doubt they don't like it." "I don't think they will try it, señor," Dias said. "At any rate they will not do so until they have tried every other means of getting at us." Half an hour passed, and then Harry said. "I will stop here with my brother, Dias, and you and José had better examine the hillsides and ascertain whether there is any place where they can come down. You know a great deal better than I where active naked-footed men could clamber down. They might be able to descend with ease at a place that would look quite impossible to me." Without a word Dias shouldered his rifle and walked away, followed by José. He returned in two hours. "There are several places where I am sure the savages could come down. Now, señors, breakfast is ready; I will leave José here, and we will go and talk matters over while we eat. The tents are only a hundred yards away, so that if José shouts, we can be back here long before the savages get up, for they could not come fast through that torrent." "It seems to me," Harry said after they had finished the meal, "that if there are only one or two points by which they could climb down we could prevent their doing so by picking them off; but if there are more, and they really come on in earnest, we could not stop them." "There are many more than that," Dias replied. "I made out certainly four points on the right-hand side and three on the left where I could make my way down; there are probably twice as many where they could descend." "Then I should say that the first thing to do is to go up through the gorge above and see whether there is any place that could be better defended than this. If we find such a spot, of course we could move to it; if not, we shall have to settle whether to go up the gorge till we get to some place where the mules can climb out of it, or stay here and fight it out. By camping on the stream at a point where it could not be forded, and making a breast-work with the bales, stones, and so on, I think we could certainly beat off any attack by daylight, but I admit that we should have no chance if they should make a rush during the night." "I will go at once," said Dias, "and examine the river higher up. If I can find no place where the mules can climb, I am sure to be able to find some spot where we could do so. But that would mean the failure of our expedition, for we certainly could not go up the mountains, purchase fresh animals, food, and tools, and get down to the place we are looking for until too late." "That would be serious, Dias, but cannot be counted against our lives. If there is no other way of escape from these savages, we must certainly abandon the animals and make our way back as best we can. In that case we must give up all idea of finding this gold stream. The star would not be in the same place again for another year, and even then we might not find it; so we must make up our minds to do our best in some other direction. That point we must consider as settled. I should not feel justified in risking my brother's life, yours, your wife's, and your nephew's, by remaining here to fight we know not how many savages--for there may be many more than the fifty we saw this morning, and they may in a day or two be joined by many others of their tribe." "I should not like to lose all the animals and go back empty-handed," Dias said after a silence of two or three minutes, "unless it were a last resource." "Nor should I, Dias; but you see, if we linger too long we may find it impossible to retire, we may be so hemmed in that there would be no chance of our getting through. For the day of course we are safe. The savages will have to decide among themselves whether to give the matter up, seeing that they are sure to lose many lives before they overpower us. Then, if they determine to attack us, they will have to settle how it is to be done. Numbers of them will go up to the top of the hills on both sides and try to find a point at which they can make their way down; others, perhaps--which would be still more serious--may go farther up into the hills to find a spot where they could come down and issue out by the upper gorge, and then our retreat would be altogether cut off. All this will take time, so we may feel sure that no attack will be made to-day." "I will start up the river at once, señor. Certainly the first point to be settled is whether we can find a more defensible spot than this, the second whether there is any way by which the animals can be taken up." "There must surely be many points higher up where this can be done." "Yes, señor, if we could get to them. But you saw we had difficulty in making our way through this gorge; there may be others higher up where it would be impossible either for us or the animals to pass." "I did not think of that. Yes, that must be so. Well, you had certainly better go at once. My brother will relieve José, and after the boy has breakfasted he can return to his post, and Bertie can join me. I think if I see the savages trying to find a path I will open fire upon them. I don't say I should be able to hit them, for the top of those hills must be eight or nine hundred yards' range, and it is not easy to hit an object very much above or very much below you; but it is important that they should know that our weapons carry as far as that; when they hear bullets strike close to them they will hesitate about coming lower down, and unless they do come within two or three hundred feet from the bottom they cannot be sure of getting down." Dias nodded. "That is a very good idea. Another cause of delay will be that those at the top cannot see far down the rock on their own side, so they will have to start by guess-work. Each party must fix upon the easiest places on the opposite side, and then go back again and change sides. I don't suppose they know any more of this place than we do. They always keep down in the plains, and it is only because they met us down there that they have followed us so far. I believe they will follow on as long as they think there is a chance of destroying us, for they are so jealous of any white man coming into what they regard as their country that they would spare no pains to kill anyone who ventured there. Now I will go, señor. You will keep near this end of the valley, in case there should be an alarm that they are coming up the stream." "Certainly; and my brother shall remain with José. With his rifle and the two double-barrelled guns and José's musket they could hold the ravine against anything but a rush of the whole tribe." An hour later Harry saw a number of figures appear against the sky-line on both sides. As they were clustered together, and would afford a far better mark than a single Indian, he took a steady aim at the party on the southern hill and fired. He had aimed above rather than below them, as, had the ball struck much below, they might not hear it, whereas, if it went over their heads, they would certainly do so. A couple of seconds after firing he saw a sudden movement among the savages, and a moment later not one was to be seen. Donna Maria, who was standing close by him watching them, clapped her hands. "Your ball must have gone close to them," she said, "but I don't think you hit anyone." "I did not try to do so," he said. "I wanted the ball to go just over their heads, so that they should know that even at that distance they were not safe. I have no doubt that astonishment as much as fear made them bolt. They'll be very careful how far they come down the side of the hill after that. Now for the fellows on the other side." But these too had disappeared, having evidently noticed the effect produced upon the others. After a pause heads appeared here and there at the edge of the crests. Evidently the lesson had impressed them with the necessity for precaution, as they no longer kept together, and they had apparently crawled up to continue their investigations. Beyond keeping a watch to see that none had attempted to descend the slope Harry did not interfere with them. At times he strolled to the breast-work, but no movement had been seen in that direction. In two hours Dias returned. "The gorge above is a quarter of a mile through, and very difficult to pass. It is half-blocked with great rocks in two or three places, and there would be immense difficulty in getting the mules over. Beyond that it widens again, but the extent is not more than half what it is here. The walls are almost perpendicular, and I do not think that it would be possible to climb them at any point. Farther up there is another ravine. It is very narrow--not half so wide as this--and the stream rushes with great velocity along it. Two hundred yards from the entrance the rocks close in completely, and there is a fall of water sixty or seventy feet high." "Well, that settles the point, Dias. We cannot get the animals out except by the way they came in. As for ourselves, we might climb up at some point in this ravine, but not in the others." "That is so, señor," Dias said. "The outlook is a bad one--that is to say, we may now be unable to reach the gold river in time--but so long as we stay here we may be safe. We have plenty of provisions, we can catch fish in the stream, and no doubt shall find birds in the bushes at the lower part of the slopes. I doubt whether the natives will dare come down those precipices at night. If they try to descend by day, we can very well defend ourselves." "The only question is, How long will it take to tire them out?" "That I cannot tell. We know so little of the Chincas that we have nothing to go upon. Some savages have patience enough to wait for any time to carry out their revenge or slay an enemy; others are fickle, and though they may be fierce in attack, soon tire of waiting, and are eager to return to their homes again. I cannot think that they will speedily leave. They have assembled, many of them perhaps from considerable distances; they have had two days' march up here, and have lost at least two of their comrades. I think they will certainly not leave until absolutely convinced that they cannot get at us, but whether they may come to that decision in two days or a month I cannot say." CHAPTER VIII DEFEAT OF THE NATIVES Bertie, who had joined Harry when he saw Dias approaching, had listened silently to their talk, then said: "Don't you think that, by loading the mules and moving towards the mouth of the next gorge just as it is getting dark, we might induce the Chincas to think that we are going that way, and so to follow along the top of the hills. We might, as soon as night has fallen, come back again and go down the stream. Of course there may be some of them left to watch the mouth of the ravine, but we could drive them off easily enough, and get a long start before the fellows on the hills know what has happened." None of the others spoke immediately; then Harry said: "The idea is a good one as far as it goes. But you see at present we are in a very strong position. If we leave this and they overtake us in the woods, we shall not have the advantages that we have here." "Yes, I see that, Harry; but almost anything is better than having to wait here and lose our chance of finding that gold." "We can't help that, Bertie. You know how much that gold would be to me, but, as I said this morning, I will run no desperate risks to obtain it. When I started upon this expedition I knew that the chances of success were extremely slight, and that there might be a certain amount of danger to encounter from wild beasts and perhaps brigands; but I had never calculated upon such a risk as this, and certainly I am not prepared to accept the responsibility of leading others into it." There was again silence, which was broken at last by Dias. "The proposal of the young señor is a very bold one; but, as you say, Don Harry, after leaving our position we should be followed and surrounded. In the forest that would be very bad. I should say let us wait for at least a week; that will still give us time to reach the gold valley. By then the savages may have left, and some other plan may have occurred to us; at any rate, at the end of a week we shall see how things go. The Indians may have made an attack, and may lose heart after they are repulsed. They may find difficulty in procuring food, though I hardly think that is probable. Still, many things may occur in a week. If at the end of that time they are still here, we can decide whether to try some such plan as the young señor has thought of, or whether to wait until the Indians leave, and then return to Cuzco; for I feel certain that the place cannot be found except by the help of the star." "Well, then," Bertie said, "could we not hit upon some plan to frighten them?" "What sort of plan, Bertie?" "Well, of course we could not make a balloon--I mean a fire-balloon--because we have no paper to make it with. If we could, and could let it up at night, with some red and blue fires to go off when it got up high, I should think it would scare them horribly." "Yes; but it would be still better, Bertie, if we could make a balloon big enough to carry us and the mules and everything else out of this place, and drop us somewhere about the spot we want to get to." "Oh, it is all very well to laugh, Harry! I said, I knew we could not make a fire-balloon; I only gave that as an example. If we had powder enough we might make some rockets, and I should think that would scare them pretty badly." "Yes, but we haven't got powder, Bertie. We have plenty of cartridges for sporting purposes, or for fighting; but a rocket is a thing that wants a lot of powder, besides saltpetre and charcoal, and so on." "Yes, yes, I know that," Bertie said testily. "My suggestion was that we might frighten them somehow, and I still don't see why we shouldn't be able to do it. Let us try to hit upon something else." "There is a good deal in what the young señor says," Dias said gravely. "All the Indians are very superstitious, and think anything they don't understand is magic. It is worth thinking over: but before we do anything else we might find out how many of them there are at the other end of the ravine. Only a few may be left, or possibly the whole tribe may be gathered there at nightfall. To-night nothing will be settled, but to-morrow night I will go down the torrent with José. I will carry your double-barrelled guns with me, señor, if you will let me have them. When we get to the other end I will take up my station there. José is small and active. He could crawl forward and ascertain how many of them there are. If he should be discovered, which is not likely, he would run back to me. I should have four barrels ready to pour into them. That would stop them, for they would think we were all there and were going to attack them, and before they could recover from their alarm we should be back here again." "That seems a good plan, Dias; but I do not see why Bertie and I should not go down with you." "It would be better not, señor. In the first place, they may have men posted at their end of the ravine, and though two of us might crawl down without being seen, just as they crawled up here, they would be more likely to see four; in the next place, they might chance to crawl down the hillside above just as we were going down the ravine, and Maria and the animals would be at their mercy." "They are hardly likely to choose the exact moment when we are to be away, but I quite agree with you that the risk must not be run." "Well," Bertie said, returning to his former idea, "if Dias can go down there, I still think that somehow we might get up a scare." Harry laughed. "Well, you think it over, Bertie. If you can suggest anything, I promise you that Dias and I will do our best to carry it out." "Very well," Bertie replied gravely, "I will think it over." "Now," Harry said, "we had better sleep in watches at night; one must be at the breast-work, and one must listen for noises on the cliffs. It would be hardly possible for a number of men to crawl down without exciting suspicion or putting in motion some small stones." "I do not think, señor," Dias said, "that it will be necessary to keep that watch, for, as we knew from the noise when you fired last night, there are numbers of birds and at least one beast--I fancy it is a bear from the sound of its roar--up there, and it would be strange if a number of men making their way down did not disturb some of them; indeed, if one bird gave the alarm, it would put them all in motion; besides, there are certainly monkeys, for I heard their cries and chattering when the birds flew up. Still, it is perhaps as well that one of us should watch. Shall we divide, as we did last night? only, of course, José takes his place with you." "I quite agree with you, Dias. Bertie, you had better get three hours' sleep at once, and then after dinner we will sit by the fire here, smoke, and listen, and Dias will watch the gorge and keep one ear open in this direction too. It is a comfort to know that if we cannot get away by going up the stream, the Indians cannot get down to attack us from that direction." Two nights and days passed. The Indians were still on the hills, and once or twice men came down some distance, but a shot from Harry's rifle sent them speedily back again. The third night Bertie was on watch; he saw nothing, but suddenly there came three sharp taps. He discharged one barrel of his gun at random down the ravine, and then held himself ready to fire the other as soon as he saw anyone approaching. It was an anxious minute for him before the other three ran up. "What is it, Bertie; have you seen anything?" "No, but three arrows tapped against the wall, so I fired one barrel to call you up, and have been looking out for someone to take a shot at with the other; but I have not seen anyone, though, as you may imagine, I looked out sharply." "It is probable that after the lesson they got the other night they did not come so near, and that they merely shot their arrows to see if we were still on guard. However, we may as well stay here for a bit to see if anything comes of it." Nothing happened, however, and they returned to the tents. Next morning Bertie said to his brother: "Look here, Harry, I have been thinking over that plan of mine. I really think there is something to be done with it." "Well, tell us your plan." "In the first place, how much powder can you spare?" "There is that great powder-horn José drags about with him to charge his musket with. It will contain about a couple of pounds, I should say." "That ought to do, I think." "Well, what is your plan, Bertie?" "In the first place, do you think that burned wood would do for charcoal?" "It depends on what purpose you want it for." "I want it to prevent the powder from going off with a bang." "Oh, well, I should think that burned wood ground to a powder would be just as good as charcoal. So you are still thinking of rockets? Your two pounds of powder won't make many of them--not above two fair-sized ones, and the betting is they would not go up." "No, I am not thinking of rockets, but of squibs and crackers. I know when I was at school I made a lot of these, and they worked very well. My idea is that if we could crawl up close to where the Indians are assembled, each carrying a dozen squibs and as many crackers, we could light a lot of the crackers first and chuck them among them, and then send the squibs whirling about over their heads, with a good bang at the end. It would set them off running, and they would never stop till they were back in their own forests." "Well, I really do think that that is a fine idea--a splendid idea! The only drawback is, that in order to carry it out we should want a lot of strong cartridge-paper, and we have no paper except our note-books." "I have thought of that, Harry, though it bothered me for a good long time. You see, the cases are only to hold the powder and to burn regularly as the powder does. At first I thought we might find some wood like elder and get the pith out, just as we used to do for pop-guns, but that unfortunately would not burn. We might, however, make them of linen." "But we have no linen." "No, but our leather bed-bags are lined with that coarse sort of stuff they cover mattresses with." "Tick, you mean?" "Yes, tick. Now, it struck me that this would do for the crackers. We should have to cut it in strips three or four times the width of the cracker. Then we could get Maria to make us some stiff paste; starch would be better, but of course we have none. Then, taking a strip of the cloth, we would turn over one side of it an inch from the edge to make a sort of trough, pour in the gunpowder, carefully paste all the rest of it and fold it over and over, and then, when it begins to dry, double it up and tie it with string. We should then only have to add touch-paper, which, of course, we could make out of anything, and put into the end fold. We could break up a few of the cartridges, soak them in wetted powder, and then cut them up into small pieces and stick them into the ends of the crackers. I think that would do first-rate. I have made dozens of crackers, and feel sure that I could turn out a good lot of them now. The squibs will be easier; we should only have to paste one side of the strips and roll them up so as to form suitable cases. When these are dry we should put a thimbleful of powder into each, and then fill them up with powder and charcoal. In order to make sure of a loud bang we could undo a piece of rope and wind the strands round each case for an inch and a half from the bottom. Of course, when we had ground down the burned wood we would mix it with powder and try one or two of the squibs, so as to find the proportions of charcoal to be used." "You have evidently thought it all out well, and I think it does you no end of credit. I authorize you to begin the experiment at once. The first thing, of course, will be to get some wood and char it. I should think that you would require at least two pounds of that to two pounds of powder; but you had better only do a little at first--just enough to make an experiment. You know it will require ramming down well." When Dias, who was on watch, returned he found Bertie at work burning pieces of wood and scraping off the charred surface. Harry explained the plan to him. As he had frequently seen fireworks at Lima, Dias quickly grasped the idea. "It is splendid, señor; those things will frighten them far more than guns. They will think so many devils have got among them, and we will heighten the effect by discharging every piece that we can among them. In their confusion they will think it is the fireworks that are killing them. That would be necessary, for otherwise when they recovered from the panic and found that no one had been hurt, they might summon up courage to return." At noon the next day Bertie with assistance had four squibs and two crackers ready for trial. The squibs contained respectively one, two, three, and four parts of charcoal to one of powder. "Don't hold them in your hand while you are trying the experiment, Bertie. Lay them down on that stone one by one and touch them off with a burning brand from the fire, and take care that you have a good long one." All, with the exception of José who was on watch, gathered round. The first squib exploded with a bang, the second did the same, but with less violence, the third went off in an explosive spurt, the fourth burned as a squib should do, though a little fiercely, and gave a good bang at the end. "They go off rather too rapidly, Bertie," Harry said; "we should want them to whiz about in a lively way as long as possible. I should put in five parts of that burned wood next time." "I will try at once," Bertie said. "I have got lots of cases made, and enough burned stuff to make eight or ten more." The mixture was soon made and another case charged, Bertie ramming down the mixture with a stick which he had cut to fit exactly, and a heavy stone as a hammer. This was done after each half-spoonful of the mixture was poured in. Then he inserted a strip of his touch-paper. "I will take this in my hand," he said, "there is no fear of its exploding. I want to throw it into the air and see how it burns there." The touch-paper was lit, and when the mixture started burning Bertie waved the squib high above his head and threw it into the air. It flew along some fifteen yards and then exploded. "I don't think you can better that, Bertie. But you might make the cases a bit stronger; it burned out a little too quickly. We shall probably not be able to get very close to them." The cracker was equally satisfactory, except that they agreed that a somewhat larger charge of powder should be used to increase the noise of the explosion. "Now, Bertie," Harry said, "we will put all hands on to the business. Donna Maria shall make a good stock of paste, and cut the tick into strips for both widths. You shall make the cases for the squibs. Dias and I will take charge of the manufacture of charcoal. That will be a long job, for as you have two pounds of gunpowder we shall want ten of this charred wood." "Not quite as much as that, Harry, because we shall want the powder alone for the crackers and the bangs of the squibs, and also for making the touch-paper for all of them." "Well, we will say ten pounds, anyhow. We have a big stock of cartridges, and can spare a few of them for so good a purpose." They were soon at work. By night the cases were all made and drying, and were left near the fire so as to be ready for filling in the morning. Dias then said: "José will go down to-night, señor. Of course I shall go with him. We must find out, in the first place, how near the mouth of the ravine the savages are gathered, whether they keep any watch, and what force they have. It will be well not to make ourselves known to them until at least the greater part are gathered there. If we were only to scare a small party, the others, when they came down, would know nothing of the panic, and might take up the pursuit." "I wish we had some means of driving them off the top of the hill, Dias." "I don't see how that can be done, señor. But probably in another day or two they will all go down of their own accord. They must by this time have satisfied themselves that there is no getting at us from above, and that it would be too dangerous to attempt a descent here under the fire of our guns. They will be very likely, instead, to go down to-morrow or next day to hold a general council, and in that case they may decide either to risk climbing down at night, or to make a grand assault on the breast-work. Or, if they cannot bring themselves to that, they may decide to leave half a dozen men to watch the entrance, while the rest scatter themselves over the forests. In that case the watchers would only have to go off and summon them when we started again. As they might well imagine that we should not find another position like this again, I expect that is what they will do. If there are a hundred of them, they will find it difficult to feed themselves long. Certainly the men on the hills will get little to eat up there." "Well, Dias, be sure you warn José to be careful. They may be posting sentries at the mouth of the ravine, just as they are keeping them at this end." "They may be, but I do not think it is likely; they will know that we could not abandon our animals, and that if we passed through they would have no difficulty in over-taking us, and would then have us at their mercy. The last thing they would want is to prevent us from leaving this position. They certainly would not fear an attack from us, knowing that there are but four of us and a woman. Therefore, I think it probable that they will keep at some little distance from the entrance, so as to tempt us to come out." "I hope it is so, Dias. Still, José will have to be very careful." "He will be careful, señor. He knows his own life will depend upon his crawling along as noiselessly as a snake. If he is seen, of course he will come at all speed back to me; and, unless he is hit by a chance arrow, he will not run much risk, for by the time they are ready to shoot he will be out of sight on such dark nights as these, and in the shade of the mountains and trees. I shall be ready to send four barrels of buck-shot among them when they come up. That is sure to stop them long enough to allow us to get under the cover of your rifles before they can overtake us. "I don't think that you need be at all uneasy about him, señor. We will start in an hour's time, so that José can get near them before they go to sleep. They will probably have a fire burning, but if not the only guide to their position will be the sound of their talking. He will strip before he leaves me, so that if they catch sight of him, they will suppose that he is one of themselves." Bertie now relieved José, who came back and had a long talk with Dias. "We are ready now, señor." "Here is my fowling-piece. It is already loaded with buck-shot. Bertie has taken down his rifle and gun, and will give you the latter as you pass. I suppose José will take no weapons?" "Only a long knife, señor, that may be useful if he comes upon one of them suddenly." At the barricade José stripped, retaining only a pair of sandals. These were as noiseless as his bare feet, and would be needed, as in the dark he might tread upon a thorny creeper, or strike against a projecting rock. "Good-bye, José!" Harry said. "Now, be careful. It would be a great grief to us if anything happened to you." "I will be careful, señor. The Indians won't catch me, never fear." Harry and Bertie both shook hands with him, and then he and Dias stepped into the water, and, keeping close along by the wall of rock, started on their perilous expedition. "I don't like it, Bert," Harry said as they lost sight of them. "It seems a cowardly thing to let that lad go into danger while we are doing nothing." "That is just what I feel, Harry. I would have volunteered willingly, but he will do it a great deal better than either you or I could." "There is no doubt about that," Harry agreed. "Of course when he is out with the mules he often travels at night, and certainly both he and Dias can see in the dark a good deal better than we can." There was suddenly a slight movement behind them, and they turned sharply round. "It is I, señor. I am anxious about Dias, and I didn't like staying there by myself. I thought you would not mind if I came up and sat by you." "Certainly not," Harry said. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I do not think there is any fear for Dias. He cannot be taken by surprise, for he will hear by their shouting if they discover José, and you may be quite sure that he will bring them to a stand with the four shots he will fire among them as they come near, and so will get a good start. They might run faster than he can in the forest, but will scarcely be better able to make their way up the torrent." When Dias had been gone twenty minutes their conversation ceased, and they sat listening intently. In another ten minutes, which seemed an hour to them, Harry said, "The savages can keep no watch at their end of the torrent, and José must have got safely away." Very slowly the time passed. "They must have been gone an hour," Bertie said at last. "Quite that, I should think, Bertie. At any rate, we may feel assured that all has gone well so far. For, though we might not hear the yells of the savages over the rustle and roar of the torrent, we should certainly hear gunshots." Another half-hour passed, and then to their relief they heard Dias call out, "All is well!" some little distance down. In three or four minutes they could see the two figures approaching. "Give me your guns, Dias," Harry said, "and then I will help you up the rocks. They might go off if you were to make a slip. Now, while José is putting on his clothes, tell me what he has found out." "I have not heard much, señor. As soon as he rejoined me we started off, and, coming up the torrent, we had not much chance of talking. He told me that there were many of them, and that they were camped at some little distance from the stream, just as I thought they would be." "I will stay here, Harry," Bertie said. "You can hear the news and then come and tell me." "Very well. I will be back before long." Dias, his wife, and Harry walked down towards the tent, and Bertie chatted with José while the latter was dressing. "You must feel horribly cold, José," he said. "I am cold, now I think of it. I did not notice it while I was watching the savages. When I took to the water again I did feel it. Maria will make me a cup of hot coffee, and then I shall be all right again. It was good fun to look at them, and know that they had no idea that I was so close. If I could have understood their language, I should have learned something worth telling. I felt inclined to scare them by giving a tremendous yell, and I know I could have got away all right. They were sitting round a big fire and would not have been able to see in the dark. I should have done it, only I thought Dias would have blamed me for letting them know that one of us had come down the cañon." "He would have been angry, José, and so would my brother, for they would certainly have set a watch afterwards, which would have spoilt all our plans. Now run along, your teeth are chattering, and the sooner you get something warm and wrap yourself up in your blankets the better." The fire had burnt low when the others returned, but an armful of sticks was thrown upon it at once. The kettle had been left in the embers at its edge by Maria when she started, so that after it had hung in the blaze for two or three minutes it began to boil, and coffee was soon ready. At this point José ran in, and after he had drunk a large mugful he told them what he had learned. "When I left Dias at the mouth of the ravine," he said, "everything seemed quiet. I walked along the edge of the stream for fifty yards, keeping my ears open, you may be sure, and I saw a light glow close under the rocks some distance on the other side of the river. I followed the stream down till I came to a place where there was a quiet pool, and there I swam across, then very carefully I made my way to where I could see the light. It was quite three hundred yards from the river. As I got near I could hear talking; I crawled along like a cat, and took good care not to disturb a leaf, or to put a hand or a knee upon a dried stick, for I could not tell whether they had anyone on watch near the fire. I perceived no one, and at last came to a point where I could see the flame. It was in an opening running a hundred feet into the mountains, and perhaps forty feet across at the mouth. "In this were sixty or seventy savages sitting or standing round a fire, which had evidently been made there so that anyone coming down to the mouth of the ravine should not see it. The fire was not a very large one, and a good many of the men were gathered outside the little hollow. Some of them were talking loudly, and it seemed to me that they were quarrelling over something. Sometimes they pointed up to the top of the hills, sometimes towards the mouth of our ravine. I would have got close if I had understood their language. Presently I saw some of them lying down, so that I could see that the quarrel, whatever it was about, was coming to an end, and that they were going to lie down for the night. As I could learn nothing further I crawled away and went down to the place where I had swum the river before, and then crept quietly up to Dias, who was on the look-out; for although I had seen no one as I had passed before, there might still have been some of them on the watch." "You have done very well, José," Harry said. "We have learned two things. First, that they are not keeping watch at the mouth of the ravine, either because they feel sure that we will not try to escape, or because they wish us to leave and are giving us the opportunity of doing so. In the second place, you have learned what force they have got down there, their exact position, and the fact that they were evidently arguing how they had best attack us. Well, from what you say there is every chance that we shall be able to come upon them without being noticed till we are close enough to throw our fireworks among them. Really the only thing for us to learn is whether many of them are still at the top of the hill." "I hardly think there can be many; only a few have shown themselves to-day. They must know very well that we would not venture to climb up during the day, and that it would be next to impossible for us to do so in the dark, even if we made up our minds to abandon the animals and all our stores." "Well, I should say, Dias, there is no reason why we should put the matter off. It will not take us long to load all the squibs to-morrow. My opinion is that at dusk we had better saddle the mules and pack everything on them in readiness for a start; then at ten o'clock we can go down and attack the savages. The best moment for doing so will be when they are just lying down. When we have sent them flying we will come up the torrent again, and start with the mules as soon as it is daylight. It would be next to impossible to get them down in the dark, as they might very easily break their legs, or by rubbing against the wall shift their packs and tumble them into the water." "It would be a pity to waste time, señor. I will get some torches made to-morrow. Some of the trees have resin, and by melting this I can make torches that would do very well. By their aid we could get the mules down without waiting for daylight. As they have already come up the torrent, they will have less fear in going down, for the stream will help them instead of keeping them back. I will go first with José and his mule; she is as steady as a rock, and where she goes the others will follow; and with five torches along the line they will be able to see well enough." "Four torches, Dias. Your wife rode coming up, and she had better ride going down." "She can hold a torch as she sits; it does not matter to us if we get wet to the waist, but it would be very uncomfortable for her. We shall have to put the largest burdens on to the mules. One of the riding mules could carry the two llamas, or if you think that that is too much, we can tie each across a separate mule. They were more trouble coming up than all the mules put together. We had pretty nearly to carry them through the deep places, though at other points they leapt from rock to rock cleverly enough." "I am not going to be left behind if you are going to the fight, señor," Donna Maria said, "if you will give me one of your pistols." "We could manage that, I should think," Harry said. "We can put you on one of the steadiest mules when we first go down, and with one at each side of you we can manage it very well. José must go on a hundred yards ahead to see whether any of the savages are on the watch at their end, and if so, you must wait till we have cleared them out. You see, we shall have no hesitation in shooting any of them if necessary, and though that would bring the rest of them down on us, yet when our squibs and crackers begin to fly among them, you may be sure they won't face us for an instant." Dias grumbled that his wife had better stay where she was till they went back for the mules; but Harry said: "I do think, Dias, that she had better go with us. It would be cruel to leave her now that we are going into a fight--leave her all alone to tremble for our lives, with a knowledge that if things should go wrong with us the savages will soon be up here." "Well, señor, if you think so, there is no more to be said." "I am not going to be made a trouble of," Maria said. "I shall go down on foot like the rest of you. I will take some other clothes with me, so that when you all come back for the mules I can change into them." "Perhaps that would be the best plan," Harry agreed. "Now I will go back and take Bertie's place. It is my turn to be on watch, and he will be wanting to hear the news." "Well, Harry, is it all right?" Bertie asked as he heard his brother coming up to him. "It couldn't be better! There are sixty or seventy of them in a sort of little ravine three hundred yards away, on the left-hand side of the river. They don't seem to be keeping guard at all, and if they are not more careful to-morrow night we shall take them completely by surprise. We are going to saddle all the mules directly it gets too dark for any of the fellows on the hills to see us, then we must set to work and pull down enough of the barricade here to allow them to pass. We ourselves, when we go down, will cross at that shallow place above here, and go down the river at that side, otherwise we sha'n't be able to cross it except at some distance beyond the other end of the torrent. Of course the mules must go down this side, as we shall want to turn to the right when we get off. We shall make our attack about ten o'clock." Bertie went off, and three hours later Dias relieved Harry. As soon as it was light the next morning Bertie and José set to work to fill the cases--there were a hundred squibs and fifty large crackers. Donna Maria after breakfast went out and returned with a number of flexible sticks of about half an inch in diameter; these she carried into her tent, where she shut herself up for the forenoon. When, at one o'clock, she came out with the result of her work, it resembled a chair without legs and with a back about a foot wide and three feet high. "What in the world have you got there, Donna Maria?" Bertie asked. "Don't you know?" "No, I have never seen a thing like it before." "This is the thing the porters use for carrying weights, and sometimes people, over the Cordilleras. You see that strap near the top goes round the man's forehead, and when there is a weight in the chair these other straps pass over his shoulders and under his arms, and then round whatever is on the seat." "But what is going to be on the seat?" "I am," she laughed. "Dias is so overbearing. It had all been arranged nicely, as you know; and then when he spoke to me afterwards he said, 'The first thing to-morrow morning, Maria, you will set to work to make a porter's chair, and I shall carry you down the stream. No words about it, but do as you are told.' Generally Dias lets me have my own way, señor, but when he talks like that, I know that it is useless to argue with him. And perhaps it is best after all, for, as he said to me afterwards, it is a nasty place for men to get along, but for a woman, with her petticoats dragging and trailing round her, it would be almost impossible for her to keep her footing." "Well, I thought the same thing myself when we were talking about it yesterday," Bertie said. "Of course I did not say anything, but I am sure Dias is right. I found it very hard work to keep my footing, and I really don't believe that I could have done it if I had been dressed as a woman. And Dias can carry you like that?" "Carry me, señor! he could carry three times that weight. He has cut himself a staff seven or eight feet long this morning to steady himself, but I don't think there was any need for it. Why, it is a common thing for people to be carried over the Cordilleras so, and Dias is stronger a great deal than many of the men who do it. As he said, if I had been going through on foot you would all have been bothering about me. And it is not as if two people could go abreast, and one help the other. There is often only room between the rocks for one to pass through, and it is just there where the rush of the water is strongest." CHAPTER IX THE SIGNAL STAR During the afternoon Dias, who had been keeping a careful look-out at the cliffs, said to Harry: "I think, señor, that the savages are leaving the hills. An hour ago I saw a man walking along where we generally see them; he was going straight along as if for some fixed purpose, and I thought at once that he might be bringing them some message from the people below us. I lost sight of him after a bit, but presently I could make out some men moving in the other direction. They were keeping back from the edge, but I several times caught sight of their heads against the sky-line when there happened to be some little irregularity in the ground. They were not running, but seemed to me to be going at a steady pace. Since then I have been watching carefully, and have seen no one on the other side. I think they have all been sent for, and will be assembled this afternoon at the mouth of the torrent." "I am very glad to hear it, Dias; that is just what we wanted." "In one way--yes," Dias said. "It would be a great thing for us to catch them all together, for I have no fear that they will stand when these fireworks begin to go off among them." "What is the drawback, then?" "It is, señor, that they have either been collected because they have given up the hope of catching us at present, and are going to scatter and hunt till we venture out, which would be the worst thing possible; or they have made up their minds to make a rush upon us." "Don't you think that we can beat them back?" "Not if they are determined, señor. You see, we can't make them out till they are within twenty or thirty yards of us. At most you and your brother could fire four shots, then you would take up your rifles. We shall have then only four shots left. If they continue their rush where shall we be? There would be two of us on one wall and two on the other. There would be four shots to fire from one side and four from the other. Then the end would come. Two on each side would not be able to keep back the rush of two or three score. In two minutes it would be all over." "Yes, Dias, I see that if they were determined to storm the place and take us alive they could do it; but we have the fireworks." "I did not think of that. Yes; but having once worked themselves up and being mad with excitement, even that might not stop them, though I should think it would. Yes, I believe we might feel assured that we should beat them back, and if so, we should hear no more of them." "If I knew that they would come," Harry said, "I would certainly say we had best stay and defend ourselves; but we can't be sure that that is their motive for assembling. They may, as you say, be going to move off, leaving perhaps half a dozen men to watch the entrance and report if we attempt to escape. That would be fatal, and our only chance would be to leave everything behind and endeavour to climb up one side or the other; and even that might not avail us, as there may be one or two men up there to see if we make off that way. I am more inclined to think that this is the course that they will take rather than risk a heavy loss of life. They must have a good idea of what it would cost them to take the place." "What do you think we had better do, then, señor?" "I think we had better attack them as soon as possible after nightfall. It is likely that they will do nothing before morning; as you say, they do not like moving at night, and if they attack it will not be until shortly before daybreak. There is sure to be a palaver when the men who have been on the hills come down. It will be too late then for them to go back before night, so that I think we are pretty sure to find them all in the ravine this evening. If, when we get there, we find the place empty, we must come to a decision as to what our best course will be. In that case I think we ought to climb the hills and make our way up the mountains as rapidly as possible. We could calculate on eight or ten hours' start, and by keeping as much as possible on the rocks, might hope to get so high among the mountains that they would not be able to follow our traces and overtake us before we reach a point where they would not dare follow us. In that case, of course we should have to give up all hope of finding the gold valley, and lose the mules with all our belongings, which would cripple us terribly." "Very well, señor; I think that is the best plan." "Then we will settle to start at nine o'clock, Dias." They then discussed the arrangements for the attack. Each was to carry a glowing brand, and when he got there, was to sling his gun behind him and hold twelve squibs in one hand and the brand in the other. When they approached within throwing distance of the savages, they were to lay their guns down beside them, and then Harry was to put the ends of his squibs against his brand, and hurl the whole of them among the Indians. A few seconds later Bertie was to do the same, while Harry fired one barrel of buck-shot. Bertie was to fire as Dias threw a dozen crackers, and then José was to throw his squibs. Then all were to throw squibs and crackers as far as they could go; and the other two barrels of buck-shot and José's musket were to be poured in. By this time they calculated the savages would be in full flight, and the three rifles could then be used. Harry was to hand his rifle to Dias before the firing began, and he and Bertie were to slip fresh cartridges into these guns and recap them before sending off the last batch of their fireworks, so as to have them in readiness either to empty their contents into the flying Indians, or to cover their retreat should the fireworks fail to effect the panic they hoped for. Their pistols were also to be reserved until the Indians fled. Donna Maria was to stay by the water, and start at once on her way back if Dias shouted to her to do so. Every step of the plan settled upon was repeated again and again, until there was no possibility of any mistake being made. Maria had not attended the council; her confidence in her two white friends was unbounded, and Bertie's invention of the fireworks had placed him on a level with his brother in her estimation. She therefore quietly went on with her preparations for dinner without concerning herself as to the details of the affair. As soon as it was dark and the meal eaten, the tents were struck, the baggage all rolled up and packed on the animals, and the fireworks divided. When everything was in readiness they went together and made a breach in the breast-work wide enough for the mules to pass. At nine o'clock Maria was seated in the carrying-chair, and strapped on to her husband's back; then four brands were taken from the fire and the party started. When within fifty yards of the lower end of the ravine José went forward, and, returning in a few minutes, reported that no savages were on guard. A fire was burning outside the mouth of the ravine where he had seen them on the evening before, and from the reflection on the rock he believed that another fire was alight inside. His report caused a general feeling of relief, for their great fear had been that the natives might have made off before their arrival. When they stepped out from the water Dias set Maria down. "You understand, Maria," he said: "the moment I call, you are to start up the river." "I understand," she said. "I have my knife, and if you do not rejoin me I shall know how to use it." "We shall rejoin you, Maria," Dias said confidently. "I believe that at the first volley of fireworks they will be off. They must be more than human if they are not scared, as they never can have heard of such things before." Keeping close to the rock wall, they went along in single file until within forty or fifty yards of the fire; then, going down on their hands and knees, they crawled up a slight rise, from the top of which they could see a hundred or more natives gathered round a fire. One was addressing the others, who were seated listening attentively. Laying the guns down to be ready for instant action, and keeping themselves concealed in the herbage, Harry took his bundle of squibs from his pocket. They were but lightly tied together; slipping off the string he applied the ends to the brand. There was a sudden roar of fire, and waving them once round his head he hurled them into the midst of the assembly. There was a yell of astonishment as the missiles flew hither and thither, exploding with loud reports. The last had not exploded when Bertie's handful flew among them; then came the parcel from Dias, and at the same moment Harry poured a barrel of buck-shot among them, followed by a volley of crackers, while almost simultaneously Harry threw his squibs and Bertie fired a volley of buck-shot. For a moment the savages were paralysed, then many of them threw themselves on their faces in terror of these fiery demons, while others started in headlong flight. "Send them off as quick as you can!" Harry shouted, as he discharged his second barrel into the flying natives. Bertie followed suit, and then both paused to reload while Dias and José hurled their remaining fireworks. By this time the last of the natives had leapt up and fled. José's musket and the three rifles cracked out, and then the little party rose to their feet and joined in a wild "Hip, hip, hurrah!" "You can come up, Maria; they have all gone!" Dias cried out; and Maria joined them a minute later. More than a score of natives lay dead or badly wounded round their fire. "What are we to do with the wounded?" Bertie asked. "We can only leave them where they are," Harry said. "Some of the savages may have wandered away, or not have come down from the hills, and will return here unaware of what has happened, or one or two of the boldest may venture back again to look after their comrades. At any rate, we can do nothing for them." "It would be better to shoot them, señor," Dias said. "No, I could not bring myself to do that," Harry said. "Buck-shot, unless they strike in a body, are not likely to kill. I expect they are more frightened than hurt. After we have gone many of them will be able to crawl down to the river. Savages frequently recover from wounds that would kill white men; and even if no others come down, those who are but slightly wounded will help the more incapable. We have cleared the way for ourselves, which was all we wanted, and have taught them a lesson they are not likely to forget for many years to come. Let us go back at once and bring down the mules. I suppose you will sit down by the stream, and wait till we come back, Maria?" "Yes," she said, "there is nothing to be afraid of now; but you can leave me one of your pistols in case one of these savages may be shamming dead." "José will wait with her," Dias said. "Now, José, you strike up a song. You are generally at it, and as long as they hear you they will know that some of us are still here, and will not venture to move." "You take my gun, José; it is loaded," Harry said. "If any of them should move and try to crawl away, don't fire at them; but if they look about and seem inclined to make mischief, shoot at once." Coming down with the animals the three men carried torches in each hand. The mules reached the mouth of the torrent without accident, and the llamas were then lifted off the baggage mules which had carried them, and all were turned loose to graze on the rich grass near the edge of the river. José and Dias went to the fire in the ravine, and returned laden with burning brands, and a fire was soon blazing near the water. Two of them kept watch by turns at the spot from which they had fired, lest any of the wounded Indians should, on recovering, try to avenge their loss by sending arrows down amongst the party. During the night four of the fallen Indians, after first looking round cautiously, crawled away, and the watchers could hear them running fast through the bushes till they were beyond the light of the fire. At dawn a start was made. The river was crossed at the pool where José had swum over. Dias, on examination, found that the water, even in the deepest part, was not more than breast-high. Accordingly he returned; Maria, kneeling on one of his shoulders and one of Harry's, was carried across without being wetted. Then they joined the animals, which were grazing a short distance away, and set off without delay. Although they kept a sharp look-out they saw no more of the Indians. They ascended several more streams unobserved. Rough carvings on the face of several of the rocks led them to carry their excursions farther than usual, but beyond a few ounces of gold, washed from the stream, they found nothing. "They must have been put here for some purpose," said Dias. "I have been thinking it over, Dias, and I should not be surprised if, as you thought, they were done to deceive searchers. You told me there were some marks by which you would be directed in the gold valley; it is quite likely that other marks might have been placed in the valleys so that the real ones would not be particularly noticed." "That is possible, señor; they would certainly do everything they could to prevent anyone not in the secret from knowing. The mark I have to look for first is a serpent. It is carved on a rock at the end of a valley." "In that case the indication of the star would not be necessary, Dias." "That may be, señor; but the valley may be a large one, and the hiding-place very difficult to find, so that even when the valley was known, it would need the guidance of the star to take us to the right place." "That might be so, Dias, if it were a hidden treasure that we were looking for; but as, according to your account, it is simply an extraordinarily rich deposit in the river, I hardly see why the guidance of the star should be necessary when once the valley was known." "That I cannot tell you, señor; but I am sure that it must be difficult to find, for the Spaniards searched everywhere for gold, and although the records of most of their discoveries still exist, there is no mention of such a find, nor is there is any word of it among the Indian traditions." A week before the appointed date they found themselves in the neighbourhood where they felt sure the cleft must lie. Mount Tinta was twenty miles in front of them, and from that point a range of mountains trended off almost at right angles to that which they were following. One lofty peak some thirty miles to the south-east rose above another. "I believe that that is the peak," Dias said. "I don't see any signs of a cleft in it, Dias." "No, señor; it is a very narrow one." The next day they halted at the mouth of another valley, and as they unloaded the mules, Harry exclaimed: "See, Dias, there is a cleft in that peak! From here it looks as if it were a mere thread, and as if some giant had struck a mighty sword-cut into it." "That is right. Sure enough, señor, this must be the valley. Now, let us look about for the serpent." The search did not take them long. An isolated rock rose a quarter of a mile from the mouth, and on this was a rude representation of a serpent. The next morning they explored the valley thoroughly to a point where, five miles higher, it ceased abruptly, the rocks closing in on either side, and the stream coming down in a perpendicular fall from a point some eighty feet above them. Going down the river, they washed the gravel again and again, but without obtaining even as much gold as they had found several times before. "I cannot understand it," Harry said, as they sat down to their meal at dusk. "Your tradition says nothing about hidden treasure, and yet there does not seem to be gold in the stream." "It may be higher up, señor. We must ascend the hills on each side of the valley, and come down upon the river higher up." Harry was on watch that night, and at one o'clock he roused the others up. "See!" he exclaimed later on; "there is a bright star apparently about a foot above the peak. I should think that must be the star. No doubt that will rise in exact line behind the cleft on the 21st, that is four days from now; probably it can only be seen when we are exactly in the line with the cleft and the position of the gold. This cleft is undoubtedly very narrow--no doubt the result of an earthquake. It certainly goes straight through, and very likely it is some hundred yards across, so that unless we are exactly in the line we sha'n't see it. As soon as it is dark on the 21st we will all go some distance up the valley, where it is only about four or five hundred yards across. We will station ourselves fifty yards apart across it, then one of us is sure to see the star through the cleft. We had each better take two sticks with us. Whoever sees the star will fix one in the ground and then go backwards for a hundred yards, keeping the star in sight, and plant the other; then the line between those two sticks ought to lead us to the spot." Each night the star rose nearer to the cleft. "There is no doubt we shall see it in the proper position to-morrow night," Harry said on the 20th of the month. "That certainly is strong proof that the tradition handed down to you, Dias, is correct." They employed the next day in again searching for some indication that might assist them, but in vain. Dias and José both asserted that the tiny rift in the rocky peak looked wider from the middle of the valley than at any other point, and even Harry and his brother admitted that it could scarcely be seen from the foot of the hills on either side, and therefore it was agreed that Dias, Harry, and José should take their places only some forty yards apart across the centre; Maria and Bertie going farther, near the sides of the hills. When midnight approached they took their stations. Suddenly Harry, who was standing by the side of the rivulet, exclaimed, "I see it!" It was more than a minute later before Dias saw it, while it was three or four minutes before José spoke, by which time Harry had crossed the streamlet and fixed his second rod some distance on the other side. Dias and José did the same. Bertie did not catch sight of it for some time after José, and Maria did not see it at all. Then they went back to their camping place. "It is curious that I should have seen it before either of you, when you were standing so close to me," Harry said. "It was lower than I expected, and it is evident that the cleft must continue much farther down than we thought, and that it must be extremely narrow at the bottom. It is certainly a splendid guide, and there can be no mistaking it. Unless I had been standing on the exact line, I should not have noticed the star till later, and the crack is so much wider towards the top that it could probably be seen on a line half a mile across. It will be strange if we cannot find the place in the morning. Certainly we searched in the stream just where I was standing, and found nothing. But, of course, it is possible that in all this time it may have changed its course considerably." Dias shook his head. "It can hardly be that, señor, because, in that case, anyone who had examined the valley could have found it. I begin to think that it must have been a mistake about its being merely a rich place in the river, and that it must be some vast treasure, perhaps hidden by the people before the Incas, and kept by them as a certain resource when needed. We shall have to search, I think, for some walled-up cave in the rocks. We have already looked for it, but not seriously; and besides, there are many boulders that have fallen, and formed a bank at the foot of the cliff." "Well, we shall know in a few hours. I feel absolutely certain that the line between those two sticks will lead us to it." None attempted to sleep, and as soon as it became light they took picks and shovels and started up the valley. Harry gave an exclamation of surprise as, standing behind the first stick, he looked towards the second. "The line goes to the middle of that waterfall," he said. This was so; for the stream made two or three sharp bends between the spot where he had crossed it and the foot of the falls. "'Tis strange!" Dias said; "we have examined that spot more than once. There are great stones and boulders at the foot of the fall, and a large deep pool. Can a treasure be buried in that? If so, it will be hard indeed to get it." Harry did not reply; his face was white with excitement. He walked forward slowly till he reached the edge of the pool. It was some fifteen yards across, and the colour of the water showed that it was very deep. "I will dive, Harry," Bertie said; "I have gone down more than once in five fathoms of water to pick up an egg that has been thrown overboard." He stripped and swam out to the middle of the pool and dived. He was down about a minute, and on coming up swam to the shore. "I could find no bottom, Harry," he panted. "I am sure I must have gone down seven fathoms." "Thank you, Bertie," Harry said quietly; "we will make up our minds that if it is there, we sha'n't get it at present. The foot of the valley is so flat that it would need a cut at least a mile long to let the water off, and we should therefore require either an army of men or a regular diving apparatus, which there would be no getting this side of England. However, it may not be there. Let us search now behind the fall." There were some four or five feet clear between the sheet of water and the rock. At times, as Harry pointed out, there would be an even wider space, for the weather had been dry for the past two months, and the quantity of water coming down was but small, while in the wet season a mighty flood would shoot far out from the rock. The width of the stream in the wet season was shown by the broad bed of what was now but a rivulet. Looking upwards as they stood, the wall actually overhung them, and they could see the edge where the water poured over unbroken. "There may be a cave here," Harry went on, "and it may be covered by these rocks piled up for the purpose. On the other hand, they may have fallen. I think that is the most likely explanation, for as the top projects beyond the bottom it is possible that some time or other there was a big fall." They searched every foot of the rock within reach, but there were no signs of any man's handiwork. The rock was solid, thickly covered with dripping moss and ferns which had flourished in the mist and spray that rose from the foot of the fall. This they had ruthlessly scraped off with their picks. Silently they went out again at the end, and stood hopelessly looking at the fall. It was some time before Harry said, "We must move some of those stones now. Let us go at once and cut down some young trees, for we can do nothing with our hands alone, but must use levers. For that purpose we shall want straight wood, and strong. We had better get half a dozen, in case some of them break; make them about ten feet long, and from four to six inches thick, and sharpened slightly at the lower end." In an hour the levers were ready. "We had better breakfast before we begin, Dias. Your wife went off to prepare it when we came out from the waterfall. I dare say it is ready by this time." In half an hour they were back again. They chose the central spot behind the fall, and then set to work. Some of the rocks were dislodged without much difficulty, but to move others, it was necessary to first get out the smaller ones, on which they rested. So they toiled on, stopping for half an hour in the middle of the day for food, and then renewing their work. By evening they had made an opening four or five feet wide at the top, and six feet deep, close to the wall. It was now getting dark, and all were fagged and weary with their work, the light was fading, and they were glad to return to camp. Maria came out to meet them. She asked no questions, but said cheerfully, "I have a good olla ready, I am sure you must want it." "I feel almost too tired to eat," Bertie said. "You will feel better when you have had some coffee. I have fed the mules, José, and taken them down to water." "I think," Bertie said, when they had finished their meal, "that we might splice the main brace." "I do think we might," Harry laughed. "We have not opened a bottle since we started, and certainly we have worked like niggers since seven o'clock this morning. I will open the case; it is screwed down, and I have a screwdriver in the handle of my knife;" and he rose to his feet. "What does Don Bertie want?" Dias said. "I will get it, señor. I do not understand what he said." "It is a sea expression, Dias. After a hard day's work the captain orders that the main brace shall be spliced, which means that the crew shall have a glass of grog--that is, a glass of spirits and water--to cheer and warm them after their exertions. José, will you bring a blazing brand with you? I shall want it to see the screws." In a few minutes he returned. "This is brandy, Dias. I don't suppose you have ever tasted a glass of good brandy. Is your kettle boiling still, señora? We shall want hot water, sugar, and five of the tin mugs. Have you any of those limes we picked the other day?" "Yes, señor." "That is good. Just a slice each will be an improvement." Harry mixed four mugs, and a half one for Maria. "There, Dias!" he said. "You will allow that that is a considerable improvement on pulque." He and his brother had already lighted their pipes. The other three had made cigarettes. Dias and José were loud in their commendations of the new beverage. Donna Maria had at first protested that she never touched pulque, and this must be the same sort of thing. However, after sipping daintily, she finished her portion with evident satisfaction. They did not sit up long, and as soon as they had finished their first smoke all retired to bed, leaving for once the llamas and mules to act as sentries. As soon as it was fairly daylight, they drank a cup of coffee and started again to work. Harry went first into the hole they had made, and, kneeling down, struck a match to enable him to see the rock more thoroughly. He gave a slight exclamation, then said: "Open your knife, Bertie, and come in here and strike another match. I want both my hands." "I have a torch here, señor," "That is best; then light it, Bertie." There was just room at the bottom for Bertie to stand by the side of his brother, who was lying down. "Hold the torches as low as you can, Bertie." Harry picked away with the point of his knife for a minute or two and then sat up. "That is the top of a cave," he said. "Do you see, this crack along here is a straight one. That, I fancy, was the top of the entrance to the cave. That stone under it has a rough face, but on the top and sides it is straight. It is fitted in with cement, or something of that sort, and is soft for some distance in, and then becomes quite hard. I can just see that there are two stones underneath, also regularly cut." He made room for Bertie to lie down, and held the torch for him. "I think you are right, Harry. Those three stones would never fit together so closely if they had not been cut by hand, though, looking at the face, no one could tell them from the rock above them." Dias next examined the stones. "There is no doubt that that is the entrance to a cave, señor," he said as he joined them; and the three went out beyond the fall, for the noise of the water was too great for them to converse without difficulty behind the veil of water. José stayed behind to examine. "Well, Dias, we have found the place where the treasure is hidden, but I don't think that we are much nearer. Certainly we have not strength sufficient to clear away those fallen stones, and probably the cave is blocked by a wall several feet thick. We should want tools and blasting-powder to get through it. No doubt it is a natural cave, and it seems to me probable that they altered the course of the stream above, so that it should fall directly over the entrance. I think before we talk further about it we will go up there and take a look at it. If we find that the course has been changed that will settle the matter." It took them an hour to climb the hill and make their way down to the gorge through which the river ran. They examined it carefully. "It must always have come along here," Dias said. "There is no other possible channel; but there are marks of tools on the rocks on each side of the fall, and the water goes over so regularly that I think the rock must have been cut away at the bottom." "It certainly looks like it, Dias. The rocks widen out too, so that however strong the rush of water may be it will always go over in a regular sheet. Let us follow it along a little way." Fifty yards farther on, the gorge widened out suddenly, and they paused with an exclamation of astonishment. Before them was a wide valley, filled to the spot where they were standing with a placid sheet of water four or five hundred yards wide, and extending to another gorge fully a mile away. Bertie was the first to find his voice. "Here's a go! Who would have thought of finding a lake up in the hills here?" "I did not know there was one," Dias said. "I have never heard of it. But that is not strange, for no one who came up the valley would dream that there was anything beyond that fall." Harry had sat down and thought for some minutes, looking over the lake without speaking. "I am afraid, Dias," he said at last, "that your tradition was a true one after all, and that the gold lay in the bed of a stream in the valley we now see filled up." "But it must always have been a lake, señor," Dias said after thinking for a minute, "and could not have been shallower, for there is no other escape than the waterfall; and however heavy the rains it could not have risen higher, except a few feet, as one can see by the face of the rock." "It may have had some other way out," Harry said. Dias looked carefully round the side of the valley. "There is no break in the hills that I can see, señor." "No; but my firm conviction is that the top of that cave that we found behind the fall is really the top of a natural tunnel through which the stream originally flowed. There are two or three reasons for this. In the first place, it is certainly remarkable that there should be a cave immediately behind that fall. I thought at first that the stream above might have been diverted to hide it, but the ravine is so narrow that that could not be possible. In the next place, your tradition has proved absolutely true in the matter of the star, and in the hour of its appearance in the exact line to the mouth of that cave. How correctly the details have been handed down from generation to generation! If they are right on that point it is hardly likely that they can be inaccurate on other points, and that the tale of an extraordinarily rich treasure could have been converted into one of an exceptional deposit of gold in the bed of a river. "I think that the passage was probably closed by the old people when they were first threatened by the invasion of the Incas. No doubt they would choose a season when the stream was almost dry. They had, as the remains of their vast buildings will show, an unlimited supply of labour. They would first partially block up the tunnel, perhaps for the first fifty yards in, leaving only a small passage for the water to run through. They might then close the farther end with sacks of sand, and having the other stones all cut, and any number of hands, build it up behind the sacks, and then go on with the work till it was solid; then no doubt they would heap stones and boulders against the face of the wall. By the time the Incas had conquered the country the valley would be a lake many feet deep. The Incas, having gained an abundant supply of treasure elsewhere, would take no steps towards opening the tunnel, which in any case would have been a terrible business, for the pressure of water would drive everything before it. Having plenty of slave labour at their disposal, they knew that it could be done at any time in case of great necessity, when the loss of the lives of those concerned in it would be nothing to them. When the valley became full the water began to pour out through this gap, which perhaps happened to be immediately over the mouth of the tunnel, or it may have been altered by a few yards to suit, for they were, as we know from some of their buildings, such good workmen that they could fit slabs of the hardest stone so perfectly together that it is hardly possible to see the joints. Therefore they would only have to widen the mouth of the gorge a little, and fit rocks in on either side so that they would seem to have been there for all time; and indeed the natural growth of ferns and mosses would soon hide the joints, even if they had been roughly done." "And that all means, Harry--?" Bertie asked. "That all means that we have no more chance of getting at the gold than if it were lying in the deepest soundings in the Pacific." Bertie sat down with a gasp. "There is no way of getting that water out," Harry went on quietly, "except by either cutting a channel here as deep as the bottom of the lake, or by blasting the stone in the tunnel. The one would require years of work, with two or three hundred experienced miners, and ten times as many labourers. The other would need twenty or thirty miners, and a hundred or two labourers. There is possibly another way; but as that would require an immense iron siphon going down to the bottom of the lake, along one side of this ravine, and down into the bottom of the pool, with a powerful engine to exhaust the air in the first place and set it going, it is as impracticable, as far as we are concerned, as the other two. "In the same way I have no doubt that, with a thousand-horse-power engine, the lake could be pumped dry in time; but to transport the plant for such an engine and its boiler across the mountains would be an enormous undertaking; and even were it here, and put up and going, the difficulty of supplying it with fuel would be enormous. Certainly one could not get up a company with capital enough to carry out any one of the schemes merely on the strength of an Indian tradition; and with the uncertainty, even if they believed the tradition, whether the amount of gold recovered would be sufficient to repay the cost incurred. "Well, we may as well go down to dinner." He shouldered his pick and led the way back. Scarce a word was spoken on the way. Bertie tried to follow the example of his brother, and take the matter coolly. Dias walked with his head down and the air of a criminal going to execution. The disappointment to him was terrible. He had all along felt so confident that they should be successful, and that he should be enabled to enrich those he considered as the preservers of his life, that he was utterly broken down with the total failure of his hopes. CHAPTER X A FRESH START Not until he got to the camp did Harry look round. When he caught a glimpse of the guide's face he went up to him and held out his hand. "You must not take it to heart, Dias; it has been unfortunate, but that cannot be helped. You have done everything you could in the matter, and brought us to the right spot, and no one could tell that when we got within half a mile of the gold river we should find the valley turned into a deep lake. We can only say, 'Better luck next time'. We would say in England, 'There are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it'. I have never felt very sanguine myself about this; it has all along seemed too good to be true. Of course we are disappointed, but we may have better luck next time." "But I don't know, señor, with certainty of any other place. No one was ever entrusted with more than one secret, so that if the Spanish tortures wrung it out of him two treasures would not be lost." "We need not talk any more about this place, Dias. I see your wife has got some of the fish that we caught yesterday fizzling on the fire. Now I think of it, I am very hungry, for it is six hours since we had our coffee this morning. After we have had our meal we can discuss what our next move had better be." While they were speaking, José had been rapidly telling Maria the misfortune which had befallen them, and the tears were running down the woman's cheeks. "You must not feel so badly about it, Maria," Harry said cheerfully; "you see my brother and I are quite cheerful. At any rate, no one is to blame. It would have been an enormous piece of luck if we had succeeded, but we never looked on it as a certainty. Anything might have happened between the time the gold was shut up and now, though we certainly never expected to find what we did. We only thought it possible that we might have the luck to find the treasure. Now you had better look to those fish, or we shall lose our breakfast as we have lost our gold, and this time by our own fault. We are as hungry as hunters all of us; and in fact we are hunters, although we have not brought any game with us this time." The woman wiped away her tears hastily, and, taking off the fish which she had put on when they were coming down the hill, she laid them on plates with some freshly-baked cakes. The fish were excellent, and Bertie, as they ate, made several jokes which set them all laughing, so that the meal passed off cheerfully. "Now for the great consoler," Harry said, as he took out his pipe. "When we have all lighted up, the council shall begin. Never mind clearing away the plates now, Maria; just sit down with us, there is wisdom in many counsellors. Now, Dias, what do you think is the best course for us to adopt at present?" "Unless you wish to stay here and make further search?" "By no means, Dias," Harry said; "for the present, I have seen enough of this side of the mountains. We will get back to Cuzco and make a fresh start from there." "In that case, señor, there is no doubt as to the best route. There is a pass over the mountains just on the other side of Mount Tinta; it leads to the town of Ayapata, which lies somewhere at the foot of that peak. I have never been there, but I know its situation. It is a very steep pass, but as it is used for mule traffic it cannot be very bad. Once we have passed over it on to the plateau we shall not be more than seventy or eighty miles from Cuzco." "That is quite satisfactory. We will set off to-morrow." "We had better catch some more fish, for we have had no time for hunting lately," Maria said. "The meat we ate yesterday was the last we had with us. If we cut the fish open and lay them flat on the rocks, which are so hot one can scarcely hold one's hand on them, they will be sufficiently dry by sunset to keep for two or three days, and before that you are sure to shoot something." The river was full of fish, and in half an hour they had caught an abundance, having fifteen averaging eight pounds apiece. These were at once cut open, cleaned, and laid down to dry. "The fishing on this river would let for a handsome sum in England," Harry laughed; "and I think the fish are quite as good as trout of the same size. The only objection is that they are so tame, and take the bait so greedily, that, good as the stream is, they would soon be exterminated." That evening there was a slight stir among the animals which had just lain down. José leapt up and walked towards them. "There is something the matter, Dias," he cried; "the llamas are standing up with their ears forward. They see or hear something." "It may be pumas or jaguars," Dias said. "Take your gun, señor." He picked up his rifle, and Harry and Bertie followed suit, and further armed themselves with their shot-guns. "You had best come with us, Maria," her husband said. "There is no saying where the beasts may be. See! the mules are standing up now and pulling at their head-ropes. Let us go among them, señors, our presence will pacify them." They all moved towards the mules, which were standing huddled together. Dias and José spoke to them and patted them. "You stand at their heads, Maria," the former said, "and keep on talking to them. We must see if we can discover the beasts. There is one of them!" he exclaimed, but in a low tone. "Do you see the two bright points of light? That is the reflection of the fire in his eyes." "Shall I fire?" "No, señor, not yet. If we were only to wound him he would charge us; let us wait till he gets closer. Probably there are two of them, male and female, they generally go about in pairs." Even as he spoke the seeming sparks disappeared. "He has moved," Dias said; "he will probably walk round us two or three times before he makes up his mind to attack." "If he would go near the fire we could get a fair shot at him, Dias." "He won't do that, señor; he will most likely go backwards and forwards in a semicircle, getting perhaps a little closer each time." Ten minutes passed and then Maria said: "There are two of them. I can see their outlines distinctly." "Do you think, if we were to fire a gun, they would move off, Dias?" "They might for a time, señor, but the probability is that they would come back again. They have smelt the mules, and are probably hungry. It is better to let them attack us at once and have done with it." A minute or two later there was a snarling growl. "They are jaguars," Dias said. Again and again the threatening sound was heard, and in spite of Maria's efforts the mules were almost mad with fright. "We had better lie down beyond them," Dias said. "There is no doubt the beasts will come from that side. If we posted ourselves behind them the mules might break loose and knock us over just as we were taking aim." They lay down side by side on the grass with their rifles at their shoulders. "I can see them now, Dias," Harry whispered, "not more than fifty yards away. I think we could hardly miss them now." "You could not if it were daylight, señor; but in the dark, when you can't see the end of your rifle, you can never be certain about shooting." The beasts had now apparently made up their minds to attack. They crouched low, almost dragging their bellies on the ground, and one was somewhat in advance of the other. "That is the male ahead," Dias whispered. "Do you and your brother take aim. I will take the female, and José will hold his fire of buck-shot till she is within a length of us." "How shall I know when it is going to spring?" "When it stops, señor. It is sure to stop before it springs." "Aim between the eyes, Bertie, and fire when I do," Harry whispered to his brother, who was lying next to him. When within twelve yards the jaguar halted. "Now!" Harry said, and they discharged their rifles at the same moment, and, dropping them, grasped the shot-guns. The jaguar fell over on one side, clawing the air, and then recovered himself. As he did so two charges of buck-shot struck him on the head, and he rolled over and remained motionless. Dias had fired at the same moment, but he had not stopped the second jaguar. José, instead of waiting, hastily discharged his gun, and in another instant a dark body bounded over their heads on to the back of one of the mules, which it struck to the ground. Harry and Bertie leapt to their feet, and discharged their second barrels into the jaguar's body. It turned suddenly round and attempted to spring, but its hindquarters were paralysed; and Bertie, pulling out his pistol, fired both barrels into its head. The brute at once fell over dead, and the lad gave a shout of triumph. "Thank goodness that is over without accident!" Harry said. "They are formidable beasts, Dias." "In the daytime, when one can see to aim, they can be killed easily enough, señor; at night their presence is to be dreaded." "I am afraid we have lost a mule." "I think not, señor. He was knocked down by the shock, but he had his saddle on, and the brute had no time to carry him off." The mule rose to its feet as they spoke; José ran and brought a flaming brand from the fire. Blood was streaming from both the animal's shoulders. "It stuck its claws in, señor, but has not made long gashes. I should say that these wounds were caused by the contraction of the claws when you finished her with your pistol. The animal will be all right in a day or two; and as our stores have diminished, we need not put any load on it for a time." "I hope you were not frightened, Maria?" Bertie said "I was a little frightened," she said, "when the mule came tumbling down close to me, and I could see the jaguar's eyes within a few yards of me, but I had my dagger ready." "It would not have been much good," Dias said, "if the beast had attacked you." "I think you showed no end of pluck," Bertie said. "If he had come close to me, and I had got nothing but that little dagger in my hand, I should have bolted like a shot." "I am sure that you would not, señor," she said. "You are a great deal too brave for that." Bertie laughed. "It is all very well to be brave with a rifle in your hand and another gun ready, to say nothing of the pistols. By the way, I thought Harry had given you one of his? "So he did, but I had forgotten all about it. If I had thought of it I should have used it." "It is just as well that you did not," Harry said. "If you had done so, the brute would have made for you instead of turning round to attack us." "Now, señor," Dias put in, "we had better drag the jaguars away; the mules will never get quiet with the bodies so close to them." It needed all his strength and that of his companions to drag each of the bodies fifty yards away. "Now, José," Dias said when they returned, "you had better give the animals a feed of maize all round. They will settle down after that. I shall keep watch to-night, señor. It is not likely that any more of these beasts are in the neighbourhood; but it is as well to be careful, and I don't think any of us would sleep if someone were not on the look-out." "I will relieve you at two o'clock," Harry said. "No, señor, I have not been on the watch for the past two nights. I would rather sit up by the fire to-night." Two days later they arrived at the foot of the pass. Just as they gained it they met two muleteers coming down it. Dias entered into conversation with them, while the others erected tents, preparing to camp. "What is the news, Dias?" Harry asked as he returned. "The men say, señor, that the pass is very unsafe. Many robberies have taken place in it, and several men, who endeavoured to defend themselves against the brigands, have been killed. They were questioned by four armed men as they came down, and the goods they were carrying down to Ayapata were taken from them. They say that traffic has almost ceased on the road." "That is bad, Dias." "Very bad, señor. We need not be afraid of brigands if they meet us as we travel along the foot of the hills, but it would be another thing in the passes. There are many places where the mules would have to go in single file, and if we were caught in such a spot by men on the heights, we might be shot down without any chance of defending ourselves successfully." "That is awkward, Dias. It is a scandal that these brigands are not rooted out." "People are thinking too much of fighting each other or their neighbours to care anything about the complaints of a few muleteers, señor." "Is there no other way of crossing the mountains than by this pass?" "There is a pass, señor, between Ayapata and Crucero, but it is a very bad one." "And where should we be then, Dias?" "Well, señor, it would take us along the other side of the mountains to Macari. From that place there is an easy path to La Raya; there we are on the plateau again, and have only to travel by the road through Sicuani to Cuzco." "In fact, it would double the length of our journey to Cuzco?" "Yes, señor; but if you liked, from Crucero you might go down to Lake Titicaca. There are certainly good mines in the mountains there." "Yes, but is there any chance of our finding them?" "I can't say that, señor, but I fear that the chance would be very small." "Then it is of no use trying, Dias. We saw at the last place what pains the old people took to hide places where gold could be found, and if there had been rich mines among these mountains you speak of, no doubt they would have hidden them just as carefully. The question is, shall we go up this pass as we intended, and take our chance, or shall we go by this roundabout way?" By this time José had lit a fire, and they had seated themselves by it. "One hates turning back, but we are not pressed for time. As far as I can see, my only chance is the feeble one of finding treasure in the place you spoke of up the coast above Callao. It is now four months since we left Lima. Travelling straight to that place would take us how long?" "Well, señor, if we go round by Ayapata to Crucero, and then to Macari, it would be nearly a thousand miles." "Quite a thousand, I should think. That is three months' steady work. By the time we get there it will be about a year from the time we left England. I have seen quite enough of the mountains to know that our chance of finding anything among them is so small that it is not worth thinking of. It seems to me, therefore, Dias, that we might just as well, instead of going south over these difficult passes, return by the foot of the mountains as we have come, going through Paucartambo, crossing the rivers that flow north and fall somewhere or other into the Amazon, and keeping along it till we come to Cerro de Pasco. There we should be nearly in a line with this place you know of, and can keep due west--that is to say, as nearly due west as the mountains will allow. It would be three or four hundred miles shorter than by taking the pass at Ayapata. We should have a good deal of sport by the way, and should certainly have no trouble with the brigands till we got to Cerro. Of course it is possible that we might fall in with savages again, but at any rate they are not so formidable as brigands in the passes. What do you say to that?" "It is certainly shorter, señor; and, as you say, we should have no trouble with the brigands, and we should also escape the troubles that have been going on for some years, and are likely, as far as anyone can see, to go on for ever. We were very fortunate in not meeting any of the armies that are always marching about." CHAPTER XI BRIGANDS Three months were spent in the journey to the foot of the pass leading up to Cerro. They had good shooting, and found no difficulty in providing themselves with food. Fish were plentiful in the streams, and in some of the long-deserted plantations they found bananas, grapes, and other fruits in abundance, together with sugar-canes, tomatoes, maize growing wild, and potatoes which were reverting to the wild type. They met neither with alligators nor large serpents, for they kept on the lower slopes of the foot-hills, as much as possible avoiding the low forest lands, where they might come in contact with the savages. For the same reason, they had no opportunity of taking any of the great fish found in the sluggish rivers, but had an abundance of smaller fish in the bright mountain streams. They killed two tapirs and several pumas and jaguars. Their two llamas, having one night wandered away from the mules, were killed by these beasts. But as the stores were a good deal lighter than when they started, this was no great misfortune. Occasionally they followed streams up into the hills, and did a little washing for gold when they halted for a day or two there. "We have had a good time of it," Harry said as they sat round the fire, "and I am almost sorry that it is over, and that this is our last day of wandering where we like, shooting and fishing, and above all, camping in pleasant places. We have been very fortunate in not meeting any of the savages since the fight we had with them four or five months ago. It is a splendid country for sport, and except that we should like it a bit cooler, and could have done without some of the thunder-storms, it is a grand life. For a time now we are going back to a sort of civilization, filthy inns, swarms of fleas, and fifteenth-rate cooking." "It is not so much the fault of the cooking," Maria said, "as of the meat. Here we get fish fresh out of the stream, and birds shot an hour or two before they are eaten. We pick our fruit from the trees, instead of buying it after it has been carried miles and miles to the market. We have a capital stock of coffee, tea, and sugar. Among the old plantations we pick cocoa and pound it fresh, and boil it. As we brought plenty of pepper and spices, it would be hard indeed if one could not turn out a good meal. And then, señors, you always come to eat it with a good appetite, which is all in favour of the cook." "Yes, I grant that you have had all those advantages, Maria, but it is not everybody who makes the best of them. I can safely say that since we started we have never sat down to a bad breakfast or dinner. Now, for a bit, we are going to lead a different sort of life. We shall be on beaten tracks. We shall meet lots of people. It is strange to think that, except for those peasant muleteers we met at the foot of the pass by the Tinta volcano, we have not seen a soul except the savages--who have souls, I suppose--since we left Paucartambo more than six months ago; and yet somehow we do not seem to have missed them. I wonder what we shall find when we get up to Cerro, and who will be president then." "I wonder what they are doing in Europe!" Bertie said. "We have heard no later news than what we had when we went on board a ship sixteen months ago. There may have been great wars all over Europe." "I don't think there is much chance of that, Bertie. India was the only place where there was any fighting going on, and it seemed as if, since Napoleon was crushed, Europe would become permanently pacific. Still, I do hope that when we are at Lima we shall get hold of a pile of English newspapers. The consul is sure to have them." "I don't suppose we shall want to stay there many days, Harry, for we shall be eager to start the search for the enchanted castle Dias has told us of. We saw quite enough of Lima during the ten days that we were there." "Is the pass a bad one up to Cerro, Dias?" "There are some very bad points, señor. It never was a good one, but as nothing has been done to the roads for at least a hundred years, it must have got into a very bad state. I have been down it twice with travellers, the second time ten years ago, and it was bad enough then. It is likely to be worse now." "Well, as the road is used so little, Dias," Harry said, "there is no fear of brigands." "I hope not, señor; but there may be some, though they would not be there in the hope of plundering travellers. But desperate men are always to be found in the mountains--men who have committed murders and fled from justice. They are able to live on what they can shoot, and of course they can get fish in the streams, and when they are tired of that can come down here, where they will find plenty of turkeys, and pheasants, and other game, besides the maize, and fruits, and other things in the old plantations. Sometimes they will take a little plunder from the small villages. Anyhow, they do not fare altogether badly. Therefore one can never feel certain that one is safe from them, even when travelling over tracks where travellers seldom pass. Still, we may very well hope that we shall not have the bad luck to fall in with them." "I hope so, Dias. We did not come out here to fight. So far we have been very fortunate, and have not had to fire a shot, except at those wretched savages." The next day's journey took them far up into the hills, and they camped that night at the upper end of a deep ravine. It had been a hard day's work, for at several points the mules had to be unloaded and taken up singly, and the loads then carried up. Fortunately, the packs were now very light, and were carried or hauled up without much difficulty. In the morning they again started. They were just issuing from the ravine when a party of ten armed men made their appearance from amongst some rocks, and shouted to them to halt. Dias rode in front. "You speak to them, Dias. Keep them for a minute in talk if you can, and then take shelter behind that boulder." Then Harry ran back to José, who was walking with a leading mule twenty paces behind. "Turn them back again, José. Halt a little way down, and then come up; there are some brigands ahead. Bertie, bring up your rifle and the two shot-guns. Tell Maria to remain with the mules." Then he ran back again just as a shot rang out, and, dodging among the fallen rocks, he took shelter behind one abreast with Dias. "Was it you who fired?" he asked. "No, one of the brigands. The ball went through the brim of my sombrero. I think they are talking to each other, they know there is no hurry." "Hail them again, Dias, but don't show yourself above the rock." "What do you want? Why did you fire at me?" "We want everything you have got," a voice came back--"your mules and their burdens, and your arms. If you will give them up without resistance, we will let you up the pass without hindering you." "Tell them that you must talk it over with the others, Dias." "Well, we will give you five minutes," the man called back. "If you do not accept our terms, we will cut your throats." Dias stood up, and walked quietly down the rugged pass. At the point where the mules stopped, the rock rose almost perpendicularly on each side. "Maria," he said, "do you and José take off the saddles and bags and fill up the spaces between these rocks on each side. Get the animals in behind them. You stop with them, Maria. I have got five minutes, and will help you." "You had better go up at once, señor," he went on to Bertie, "and help your brother, so that they may not get sight of you. However, I am afraid they know how many we are. It was foolish to light that fire yesterday evening, I expect they were somewhere near and caught sight of us, and no doubt one of them crept quietly down to find out what our force was. Seeing there were but four of us, they thought they could take us all easily here in the morning without firing a shot. But as your brother and I happened to be going on first, they thought they would parley. They would be sure that if they attacked us, we should kill two or three of them at least before we had finished with them. And as they reckoned that we should gladly accept their terms, they would get all they wanted without trouble, and could shoot us afterwards if they felt inclined." Bertie had by this time got the guns unstrapped, and had filled his pockets with cartridges. He now went forward, and as he kept among the rocks he was able to get within four or five yards of his brother without being seen, as the mouth of the pass was almost blocked with great boulders. "I cannot get any nearer without running the risk of being seen. I have loaded the double-barrelled guns." "Stay where you are then, Bertie. I don't think they will make a rush, and if they do, you can use them as well as your rifle. Of course I have my pistols and you have yours. I don't believe they will venture to attack in daylight, our trouble will be after dark." "Now, then, the five minutes are up!" the brigand shouted. "I am coming!" Dias shouted back. As he approached, Harry said: "Stand by the side of a rock, Dias, so as to be able to shelter as soon as you have given them the answer; they are likely enough to fire a volley." "We will give you nothing," Dias shouted. "Anything you want you had better come and take." Three men raised their heads above the rocks and fired. Almost at the same instant Harry's rifle and Bertie's cracked out, the heads disappeared, and a fierce yell of rage showed that one, if not both of the shots had found their mark. "You had better clear off," Harry shouted. "There are four of us, and we have eight barrels between us, to say nothing of two brace of pistols." A volley of curses was hurled back in reply. "Now, Dias, what do you think is our best move?" "I don't know, señor. I fancy there are only eight of them now. You and your brother could hardly miss marks like their heads at thirty paces." "If I were quite sure that there are no more of them I should say that, as soon as it becomes dark, we had better creep forward and fight them. It would be better to do that than wait for them to attack us. But there may be, and very likely are, more of these bands among the hills. Besides, Dias, we don't want to lose one of our number, and we could hardly hope to get through unscathed, for if we were to try to push on they would have us at a tremendous advantage. They would hide among the rocks and shoot us down before we had time to level a gun at them. Now that we have killed one, if not two of their number, they will certainly try to get their revenge, and will harass us all the way up the pass." "It is not only that, señor; it is the booty they expect to take." "They could not expect much booty," Harry said, "for our baggage animals only carry small loads." "Gold does not take up a large bulk, señor; and I have not the least doubt that they believe we have been gold-hunting, and have probably a big amount of gold dust among the baggage." "I did not think of that, Dias. If they believe we have gold we will take it as granted that they will do their best to get it. Well, do you think it would be a good thing to make a rush?" "No, señor, it would be throwing away our lives. They will guess that we shall probably attempt such a thing, and I have no doubt that they will move away, if they haven't done so already, and hide themselves among other rocks. Then if we dashed forward to the place where they had been, they would pour a volley into us and finish us at once; for if they were lying twenty yards away they ought certainly to hit every one of us, as they have eight shots to fire. At present I have no doubt they are talking, and I think we can safely get back to where we piled up the saddles and bales. We can defend ourselves better there than here. We can then talk matters over quietly." "That will be the best plan, Dias, certainly." Keeping under cover as well as they could they retired to the barricade, thirty yards lower. José, aided by Maria, had completed the defence. They had not, however, attempted to block the passage between two great rocks. It was but three feet wide; the rocks lay about six feet from the cliffs on either side, and these spaces were partly filled by smaller fragments. Wherever there were open spaces the blankets had been thrust in from behind. Dias had done the greater part of the work before he went up to answer the demands of the bandits, but the others had laboured very hard to finish it. "Well done!" Harry said as they passed through the entrance. "I told them not to close the path," Dias said. "We can do that now we are all together. Most of the rocks are too heavy for José and Maria to lift. Shall we build it up now, señor? I am sure they cannot force their way through while we four are holding the barricade." "Certainly not, Dias, and I have no fear of their attempting it. But I think it would be as well for us to close it, otherwise we could not cross from one side to the other without exposing ourselves." It took them two hours' hard work--the harder because the stones had to be thrown into the passage from the sides, as the brigands might be crouching among the rocks higher up waiting for an opportunity to get a shot. At the end of the two hours the gap was filled up to the height of six feet. "Now we can talk matters over quietly, Dias," Harry said. "We may take it that, whether they attack by day or by night, we can beat them off. There is a little rill of water that trickles down along the centre, so we need not fear being driven out by thirst, and we have food enough to last us a fortnight. That is settled; but they may stay there for any time, and without exposing ourselves to sudden death we cannot find out whether they are still hanging about or not. Of course one very important question is, are they going to be joined by others?" "I think they certainly will be, señor. As many of these fellows are hiding among the hills as would make a good-sized regiment, and they have only to send off two or three of their number with the news that a party of gold-diggers with five laden mules are shut up in this ravine to gather any number of them. They would come as quickly as vultures to a dead horse. It must be a long time since they had any really valuable plunder, and the fact that we have five baggage mules besides the three riding ones would show that we had probably been a very long time away, and might therefore possess a lot of gold." "Are there any other passes near?" "The nearest, señor, is on the other branch of the Palcazu--the river we followed till we entered the passes--and is about thirty miles to the north. The pass starts from a spot about fifteen miles above the junction, and goes up to Huaca, a place that is little more than ten miles south of Huanuco. From Huaca we could either follow the road to Cerro, or strike across the Western Cordilleras to Aguamiro." "Then I think, Dias, that our best plan will be to go down again into the valley we left yesterday morning, and then strike across for the mouth of this pass you speak of. You know the direction?" "I know the general direction, although I have never been along there." "Well, Dias, you must be the guide. I should say the sooner we start the better. My idea is this: If you with your wife and José will start at once, so as to be down the pass before it gets dark, my brother and I will remain here. You will leave our riding mules at the point where the track is good enough for us to gallop on." "We should not like to leave you, señor," Maria said. "I have not the least fear of their attacking us, and with our rifles and double-barrelled guns and pistols we could beat them off if they did. I can't see any better way of getting out of this scrape, and am quite willing to adopt this plan." "I don't see any other way, señor," Dias said. "The plan is a good one; but I wish I could stay here with you." "But that would be impossible, Dias, for there would be no chance of our finding the mouth of this pass by ourselves." "Why could we not all go together?" Maria asked. "Because if there were no one here the brigands might discover that we had gone, within an hour or so of our starting. They might fire a shot or two, and, finding that we did not answer, crawl gradually down till they got here, for it must seem possible to them that we should return down the pass; and as there is no getting the baggage mules to go fast, we might very well be overtaken--I don't mean by those eight men, but by a considerable number." "But how are you to find your way, señor?" Dias said. "We shall follow the valley down till we come to the spot where you have struck off. You can fasten a white handkerchief to a stick and put it in some bare place where we are sure to see it. I want you to halt when you get to the river somewhere opposite the mouth of the pass. We will ride nearly due north, and when we strike the river will follow it down till we reach you." "We can't halt opposite the mouth of the pass, for the river there is already some size, and we could not cross it. I shall keep along near the foot of the hills--the water there is shallow enough to ford. Then I will follow it down until, as you say, near the entrance to the pass, and there stop on the bank till you come." "That will do very well. In that case it won't matter much where we strike the stream, as our mules can swim across easily enough--they have had plenty of practice during the past six months. However, we will turn off north where we can see your signal." "When will you leave, señor?" "To-morrow morning. I have no fear of their attacking during the night, for they can hardly bring other bands down here before morning. As soon as it gets dark we will light two torches and put them down at the foot of the barricade, so that we shall be in the shadow. These will show them that we are still here, and they won't care to venture down into the circle of light. We have let them know what a formidable amount of firearms we have, and have given them a lesson that we can shoot straight." "They certainly would not come, señor, as long as your torches are burning, but three hours are as much as you can reckon upon their burning." "Well, we have a dozen left now, Dias, and when they burn out we must light two more and throw them over and trust to their burning as they lie among the stones. Of course we should not think of going down to stick them upright, for the scoundrels will probably be watching us as closely as we are watching them. However, I shall manage to keep the lights going till daybreak, and shall start a good hour before that. We shall have to go down cautiously, and I should like to be well away with the mules before they discover that we have left. Now, the sooner you are off the better. Breakfast has been ready for the past hour. You had better eat it and get under weigh as soon as you can. After you have gone one of us will keep watch while the other eats. I have no doubt there will be plenty left for our supper." "Yes, señor, and enough cakes to carry you on till you join us." Half an hour later the party started, Dias having muffled the mules' hoofs, so that the clatter, as they passed over the rocks, might not be heard above. "Now, Bertie, you go down to breakfast. When you have done come up and relieve me. You have no occasion to hurry, for it is absolutely certain that they won't dare to attack till they get reinforcements." When Bertie returned he said, "Here is a lot of food, Harry, they have hardly eaten anything. There is plenty for us to-day and to-morrow." "That is just like them, Bertie; but I daresay they will camp in five or six hours. It feels quite lonely without them." "That it does. It is really the first time we have been alone since we left Lima, except, of course, when we were out shooting together." "Be sure you don't show your head above the barricade, Bertie. You must do as I have been doing, sit down here and look out through this peep-hole between these rocks Shove your rifle through it, so that, if you see a head looking out from between the rocks up there, you can fire at once." In half an hour Harry came back and sat down by his brother, and, lighting their pipes, they chatted over the events of their journey and the prospect before them. "I am afraid, Harry, the journey will be a failure, except that we have had a very jolly time." "Well, so far it has not turned out much; but, somehow or other, I have great faith in this haunted castle. Of course the demons Dias is so afraid of are probably Indians, who are placed there to frighten intruders away, and they would not keep watch unless they had something to guard. I cannot understand how it has escaped the notice of the Spaniards all these years. I had not much faith in their stories until we found how true they were in all particulars as to what they call the golden river. There is one satisfaction, however: if the place is really a castle, it can hardly have disappeared under the lake. Of course if it is in ruins we may have a lot of difficulty in getting at the vaults, or wherever else treasure may have been buried; but unless it is a very big place, which is hardly probable, the work would be nothing compared with the draining of the lake." "We have got nearly a year in hand, Harry, and can do a lot of work in that time, especially if we use powder." "Yes; but, you see, we ought to allow at least five months for getting home. Still, no doubt if I felt justified in writing to ask for another three or four months, saying I had great hopes of finding something very good in a short time, she would stand out against her father a little longer. I shall write directly we get to Lima to say that, although I have so far failed, I do not give up hope, and am just starting on another enterprise that promises well." Bertie held up his finger. "I think I heard somebody move. It sounded like a stone being turned over." For two or three minutes he lay motionless, with his finger on the trigger. Then he fired. "What was it, Bertie?" "It was a man's leg. I suddenly saw it below that rift behind the rock. I expect he had no idea that his foot showed there. I am pretty sure I hit it, for I had time to take a steady aim, and the foot disappeared the instant I fired. If he did not know it was exposed, there was no reason why he should have moved at all if he hadn't been hit." "It was better to hit his foot than his head, Bertie. It is equally good as a lesson, if not better, for though we don't mean to let them kill us, I don't want to take life unless it is absolutely necessary. Well, after that proof of the sharpness of our watch they are not likely to make any fresh move." The day passed slowly. They took it by turns to keep watch, and just before dusk Harry said, "I think, Bertie, that we might pull out the leaves and bush that Dias shoved into one of these gaps when he took the blankets and things out. I could push the torch through and fix it there, that would save having to cross the barricade. It is quite possible that one of those fellows may be keeping as sharp a look-out as we are doing, and it is as well not to set one's self up as a mark. If I put it through now it won't show much, while if I wait till darkness falls it will be an easy object to fire at. You keep a sharp lookout while I am doing this, and if you see either a head or a gun try to hit it." Harry accomplished the operation without drawing a shot, and as soon as he had fixed the torch he again stopped the hole up behind it. "It is evident that they are not watching us very closely," he said. "If they have not sent for help, they have gone off. With two of their men killed and two disabled, the fight must have been taken out of them. We will watch by turns to-night. It is six o'clock now; will you sit up till eleven, or shall I?" "I don't care a bit. Which would you rather take?" "I don't care;--however, I may as well take the first watch. We will start at five, so rouse me at four. If they come at all, which is possible, but not probable, it will be between four and five." At ten o'clock Harry could see a glow of light at some distance from the mouth of the ravine, and in the stillness could occasionally catch the sound of voices. When he woke Bertie at twelve the lad looked at his watch and said, "You are an hour late in calling me, Harry." "Yes, I had no inclination for sleep. The fellows have been reinforced. Of course I don't know to what extent, but I should say pretty strongly. They have lit a big fire some distance from the ravine. They would not have dared to light one if they had not felt themselves strong enough to fight us. No doubt they have half a dozen men on watch where we first saw them, and these would give notice if we were coming. I think we may as well fire a couple of shots, it will show them that we are here and on guard. They will suppose we thought we heard someone coming down to reconnoitre our position." They both fired over the top of the barricade. "I see you have renewed the torch, Harry," Bertie said as they reloaded. "Yes, I have done so twice. I was very careful, however, as I feared they might be watching. I did not wait for the lighted one to burn out, but passed the other one out, putting the end of my poncho round my hand and arm, so that they could hardly be noticed even by anyone within ten yards, and certainly could not be seen from up there. As I pushed it through I lighted it at the stump of the old torch and then withdrew my hand like a shot. I did the same thing again an hour ago with equal success, so it is evident that they are not keeping a very sharp look-out above, and have no fear of our making a sortie, hampered as we are by our animals." The torch was changed again at four o'clock, and a little later Bertie heard a slight noise. "I think they are coming, Harry," he said quietly. Harry was at once on his feet. "Use your rifle first, Bertie, and sling it over your shoulder before you give them the two barrels of buck-shot, so that you can start to run at once if we don't stop them." "Yes, I am certain they are coming," he said, after listening for two or three minutes. "We have got two or three torches left, and I will give them the benefit of them." He went back to the embers of the fire, lighted the torches, and, returning to the barrier, threw them twenty or thirty yards up the ravine. There was a hoarse shout of anger, and then a dozen shots were fired. Bertie's rifle cracked out in return, and Harry's followed almost immediately. A dark group of some twenty or thirty men were rushing forward, and had just reached the line where the torches were burning, when four barrels of buck-shot were poured into them. Three or four fell, the rest fled at once, and the cries and oaths showed that many of them were wounded. "They won't venture again for the present," Harry said. "You may be sure they will hold a council of war, so load again and then we will be off." Two minutes later they were making their way carefully down the rocky passage, Harry carrying the bundle they had made up of the unconsumed provisions. As they had to exercise great care in climbing over the rocks, the day was just breaking when they came upon two mules that had been left behind for them. They rode cautiously until they were quite out of the ravine, and then started down the valley at a gallop. In an hour Bertie exclaimed, "There is the flag!" They rode to it and then turned off to the north, slackening their pace to a trot. The animals were in good condition, as they had of late been making short marches, and at eleven o'clock they came upon the river. Here they waited for an hour, gave a couple of cakes to each animal, and ate the rest themselves. The river was some fifty yards across, but the mules only needed to swim about half this distance. The brothers kept beside them, placing one elbow on the saddles and holding their rifles and ammunition well above the water. They were soon across, and, mounting, followed the river down, letting the animals go their own pace, and sometimes walking beside them, as they wished to keep them fresh for the next day's work. At five in the afternoon they saw smoke ahead of them, and, riding faster now, soon joined their companions, who hailed their arrival with shouts of joy. "We have been terribly anxious about you, señors," Dias said, "and regretted deeply that we deserted you." "It was not desertion, Dias; you were obeying orders, and were on duty guarding the baggage. There was really no cause for uneasiness; we were certain that we could beat them off if they ventured to attack us." "And did they do so?" "They made a feeble attack this morning at four o'clock, but we were ready for them. They might have carried the barricade had we only had our rifles, but buck-shot was too much for them. Of course we brought down two with our rifles; but there must have been over a score of them, and the four barrels of buck-shot did heavy execution. Some of them fell, and I fancy most of the others got a dose of shot, as they were all in a close body. I will tell you all about it after we have had supper." "I have got it ready," Maria said. "We have been expecting you for the past hour, and I was sure you would have good appetites when you arrived." After the story had been told Dias said: "That was a capital plan of keeping the torches burning all night, and especially of throwing two of them up the ravine when you heard the fellows coming. Of course they calculated on getting within fifteen yards or so before you saw them. Well, there is no fear of our hearing any more of them. I expect you must have been gone hours before they found out that you had left." "I should not be surprised if, after they had recovered from their defeat, half of them made a big circuit over the hills--no doubt they know every foot of them--and, coming down at the bottom of the ravine, built a strong barricade, making up their minds to guard both ends until we were obliged to surrender from want of food. Having suffered so heavily, they would do everything in their power to prevent any of us from getting out alive." "In that case they must have been prepared to wait for some time, Dias, for they knew we had eight animals to eat." "They would not have lasted long, señor, for we have only a few handfuls of grain left, and there is not enough forage in the ravine to last them a couple of days." "I expect they would have tried to get us to surrender, by offering to let us pass if we would give them half of the gold they thought we had with us. There is no chance of our being followed, I suppose, Dias?" "Not the slightest. When at last they discover that we have gone, they will come down the pass and find where the mules were left standing. They will then see that only two of us had remained at the barricade, and will guess at once that the rest left hours before. They will therefore conclude that, being on foot, they have no chance of overtaking us, even if they could find the track." "No, I expect by this time they are dancing with rage, and as likely as not quarrelling furiously among themselves. How far do you think we have ridden to-day?" "Nearer sixty miles than fifty, señor." "Yes, I suppose we have. And if we had come straight here?" "It would have been nearly fifteen miles shorter. But if they pursued they would not come that way, because they would not be able to get across. I think they would have to go round and ford the river some miles higher than you did. They could never swim across with their guns and ammunition to carry." "I should not count on that, Dias. They might come straight here, as they would guess that we had made for this pass, and they might make bundles of reeds to carry their guns and ammunition across, and swim over." "That would be possible," Dias admitted reluctantly, "and if they knew that the five mules were all loaded with gold they might be tempted to follow; but that they could only guess. I have no doubt, too, that many of them had been walking for hours across the mountains before the attack, and as you fired into the thick of them, a fair share must have been too much wounded to start on a forty-miles' tramp. "No, señor. I do not think there is any chance whatever of their pursuing us. Besides, I chose a spot where the ground was hard and rocky to plant that flag. And they would have a good deal of difficulty in ascertaining in what direction we went from there." "We pulled up the flag-staff and threw it away among the bushes a mile and a half farther, and of course brought the handkerchief with us." "I don't think we need give another thought to them, señor. At the same time, it would be as well to keep one on watch all night. José and I will be on guard by turns. Neither of you slept a wink last night, so you must not keep watch this time." "I sha'n't be sorry for a good sleep, for the meal we have eaten has made me drowsy. However, if you hear the least noise, wake us at once." "That I will do, señor. It is a great deal more likely to be made by a wild beast than by a brigand." The brothers were sound asleep in a few minutes, and did not wake till Dias called them, and said that Maria had coffee ready. "What sort of a pass is it to-day, Dias?" "Not a very bad one, señor. The one we tried yesterday hadn't been used for very many years, there is regular traffic up and down this; not valuable traffic, for Pozuco is a small place. They send up fruit and dried fish, and the oil they get from the fish; and bring back cloth, and such things as are required in the village." "So there is nothing to tempt brigands to infest the pass and rob travellers!" "No, señor. When I last went through it I heard no talk of them at all. They are more likely to infest the hills beyond Cerro, for near that place really valuable captures can be made." "That accounts for their being able to gather so many men to attack us." The journey up the pass occupied two days. They met three or four small parties of men with donkeys or mules, but all these when questioned said that the pass was perfectly open, and that it was a very rare thing indeed for anyone to be robbed on the way. Late in the evening of the second day they arrived at Huaca, and were advised to go to the priest's house, as the accommodation at the inn was so bad. The man who directed them there was the head man of the place, and they gladly accepted his offer to guide them to the priest's house. "It would be the best way, señor," Dias said. "I know a man here who would willingly put us up, and who has a yard where the mules could pass the night." "Very well, Dias. Be sure you buy a good stock of grain. They have scarce had any for the last three days." The priest--a cheery, hearty man--received Harry and Bertie cordially when they were introduced as English travellers, especially when he found that they could both speak Spanish fluently. "It is a pleasure to receive British travellers," he said. "Cochrane and Miller have done more for us than any of our own countrymen. It is not often that travellers come this way. I have heard of two or three going to Cuzco, but they never come farther north than Cerro. I shall be delighted if you will stay two or three days here, señors. We get so little news of the world that it would be a great pleasure to us to hear what is going on outside this unfortunate country." "We can give you but little news, for it is more than a year since we left England, and we have heard nothing of what is doing in Europe, as we have been travelling and shooting at the foot of the mountains between the bottom of this pass and Tinta volcano." "And gold seeking?" the priest asked with a twinkle in his eye. "We have occasionally washed the sands in the streams, but have not found enough to repay our work. The amount we have gathered is only about twenty ounces." "Well, gentlemen, I shall be delighted to have you as my guests as long as you are willing to stay." "We are greatly obliged to you," Harry said, "and will gladly be your guests. To-morrow the animals need a rest, and we shall enjoy one too. Next morning we must be going on, as we have been away longer than we ought, and want to get down to Lima quickly." They had great difficulty in getting away from Huaca, where the good priest made them extremely comfortable, and was very loath to let them go. However, at dawn on the second day they started for Cerro, and arrived there forty-eight hours later after a rough journey through the Mils. "We never know in Peru, when we go to bed, who will be president when we wake," Dias said that evening. "There have been a dozen of them in the past five years. Lamar, Gamarra, La Fuente, Orbegozo, Bermudes, and Salaverry succeeded one another; then Santa Cruz became master. Nieto had the upper hand for a bit, and at that time there was no travelling on the roads, they were so infested by robbers; one band was master of Lima for some time. Then the Chilians occupied Lima; Santa Cruz was defeated, and Gamarra came in again. None of these men was ever supreme over the whole country. Generals mutinied with the troops under them, other leaders sprang up, and altogether there has been trouble and civil war ever since the Spaniards left. That is why the country is so full of robbers. When an army was defeated, those who escaped took to the hills and lived by plunder until some other chief revolted, then they would go down and join him; and so it has gone on." "Who composed those armies? because the fields seem to have been well cultivated, and the peasants are quiet enough." "Yes, señor, for the most part they take no part in these affairs. The men who compose the armies were in the first place the remains of those who fought against the Spaniards. When the Spaniards left the country these men had nothing to do, and were ready to enlist under anyone who raised a flag and promised them pay. Of bourse there are many men in the towns who are too lazy to work, and who help to keep up the supply of armed men. The good God only knows when these things will come to an end. A few of those who have come into power really loved their country, and hoped to establish order and do away with all the abuses caused by the men who were appointed to offices by one or another of those tyrants; but most of them were ambitious soldiers, who led mutineers against the chief of the moment. If Heaven would but destroy or strike with blindness the soldiers--and above all, every official in Peru--the country might hope for peace and good government. The best man who has ever fought out here since Lord Cochrane left the place was General Miller, your countryman, who was splendidly brave. He was always true to his word, never allowed his soldiers to plunder, and never ill-treated those captured in battle. Ah! they should have made him president, but it would never have done. As the Chilians were jealous of Lord Cochrane, the Peruvians were jealous of Miller, first because he was a foreigner, secondly because his uprightness and fidelity were a reproach to their ambition and treachery, their greed, and their cruelty. Besides, he understood them too well, and if all Peru had asked him to be president, he knew well enough that conspiracies against him would begin the next morning. Ah, he was a great man! "Well, señor, I think that before we start it will be well that I at least should go on to Ayapata and find out what is doing. That would only delay us two days, and we might be better able to judge as to which route to take. They may be fighting in the north, and we do not want to get mixed up in any way in their quarrels." "I think that would be a very good plan, Dias. You start in the morning, and we will stay quietly here till you come back with the news. If many brigands are in the pass they might get to hear of us from someone going over from this side, and take it into their heads to come down. I would certainly rather not have to fight with you away." Accordingly next morning Dias went on ahead. On the following evening he rejoined them. "There is fresh trouble in the south, señor. Colonel Vivancohidas has declared himself Regenerator of Peru, and is now marching against Gamarra, and General Castilla is advancing against him. The fighting will be somewhere near Arequipa. Whichever wins will presently cross the mountains and make for Cuzco." "Then that settles it, Dias. Certainly I have heard nothing in Gamarra's favour, but a great deal against him, since I landed, and I care nothing about either side; but I hope the new man will win, because I think that any change from Gamarra will be an improvement." CHAPTER XII PRISONERS When they arrived at Cerro de Pasco they found that the division of Gamarra's army stationed in the district had mutinied and had declared for Vivancohidas, and were killing all those known as adherents of Gamarra. All traffic was at a stand-still. Numbers of the soldiers who did not choose to join in the mutiny had taken to the hills, and were pillaging convoys and peaceful travellers alike. "I think, señor," Dias said, "that instead of crossing the Cordilleras to the west, as we had intended, it will be better for us to go south, skirt the lake of Junin, and make for Oroya. That is the route generally taken, for the passes west are terribly difficult. I have traversed this route many times, and when going with merchandise I always go through Oroya, though in returning from Cerro I take the shorter route." "Very well, Dias, you are the best judge of that. It is a great nuisance that this rising should have taken place just as we want to traverse the country, but it can't be helped. I will go to the head-quarters of Quinda--he is established at the mayor's house here--and get a pass from him. "It would be well, perhaps, if you were to go with me, Dias, to confirm my statement that we have been shooting and hunting. I hope he will give us a pass, so that we shall not be interfered with by his men gathered at different points on the road to Oroya. I hear that a considerable portion of his force have already marched forward." The Peruvian colonel questioned Harry closely as to his motives for travelling there. "I suppose," he said, "you have been searching for gold. We are sorely in need of funds, and I shall feel myself obliged to borrow any gold that you may have collected for the use of my army, giving you an order on the treasury at Lima, which will, of course, be honoured as soon as the authority of President Vivancohidas is established." "I do not doubt the goodness of the security," Harry said quietly, "although possibly I might have to wait some time before the order was cashed; but while hunting I have not come upon any treasure. We have occasionally, when halting at streams, amused ourselves by doing a little gold-washing, but when I tell you that during the eight months since we started from Cuzco we have only collected about twenty ounces of gold, you may well suppose that no good fortune has attended us." "Is that all, señor?" "I give you my word of honour that is all, señor; and as I shall have to lay in a store of provisions and so on for my journey down to Lima, you may well imagine that it would be a serious inconvenience to me to part with it." "Quite so, señor; so small a sum as that would not go far among the four thousand men under my command. However, I shall have pleasure in giving you the pass that you ask. You have had good sport, I hope?" "As good as I expected. We kept ourselves in food, and have seen a splendid country, which I hope some time will again be cultivated, and add to the wealth of your country." After a further exchange of compliments Harry returned to the inn where they had put up. Next morning, after purchasing some coffee and other stores that were needed, they set out. "Now we are all right, Dias," Harry said as they started. "I hope so, señor; but from what I heard yesterday evening several strong bands of disaffected soldiers are in the hills between this and Oroya. Quinda's troops have by no means all joined him, and several companies that broke off have stationed themselves in the hills along this road. They have stopped and robbed more than one mule train with silver from the mines there. They have not meddled, as far as I hear, with Quinda's troops, but have simply seized the opportunity of perpetrating brigandage on a large scale." "Well, we must take our chance, Dias. Fortunately we have money enough at Lima to replace the animals. We have pretty well finished all our stores, and beyond the tents and the bedding, which would be a matter of a hundred dollars, there is nothing worth thinking of; still, certainly I do not want to lose it. I hope we sha'n't fall in with any of those scoundrels." "I hope not, señor. Perhaps we had better put our gold dust and money in José's boots. They are less likely to examine him than they are us. "You had better put half in his boots, and give the other half to my wife to hide about her clothes. We shall want some money, if we are robbed, to take us down to Lima. With the gold dust we could get a couple of mules and enough provisions to take us down there. We should be in a very awkward position if we found ourselves penniless." They stopped for the night at a little village close to the lake. There was but one small room at the inn, but at the other end of the straggling village there was a yard where the mules could stand, and a loft where Dias, Maria, and José could sleep. Harry and his brother had lain down but an hour on their blankets when there was a shouting in the street, and two or three shots were fired. They leapt up. "We had better hide our rifles and pistols," Harry said, "under that ragged bed that we did not care about sleeping on. We may possibly get them again even if we are robbed of everything else." A minute later four or five men with a lantern rushed into the room. They were all armed with muskets, and one carried a torch. "Who are you?" this man asked. "We are English sportsmen," Harry said. "We have been shooting for some months at the foot of the hills, and are now returning to Lima. There are our guns, you see." "We will take you before the captain," the man said. "Bring those guns along, Pedro and Juan." The village was in an uproar. Some fifty men were occupied in searching the houses and in appropriating everything they thought useful. One house had been set on fire, and near this a man in an officer's uniform was standing. He heard the report of Harry's and Bertie's capture. "English sportsmen, eh! How long have you been shooting?" he asked. "Eight months." "Eight months! Then guard them securely, Montes; they are doubtless rich Englishmen, and we shall get a good ransom for them. English señors who come out here to shoot must be men with plenty of money; but likely enough they are not sportsmen, but gold-seekers. However, it matters little." "I protest against this," Harry said. "Our consul at Lima will demand satisfaction from the government." The other laughed. "Government!" he said, "there is no government; and if there were, they would have no power up in the hills." So saying he turned away. Plunder that had been collected was brought in and divided among the party, four of the men with muskets keeping guard over the prisoners. "I don't see anything of Dias and the mules," Bertie said in English. "No, I have been expecting to see them brought up every minute. Now I am beginning to hope that they have got safely off. I think the fellows began their attack at our end of the village. "You know how watchful Dias is. Very likely he or José were up, and you may be sure that the moment they heard the uproar they would drive the mules out and be off. You see only two of them are laden, and they could have thrown the things on to their backs and been off at once. He would know that it was useless to wait for us. I expect he would turn them off the road at once and make down towards the lake. If these fellows had caught him and the mules they would certainly have brought them up here before this." "I hope he got off--not so much because of the mules, as because I am sure that, if he gets fairly away, he will do what he can to help us." "I am sure he will, Bertie. We must make the best of it. There is one thing, we have got a good month before us. It will take them all that time to go down to Lima about our ransom and return; and it is hard if we don't give them the slip before that." A quarter of an hour later the band started with their booty and prisoners for the hills. "I don't suppose they will go far," Harry said. "Quinda has got his hands full, and will be wanting to start as soon as he can to join Vivancohidas. He won't lose time in hunting the scoundrel who has caught us, so I expect the band make their head-quarters in some village at the foot of the hills." This turned out to be so. After a march of four hours the band halted in a village in a valley running up into the hills. The prisoners were thrust into an empty hut, and four men with muskets told off as their guard. Next morning the captain of the band came in. "I shall require a hundred thousand dollars for your ransom," he said. "We could never pay such a sum," Harry said. "We are not rich men. I am a lieutenant on half-pay in the English navy, and, having nothing to do at home, came out with my brother for a year's sport. I could not pay a tenth of that sum." "That we shall see," the man said. "If you cannot pay, your government can. You will at once write to your consul at Lima, telling him that if this hundred thousand dollars are not handed over to my messenger within four days of his arrival there, you will both have your throats cut." "I will write the letter if you wish," Harry replied quietly, "but you won't get the money. If you like to say ten thousand dollars, I dare say the consul will do his best to raise that amount." "One hundred thousand is the smallest sum," the man said angrily. "He can get it out of the government there. They will not choose to risk having trouble with your country for the sake of such a sum." "Gamarra is away," Harry said, "and it is pretty certain that he will not have left a hundred thousand dollars in the treasury; and even if he has, you maybe sure that his people there would not give it up, for he wants every penny for his war expenses." The man shrugged his shoulders. "So much the worse for you. Write as I told you; here is paper, pen, and ink. Do not write in English. I will come back in a quarter of an hour for it." "This is awkward, Bertie. It is evident that I must write. As to their paying twenty thousand pounds, the thing is absurd; if he had mentioned two thousand they might have considered the matter. What I hope is that they will not send up anything. I feel certain that we shall be able to get away from here within a month; and if they were to send up one or two thousand pounds, we should probably miss the fellow on the way. In that case we should have to repay the money when we got to Lima, which I certainly should not see my way to do--anyhow, until I got to England, when I could, of course, sell out some of my stock. There is nothing here that we could use as invisible ink. If there were, I would risk writing a message with it; but even then it is fifty to one against their bringing it to light. Well, here goes!" and he wrote in Spanish the required message. The robber on his return read it through, turned the paper over to see that nothing was written on the back, and held it up to the light. "That will do," he said. "Now let me warn you, don't attempt to escape. You won't succeed if you do, and the sentries have orders to shoot you down should you attempt it." The time passed slowly. The brigand was evidently determined to give them no chance of escaping, and four sentries remained round the hut, one at each corner. In the daytime the prisoners were allowed to sit at the door of the hut, but they were shut up at nightfall. The guards were not allowed to speak to them, and there was therefore no chance of offering them a bribe. On the evening of the fifth day they had, as usual, been shut up, and were chatting over the situation. "If they continue to guard us like this, Bertie, I really don't see a shadow of a chance of getting away. We calculated on there being one, or perhaps two sentries at the door, and thought we could have cut a hole through that adobe wall at the back and crept out through it; but as there is a guard at each corner, I don't see a chance of it. The fellows are evidently afraid of their captain, and each keeps to his corner, and sits there and smokes and drones out songs, but they never move till they are relieved. Of course we must make the attempt if we see no other way of escaping. But I have still great hope that Dias will somehow or other try to get us out, though how he can do it I don't know." They observed that the sentries were not changed in any military way. Five minutes before sunset the four men who were to relieve those on guard came sauntering up. The former guard ordered the captives into the hut and bolted the door, and then after a short chat with the others went off, the new sentries having already taken their posts at the corners of the hut. On the fifth evening after their capture they saw approaching a peasant woman sitting on a mule. A man was walking beside her. Behind the woman was a small barrel, and two packs and two small wine-skins hung on each side. "Harry," Bertie exclaimed, "I believe that is Dias and Maria!" "It is," Harry said. "Thank God they have found us! Twenty to one they will get us out. What have they got with them, I wonder?" They stopped in the road opposite the house, which was the end one in the village. "You are not to come nearer," one of the sentries shouted. "I am sure I don't want to come nearer," the woman said pertly. "You don't think you are so handsome that I want to get a better sight of your face?" "What have you got there?" the man asked. "We shall be coming off duty in ten minutes." "Well, we have got a little of everything," she said. "As pretty sashes as there are in the country, beautiful silk neckerchiefs, silver brooches for your sweethearts, and for those who purchase freely a glass of the best pisco spirit." "Well, wait, and I dare say we shall lay out a dollar or two." A minute or two later four other men sauntered up, and began to talk to Maria, who slipped off her mule. The guards, fearful that the best bargains would be sold before they could get forward, hurried the prisoners into the hut and bolted the door. The brothers heard a great deal of talking and arguing, and ten minutes later the sentries came up to their usual post. "I would not mind betting odds," Bertie said with delight, "that Dias has drugged that spirit." "I expect so, Bertie. He would be sure that they could not resist it, for it is the best spirit there is in Peru." For a time the sentries talked, saying that the pedlars' goods were cheap and the spirit as good as any they had ever tasted. "We had great difficulty in getting her to sell us a second glass each; and she was right, for she had not much of it, and it must help her rarely to sell her goods. The husband seemed a surly sort of chap. I wonder such a pretty little woman would marry such a fellow." "I suppose he was well-to-do and she was poor," another said; "such is generally the case when you see a marriage like that. I dare say he makes a good thing of it; the goods are as cheap, though, as they would be in Lima." Gradually the talking ceased, and within an hour there was perfect quiet outside the hut. Half an hour later they heard footsteps coming quietly up to the door. They held their breath; but instead of, as they expected, hearing the bolt drawn, they heard the new-comers going round the hut, pausing a minute at each corner. Then they again stopped at the door; the two bolts were shot back, and the door opened. "Come, señors," Dias said; "it is quite safe. We have put them all to sleep. Here are their muskets and pistols. You had better take them, in case we are pursued, which is not likely. At any rate, should one of them wake the want of a gun will mean delay in raising the alarm. "Don't speak, señors; it is as well to keep quiet till we are fairly off." He shut the door and rebolted it, and then led the way down into the road. Not a word was spoken till they had gone a hundred yards, and then Harry said: "You have done us another good turn, Dias; we did not see any possible way of getting out; but we both agreed that if you could find us you would." "Of course, señors, you could not suppose that Maria and I would go quietly off." "How did you manage to get away, Dias?" "It was easy enough. After what we had heard of these brigands I made up my mind that I would not unsaddle the mules, nor take the packs off the two loaded ones. The burdens were not heavy, for we have little but our bedding and the tents left, and I thought they might as well stay where they were, and in the morning we could shift them on to the others. I told José to watch about half the night; but I was standing talking to him, and smoking my last cigarette, when he said suddenly, 'I can hear a noise at the other end of the village.' "The evening was still, and I could also hear the sound of many footsteps, so I ran and pulled down the bar at the back of the yard, called Maria, and told her and José to take the mules straight down to the lake, and then to follow the bank. Then I ran to warn you; but before I got half-way I heard shouts and firing, and knew that I was too late, so I ran back to the lake, where I overtook the mules, and we mounted and went off at a trot. When I got a quarter of a mile away I told the others to go on to Junin, which we knew was twenty miles away, and put up there till I joined them. Then I ran back to the village, and, keeping myself well behind a house, watched them getting ready to start, and saw you. There was nothing to do but to follow you. I did so, and observed where they had shut you up, and I waited about for some hours, so as to see how you were guarded. "I saw their captain go into your hut twice. When he came out the second time he had a paper in his hand. He went to the house he has taken possession of, and I kept a good watch over that. Presently two lieutenants came out, talking together. They entered another house, and ten minutes afterwards issued out again, dressed in ordinary clothes, such as a muleteer or a cultivator fairly well off would wear, and returned to the captain's house, and stayed there for a good half-hour before they came out again. Two horses had been brought round to the door. The captain came out with them, and was evidently giving them some last instructions. Then they rode off, saying good-bye to some of the men as they passed through the village. "Knowing the ways of these bandits, I had no doubt the paper I saw their captain bring out of the hut where you were was a letter he had compelled you to write to request a large sum of money to be sent in exchange for you; and as I felt certain that we should rescue you somehow, I thought it was a pity that this letter should go down, so I started at once to follow them. They had not got more than a quarter of an hour's start of me, and by the line they had taken I saw that they intended to go to Junin. I did not think it likely that they would enter the place, because they would be sure to meet some of Quinda's men there; but would probably sleep at some small village near it, and then make a circuit to strike the road beyond the town. "Fortunately I had some money in my pocket, and at the first farm I came to I bought a mule. You see, señor, I had not lain down the night before, and had done a fair day's work before I started to follow your captors. I had walked twenty miles with them, and had been busy all the morning. I knew it could not be much less than thirty miles to Junin, and that if I could not find them there I should have to push on after them again the next morning, so I gave the farmer what he asked for his mule, and started at once on it barebacked. It turned out to be a good animal, and I rode hard, for I wanted to get down to Junin before the two men. I reckoned I should do that, because, as they were going a very long journey, they would not want to press their horses, and besides would prefer that it should be dark before they stopped for the night. "When I got to Junin I found Maria and José, who had put up the mules at the only inn there. I set Maria to watch on the road leading into the town, and went out with José to a little village a mile back, where I made sure the fellows would stop. I was not long in finding out that they had arrived about half an hour after I had ridden through, and had put up at the priest's. That was good enough for me. We went back to the town. I had some supper, which I can tell you I wanted badly, for I had been afraid of going into the brigand's village to buy anything, as, being a stranger, I might have been asked questions, so I had had nothing since the night before. I had found that there was a road from the place where they had stopped, by which they could ride along by the lake without going into the town; so José and I ambushed there an hour before daylight, thinking that they would be off early. We were right; for in a quarter of an hour they came along. Day was just breaking, so we could make out their figures easily enough, and as they were not five yards away as they passed, we were not likely to miss them. Well, I found the paper you had written in the coat-pocket of one of them, together with two hundred dollars, no doubt for the expenses of his journey. We hid the two bodies under a heap of stones." "Then you killed them, Dias?" Harry said, in a tone of surprise. "Of course! what else would one do with them? They were brigands, and they had attacked a peaceable village and killed several people. Even if I had not wanted to get your paper it would have been a very meritorious action." "Oh, I am not blaming you, Dias, at all! There was no other way of getting the paper, and it may be regarded as an act of necessity. And what did you do with their horses?" "José went on with them, and I returned to the town again and started with Maria and the mules. We journeyed to a village half-way to Oroya. Of course we overtook José a mile or two after we had left Junin. There we put up at a quiet place and talked over the situation. We knew that there was no particular hurry, for we read your letter, and knew that no harm would come to you for a long time. It would be a month at least before they would expect the men back with the money. There was another letter, addressed to Don Mariano Carratala, whom I know to be a busy politician in Lima. The money was to be paid to him; at least he was to receive it from the two men immediately they left the British consul's house, and he was to hold it for Valdez, which is the name of the brigand." "I thought he would not trust the men to bring up a sum like that." "It would be enough to tempt the most incorruptible Peruvian, and certainly the men he sent down would have taken good care never to come to this part of the country again if they had got the money into their possession. I don't think either it would have been safe in the hands of Carratala, if he did not know that sooner or later he would get a knife between his shoulders if he kept it. Next morning Maria and I started back, bringing with us four mules, the fastest we had. We rode on two and led the others. I knew some people at Junin, for I have often passed through the town when I have been bringing down silver from Cerro, and one managed to get for us that little barrel of pisco. I was sure that no soldier would refuse a glass; but it was almost a sin to give such liquor to the dogs. Then we bought peasants' clothes, and a parcel of goods such as travelling hawkers carry. "You know how we succeeded. Of course we had drugged the pisco heavily, and knew that two glasses would send any man off to sleep in half an hour. As soon as it was dark, Maria went on with the mule. We shall find her half a mile from here at a deserted hut where we left the other three mules." "Well, Dias, you have assuredly saved our lives. Guarded as we were, there was not the slightest chance of our getting away by ourselves; and as the British consul certainly could not have raised the sum they demanded, we should have had our throats cut when the messengers returned empty-handed. Valdez is not the man to go back from his word in that respect." "It is a pity you have lost your arms, señor." "Yes, we have certainly lost our double-barrelled guns, but our rifles and pistols are hidden in the straw of the bed in the room where we slept. We had just time to hide them before the brigands burst into the room." "Then we can recover them, señor. Of course I intended to ride straight to Junin, but it won't make very much difference. We will ride to the village, get the rifles and pistols, and then follow the road by the lake. It is now only nine o'clock; we can be there by one easily, and reach Junin by morning. It will be perfectly safe to rest there. I suppose your guards will be relieved about twelve o'clock?" "Yes, that was the time we heard them changed." "They will most likely discover that you have gone then. When they find the four guards sound asleep, they are sure to unbolt the door and see if you are there, then of course they will give the alarm at once. But I hardly think they will even attempt to pursue. They are infantry, and none of them are mounted but the officers, which means that at present only Valdez himself has a horse. They would know that you had been assisted, and that probably horses were waiting for you somewhere. There is the hut, señors." Maria ran out as they came up. "The saints be praised," she exclaimed, "that you are with us again, señors!" "The saints are no doubt to be praised," Harry said, "but we feel at present a good deal more indebted to Dias and yourself than to them. We are indeed grateful to you both, and you managed it splendidly. My brother and I felt so confident that you would do something to get us out, that we were not in the least surprised when we recognized you and Diaz got up as travelling hawkers." "You did not tell them that we were with you?" "No. Fortunately they asked no questions at all, and took us for Englishmen travelling by ourselves. They may have thought of it afterwards, but in the hurry of carrying off their booty they apparently gave the matter no attention. If they had done so they would probably have sent a party out in pursuit of the mules. Even if they had not done so, they would have been sure to look with some suspicion at two hawkers arriving at such an out-of-the-way village at such a time." "Well, we had better be moving at once," Dias said. "We are going down to the village where they were captured, Maria. They hid their rifles and pistols there when they found the place was in the hands of the brigands." Three minutes later they started. There was a full moon, so they were able to ride fast, and it was just midnight when they arrived at the village. When they knocked at the house where their rifles had been left, the proprietor looked out from the upper window in great dismay, fearing that the brigands might have returned. However, as soon as he recognized the party he came down and opened the door. The arms were found where they had been hidden, and in five minutes they were again on their way, and arrived at Junin at five o'clock. It was necessary to wait here twenty-four hours to rest the animals. The next morning they started as soon as it was light, and picked up José and the convoy. The brothers mounted the two horses, and Dias and Maria rode on one mule, and led three behind them. José rode another and led four. The horses and the mule Dias had bought were sold at Oroya, and after purchasing enough provisions for the rest of their journey they started for Lima, having concluded that it would be better, now that they were on the main track, to follow it instead of striking across the hills. CHAPTER XIII LETTERS FROM HOME There was some little discussion over the amount of supplies that it would be necessary to purchase. "Travelling quietly, the journey will not occupy over fourteen days," Harry said. "Do not get anything more than is absolutely necessary. It is evident that the whole country is in a disturbed state, and it is as well to have nothing to lose. We can buy nearly everything we want in the way of meat and flour at villages we pass through. Therefore, if we have enough tea, coffee, and sugar there will be really no occasion to buy anything more. We have still two or three bottles of spirits left, and you can buy pulque everywhere. There is a proverb two or three thousand years old, 'The empty traveller can sing before the robber'. We are reduced to that condition, except for our tents, bedding, and blankets, and they have done good service and would not cost much to replace. There remain, then, only the animals. They would certainly be a serious loss to us." "Brigands would not want to take them. They would not be of the least use to them in the mountains. I would not say the same of parties of disbanded soldiers making their way down to Lima or Callao, who might prefer riding to travelling all that distance." "The brigands might take our rifles and pistols, Dias." "Yes, they would be sure to do that, señor. But we have had more than our share of bad luck already, what with the brigands in the Cerro pass, and these rascals we have just had to do with. I will enquire when the last silver convoy went down. If one has gone during the past five or six days, we could overtake it soon, for we can do two days' journey to its one. If no convoy has gone forward later, and there is one starting shortly, it might be worth our while to wait for it, for by all accounts the road down to Lima is infested by discharged soldiers, and ruffians of all kinds from Callao and Lima." "Have the convoys an escort?" "Yes, señors. The silver mines have always a considerable force in their pay. They used to have troops from the division stationed here, but what with the constant revolutions, and the fact that more than once the escort, instead of protecting the convoys, mutinied and seized them, they found it better to raise a force themselves. They do not take Creoles, preferring pure-bred Indians, who are just as brave as the Creoles, if not braver, and can be relied upon to be faithful to their trust. The consequence is that, in spite of the disturbed state of the country, it is a long time now since one of their escorts has been attacked, especially as the robbers would find great difficulty in disposing of the silver, as each ingot is marked with the name of the mine it comes from. "They might, of course, melt it up again; but even then there would be a difficulty, as the law is very strict as to the sale of silver, and a certificate has to be obtained from the local authorities in every case, stating where it was obtained. This is hard upon the natives, for many of the little mines are worked among the mountains, and the rascals, to whom all official positions are given in reward for services done to the party which happens to be in power for the time, take good care to fleece the Indians heavily before they will give them the necessary documents. Nothing can be done here, señors, without greasing the palms of two or three people, and the grease has to be pretty heavily laid on." Dias went out and made enquiries. "There will be no convoy for another fortnight. One went down ten days ago." "I certainly shall not wait another fortnight, Dias. As to an escort, less than a dozen men would be useless, and as they would be a fortnight at least going down, and as much returning, even if you could get twelve men who could be relied upon, it would be a very expensive job. We might as well risk losing our baggage, and even our guns. The great thing will be to reduce the weight as much as possible. Four cotton beds take up a lot of space, and I think in any case I should have bought new ones at Lima; at any rate they can go. The blankets and ponchos we could, of course, carry behind us. So that practically there are only the two tents, cooking utensils, and the stores, which will not weigh many pounds, to carry, and with our clothes the whole will make a ridiculously small load even for one mule. We had better get rid of the pickaxes and shovels, they would fetch pretty nearly as much here as we should give for new ones at Lima. "Thus, then, with Donna Maria riding one of the mules, there would be our five selves and three led mules, of which only one would be laden. That would offer no great temptation to plunderers; and as we shall all have guns across our shoulders, they would see that it would not be worth while to interfere on the very slight chance that the one laden mule might be carrying anything valuable." "I agree with you, señor. Our appearance would be that of a party of travellers who have been exploring the old ruins, or, as has been done before, endeavouring to ascertain whether the rivers on the east are navigable down to the Amazon. Besides, the bulk of the people here do not forget what they owe to Englishmen, and the fact that you are of that nation would in itself secure good treatment for you among all except desperate men." Accordingly they started the next morning. Maria rode, in Amazon fashion, on a mule between her husband and Harry. Bertie followed with José, to whose saddle the three baggage mules were attached in single file. They were undisturbed on their journey. Three or four times they were hailed by men on the rocks above as they went through difficult points of the pass. The reply of Dias, that the two gentlemen with him were Englishmen who had been exploring the ruins and doing a little shooting among the hills, generally satisfied them. One or two, however, who enquired what the mule was carrying, were invited by him to come down and see, though at the same time they were informed that the load contained nothing but blankets and cooking vessels, and enough provisions to last them on the way. When, within two days' journey from Lima, a party of rough men came down into the road, Dias rode forward to meet them and repeated his usual story. "You can examine the mule if you like," he said, "but I warn you not to interfere with us; the English señors are not men to be meddled with. They are armed with rifles, and each carries a brace of double-barrelled pistols. They are dead shots, too, and you may reckon that it will cost you over a dozen lives were you to interfere with them. Moreover, the other muleteer and myself could give a fair account of ourselves. Rather than have trouble, however, two of you can come forward and see that my statement as to what the mule carries is correct. Its burden would not fetch fifty dollars at Lima." Two of the men came forward and examined the mule's burden, and felt the saddles of the others to see that nothing was concealed there. When they rejoined their party one who appeared to be their leader came forward. "Señors," he said, "I regret that we have stopped you; but we are poor men, and are obliged to take to the road to live. Perhaps your honours would not mind giving us ten dollars to buy food at the next village." [Illustration: THEY SAW APPROACHING A PEASANT WOMAN SITTING ON A MULE.] "I have not many dollars left," Harry said, "but if you really need food you are welcome to ten of them, for we shall need nothing more than what we carry till we arrive at Lima." He handed him the ten dollars, and then, showing him his purse, said, "You see there are but five others." With many thanks the man retired, and he and his companions took off their hats as Harry and his party rode through them. "Another such stoppage," Harry said with a laugh, "and we shall have to fall back upon our little stock of gold-dust." However, they met with no more trouble, and on the following evening rode into Lima and took up their quarters at the hotel. Dias asked that he might go on with the mules to his home. "In the first place, señor, we want to know how things have gone on in our absence. We had arranged with neighbours to look after the garden and the house. They were glad to do so, as the garden was a fruitful one. They were to take all they could raise and keep it well planted, so that whenever we might return we should find our usual supply of fruits and vegetables. In the next place, Maria is nervous about my staying here after what happened last time. We may take it as certain that the friends of the men we hurt will take the chance of paying off the score if they can find an opportunity. I shall come in each day to see if you have any orders for me." "There will be no occasion for that, Dias. We have quite made up our minds to wait here for a week before starting on our next expedition, so if you will come over in four days that will be quite soon enough. You can overhaul the blankets and bags, and see that those good enough to keep are put in good repair, and those worn out replaced. We shall want quite as many stores as those we took last time, for there are very few villages except on the sea-shore, and we shall find difficulty in replenishing our stock. We shall have to buy double-barrelled guns in place of those we lost, but that we shall do ourselves. We have plenty of ammunition and cartridges for the rifles and pistols, but we had only a few shot cartridges left when we lost the guns." As soon as Dias had gone on with the mules Harry went to the British consul's and found three letters waiting there for him, two from Miss Fortescue and one from Mr. Barnett. He put the former into his pocket to be read and enjoyed privately, but opened that of Mr. Barnett at once. It was in answer to that Harry had written at Cuzco. "My dear Harry," he said, "Your first letter was quite satisfactory. I was glad to find that you had reached Lima without encountering more than a stiffish gale, which was as well as you could have expected. I was still more glad that you had found Dias alive and willing to accompany you. Your letter from Cuzco has now reached me. I think you were extremely lucky to get through that street broil without any damage to either of you. It was certainly a hazardous business to interfere in an affair of that kind without having any weapons except the sticks you carried. Still, I can well understand that, as you would certainly have lost the services of Dias had you not done so, it was worth running a good deal of risk; and, as you say, it had the natural effect of binding him to you heart and soul. "I feel very uneasy about you both, and have blamed myself many a time for suggesting this scheme to you. I can only say that it is really the only possible way in which it seemed to me you could carry out the task set you. In fairy stories it is, so far as I can remember, a not uncommon thing for a king to set some task, that appears absolutely hopeless, to the suitors for his daughter's hand, and the hero always accomplishes the impossible. But this is always done with the assistance of some good fairy, and unfortunately good fairies are not to be met with in the present day. I have great faith in Dias, but fear that he is a very poor substitute for a fairy godmother. Still, I am convinced that he will do all in his power, and will even strain his conscience severely, by conducting you to places where his traditions lead him to believe that gold, either in the shape of mines or hidden treasure, is to be found. "Your search will not improbably lead you into places where the Indians have won back their own from the civilization introduced by the Spaniards, and I have always heard that on the eastern side of the Cordilleras the natives entertain a deadly hatred for whites, and attack all who endeavour to penetrate into the forest. Don't be too rash, lad. Remember that it will not add to your lady-love's happiness to learn that you have been massacred in your attempt to carry out your knight-errant adventure, and if you are careless about your own life, don't forget that its loss will probably entail the loss of your brother's also. Dangers, of course, you must meet and face, but remember that prudence is a valuable aid to bravery. "I am glad to know that Dias has taken his wife with him. A woman is a very useful adjunct to an expedition such as yours. Of course in some ways she is necessarily a trouble, and always a responsibility. Still, if, as you say is the case with her, she is a good cook, this makes a wonderful difference in your comfort, and certainly adds to the chance of your preserving your health. And in the next place, should you fall ill, or be mauled by a tiger or puma, she will make a far better nurse than Dias himself would be. Now that you are cutting yourself adrift from civilization, I shall not expect to hear from you again for a long time. I shall try and not be uneasy; but really, Harry, I do feel that I have incurred a very heavy responsibility, and may, with the best intentions in the world, have sent you and Bertie to your death. I have, as you directed me, addressed this to the care of our consul, and it must be many months before you receive it, many months more before I again hear from you. Should you require more money, draw upon me. I have always a good balance standing at the bank, therefore do not hesitate to draw, in case the amount sent out to you quarterly does not prove sufficient to carry out any scheme you may have in hand. "With all good wishes for your own and Bertie's welfare, "I remain, "Your affectionate guardian, "JAMES BARNETT." When he returned to the hotel he handed Mr. Barnett's letter to Bertie to read, and said: "Stop down here in the patio, Bertie; I have two letters that I want to read quietly." Bertie laughed. "All right, Harry; take your time over them; I won't disturb you." It was dusk now, and when Harry went to his room he lit a couple of candles and seated himself in a large cane arm-chair and opened his letters. The first one consisted chiefly of expressions of pleasure at his arrival at Callao, of remarks upon the voyage, of complaints as to the long time that had passed without news of him, and of assurances of affection. The second was, like Mr. Barnett's, in reply to his letter from Cuzco. "My dearest Harry, "After reading your letter I have been more and more impressed with my heartlessness in allowing you to undertake such a journey as you have before you. I ought to have been braver. I ought to have refused absolutely to allow you to go. The prospect of your being able to overcome my father's objections really amounts to nothing, and I ought to have said that I would not accept the sacrifice, and would not allow you to run such risks; that it would be better and kinder for both of us to accept the inevitable, and not enter upon such a struggle with fate. "Do not think that I am already growing weary of waiting, and that my heart is in any way changed. It is not that. It is anxiety about you, and the feeling how wrong I was to let you go. Were there even a shadow of chance of your success I would wait patiently for years. I do not say that my life is a pleasant one. It is not. My father is still bitterly angry with me for, as he says, throwing away my chances; that is to say, of marrying a man I do not care for, simply because he is rich. But I can bear that. Mother is very very good, and does all in her power to cheer me; but, as you know, she has never been much more than a cipher, accustomed always to submit to my father's will, and it is wonderful to me that in our matter she has ventured, not openly to oppose him, but to give me what strength and comfort she can. "I hardly know how I should have got on without her comfort. My father hardly speaks to me. He treats me as if I had been convicted of some deadly sin, and is only restrained from punishing me in some way because, by some blunder or other, contumacy against the will of a father has been omitted from the penal code. Seriously, Harry, it makes me unhappy, not only for myself but for him. Until I was unable to give in to him in this question he has always been the kindest of fathers. I am sure he feels this estrangement between us almost as much as I do, but believes that he is acting for my good; and it is a great pain to him that I cannot see the matter in the same light as he does. Of course to me it is most ridiculous that he should suppose that my happiness depends upon having a title, and cutting a figure at court, and that sort of thing; but there is no arguing over it, and I am as thoroughly convinced that my view is the correct one as he is that it is utter folly. "However, I am almost as sorry for him as for myself, and would do almost anything short of giving you up to make him happy. However, do not think that I am very miserable, because I am not. Somehow, though I can't give any good reason for my belief, I do think you will succeed. I do not say that I think for a moment you are likely to come home with the sum my father named as necessary; that seems to be quite hopeless. But I think somehow you may succeed in doing well; and though some people might consider that he was justified in refusing his consent to what he might think was a bad match, he could not do so with any justice were I to determine upon marrying a gentleman with some fortune. He thinks a great deal of public opinion, and would know that even chat would be against him. But Indeed, Harry, I am beginning to doubt whether in the end I shall be able to sacrifice my life to his unfortunate mania, that I must marry what he calls well. I love you, and told him that if at the end of two years you were not in a position to claim my hand, I would give in to my father's wishes. I will keep my promise so far, that I will not run away with you or marry you in defiance of his command. But as I have agreed to wait for two years for you, I may ask you to wait another two years for me. "When I think of you going through all sorts of dangers and hardships for my sake, I feel that it would be downright wickedness to turn against you if you find that you cannot perform an impossible task. Instead of this separation making you less dear to me, it is affecting me in quite the other way. My thoughts are always with you. How could it be otherwise? I have worked myself up to such a pitch that I have almost resolved that, when the two years are up, I will say to my father: 'I shall ask Harry to release me from my promise to him, and for two years, Father, I will go about and allow men a fair chance of winning my love. If at the end of that time I have met no one to whom I can give my heart, I will then go my own way, and if Harry will take me I will marry him.' It will require a great deal of courage to say so; but you are doing so much to try and win me, that it would be hard indeed if I were to shrink from doing a little on my part. "Still, it would make it easier for me if you should have the good fortune to bring home something; not because, as I have told you many times, I should shrink for a moment from renouncing all the luxuries in which I have been brought up, and for which I care so little, but because it would, in his eyes, be a proof of how earnestly you have striven to do what you could to meet his requirements. I did not mean to say this when I began my letter, but it seems to me that it will give you heart and strength in your work, and that you will see from it that I, too, have taken my courage in my hand, and show you that your love and faithfulness shall some day have the reward they deserve. "God bless you and keep you, dearest, "Your loving HILDA." Harry read the letter through again and again, and at last Bertie came in. "What! at it still, Harry?" he said with a laugh. "You must have got your letters by heart by this time. I have been sitting in the patio by myself for two mortal hours expecting you to come down. At last I said to myself, 'This sort of thing will bring on madness. When a healthy sailor forgets that his brother is waiting for supper, to say nothing of himself, it is clear that there is something radically wrong.'" "It is evident, Bertie, that at present you know nothing of human nature. If there had been anything radically wrong in this letter I should probably have been down long ago. It is just the contrary. Hilda says that if I don't succeed here, she will give herself, or rather her father, two years, and at the end of that time, if she doesn't find someone she likes better, she will marry me, whether he likes it or not--at least, that is what it comes to." "I congratulate you, old boy. At the same time, it is evident that she would not have been worth her salt if she had arrived at any other conclusion. Now, having settled that comfortably, let us go and have something to eat. You appear to forget altogether that you have had nothing since breakfast, and it is now past eight o'clock." "You boys think of nothing but eating," Harry grumbled. "Well, up till now, Harry, from the time we started, I have observed that you have a very healthy appetite yourself, and I can tell you it has cost me half a dollar in bribing the cook to stay on beyond his usual hour. I did not like to tell him that you were engaged in reading a love-letter fifty times, so I put it delicately and said that you were engaged in business of importance. It went against my conscience to tell such a buster." "There, come on, Bertie. I had begun to hope that you were growing into a sensible fellow, but I am afraid that there is no chance of that now, and that you will continue to be a donkey to the end of your life." Harry had told Dias that they had better take two or three days at home before they came into Lima again, but to his surprise the muleteer came in at ten o'clock next morning. "Well, Dias, I did not expect to see you again so soon. You have found everything right at home, I hope?" "No, señor, I am sorry to say I did not. Three days after we left here our house was burnt down." "Burnt down, Dias! I am sorry indeed to hear that. How did it happen? I thought you said that you had locked it up, and left no one there." "That was so, señor. The people who took over the garden were to go into the house once a week to see that everything was in order; but as this fire broke out only three days after I left, they had not entered it. Everyone says that it must have been fired on purpose, for the flames seem to have burst out in all parts at once. No one in the town thought that I had an enemy in the world, and all have been wondering who could have had a grudge against me. Of course we need not go very far to guess who was at the bottom of it." "I suppose not, Dias. It must have been those scoundrels we gave such a thrashing to." "There is no doubt of that, señor. But this time they have got the best of me, for they know very well that I have no proof against them, and that it would be useless to lodge any complaint." "I am afraid it would, Dias. Is it quite burnt down?" "The walls are standing, señor. It takes a good deal to burn adobe." "What do you suppose it would cost to put it in the same condition as before, with the furniture and everything?" "No great thing, señor; two hundred or two hundred and fifty dollars. It would not be as much as that if it hadn't been that Maria had left her festa dresses and her silver trinkets behind. There was not much furniture in the house; but I think I could replace everything for about two hundred dollars, and I have a good deal more than that laid by." "I shall certainly make that up to you, Dias. It was entirely your kindness in deciding to take us on Mr. Barnett's recommendation, and to undertake this journey, that brought the ill-will of these scoundrels upon you. Of course it is of no use doing anything now, but when our search is over I shall certainly see that you are not in any way the loser." "No, señor; if I could not replace it myself I might accept your kind offer, but I can do it without breaking very heavily into my savings. And indeed their attack on me was the outcome of an old grudge. I have been long regarded as a fortunate man, and truly I have been so. If there was a job for five mules, and I was disengaged, I always had the first offer." "But that was not fortune, Dias; that was because you were known to be wholly trustworthy." "There are few muleteers who are not so, señor; it is rarely indeed that muleteers are false to their trust. I can scarce remember an instance. We Indians have our faults, but we are honest." "Well, perhaps your getting the first job to go with foreign travellers may have been a piece of good fortune, but it is because these were so well satisfied with you that others engaged you. Trustworthiness is not the only thing wanted in a muleteer; willingness, cheerfulness, and a readiness to oblige are almost as important for the comfort of travellers. Well, do you think these fellows will try and play you another trick, Dias?" "I hope they will," Dias said savagely, "that is, if they don't have too much odds against me. I owe them a big score now, for twice they have got the better of me. I should like to get even with them." "Well, Dias, I hope they won't try anything of the sort. If anything should happen to you, I should not only be extremely sorry for your sake and your wife's, but it would destroy the last chance I have of carrying out my search for treasure. Do you think that if I were to go to the consul and lay a complaint against them, on the ground, in the first place, of their attack on you, and now of burning your house, it would have any effect?" "If you were to make a complaint it might do, señor; it certainly would not were I to do so. A little bribe would, of course, be necessary; you cannot do anything without that. The officials here are all Gamarra's men, and there is not one of them who would not take a bribe. But would it be worth while, as we are only going to stay here a week? And if you got them imprisoned they would be out again before I came back, and would be more anxious than ever to get rid of me." "There is a good deal in that, Dias. As, of course, we shall be away, and starting for home again as soon as we return here, their spite would be directed entirely against you." "I hope, señors, that while you stop here you will never go out without your pistols. It is against you they have a grudge now more than me; it was owing to you that they failed in killing me." "We will do so; and we won't carry sticks this time, so that if they see us going along they will think we are unarmed." Whenever they went out after dark, indeed, Harry and Bertie had an idea that they were followed, and on their way home each invariably carried a cocked pistol in his pocket, ready for instant use. It was well that they did so, for on returning late one evening from Señor Pasquez, four men suddenly sprang out upon them. They were on their guard, and their arms went up in an instant, and two shots were fired. As the pistols were almost touching the men's heads when the trigger was pulled, both the assailants dropped dead, and the others at once took to their heels. "There are two of Dias's enemies wiped out," Harry said quietly. "I hope the others will give us a chance before we leave. Well, let us walk on before the watch comes along. It would ruin our plans altogether if we were kept here for an indefinite time while enquiries are being made." The next morning they heard from their waiter at breakfast that two men had been found dead in the street. "They are muleteers," he said, "but are known to be bad characters, and are suspected of having been concerned in several murders. It is evident that they made a mistake this time, and have got what they deserved. They are known to be associated with others. There were five of them; one was killed in a knife fight some months ago, and a search has been made for the others, but it is not likely that they will be caught. They were probably concerned in the affair, and knowing that they would be suspected of having a hand in this, and that their character will go against them, I expect they went off at once to the foot of the hills, and won't be heard of again for some time to come." "I think it a pity they were not all shot. It is a shame that in a town like this people cannot walk in the streets after dark without the risk of being assassinated." Dias was very pleased when, on coming up that morning, he heard of what had happened. He quite agreed that the other men would almost certainly have taken to the mountains. "Even if they have not, señor, you are safe from another attack. Now they know that you carry pistols, and are prepared for them, they will let you alone." "When we come back here, Dias, we will give you a brace of our pistols, and I trust you will carry them in your pocket ready for use after dark, whether you are in Lima or at Miraflores." "Thank you, señor. I do not think they are likely to show their faces here again for a long time; but at any rate I will be on my guard, and will gratefully accept your offer of the pistols. Now, señors, I must set to work to-day to get in our stores for the next journey. I have made a list of what we shall want." "Well, I have plenty of money, Dias, for I find two remittances from home awaiting me here. We have already bought two double-barrelled guns and a stock of ammunition, principally buck-shot, for we shall not be doing much big game shooting. We can always buy food at the sea-side villages." Three days later all was in readiness. The mules were brought up from Miraflores by José, accompanied by Maria, and an early start was made on the following morning. CHAPTER XIV THE CASTLE OF THE DEMONS "To-morrow, señor," Dias said, "you will see the spot I was telling you about, where, as the traditions say, the spirits of our ancestors inhabit the ruins of a building so old, that it was ancient when the Incas first came here. They are still there, and men who have been rash enough to approach the spot have been found torn to pieces as if by wild beasts; but none go near now." "Did the Spaniards never go there?" "I know not, sir; but 'tis likely they never even heard of it. The country is all dry and barren, and there were no mines to tempt them. The Indians never speak of it; those who were alive when the Spaniards came had some reasons for not doing so; and even now you could go to the nearest village, which lies more than twenty miles away, and ask the people about it, but they would only say that they had never heard of it, that no such place existed, for they believe that even to speak of it would bring dire disaster. We Indians are Christians; the Spaniards made us so. We make the sign of the cross, and we bow before their images and pictures, and once a year we go to their churches; but among the tribes east of the mountains that is all. We believe in the traditions of our fathers and in the demons of the forest; and though on this side of the hills, where the Spaniards held a tight grip upon us, the people have well-nigh forgotten their old faith, they still believe in many of the tales they have learned from their fathers, and this of the Castle of the Demons, as it is called, is as strong as ever in these parts." "Have you ever seen the castle, Dias?" "I have seen it, señor. There is only one point from which it is visible. We shall go there to-morrow, it is ten miles from here. The castle lies in a rift of the rock. I should say that in ancient times this opened to the sea, but the building closed the entrance. Whatever it may have been, it does not rise above the summit of the cliff, which goes down as straight as a wall for miles on the sea-face. The rift on the land side of the castle seems to have a width of about fifty feet, and I could see openings which were, I suppose, windows. The rocks on each side are higher than the castle itself, so that anyone coming along would not see it until he looked down upon it." "But of course it is visible from the sea, Dias?" "It would have been visible in the old days without a doubt, señor, but it cannot be seen now. The stones are the colour of the rocks beside them. They are stained and broken, and unless a boat went along within a very short distance none would dream that there was a break in the cliff there. I heard that from a fisherman whose boat was driven in by a gale and well-nigh lost. He said that he could see that the stones, which are very large--much larger than any of those in the remains of the buildings of the Incas--were not in regular lines." "It is very strange that anyone should have taken the trouble to build a place in such a singular position. Is there not any legend as to its construction?" "There is a tradition, señor, that it was built as a prison, by the king of those times, a thousand years before the Spaniards came, and even before the people whom the Incas conquered came into the land, and that it was a place of imprisonment, some say of a wife, others of a son, who had rebelled against him. Some say that it was built by the demons, but as it happened long before our people came here, none can know." "Well, Dias, it seems to me that this old place is very likely to have been used as a hiding-place for treasure. As to these tales about demons, of course they are ridiculous. I took your advice when we were being opposed by fierce Indians, but when it is a question of demons, I can trust to my revolvers and rifles against a legion of them." "Well, señor, you are the master. I have led you here as I promised. There may be treasure here or there may not. If you will go, you must; but I pray you not to command me to go with you. I would have followed you to the death through the swamps and forests on the other side, but I dare not risk being torn to death by demons and being left without burial." "I do not press you to go, Dias. I respect your convictions, though I do not share in them. I have had a year of travel with you, and we have had many adventures together. This will be my last before I return home. Here at least there seems to me a chance of finding treasure, an infinitely better chance than any we have had, except in the gold valley. Here is a mysterious castle, of whose very existence the Spaniards seem never to have heard. It is just the place where treasure might be hidden. If it has guardians, they must be human, and also there can be but few. The urgent necessity for secrecy was so great, that it must, like all the other secrets, have been confided to a few only. Maybe but one or two old men are there, of whom certainly I need not be afraid. I have told you why I came here, and why I feel so anxious to find a valuable mine, or part of the lost treasures of the Incas. So far I have failed altogether, and I should be a fool as well as a coward were I not ready to run some slight risk in searching this mysterious castle." "So be it, señor. I say not that you may not succeed. It may be that the demons have no power over white men. If you go and return safely I will go with you, and, should you find treasure, aid you to carry it away. I will lead you to within two miles of it, and will wait three days for your return. If you come not then, I will return to my place and mourn for you." "Very well, Dias, you may count upon my return long before the three days are up. Now, in the first place, take me to the point from which I can have a view of the castle." "We have had a long journey to-day, señor, and it is two hours' journey from here. We had better rest and go in the morning." Harry nodded. "We will be off early. You say it is ten miles from the spot where we shall see it. If we start at daybreak I can be there before noon, which will give me plenty of time for a first look round the place. We have got some torches left. I shall want them, for possibly there may be some chambers underground into which we shall have to penetrate. We may take it as certain that, whether the old people hid a great treasure from the Incas, or the Incas hid one from the Spaniards, they did not leave it about in rooms, but stowed it away in vaults like those we saw at Pachacamac, and these will certainly want a lot of looking for." "I will help you look, señor, and will work there as long as you like in the search, if you return and tell me that you have seen and heard nothing of the demons that are said to be there. I am not afraid of danger when I know that it is men that we have to do with. But I dread being strangled and torn, as the legends say that all who have ventured here have been." "But according to your own account, Dias," Bertie laughed, "that was long, long ago, and the demons may have got tired of guarding a place that no one came near, and have gone elsewhere in search of victims." Dias shook his head gravely. In spite of his life as a muleteer, and his acquaintance with Englishmen, he was as superstitious as the rest of his countrymen. The nominal Christianity enforced by the Spaniards upon the natives was but skin-deep, and thus they clung with undying fidelity to the superstitions and traditions that had been handed down from generation to generation, and had been preserved with a tenacity that even the tortures of the Spaniards had failed to shake. The failure to obtain the gold which they confidently expected to find in the valley had still further strengthened his belief that it was destined that these treasures should never be discovered; and although when there he had listened gravely to Harry's explanations of the manner in which the lake had been formed, his own conviction that all this was the work of demons had been unshaken. If, then, a spot, which even the tradition handed down to him had in no way connected with the guardianship of demons, was so firmly watched, how much more must this be so at a spot which all legends agreed was inhabited by demons, and had been the scene of so many executions by them of those who had ventured near. As Bertie and his brother sat together by the fire that evening after the others had retired to rest, they talked long over the matter; for just as when they had approached the gold valley, their excitement had increased with every day's journey. Harry felt that this was his last chance, his only hope of gaining the object for which he had left England. "It is strange, Harry," Bertie said, "that the natives should believe these absurd stories about demons. Dias seems, in every other way, as sensible a fellow as one can want to meet, but in this respect he is as bad as any of them." "It is not extraordinary, Bertie, if you remember that it is not so very long ago since people at home believed in witches who sailed through the air to take part in diabolic ceremonies, and brought about the death of anyone by sticking pins into a little waxen image, and that even now the peasantry in out-of-the-way parts of the country still hold that some old women bewitch cows, and prevent milk turning into butter however long they may continue churning. Fairy superstitions have not quite disappeared, and the belief in ghosts is very wide-spread. "When you think of that it is not surprising that these poor ignorant natives still have implicit faith in the traditions of their ancestors. It is possible that this old place is still inhabited by Indians, who have been its guardians for ages, and if not now, may have had charge of it long after the Spaniards came here, and murdered any who ventured to approach the place. We know that the tradition of the gold valley has been faithfully maintained in the family of Dias; this may also be the case in the family to which the guardianship of this old place was entrusted, but to my mind it is less likely. In the case of the gold valley there was nothing for those in the secret to do but to hold their tongues; but to supply guardians to this place from generation to generation must have been a much more irksome task, and it may have been abandoned, either from the dislike of those who had to spend their lives in such a monotonous business, or by their families dying out. I certainly don't want to have a fight with men who are only following orders passed down to them for hundreds of years. If they attack us, we shall have to fight; but I sincerely trust that we may find the place deserted, for, fight or no fight, I mean to get the treasure if it is there." "I should think so," Bertie agreed. "The treasure is absolutely of no use to them, and may be no end of use to you." "To both of us, Bertie. If there is a treasure, you may be sure it is a large one, ample for both of us, and to spare. Of course we shall have trouble in getting it away--the gold would be invaluable to any of these rascally adventurers who are a curse to Peru. I really want to see the place, even putting aside the question of the treasure, for it must have been extraordinarily well hidden if the Spaniards never came upon it; and I think there can be no doubt whatever that in this respect the traditions must be true. The whole thing would have been upset if the Spaniards had once paid a visit there, for, from what we saw at Pachacamac and Cuzco, they spared no exertions whatever to root out likely hiding-places. The treasure, if there is one, will be difficult to find, but I have got nearly a year yet, and if necessary I will spend the whole of it in digging. Dias could go and get provisions for us. Of course he must not always go to the same place. Sometimes he can go up to Huaura, sometimes down to Chancay or Ancon. This place, he has told me, lies a mile or two south of the Salinas promontory, which would partly account for its escaping notice, for the road from Huaura, as we see on the map, skirts the foot of the hill, and goes straight on to Chancay and Ancon, and there is no earthly reason why anyone should go out to the promontory. People here don't leave the roads and travel eight or ten miles merely to look at the ocean, especially when by following the straight line they would see it without trouble. Well, we have both had hard work during the past year, what with felling trees to make bridges, chopping logs for fires, making roads practicable by moving rocks out of the way, occasionally using our picks where Dias thought that there was a lode, and carrying mules' burdens up and down steep places. "Altogether it has been a sort of backwoodsman's life, and if there are treasure-vaults in this place I think we shall be able to get at them, however thick and heavy the stones may be on the top of them." "I am game," Bertie said. "There is a lot more excitement in working when possibly a treasure lies under your feet than in chopping away at trees, some of which are so hard as almost to turn the edge of an axe. The place cannot be very large, so it won't take us very long if we are obliged to tear up every foot of it. I suppose there cannot be above three feet of stone over the mouths of any of these vaults." "I think, Bertie, that when we have once investigated the place and settled on our plans, we had better send Dias and José down to Callao to get three or four kegs of powder and some boring tools, besides a supply of provisions. We should get on a lot faster with these than with only pickaxes. We shall want a couple of strong iron crowbars for lifting slabs of stone, and of course some fuse for the mines." "We should have to be careful not to put too much powder in, so as not to bring the whole thing down about our ears." "Oh, we should not want to make a mine of that sort, but only to blast the stone as they do in quarries and mines. We should have to make a hole to begin with, by means of our picks and crowbars, in one corner of the room, two or three feet wide; then we must make a couple of holes the size of the boring tool, a foot or so away, according to the hardness of the ground, put in charges and fire them, and in that way blow down the rock into the hole we had made; and so we should go on until we had done the whole floor. Of course, the bigger the hole we first make--that is to say, the wider the face it has--the easier we shall blow the stone down afterwards. I have watched them blasting stone at Portland, and at some galleries they were making at Gibraltar, and I know pretty well how it is done. Of course it is hard work driving the borers down, for that we shall want two or three sledges of different weights. It will make our arms ache at first, but after a week or two we shall be able to stick to it fairly well. Now we had better turn in. We shall start at daybreak tomorrow. It will take us two hours to reach the spot from which Dias said we could see the place, and another three hours to get to the castle. That will give us a long afternoon to take our first look over it." "There, señor," Dias said, when at eight o'clock in the morning they stopped on a projecting spur of the hill, "that is the castle!" From where they stood they could see that the ground fell away into what was at first a mere depression, but gradually deepened into a valley half a mile wide. Still farther down the sides became more precipitous, and in the distance the valley was closed in by rock walls, and appeared to come to an end. That it did not do so was evident from a streak of bright green in the centre of the valley, showing that a small stream must run down it. From the point at which they stood they could see the level line of the plateau near the cliff facing the sea, and on the surface of this a dark zigzag line marked the course of the ravine. Then, when apparently close to the termination of the flat land by the cliffs, the dark streak widened out somewhat. Through a small but powerful telescope which Harry carried he could make out distinctly the upper part of what might be a house. "It is a strange-looking place for a castle to be built," he said, "but it quite answers to your description, Dias. There are certainly some openings, which may have been windows. I am sure no one looking from here, and ignorant that such a place existed, would notice it, and of course from the valley it could not be seen at all. Even from this height I do not think I can see more than ten or twelve feet of the upper part. But surely it must be noticeable to anyone coming along the cliffs?" "It may be, señor, but I cannot say. Certainly no native would go along there even in the daytime. Still, it does seem likely that in the Spanish time some must have ridden along the top of the cliffs, and if they had seen the castle it would certainly have been searched. Assuredly it has not been so. I have been at Ancon and Salinas many times, and have talked with the people there. They would never speak on the subject to one of white blood, but knowing that I was of native blood, and belonged to one of the families to whom the secret could be strictly trusted, they were ready enough to talk about the Castle of Demons. Had the Spaniards ever searched it they would have known, and the place would no longer be feared; but all say that from the time of the conquest by the Spaniards no living being has, as far as is known, entered it." "Then the Incas knew of it, Dias?" "I think so, señor, though I have not heard that any of them ever lived there; but tradition says that the vessel in which a great store of treasure was sent away from Pachacamac, and which, as is proved by Spanish writings, was never heard of afterwards, and doubtless was sunk in a great storm that came on two or three days after it sailed, was intended to be landed and hidden in this castle, which they thought might well escape the observation of the Spaniards." "And even among your traditions there is no allusion to what became of this treasure ship?" "No, señor; all traditions say that it was never heard of from the day it sailed. Had it landed at that castle the secret would have been handed down to some of the native families, just as that of the golden valley and of other hidden treasures has been. But there can be no doubt that the ship was lost with all her treasure." "Well, we need not talk any more about it now, Dias; we shall learn nothing more, however long we stay here and stare at it." They stopped half an hour for breakfast and then rode down the valley. When they got near the spot where it closed in Harry saw by the pallor on the native's face that he was beginning to be greatly alarmed. "You had better stop here, Dias. My brother and I will go on and explore this ravine and have a look at the place. We will take some ropes with us, for the ravine may be blocked by falls of rocks, and we may have to let ourselves down. Evidently the water gets to the sea, or this valley would be a lake like that in the golden ravine, for although it is but a mere driblet of water now, you can see by the banks that a considerable amount comes down in the wet season. How it gets past the castle I don't know; I can only suppose that there is a passage for it underneath the building. We will take both our guns, Bertie, and our pistols. That there are no demons we are quite sure, but the place may have been used as a hiding-place for outlaws and brigands, who could find no better spot, as there was no fear whatever of its being discovered. We will take some bread and meat in our haversacks and a flask of spirits. Perhaps we shall be away longer than we expect, Dias, but at any rate we will not stop there after dark." Tears were in the Indian's eyes as Harry and Bertie said good-bye to him and started, and when he saw them enter the ravine he sat down with his elbows on his knees and cried unrestrainedly. His wife went up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Do not sorrow, Dias; as for me, I have no fear, though I love them as well as you do. I do not say that there may not be demons in the castle--everyone says there are;--but though these may strangle our people who break the orders that were given that none should go near, I do not believe they can hurt our white friends. You saw that they had no fear; you know how brave they are, and how they laughed at the idea of the demons having any power over them. Do you think I could smile and talk if I thought they were in danger? Still, as there is no need to prepare dinner yet, I will tell my beads over and over again. We shall know if any harm comes to them if we hear them fire their guns, for it is certain that they would do so. Even if a legion of demons attacked them they would never run away, but would fight till the last." "I love them," Dias said; "I love them as my own sons. At first, when they came to me from Señor Barriett, it was for his sake that I consented to accompany and aid them; but from that night when they saved my life by rushing, with no weapons save their sticks, into the midst of five men with drawn knives, I felt how noble they were, and I loved them not only for the sake of my life, but for their bravery. Since then my feelings have grown every day. Have they not treated us as equals, as they would do people of their own race--us who, by every Peruvian with white blood in his veins, are looked down upon?" "It is true, Dias. They have laughed and joked with us, and have treated me with as much respect as if I had been of pure Spanish blood, and have always done everything they could to make things easy for me. I will not believe God and the Holy Virgin can permit them to be overpowered by the evil ones. Should it be otherwise, should they never return, I should be inconsolable. It would be to me as if you yourself had died, and I should be ready to stab myself to the heart at the thought that we had brought them here." "I could not live after it either, Maria; but, as you say, I will trust that God will protect them." He cut down two rods and fastened them together in the form of a cross, and then he and his wife knelt before it and repeated innumerable paternosters and Ave Marias, crossing themselves as they did so. José, as soon as he had removed the burdens from the mules and turned them out to graze at the edge of the streamlet, came and joined them in their supplications, occasionally breaking off from the repetition of the only prayers he knew, and in his native language imploring the saints to protect their friends. "There is no humbug about Dias," Bertie said as they left the others. "He is really in a blue funk." "Yes, he is quite in earnest; and we know that he is no coward in other matters." "Certainly not. He showed any amount of pluck in the affair with the Indians. But he seems such a bright, sensible sort of chap, that it is quite funny to hear him going on about his demons. I should not be surprised at anything the ordinary peasant might believe, but it is different with a man like Dias." "You know, Bertie," Harry said, coming to a sudden stop, "I think we are making a mistake going on into this ravine. I have no belief that the place is inhabited; still, there may be desperadoes, and perhaps a few fanatics. It is quite possible that a certain number of families bound themselves to keep watch here, and formed a little community that has lasted to the present day." "But how could they have lived?" "We will talk that over, Bertie, if we find any of them there. Now we must turn back. It is not more than a mile at the outside to the place where we can climb the hillside. In that way we shall be able to look down into this ravine, and take a general view of the place. We shall know what we are doing then, whereas if we were to go on through the gorge without knowing anything about it, we might find ourselves caught in a trap. It won't make half an hour's difference, for the ground up there will be as good walking as it is here, while we might find all sorts of obstacles in this ravine, and with two guns apiece, ammunition, pistols, coils of rope, food, and so on, we should find it awkward work climbing among heaps of rocks. "You were saying, How could a group of people exist here for centuries without any communication with the outside world? Well, I don't suppose they could. They might get water from the stream, and possibly there may be some way of getting down to the sea-shore; anyhow, this stream must find a passage when it is in flood. They might have been able to get enough fish for their wants; but a fish-and-water diet would scarcely be sufficient. "At the same time we are by no means sure that they could have had no communication with the outside, for just as some families may have been ordered to live here, others may have been instructed to supply them with food. The watchers may have had a store of gold-dust sufficient to last them all this time, and their friends outside may have brought them a sheep or two, and corn and other articles of necessity once a week. There could have been no difficulty in doing so. The stories of demons, and probably the murder of inquisitive people who tried to pry into what was going on, created such a dread of the place that those in the secret would come and go without the slightest difficulty. Conceivably, young men may from time to time have gone out for a year into the world and brought back wives with them, or girls may have been sent by the people in league with them outside, and obtained husbands, which is less likely. I should think it was more probable that young boys and girls would be kidnapped, and brought in here from time to time. All this is pure guesswork, of course, but nevertheless there may be people here, and it is just as well to take a look round from above before we trust ourselves inside the place." On gaining the plateau they followed the crest of the valley until they came to a spot where the ravine appeared to end. They found that in fact it made a sharp turn. It was here only some ten feet wide, but soon broadened out to thirty. Fifty yards farther there was another sharp bend, the ravine narrowed to twenty feet, and the sides became absolutely perpendicular. Twenty yards farther still they saw something like a wall about thirty or forty feet high stretching across the gorge, which was here some seventy feet deep. About twenty feet from the foot there was a steep ascent of rocks, such as might have fallen there by a slip from one side or the other. Above these a perpendicular wall rose for another twenty-five feet. Harry and his brother looked at it in surprise from the height at which they stood. Its appearance was precisely that of the wall-precipices on each side. It was rough and uneven, and they could see no signs of any joints. "It looks as if it were natural," Bertie said, "but it can't be." "No, it must certainly be artificial, but it is a wonderful imitation, and certainly anyone coming up the ravine would suppose that bank of rocks at the foot had fallen from its face; but we know that it can't be that, for the water makes its way through. Besides, you see it is only three feet wide at the top, and then there is a narrow ledge a couple of feet wide, which was evidently made for the garrison to stand upon and shoot their arrows at anyone attempting to come up the ravine. Behind the slope is all rough rocks, except just below our feet, where there is a narrow stone staircase of regularly-cut steps. It is so narrow that it could not be noticed by anyone standing here, unless they bent over to look straight down as I am doing. Well, it is just as well that we made the circuit, for we certainly could not have climbed over there." Another sharp turn, and the ravine ran straight towards the castle. They hurried on, and when they had gone fifty yards stood at the edge of a roughly circular pit. It was seventy or eighty feet across, narrowing at each end. At one end was the ravine at whose mouth they were standing, and directly opposite, in what might be called the neck of the bottle, stood the Castle of the Demons. It was some fifty feet in width, and as it stood back about forty feet up the neck it could hardly be seen at any point except that at which they were standing. There was no door or other opening at less than some twenty-five feet from the ground. At that height was a broad aperture about four feet high and twelve wide. Above this were several smaller openings about four feet square. The singular point in the structure was a rough arch of rock, which extended above it and formed its roof. This arch projected thirty or forty feet in front of the building, so that the latter had the appearance of standing in a great cave. "What an extraordinary-looking place!" Bertie said in a low voice. "Extraordinary, but how splendidly chosen for concealment! You see the top of the rock above it is level with the ground on either side. This would perfectly well account for people riding along the line of the cliffs, and passing over without dreaming that there was a house below them. Even if they went to the edge on this side, they would simply see this deep pit and the ravine beyond, but could not by any possibility obtain a sight of the house unless they came round to nearly where we are standing, which they could have no possible motive for doing. Besides, you see, all the way we have been passing through a thick bush; and I have no doubt that in the old time a wood stood here, possibly planted by the builders of the house. Of course the arch existed before the house was built. The stratum below was probably softer, and the stream gradually trickled through, and perhaps in some great flood, when this basin was full, burst its way out, after which the rock gradually fell until it formed that great natural arch." "Well, let us go round and have a look at the other side." They found that the width of the arch to the sea cliff was a hundred and fifty feet. "If the castle extends to this face, Bertie, it is a hundred feet across, but from here we can't see whether it does so. It is probably built flush, however, as Dias said that it was not noticeable from the sea, and had the arch projected beyond it it could certainly have been seen." "Well, Harry, if you will tie a rope round my waist you can let me down, and I will have a look at it. You can hold me easily enough if you stand twenty feet back from the edge, and you won't have to pull me up, because I can easily climb up the rope by myself. I need not go down more than thirty or forty feet, and I can do that easily enough." "Oh, I could pull you up, Bertie." "Well, you could do that if by any chance I should get tired; then I could give a shout, and you could haul on the rope." "There are lots of stumps of trees here, Bertie, and I can take half a turn round one of them and so let you down easily; then when you shout I will fasten the rope there and come to the edge, and I can hear whether you want me to haul or not. Of course it must depend whether there are any jagged rocks sticking out. If so, it would be better for you to climb, as the rope might chafe against them if I pulled." "I understand." Bertie laid down his weapons and water-flask, made a loop at the end of one of the ropes they had brought large enough for him to sit in, then he looked for a spot where the short grass extended to the very edge. "This is a good place, and the rope won't chafe as it runs over that. Now I am ready. If you will go back to that stump fifteen feet away and let it out gradually, I will be off." He knelt down, and putting the rope over his head took a firm hold of it just above the loop, and then crawled backwards, his brother keeping the rope taut. "Slack it out gradually now," Bertie said; "I am just over." Directly afterwards his shoulders disappeared. Harry let the rope slowly out until he calculated that fifty feet were over the cliff, then he fastened it very securely round the stump and went forward to the edge. "Are you all right, Bertie?" he shouted. "Quite right." The face of the rock was very even, and there was nothing for the rope to chafe against. Harry lay down at the edge, keeping a firm hold of the rope to prevent himself from slipping over, and was able to look down on Bertie. "Well, Bertie, what is it?" "It is the wall of the house, I have no doubt, but it is so cleverly built that I can scarcely see where the arch ends and the house begins. Looking quite close I can see where the stones join, but their face has been left rough; and as it is just the same colour as the rocks, and lines have been cut down its face, and cracks made across it answering to the lines in the rock on both sides, I am sure I should not have known it was built up unless I had examined it. It is much narrower on this side than on the other--not more than twenty-five feet, I should say. There seem to be some irregularly-shaped holes in what looks like a fissure in the middle. I suppose they are to light the rooms on this side of the house, but they are certainly too small to be noticed from the sea." "Does the sea come right up to the foot of the cliff?" It was a minute before the answer came. "The water comes to the foot, but there is a line of rocks running along forty or fifty feet farther out. Some of them seem to be thirty feet out of the water; at one end they touch the cliff, and at the other there is a free passage. The water is very clear, but as far as I can judge I should say there is a depth of a fathom or a fathom and a half between the rocks and the cliff. Certainly a boat could row in to a position underneath where I am." "Is there anything more?" "No." "You don't see an entrance down here?" "No." "All right! Then you may as well come up again. Can you climb up?" "Easily." "Well, hail me if you want me to haul." Harry went back to the stump, unwound the rope until it was only half a turn round it, and then, holding it firmly, stood ready to haul up. CHAPTER XV INVESTIGATIONS Harry was relieved when, a few minutes later, Bertie's head appeared above the edge, and directly afterwards he crawled over. "My arms have strengthened ever so much with our work. I could have done it before, but it would have been hard work." "Well, so far so good, Bertie. There is no doubt that it is one of the best hiding-places in the world, and I am not a bit surprised that the Spaniards never found it. Now we will go back to the edge of the ravine and have a good look from that side." As they went along he said, "Let us have a look at these bushes, Bertie. The soil is very thin about here, and I wonder that the trees grew." "These are pines," Bertie said, "and in the mountains we often saw pines growing among rocks where there did not seem a handful of soil for them." On examining they found several old stumps, and thrusting a ramrod down Harry found, to his surprise, that the soil was from three to four feet deep. He tried again a little farther off, and found that it was two feet; further still, it was only one. "The tree must have stood in a hole in the rock," he said. "Try another one, Bertie." The same results were obtained. "That explains it, Bert. Evidently when they planted the trees to prevent this place from being seen from the hills, they cut away the rock in circles about twelve feet across and made cup-shaped holes, which they filled up with earth. When they planted the young trees I dare say at first they watered them. They could easily enough fetch water up from the stream. When the trees got fairly rooted they would be able to leave them alone, perhaps giving them a good watering once every two or three months. Whenever the rains came they would be able to give up watering altogether, for in these basins the earth would keep moist for a very long time. It would be a big job, but no doubt the king who built the place had all his tribe at work on it. It is probable that the Incas had established themselves at Cuzco for many years before they came down to this place, and the trees may not have been planted till their coming was first heard of. In that case there would be plenty of time to hide the place before they came down and searched the shore. We know that the Chimoos resisted them for a considerable time before they were finally conquered. Well, for whatever purpose this place was built it is one in which either the Chimoos or the Incas, if they ever found the place, would be likely to hide treasure, which is satisfactory. Now we will sit down here for a short time and watch both windows. You look at the two top lines, Bertie, and I will look at the two lower lines. I certainly do not see any signs of life. That is how the water gets out," and he pointed to a roughly-shaped arch about twelve feet wide and as many high. Through this the little stream disappeared. "I expect there is a similar passage at the other end." "There may have been," Bertie said. "I was hanging so close to the wall that there may very well have been one without my being able to see it. But it looks pitch-dark in there. If there were much of an opening we ought to see the light, for, as we agreed, it can't be more than a hundred feet long." [Illustration: HARRY DROPPED THE BARREL OF HIS RIFLE INTO THE PALM OF HIS LEFT HAND.] "That is the first place we will investigate, Bertie. The question of how we are to get into the house wants some thinking over. That lowest window is a good twenty-five feet above the ground." "Of course if we had a grapnel we could fasten it to the end of a rope and chuck it in." "We shall have to make something of that sort. If the window had been on the other side instead of this it would have been easy enough, because I could have lowered you and slipped down the rope afterwards, but that arch sticking out so far on this side makes it impossible. All that we can do now is, as far as I can see, to lower ourselves down on to the top of that wall in the ravine, then go and examine the tunnel. We have got plenty of rope to lower ourselves from here on to the wall." They watched the building for another twenty minutes. "I am convinced that no one is there," Harry said. "I have not seen as much as a shadow pass any of the windows since. If people did live in it they would naturally be on this side of the house, because the rooms here are better lighted and more cheerful, and no doubt they are the principal rooms, as the house narrows so much at the other end." "Well, let us try it," Bertie said. "If there is a strong force here we should only have to make a bolt back to that narrow staircase. We could hold that against a whole tribe." They rose and walked along the edge of the ravine till they were above the wall, then, fastening the rope to a stump, they slid down on to it. "So far so good," Harry said, as, holding their rifles in their hands, they went down the steps. Then he suddenly stopped. "Hullo," he exclaimed, "here are two skeletons!" They were not quite skeletons, for the bones were covered by a parchment-like skin, and there were still remains of the short skirt each had worn in life. A spear lay beside each. With difficulty the brothers passed down without treading upon them. "They must have been here a long time, Harry," Bertie said when they got to the bottom. "Any time," the other said. "In the dry air of these low lands there is scarce any decay. You remember those mummies we saw. I believe iron or steel will lie here for years without rusting. They may have been here for a couple of hundred years or more." "I wonder what killed them, Harry?" "I have no idea. You see, one was lying almost on the other with his arms round his body, as if he had died trying to lift him up. If they had been shot by arrows they would still be sticking into them; if they had been killed by people pursuing them they would probably be lying upon their backs, for they would naturally have faced round at the last moment to resist their pursuers, whereas there are no signs of injury. This settles the point that there is no one in the house. Had it been inhabited, the bodies would have been removed from the path, for it is by this that people would go out and return. There may have been a ladder down from the wall; the only other way they could have got out would have been through that passage to the sea. A boat may have been kept there; but even if that had been so, we should scarcely have found those bodies on the steps. Well, we shall have plenty of time to talk over that." They walked across the open space until they approached the building. For a height of twenty feet it was constructed of stone, above that it appeared to be made of the great adobe bricks which had been so largely used at Pachacamac, and in others of the old ruins they had seen. "There is no question that it must have been built by the Chimoos or some race before them," Harry said; "the Incas could have had no possible reason for erecting such a place. Well, now for the tunnel." The little stream only occupied two feet of the passage. They were therefore enabled to walk down dry-foot. "We ought to have brought a torch with us," Bertie said. "I don't think we shall want that; there is a sort of thin blue light, the reflection of the light upon the water outside, though I don't know why it should be so blue." The reason was soon manifest. The passage sloped downwards, and when they had gone some fifty feet their progress was arrested by water which appeared of a deep-blue colour. "That is it," Harry said. "You see the roof comes down into the water twenty feet off, and the light has come up under it. They sloped this passage to make the water flow out below the surface of the sea, so that the opening could not be seen from without. By the light I should not say that the opening is more than six inches under the water. I don't know how the tides are, but if it is high tide now, the top of the opening would be eighteen inches out of water at low tide, for, as you know, the tide only rises about two feet on this coast. In that case a boat would be able to come in and out at low tide, but of course a man wanting to come in or go out could easily dive under at any time. Well, that settles that point for the present. It was a clever plan; any amount of water could flow out in flood time, and yet no one who took the trouble to come behind that ledge of rocks we saw would have any idea that there was an opening. I think now that we had better go back, Bertie; in the first place because we can do nothing until we have manufactured a grapnel of some sort, and in the next place because every moment we delay will add to the anxiety of our friends in camp. We must have been away three hours, I should say." They ascended the steps, fastened the short rope round a block at the top of the wall across the ravine, and lowered themselves down. They had to proceed with great care while making their way down the slope composed of rough and jagged rocks, Once at the bottom of the ravine, however, they walked briskly on. They had scarcely issued from the entrance when they saw a stir in the camp in the distance and heard a shout of delight, and then Dias dashed off to meet them at the top of his speed. "Thanks to all the saints, señor, that you are safe! You do not know how we have suffered. We have prayed ever since you started, all of us. Once or twice I threw myself down in despair, but Maria chided me for having so little faith in God to keep you from evil, and cheered me by saying that had harm come to you we should assuredly have heard the sound of your guns. Have you been in the castle?" "No, Dias, we have not been in--for the good reason that we could not get in, because the only entrance is fully twenty-five feet from the ground. We cannot enter until we have made some contrivance by which a rope can be fixed there, or manufactured a ladder, which would be the best way and save a lot of trouble, if we could get a couple of poles long enough. We thought that we would come back when we had seen all there was to be seen outside the place." The Indian's face fell. "Then you do not know what is in the house, señor?" "No; but we are certain that there is no one there, and that probably no one has been there for the past two hundred years, and perhaps a good deal longer." "And the demons have not interfered with you?" "The demons knew better," Bertie laughed. "They may not be powerful in the daytime," Dias said in an awed tone. "It is at night that they would be terrible." "Well, Dias," Bertie said, "everyone knows that the demons cannot withstand the sign of the cross. All you have to do is to make a small cross, hold it up in front of you and say, '_Vade retro, Satanas!_' and they will fly howling away." "Seriously," Harry said, "you know it is all bosh about demons, Dias." "But the church exorcises evil spirits. I have seen a priest go with candles and incense to a haunted house, and drive out the evil spirits there." "That is to say, Dias, no spirits were ever seen there afterwards, and we may be very certain that no spirits were ever seen there before, though cowardly people might have fancied they saw them. However, to-morrow we shall get inside, and Bertie and I will stop there all night, and if we neither see nor hear anything of them you may be quite sure that there are none there." "But the traditions say they have strangled many and torn them, señor; their bodies have been found in the daytime and carried off." "It is quite possible that they were strangled and torn there, but you may be sure that it was the work not of demons, but of the men who were set to guard the place from intruders. Well, those men have gone. We found two skeletons, which must have been there at least a hundred years, perhaps a great deal more. They were lying on the stairs, the only way of getting into the place, and they would have been removed long ago if anyone had been passing in or out." By this time they had arrived at the camp. "I knew you would come back all safe, señors," Donna Maria said triumphantly; "I told Dias so over and over again. But what have you seen?" "I see something now--or rather I don't see something now that I should like to see," Bertie laughed. "I thought you would have got a good dinner ready for me, but I do not see any signs of its being even begun." The woman laughed. "I have been too busy praying, señor, and have been keeping up Dias's spirits. I never knew him faint-hearted before, and it really almost frightened me; but I will set about getting dinner at once." "No, no," Harry said; "we are really not hungry. We had a good meal before we started. So do you three sit down and I will tell you all we have seen." The three natives listened with intense interest. When he had done, Maria clapped her hands. "It must be a wonderful place," she said. "I wish I had gone with you, I will go to-morrow if you will take me." "Certainly we will take you, Maria; and I have no doubt that Dias will go too." "I will go as far as the place," said Dias, "but I will not promise to go in." "I won't press you, Dias. When we have slept there a night I have no doubt you will become convinced that it is quite safe. And now about the ladder. We shall really want two to be comfortable--one for getting up to the window, that must be made of wood; the other, which will be used for getting up and down the wall in the ravine, may be made of ropes. But I think that that had best be hung from the top of the ravine above it, so as to avoid having to climb over those rough stones at the foot, which are really very awkward. One might very well twist one's ankle among them." "I will go at once, señor, and get the poles," Dias said. "You may as well come with me, José. We passed a wood in the valley about five miles off; there we can cut down a couple of young trees. If we put the saddles on two of the riding mules, when we have got the poles clear we can fasten the ends to ropes and trail them behind us." "We shall also want some of the branches you cut off, Dias. You had better say thirty lengths of about two feet long, so that we may place the rungs nine inches apart. You had better get poles thirty feet long, for we may not have just the height by a couple of feet." The two natives at once rode off, and the brothers set to work to collect sticks for the fire. "It is too bad, señors, that this should not have been done while you were away, but we thought of nothing but your danger." "You were perfectly right, Maria; if we were in peril, you did the best thing of all to obtain help for us. As to the dinner, there is no hurry whatever for it. What have you got to eat?" "There is nothing, señor, but a few of the fish we fried two days ago, and the ham that we smoked of that bear." "I will take the line, then, and go down and try to catch some fresh fish," Bertie said. "There is a good-sized pool about half-way between here and the ravine. I might get some fish there." "I will take my gun, Bertie, and go up to the bushes by the ravine, and see if I can get a bird or two. There is no other shelter anywhere about here." In half an hour the lad brought a dozen fish into the camp. None of them were above half a pound, but they were nearly of a size. "These will be very nice," the woman said with a smile as he handed them to her. "I have thrown away the others. I do not think we dried them enough; they were certainly going bad. I have heard your brother fire several times, and as he does not often miss, I have no doubt he will bring us something." Twenty minutes later Harry was seen coming along. When he arrived he threw down a large bunch of wild pigeons. "There are ten brace," he said. "That will give us four apiece. I found nothing in the bushes, but I suddenly remembered that when we went across from the ravine to the house, lots of wild pigeons rose from the sides of the rocks. We did not give them a thought at the time, our attention being fixed upon the building. But when I got nothing above, I suddenly remembered them, and concluded that they had their nests in the crannies of the rocks. So I walked along to the top, and as I did so numbers of them flew up. I shot a couple; most of the others soon settled again, but some kept flying round and round, and in ten minutes I got as many as I wanted. Then of course I had to go down into the ravine by the rope and the steps to gather them up. I returned the way we did, by the rope we had left hanging from the top of the wall." Maria was already at work on the birds. Taking them by the legs, she dipped them for a minute into a pot of boiling water, and as she took them out Bertie pulled off the feathers. Then she cut off the heads and feet, cleaned them, and spitted them on José's ramrod, and, raking out a line of embers from the fire, laid the ends of the ramrod on two forked twigs while she attended to the fish. "But they will be done before the others arrive," Bertie said. "No, señor; there they come! They will be here in a quarter of an hour. The cakes are ready and hot, so we will lay the pigeons on them, and they will be nicely flavoured by the time that we have eaten the fish and are ready for them." Dias and José soon arrived at a gallop, with the long poles trailing behind them and a fagot of short sticks fastened to each saddle. "Those are capital poles, Dias," Harry said as he examined them--"strong enough for anything. We will chop notches in them for the rungs to lie in. There will be no fear then of their shifting, which they might do if the lashings stretched. Now, we have got a capital dinner just done to a turn, so you see we have not been lazy while you were away. "You see," he said, after they had finished breakfast, "my shooting has quite settled the point that no Indians are in the castle. If there had been they would certainly have come to the windows to see who was firing. I kept an eye on the castle between each shot, and saw no signs of any movement. It is a capital thing that so many pigeons live among the rocks. If we content ourselves with say five brace a day, they will last us a long time, and will be a change from salt and dried meat, which we should otherwise have to depend upon, for we cannot be sending away for fresh meat two or three times a week. We can get fish, though I don't suppose that will last very long, for the pool will soon be fished out, and I don't think that there is water enough in other places for fish of that size." "We can get them from the sea, Harry. We have got plenty of large hooks and lines, which we used on the other side of the mountains. If any of the window openings on that side are large enough, we can let down the lines from there. If not, we can do it from the top where I went down." "I should not like that," Harry said. "One might slip on that short grass." "Well, one could dive out through the passage and sit on that ledge of rocks, and fish either inside them or in the sea outside." "Yes, we might do that, Bertie, and certainly it would be a first-rate thing if we could get plenty of fish. It would keep us in good health and make a nice change. I think to-morrow morning, Dias, we had better fix our camp close up to the mouth of the ravine. Out here in the open valley we can be seen from the hills, and if anyone caught sight of the animals, it would very soon get talked about, and we should have a party down here to see who we were and what we were about." "Yes, señor, that would be much better. I should not have liked to go nearer this morning; but now that you have been there twice, and have returned safely, I am ready to move." "It would certainly be better; besides, it would save us a couple of miles' walk each time we wanted a meal. However, when we once set to work I have no doubt we shall establish ourselves in the castle. Of course one of us will come down morning and evening to see to the animals." As soon as the meal was finished they set to work to make the ladder. A short stick was cut as a guide to the space that was to be left between the rungs. Bertie and José marked off the distances on the two poles, and Dias and Harry with their axes cut the grooves in which the sticks were to lie. Then the poles were laid a foot apart, and the work of pressing the sticks into their places began. They agreed that the ropes should not be cut up, as they would be wanted for fastening on the loads whenever the mules went to fetch food or powder. Two of the head-ropes were used on each side, and a firm job was made. "When you go, Dias, for the powder and so on, you must get another supply of rope. We shall want a longer ladder than this in the ravine, and also a rope to lift powder and firewood and so on into the castle, and perhaps for other things that one does not think of at present. Tomorrow we will unfasten the cord by which we descended to the wall, as we shall not want to use that in future. I think to-morrow, when we go to the castle, as you and José do not mean to accompany us, you might take your axes and cut down a lot of those stumps among the brushwood, split them up, and pitch them into the courtyard of the castle. It would be well to lay in a good stock of firewood. We shall want it for cooking and lighting of an evening. We have only one or two torches left, and we shall want a cheerful fire." "I may go with you to-morrow, may I not?" Maria said. "Certainly you may, if you wish." "I should like to," she said. "In your company I sha'n't be a bit afraid of demons; and I want to see the place." "That is right, Maria, and it shows at any rate that your curiosity is stronger than your superstition." "If Maria goes I will go," Dias said. "I don't like it; but if she went and I didn't I should never hear the last of it." "Very well," Harry said with a laugh, "I do think she would have the better of you in the future if you didn't. So you see you will be both conquering your superstitions--she, because her curiosity is greater; you, because you are more afraid of her tongue than you are of the demons." "A woman never forgets, señor; if she once has something to throw up in a man's teeth it comes out whenever she is angry." "I suppose so, Dias. Bertie and I have had no experience that way, but we will take your word for it." The next morning they moved the mules and all their belongings to the extreme end of the valley. Then they had an early breakfast. José took up his axe and the others their arms; the former turned back for the point where he could climb the hill. Dias and Harry took the heavy end of the ladder, Bertie the light one, and they started up the ravine. Maria followed with a store of bread that she had baked the day before. It was hard work carrying the ladder up the rocks at the foot of the wall. When it was securely fastened there, they mounted and dragged it up to them. When they came out into the open space there was a pause. "It is, as you said, a strange place, señor." "It is, Dias, an extraordinary place; and if the people who built it wanted, as I suppose they did, to avoid observation, they could not have chosen a better. When those trees were growing it would have been impossible to catch sight of them without coming down the ravine." "It looks very still," Dias said in a doubtful voice. "That is generally the case when a place is empty, Dias, Now let us go on at once and get the ladder up." As soon as the ladder was in position Harry mounted, closely followed by Bertie. Dias hesitated; but a merry laugh from his wife settled the point, and he followed with an expression of grave determination on his face. As soon as he was on the ladder his wife followed him with a light step. As Harry reached the top, he found that the sill of the window was two feet and a half above the floor of the apartment. He stepped down and then looked round. The room occupied the whole width of the house, and was some twenty feet wide. Four rows of pillars ran across it, supporting the roof above. The ends of the room were in semi-darkness. It was not above ten feet in height. There were rude carvings on the pillars and the walls. By the time he had made these observations the others had joined him. "I see people there," Dias said, in an awed voice, pointing to one end of the room. Harry dropped the barrel of his rifle into the palm of his left hand. After gazing two seconds he placed it on his shoulder, saying, "There are people, Dias, but they won't do us any harm;" and he walked in that direction. Two figures lay on the ground; four others were in a sitting position, close to each other, against the end wall. Some bows and arrows and spears lay near them. All were dressed in a garment of rough cloth. Harry walked up to one and touched it on the head with the muzzle of his gun. As he did so it crumbled away; the bones rattled on the stone floor as they fell. Donna Maria gave a little cry. "They are dead!" she exclaimed. "They must have been dead years and years ago." "Two or three hundred, I should think. Your legends are evidently true, Dias. There was a party left here to keep strangers from entering this place. Now, before we go farther, let us think this out. We will sit down on the ledge of the window. But before we do so, take a good look at their arms and skulls, Dias. You have often been with travellers to the ruins; let us hear what you say." Dias, who was now assured that he had only to deal with human beings, examined them carefully, looking at the ornaments that still hung round their necks, and then said: "They are not the old people, señor; these were Incas." "That is an important point; now let us see how this is to be explained. Now," he said, as they sat down, "it is clear that the Incas did know this building. They may have discovered treasures here or they may not; but it would certainly seem that they were as anxious as the Chimoos had been to keep its existence a secret, and it is certain that they must have had some interest in doing so. We have reason to believe that the Spaniards at least did not know of it. There is no doubt whatever that these men were not killed in fight; on the contrary, their sitting position proves that they died quietly, and probably at the same time. We see no signs of food; we may find some as we search the place. If we do not, we must take it that they either died from an outbreak of some epidemic or from hunger. And it is quite probable that the two skeletons on the steps were two of their companions who were going out to seek for food, and that they fell from weakness; one clearly died in the act of trying to lift the other. What do you think of that, Dias?" "I think that what you say is likely. But why should they have died from hunger?" "It is probable that others were in the secret, and were in the habit of bringing provisions to them, and perhaps of relieving them at certain periods. We know that there were fierce battles in the early times of the Spaniards. In one of these battles the whole of those who were acquainted with the secret may have fallen. Or it may have been earlier after the conquest had been completed, when the Spaniards drove tens of thousands of men to work as slaves in the mines. The people here may have remained at their post, hoping for relief until it was too late. Two of the strongest may have started at last, but have been too weak to climb the steps, and died there. Their comrades may have never known their fate, but have sat down to die here, as you see. I should think it probable that the second of my suggestions is likely to be the right one, and that this did not take place until perhaps a hundred years after the arrival of the Spaniards, otherwise those legends of men who came near this place being killed would never have been handed down. If all this is as I suggest, either the Incas knew that the Chimoos had buried treasure here, or they themselves buried some, although, as you say, there is no tradition of treasure having been taken here. But it is possible that that treasure ship, which undoubtedly sailed from some place along the coast and was never again heard of, really came here; that her treasure was landed, and the vessel then destroyed. In either case, there is strong reason for hope that there is treasure somewhere in this castle if we can but find it." "We will find it," Bertie said confidently. "What you say must be true. These Indians would never have been fools enough to sit here and die without some good reason for it. Well, I vote that before we do anything else we clear these bones out." "We can do that the first thing to-morrow morning, Bertie. We can't just throw them out of the window. The bones are of men who died doing their duty to their country. We will leave them as they are to-day, and to-morrow we will bring up one of the big leather bags, place the bones in it, and take them down into the valley and bury them." "Then you won't sleep here to-night, Harry?" "No; I have not a shadow of superstition, but I do not think it would be lively here with those things at the end of the room. Now, let us look about a bit. "This was evidently the great hall of the place; do you not think so, Dias?" "Yes, señor; the house gets narrower as it nears the sea. This is by far the best lighted room on this side. No doubt the rooms on this floor were the abode of the chief who built it, and his principal followers; the others would be above." "Well, we will light the two torches. Yes, there is no doubt that this was the room. You see there are brackets against all the pillars for holding torches. Before we go farther we will see what they are made of." He took his knife out of his pocket and went up to one of the brackets, which consisted of bars of metal an inch and a half square and eighteen inches long. They widened out at the end, and here was a round hole about two inches in diameter, evidently intended to put the torch in. The metal was black with age. He scraped a few inches off one of them with his knife. "Silver!" he exclaimed. "It would have been better if they had been gold. But as there are four on each pillar, and twelve pillars, they would make a tidy weight. That is a good beginning, Bertie. If they are the same in all the rooms there would be several tons of it." There was but one door to the room; through this they passed. Dias, now that there was some explanation for what he considered the work of the demons, had a more assured air. One passage led straight on; two others ran parallel to the wall of the room they had left. "We will examine these first," Harry said. "It is likely enough they lead to the stairs to the lower room. There must be two floors below us, one above the level of the top of the tunnel, the other below that must be divided in two by it." As they advanced into the passage there was a strange and sudden clamour, a roaring sound mingled with sharp shrieks and strange little piping squeaks. Maria ran back with a shriek of alarm, and there was a strange rush overhead. The torches were both extinguished, and Harry and his brother discharged their rifles almost at the same moment. Dias burst into a shout of laughter as they both dropped their weapons and swung their double-barrelled guns forward. "What on earth is it, Dias?" "It is bats and birds, señor. I have seen them come out of caves that way many times. I dare say the place is full of bats. The birds would only come into rooms where there is some light." Turning round they saw quite a cloud of bats flying out through the door. "Confound it!" Harry said. "They have given me the worst fright I ever had in my life." They went back to the room, they had left. Both Harry and Bertie had lost every tinge of colour from their faces. "I am very glad, Harry," Bertie said, with an attempt at a laugh, "that you were frightened. I was scared almost out of my life." Maria had thrown herself down on her face. "Ah, señors," Dias said triumphantly, "you thought they were demons!" "I did not think they were demons, Dias, but what they were I could not tell you. I never heard any such sound before. I am not ashamed to say that I did feel badly frightened. Now, see to your wife, Dias." "There is nothing to be afraid of, Maria. What are you lying there for?" The woman raised herself slightly. "Are you alive?" she said in a dazed way. "Alive? of course I am! You don't suppose I am going to be frightened at a lot of bats? There, look at them, they are still streaming out." "It is all right, Maria," Harry said. "You have had a fright; and so have Bertie and I, so you need not be ashamed of yourself. It is all very well for Dias to laugh, but he says he has seen such things before." "If you were afraid, señor, I need not be ashamed that I was; I really did think it was the demons." "There is no such thing, Maria; but it was as good an imitation of them as you are ever likely to see." "I was in a horrible funk, Maria," Bertie said, "and I am only just getting over it; I feel I am quite as pale as you. What are you looking so pleased about, Dias?" he asked almost angrily. "I am pleased, señor, now I have got even with Maria. The first time she says to me 'demons', I shall say to her 'bats'." "Now, let us start again," Harry said as they all laughed. "But instead of going down, we will go upstairs. I have not pulled myself quite together yet, and I don't suppose you have." "No, my knees are quite wobbling about, and if I saw anything, I certainly could not aim straight just at present. And it's rum; we had the main-mast struck by lightning off the Cape one voyage I made, and I did not feel a bit like this." "I dare say not, Bertie. We all feel brave in dangers that we are accustomed to; it is what we don't know that frightens us. We will sit here on the window-sill for another five minutes before we move again. José, you have got some pulque in your gourd, I suppose?" "Yes, señor." "Then we will all take a drink of it. I don't like the stuff, but just at present I feel that it won't come amiss at all." Some of the spirit was poured into a tin mug they had with them, and mixed with water, with which they had filled their water-bottles from the stream before starting. CHAPTER XVI THE SEARCH BEGINS In a few minutes all were ready to go on again. Harry had asked Maria if she would like to go down the ladder and wait till they returned. "No, señor, I should not like it at all. I don't care how full of bats the rooms are, now that I know what they are. As for Dias, I have no doubt that the first time he heard them he was just as frightened." "No, I was not; but I dare say I should have been if the man I was with--I was then only about José's age--had not told me that the cavern was full of bats. There was a great storm coming on, and he proposed that we should take shelter there. We brought the mules into the mouth of the cave, and he said, 'Now, we will light a torch and go in a bit farther, and then you will be astonished. It is a bat cavern, and I have no doubt there are thousands of them here. They won't hurt us, though they may knock out our torch, and the noise they make is enough to scare one out of one's senses, if one does not know what it is.' Though I did know, I own I was frightened a bit; but since then I have been into several such caves, so I knew in a moment what it was. I ought to have warned the señors, for an old house like this, where there is very little light, is just the place for them." "But there were birds too, Dias." "Yes, I expect they were nearer. Perhaps some of them were in the other rooms, where they would be close to the openings. But they were probably scared too by the noise of the bats, and as the windows behind were too small for them all to fly out together, they made for the light instead." "Well, now, let us start," Harry said, getting up. They again lit their torches, and this time found everything perfectly quiet in the passage. Two or three yards beyond the spot at which they had before arrived they saw a staircase to the left. It was faintly lighted from above, and, mounting it, they found themselves in a room extending over the whole width and depth of the house. The roof at the eastern end was not supported by pillars, but by walls three feet wide and seven or eight feet apart. The first line of these was evidently over the wall of the room they had left. There were four lines of similar supports erected, they had no doubt, over the walls of rooms below. The light from the four windows in front, and from an irregular opening at the other end some three feet high and six inches wide, afforded sufficient light for them to move about without difficulty. There were many signs of human habitation here. Along the sides were the remains of mats, which had apparently divided spaces six feet wide into small apartments. Turning these over they found many trifles--arrow-heads, bead-necklaces, fragments of pots, and even a child's doll. "I expect this is the room where the married troops lived and slept," Harry said; "there is not much to see here." The two stories above were exactly similar, except that there were no remains of dividing mats nor of female ornaments. They walked to the narrow end. Here the opening for light was of a different shape from those in the rooms below. It had apparently been originally of the same shape, but had been altered. In the middle it was, like the others, three feet high and six inches wide, but a foot from the bottom there was a wide cut, a foot high and three feet wide. As they approached it Dias gave an exclamation of surprise. Two skeletons lay below it. "They must have been on watch here, señor, when they died," he said as they came up to them. "It is a rum place to watch," Bertie said, "for you cannot see out." "You are right, Bertie, it is a curious hole." The wall was over two feet thick; all the other openings had been driven straight through it, and, as they had noticed, were doubtless made in the stones before they were placed there, for inside they were cleanly cut, and it was only within three inches of the outer face that the edges had been left rough. This opening was of quite a different character. It sloped at a sharp angle, and no view of the open sea could be obtained, but only one of the line of rocks at the foot of the cliffs. It was roughly made, and by the marks of tools, probably of hardened copper, it had evidently been cut from the inside. Harry stood looking for some time. "I cannot understand their cutting the hole like this. It could not be noticed from the sea that there was an opening at all; that is plain enough. But why make the hole at all when you can see nothing from it? And yet a watch has been placed here, while there was none at the other places where they could make out any passing ship." "Perhaps," Bertie said, "it was done in order that if from the other places boats were seen approaching, they could chuck big stones down from here and sink any boat that might row inside the rocks into the entrance to the passage, which, as this is in the middle of the room, must be just under us." "In that case they would have kept a supply of big stones here. I have no doubt whatever that it was made some time after the castle was built, and I should say, judging by its unfinished state, the work was done in haste. But what for, goodness only knows. Well now, having made no discoveries whatever on the upper floor, we will go down. It is certain that there can be no great treasure hidden under any of these floors, there is not depth enough for hiding-places. I counted the steps as we came upstairs, and there cannot be much more than two feet between the floor of one room and the ceiling in the next. I fancy that this is of single stones, each the flooring length of the space between the half-walls. You see that there is a long beam of stone running on the top of the dividing wall, and the ends of these stones appear to rest on it. It is below that we must look for hiding-places." They descended to the first floor. They found that the space behind the great room was divided into a number of chambers. All of these, with the exception of the small one on the sea-face, were necessarily in absolute darkness, and in all were brackets for torches, similar to those in the principal chamber. Bertie counted them, and found that, including those first met with, they numbered one hundred and twenty-three. "How much do you think they weigh apiece?" he asked Harry when the tour was finished. "I have not the slightest idea, Bertie. I should think about fifteen pounds, but it may be five pounds less than that. They would certainly give a very nasty knock on the head." "Oh, I was not thinking of knocks on the head. If there are a hundred bars at fifteen pounds apiece, it is a big amount of silver; if they are only ten pounds each--and really I think that is nearer the mark--they weigh a thousand pounds. What is silver worth a pound?" "It varies. You can put it at five shillings an ounce; that would be three pounds sterling for one of silver--three thousand pounds in a rough calculation for the lot." "Well, that is not a bad beginning, Harry; it would pay all the expenses and leave a couple of thousand over." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "A drop in the ocean as far as I am concerned, Bertie. Still, it is a beginning; and you may be sure that they did not take all this trouble to guard this castle for the sake of three thousand pounds' worth of silver." They now went down to the next floor. Here there were two staircases, and the space was divided into two parts by a wall along the centre. There were no openings whatever for light. One half had evidently been devoted to arms. Here still lay hundreds of spear-shafts, tens of thousands of arrows, piles of hide shields, and caps of the same material. "This store must have been larger than was required for the garrison of the place," Harry said, "it must have been a reserve for re-arming a whole tribe." Besides the arms there were great bales of rough cloth and piles of skins, all in a marvellous state of preservation owing to the dryness of the air. After thoroughly examining the room they went up the stairs leading into it and descended those into the adjoining chamber. This was divided into compartments by transverse walls four feet shorter than the width, thereby leaving a passage through from end to end. Here in confusion--for the most part turned inside out--were sacks of matting and bags of leather. One of the compartments was filled with great jars arranged in tiers. Some of the compartments were quite empty. "I think, señor, that these were stores of loose grain, probably maize. I do not see a single grain left." They looked carefully round with the torches. "This carries out our idea, Dias, that the people upstairs died of hunger. I have no doubt, as you say, that the sacks did contain grain. If these had been cleared in the ordinary way there would certainly remain a good deal loosely scattered about. They might have been full or half-full at the time the place was left as we found it. Possibly, instead of ten men, the garrison may have been ten times as strong at first, but in the fifty or hundred years before the last survivors died they may have dwindled to a tenth of that number. However, it is plain that, as you say, the store of food was not carried away, but was consumed to the last grain. In the same way you can see, by the way the sacks and bags are tumbled about and turned inside out, how careful was the search for any remnant that might have been overlooked when they were first emptied. It all points to starvation." Three of the largest divisions bore evident traces that at some time or other, animals, probably llamas or vicuñas, had been closely penned there. Another had been occupied by a store of hay, some of which still remained. When they had thoroughly examined this room, Harry looked at his watch and said, "It is late in the afternoon--our torches are nearly finished; however, there is time for a casual look round at the cellars below. To-morrow we will begin a regular search there." They descended by the staircase to the basement. "How narrow this place is!" Bertie exclaimed. "It is not much more than half the width of the room above." "Of course it is not; the two rooms above occupied the whole width of the house, these only occupy the width between the passage and the rock-wall on each side. You see, the tunnel is twelve feet wide, and we may take it that these walls are at least three feet thick--it is not as if they had been built of brick, or even of stones cut to shape. They knew nothing of the arch, and, as you saw outside, this came up nearly to a point. The stones were longer and longer with each course, each projecting over the one below it, until, when they were within two feet of joining, a very long slab was laid across them. The stones may be three feet wide at the bottom and ten feet at the top, and you see the wall extends over here in the same way--as of course it must have done, otherwise the whole thing would have overbalanced and fallen in before that slab at the top was added. So, you see, there is the width of the tunnel, twelve feet, and the two walls, say six feet more, to be taken off the fifty feet. So the cellars by the side of the passage can only be about sixteen feet and a half at this end, which is what they seem to be, and will go away to nothing at the other end, as we shall see presently." The first thing they saw was a sunken tank in the floor. This was full of water. It was about four feet square, and on sounding it with one of the ramrods, they found it was about the same in depth, the water coming to within a foot of the top. It was against the wall facing the ravine. "This must have some connection with the stream. Otherwise it would have been dry long ago." "We did not see any hole when we went down the passage," Bertie said. "No. Most likely a hole something like this was cut in the rock outside, and a pipe driven to the bottom of this cistern. They would only have to fill the one in the tunnel with cut blocks to within a foot of the surface, and with smaller stones to the same level as the bed of the stream; then the water in the cistern would always be level with that outside. They put it in this end so as to be well out of reach of the salt water farther in. They were no fools who built this place. However closely they were besieged, and even if the enemy occupied the space in front of the house, their water-supply was secure." "But in time of floods, Harry, if the water rose a foot in the passage--and we saw it did more than that--it would flood the whole of this basement." "That is so, Bertie; but you may be sure that there was some provision against that. They would have some valve that they could shut, or possibly there was a block of wood covered with leather that they could push into the pipe at the bottom of this cistern." Beyond a considerable store of firewood, in large and small blocks, nothing could be seen in the chamber. "I expect these two places were used as prisons," Harry said, "though in case a very large force were assembled some may have slept here. At ordinary times the upper rooms would be quite sufficient. But you see they had to build the whole height of the rocky arch, and they wanted the entrance to the place to be so far above the ground-level that it would be extremely difficult for an enemy to climb into it. A hostile force could only have come in at that entrance, and a small body of determined men might have held it against a host. These lower chambers were simply cellars; the store-rooms were above them, and the habitable part of the castle. Now let us look at the chamber on the other side; no doubt we shall find it just like this." This proved to be the case. There were another cistern and more piles of firewood, otherwise it was empty. After a short survey they returned to the main chamber, bringing up with them two of the empty leather bags. In these they placed the bones of the dead, the remains all crumbling when touched, as the first skeleton had done. The bags were lowered to the ground, and the four searchers descended and carried them to the mouth of the ravine. In a spare bag which they brought with them they placed the bones of the two skeletons on the steps, and then carried them all out to the open valley. "We will bury them when we move the camp down here to-morrow morning," Harry said. "We forgot the two up at that window. That is no matter, we can throw them out to-morrow; they will lie as well at the bottom of the sea as in the earth here." Not much was said as they returned to the castle. They had been a very silent party all day. The gloom and darkness, the way in which their voices echoed in the empty hall, had exercised a depressing effect on them; and Donna Maria, generally the most talkative of the party, had not quite recovered from the shock which the exit of the bats had given her. It was not until she had cooked a meal, and they all sat down to it, that they quite recovered their spirits. They had found José awaiting their return. He had a blazing fire, having brought down as much firewood as he could carry, and Dias had briefly told him the result of their explorations. "Well, Harry, what do you think altogether?" Bertie asked after the meal was over. "I think we ought to be very well satisfied," he replied. "Everything has borne out the ideas we had. The castle may have been built as a fortress by some great chief, certainly before the time of the Incas, or it may have been used for a prison. The ornaments and things we found showed that it was known to the Incas. They would have had no occasion to use it when they were undisputed masters of the country, but when the troubles came with the Spaniards a garrison was placed here, and possibly some of their chiefs took refuge in the place. Then came the time when all opposition to the invaders ceased, and only a small body of men were left here to guard the secret, and the treasure if there were any. Generations may have passed before the last of the garrison died of hunger, and probably all others who were in the secret fell in some insurrection or died in the mines. All this seems plain enough, except that possibly there was no treasure. That left by the Chimoos may have been discovered by the Incas. I should think it extremely likely that the ship Dias mentioned as setting out with a large amount of treasure was intended to land its stores here. "It may have done so, or it may have sunk at sea. I am inclined to think that it was lost, because the traditions concerning these hidden treasures seem to be extremely accurate; and yet, as Dias says, none tell of any Inca treasure being concealed here. However, it is quite possible that the treasure did come here and was landed, and that the ship was then broken up, so that it might be supposed she was lost at sea, and that this was kept so profound a secret by the men here, that the news was never generally known even among the natives. So far our search to-day has been successful, but I see that a hunt for the treasure will be a very difficult one. Certainly in the upper chambers there doesn't appear any possibility of such a hiding-place existing. The whole space is accounted for. The walls are all of solid stone, and have no special thickness. If the roofs had been arched there might be empty spaces on each side of the spring of the arch, but they are supported by pillars or walls, with only just space between the floors for the beams of solid stone. Of course it is in the lowest room that one would expect to find hiding-places like those we saw at Pachacamac." He paused. "Well, why should they not be there, Harry?" "Because, as we saw, the floor is at most twelve inches above the water-level. How is it possible that they could have constructed chambers below that level, that is in the bed of a torrent? It is probable that the solid rock lies many feet below the bed of the stream. A portion of that great arch must from time to time have fallen into it; and it may be that the river once ran forty or fifty feet below its present level. In all the places that we have seen these treasure chambers were formed in solid adobe foundations, as the temples always stood on artificial terraces. With all our appliances at the present time it would be next to impossible to sink in a stratum of great rock fragments below the water level, and I do not believe that the old people here could have done so even had it been a solid rock. The difficulties of excavating chambers in it would have been enormous. They could split rocks with the grain, and all the stone walls we have seen were made of regular pieces, and evidently formed of stone so split. They were able to give them a sort of facing with great labour, but the tools they had were not made of material hard enough to work in solid rock, and the labour of excavating such chambers would have been stupendous. Therefore I am at a loss to imagine where any such chambers can be in that castle." Dias nodded gravely. He had been with travellers who had done a great deal of excavation, and he was able to understand Harry's argument. Maria, who was listening attentively, also understood it. José simply rolled cigarettes and smoked them. It was a matter for his elders, and he did not even try to follow what Harry was saying. There was some minutes' silence, and then Bertie said, "But the floors are all even." "What do you mean, Bertie?" Harry asked in a puzzled tone. "I mean, Harry, that they run straight along. There is no dip in them." "Of course there isn't. Who ever heard of building floors on the slope?" "Yes, that is what I mean. We know that the tunnel slopes down its own height. It is twelve feet high at the entrance, and at the lower end it is some inches below the level, so it falls twelve feet at least. At the end where the cistern is, the floor of the basement is only a few inches above the bottom of the passage; therefore at the other end it must be twelve feet above the water-level." "You are right, Bertie!" Harry exclaimed. "What a fool I was not to think of it! There must be a space underneath it a hundred feet long, sloping from nothing down to twelve feet. There is room for a dozen chambers such as those we saw on each side of the tunnel. Well done, Bertie! you have given me fresh hope. It would be a splendid hiding-place, for any searchers who came down and saw the water in the cistern would believe at once that, as neither the Chimoos nor the Incas could have known how to build under water, there was no use in searching for hidden chambers under this floor. You see, neither of them had any knowledge of cement or mortar. All their bricks and stones are laid without anything of the sort; and whatever amount of labour was available no chamber could be made under water, for as fast as holes were dug the water would come in, and even if they could line it with stone-work the water would penetrate through the cracks. Now, Dias, that we see with certainty where we have to dig, we can make our preparations. I will write down a list of the things we decided the other day we should want:--Six kegs of powder, two hundred feet of fuse, four boring-tools, six steel wedges, the smallest smith's fire you can buy--for we shall have to sharpen the tools,--six borers, a large bundle of torches, four sledge-hammers--we have enough pickaxes and shovels,--and another fifty fathoms, that is a hundred yards, of rope. I don't know anything else that we shall want in the mining way. "You and your wife had better settle what provisions you must get. We shall certainly need a good supply of flour--a couple of sacks, I should think--tea, coffee, and sugar, dried or salted meat. And you might get a supply of smoked fish. I have no doubt that we shall catch fresh fish here in the sea, but we shall all be too busy to spend much time on that. You had better get three or four gallons of pulque; one cannot be always drinking coffee. We have still got a good stock of whisky and brandy. Your wife will certainly want a good supply of red pepper and other things for her stews. It would not be a bad thing to have a couple of crates of poultry. Don't pack them too closely, or half of them will be smothered before you get them here. Dead meat would be of no use, for it won't keep in this heat. We can turn them all out in the courtyard in front of the castle, and they can pick up their living there among the lower slopes of the cliffs. We can give them a few handfuls of grain a day. Don't get too many cocks, and let the hens be young ones. They ought to supply us with plenty of eggs and some broods of chickens. You must calculate what the weight will be, and take the mules accordingly." "Very well, señor. I need not be away more than three days at most. It is only about twenty miles to Ancon." "You might take the two llamas down with you and sell them there. They have done good work, and I should not like to kill and eat them. So mind you sell them to someone who wants them for carriage work. We shall not require them any more for that purpose. Will you want to take José with you?" "I think not, señor, for I should say that four baggage mules will be ample, and I can lead them myself; and certainly you will find José useful here." Dias and his wife then withdrew a short distance from the fire, and engaged in an animated conversation as to the things she required. "Don't stint matters," Harry said, raising his voice. "We may be here for the next two or three months, and the less frequently you have to go down to buy things the better. It would be easy to account for your first purchases by saying that you were going on an expedition to the mountains, but you could not go to the place with the same story again." "There are other places I can go to, señor; but I will get a good store of everything this time." Dias started at daybreak with four mules and the two llamas. The others rolled up the tent-beds and the remaining stores, loaded up the other mules, and moved down to the mouth of the ravine. Here they pitched the little tents again. "They will form a central point for the mules to come to," Harry said. "We will leave the sacks of maize here, but give the animals a good feed now. They will be sure to keep close to the spot. All the other things we will carry into the castle; but before we start we will bury these bags of bones." When this was done, and the saddles taken off and piled together against the rocks, the other things were made up in portable packets, and they started up the ravine. They made three journeys before everything was brought to the foot of the ladder leading up to the window. Then the two brothers mounted, and hauled the things up with a rope which José, who remained below, fastened to them. When the last was up he went to the foot of the rock and brought several armfuls of the wood he had thrown down on the previous day. This was also hauled up. "You had better fetch some more, José. We mean to keep a big fire burning here night and day; it will make the place cheerful. I will have a fire also burning where we are at work below. Now, señora, we will rig up some blankets on a line between the pillars at the end of the room opposite to that in which we found the skeletons, so as to make a special apartment for you and Dias. We will spread our beds at night near the fire." The screen was soon made. A cord was run from the wall to the pillar next to it, some five feet above the floor, and three blankets were sufficient to fill the space. Harry was about to make another line from the pillar, when Maria said: "I would rather not, señor; I am not a bit afraid. This screen is quite large enough, and it will be more cheerful not to be shut up altogether, as then, when I am lying down, I can see the reflection of the fire on the walls, and it will be much more cheerful." Then a blazing fire was lit. The wood was almost as dry as tinder, and burnt without smoke. It was built almost touching the back wall, in which, some five feet above the fire, Harry with a pick made a hole four inches deep. While he was doing this, José went down and cut a sapling four inches in diameter, growing in a cleft on the rock, and from this cut off two six-foot lengths and brought them up. One end of the thickest of these was driven into the hole and tightly wedged in there, the other end was lashed securely to an upright beam. "There, Maria," he said when it was finished, "you will be able to hang your pots and kettles from that at any height you like above the fire. Now, you can set to work as soon as you like, to get breakfast for us. We have been at work for four or five hours, and have good appetites." "I have the cakes ready to bake, señor, and I sha'n't be long before I get an olla ready for you." "Well, José, what do you think of the place?" Harry asked. "I should like it better if it were not so big," the lad said. "I shall want a broom, señor, to sweep out the dust." "It is three inches deep," Maria said. "I should not bother about that, Maria; it would be a tremendous job to sweep such a big room, and the dust is so fine that it would settle again and cover everything. Besides, it will be a good deal softer to lay our beds on than the stones would be, so I think you had better let it remain as it is, especially as you are fond of going about without your shoes. I think I will rig up a blanket against the doorway. It will make the place look a good deal more snug, and will keep the bats from returning." "I am not afraid of the bats, now I know what they are; but I should be constantly expecting them to rush out again." "I expect a good many went back last night," Harry said. "We won't put the blankets up till after dark. They are sure to come out again; then, as soon as they have gone, we will close it, and they won't be able to get in when they come back before daybreak." Harry's expectations were fulfilled. At dusk a stream of bats rushed out again, but this time quite noiselessly. The rush lasted for three or four minutes. As soon as they had gone, the blankets were hung up, and fastened across the doorway. "They will be puzzled when they come back." "Yes, señor," Maria said; "but when they find that they can't get in here, they will come in through the openings above." "So they will; I did not think of that. But when they once find that they cannot get out here in the evening, they will go out where they came in, and we shall have no more trouble with them. I don't know whether they are good to eat?" Maria gave a little cry of horror. "Oh, señor! I could not eat such horrible things!" "Their appearance is against them, Maria; but when people eat alligators, frogs, snakes, and even rats, I don't see why a bat should be bad. However, we won't touch them unless we are threatened by starvation." "I should indeed be starving before I could touch bats' flesh, señor." "Well," Harry said, "if people eat monkeys, rats, and squirrels--and it seems to me that a bat is something of a mixture of the three--one might certainly eat bats, and if we are driven to it I should not mind trying; but I promise you that I won't ask you to cook them." They chatted for another hour, and then Maria went off to her corner. The brothers spread their beds by the fire, and José had his blanket and poncho, and it was arranged that any of them who woke should put fresh logs on the fire. They were all roused just before dawn by a squeaking and twittering noise. They threw on fresh logs, and as these blazed up they could see a cloud of bats flying overhead. They kept on going to the doorway, and when they found they could not get through they retired with angry squeaks. The light was gradually breaking, and in a few minutes all had flown out through the opening. Harry and his brother followed them, and could see them flitting about the upper windows. Presently, as if by a common impulse, they poured in through the various openings. "I don't suppose we shall see any more of them," Harry said, "and I own that I shall be glad. There is something very weird in their noiseless flitting about, and in the shadows the fire casts on the ceiling." "They are a great deal larger than any bats I have seen," Bertie said. "I have seen as large, or larger, at Bombay and some of the towns on the coast." "They bite people's toes when they are asleep, don't they?" "Yes, the great vampire bat does, but I have never heard of any others doing so. They live on insects, and some of them are, I believe, vegetarian." "Are vampire bats found here?" "I do not think so; I fancy that they inhabit Java and other islands in the Malay Archipelago. However, they are certainly rare, wherever they come from, and you can dismiss them altogether from your mind." "I was glad when I heard your voices, señors," Maria said when she appeared a quarter of an hour later. "I knew they would not hurt me; but I was horribly frightened, and wrapped myself up in my blanket and lay there till I heard you talking, and I heard the logs thrown on the fire; then I felt that it was all right." "I don't suppose they will come again, Maria." After drinking a cup of coffee, with a small piece of maize cake, Bertie said: "What is the programme for to-day?" "We can't do much till Dias comes back. We may as well go down and have a look at the lower rooms. I don't think there is much dust on the floor there, but while José is away looking after the mules we will cut enough bushes to make a couple of brooms. We shall want the place swept as clean as possible, so that we can look about, but I don't think there is the least chance of our being able to move the stones. Before we do anything we will go down to the pool and have a swim, and dive out through the entrance and have a look at those rocks." "That is right," Bertie said. "I was longing for one yesterday morning, but of course the first thing to be done was to examine this place." "Would it be safe for me to bathe, señor?" "Quite safe, Maria; the slope is very gradual, and you need have no fear of getting out of your depth suddenly. We will be off at once, Bertie." CHAPTER XVII AT WORK Harry and his brother went to the edge of the pool, where they undressed and waded out. They found that the bottom of the passage sloped more gradually at the edge of the water than it did higher up, and they were able to walk out till they came to the point where the roof dipped into the water. They dived, and in a few strokes came up beyond the roof. "This is glorious!" Bertie said. "We have often bathed in pools, but this is a different thing altogether. It is more than a year since we had our last dip in the sea, the day we arrived at Callao." Although there was little or no wind, the rollers were breaking on the line of rocks outside, pouring over the lower points in volumes of foam, and coming in broken waves up the passage. "We mustn't go beyond the point, Bertie, or we may be dashed against the foot of the cliff. We will climb up that rock to the left; it is not too steep, and I think we can manage it. From there we shall get a good view of this side of the house and of the situation in general." It required considerable care to climb the rocks, and more than once they hurt their feet on sharp projections. The top of the rock, however, was smooth by the action of time and sea, and they were able to sit down on it in comfort. "The castle is just as you described it, Bertie; and certainly no one sailing past, however close he came outside these rocks, would be able to detect it. No doubt the stone of which it is built is the same as that of the cliffs. Most likely it was taken from the ravine where the passage now is, and had fallen from the arch above. It might have been more noticeable at first, but now it is weathered into exactly the same tint as the cliffs. The openings are very dodgily placed, and a stranger would not dream that they went many inches in. Now, from where we stand we can look up into that curious opening on the top story. I have been puzzling over that ever since I saw it, but can't think of any possible reason for its having been cut like that, except to enable them to throw stones on to any boat that came into this passage behind the rocks; and yet that can hardly have been the case, for, as I remarked, there are no stones piled up there. Certainly they had a very large number of arrows, but stones would be very much more useful than arrows against a boat almost under their feet. However, that does not concern us now. This line of rocks must greatly aid in hiding the house from the sea. They are higher than you thought they were, looking down at them from above. We are quite thirty feet above the water, and at two or three points they are at least ten or twelve feet higher. Of course a short way out no one would be able to see that they were detached from the cliff, or that there was any passage whatever behind them. "Besides, they break the force of the waves. If it was not for them it would be impossible for any boat to come up close to the face of the house, and a heavy storm might even break down the wall altogether. A tremendous sea would roll in here in a westerly gale; and if it hadn't been for these rocks it would have been necessary to build the lower part of the house absolutely solid to resist the sea. It is possible that the rocks were higher than they now are when the place was first constructed, in which case the house might have been almost entirely hidden from sight. Well, we may as well go back again, Bertie; we know all there is to be known about this side." They swam back into the tunnel, dressed, and went out. "We have come out, Maria," Bertie called. "The coast is clear for you. The water is not so deep as we thought it was, and you can walk out to the point where the roof comes down on to the water without getting out of your depth." It did not take them long to cut a number of switches to serve as brooms, and a couple of handles. They carried them up into the house, and lashed the switches firmly on to the handles. The work was rough, but the brooms when completed were large, and, although not strong enough for heavy work, would do well to sweep aside the thin layer of almost impalpable dust on the floor below. "Shall we take wood down there, Harry?" "No; I think a fire would be a drawback rather than an assistance. It would be very valuable if we were working at one spot, but it could give no general light in a place a hundred feet long. We will take a torch down, and hold it and sweep by turns. We shall only want, to begin with, to make a clear path a couple of feet wide down the middle. Of course later on we shall clear it all. That will be sufficient to enable us to see how the floor is constructed, whether with big blocks or small ones, how closely they are fitted together, and so on. It is certainly unlikely that we shall find any indication as to where chambers exist." It took but a very short time to clear the path; the dust was so light that one sweep of the broom cleared it away. When they got to the farther end they returned to examine the floor. For four or five feet from the cistern the rock had been evidently untouched, except to cut off any projecting points. Then there was a clear line running across the path. Bertie held the torch down close to it. Harry knelt down and examined it. "This is a clean cut, Bertie. It is evidently solid above this, but the stone is not quite the same colour on each side of it, and it looks as if they had cut away the rock here and begun to build so as to keep the floor level. The cut may be six inches deep and it may be a foot, that doesn't matter. The face of this stone is very smooth, but it is not cut; it is, I think, the face of the natural fracture. Move the torch along and let us see where the next join is. Ah, here it is!" The slab was four feet across. "You had better sweep the dust off both ways, Bertie, so that we may see what size it is." It was, they found, about eight feet long. "It has straight edges, Harry, almost as straight as if it had been sawn." "Very likely it was sawn, Bertie; They could have had no tools that would cut a hard stone like this regularly, but as they were certainly clever builders they must have employed some means to do it. Possibly they used a saw without teeth, for however much they might have hardened the copper, the teeth could not have stood, but if they had a hard copper band fixed like the saw some masons use, and kept the stone moistened with fine sand, they might have cut into it. Of course it would have been a slow process; but they would not have needed to go far into the stone, for when they got down two or three inches they might have broken it through by dropping a heavy weight on the end. It would not have mattered if the fracture had not been straight below the cut, for only on the surface would they have wanted to fit accurately to the next stone. In another way they might have got a straight edge, that is, by driving very dry wedges into the cut made by the saw, and then moistening them. I know that great stones can be split in that way. They may have used both methods. However, it doesn't matter to us much how they did it. It is clear that they could in some way or other cut stones. As they took the trouble to do so here, we may conclude that they were anxious to have a smooth floor that would be extremely difficult to get up. "They would never have taken all this trouble if they had merely been making a floor for a cellar. For that purpose it would only have been necessary to throw rocks and stones of all sizes into the vacant space below, and when it was nearly full, to level it with small stones and sand. That they chose to undertake such tremendous labour as the making of so regular a floor as this must have been, shows that they had some very strong motive for doing so." Going carefully along the track they had cleared, they found that the stones were of different sizes; some were but two feet wide, others as much as ten, but all fitted so closely together that it was difficult to see the joints. "It is going to be a hard job to get these out, Bertie," Harry said, when they had completed their examination, "and it is lucky for us that the room gradually narrows from sixteen feet wide to two at the other end, and when we stepped it we made it eighty feet long. We need not take up the stones near the rock wall, for the ravine would naturally narrow as it went lower, and the depth would be greatest by the side of the wall of the tunnel." "Well, we shall soon blow up the stones when we have got the powder." "I hope so, Bertie; but I see that we shall have difficulty unless these top stones are extraordinarily thick." Bertie looked surprised. "Why, I should have thought the thicker they were the more difficult to break up." "Beyond a certain point that would be so. But suppose they are six inches thick, you may take it for granted that underneath there will be rubble, loose stuff, except where any chambers may be built. If we were to bore a hole through this top layer the powder, instead of splitting the stones up, would expend its force among the loose stuff beneath it; and besides, instead of remaining in its place, it might get scattered, and we would then get no explosion at all." "Then we should only have to make the hole four inches deep, Harry?" "As a result of which there would only be two inches of tamping over the powder, and this would blow right out, as if from a little mortar, and would have no effect whatever upon the stone. I have no doubt that we shall find some way to get over these difficulties, but it is evident that the work will not be all clear sailing." "Of course we shall manage it somehow, Harry, even if we have to smash up all the stones with the sledge-hammers Dias will bring us." "Is breakfast nearly ready, señora? That swim in the sea has given us a prodigious appetite. Did you enjoy it?" Maria nodded. "It is very nice, señor; but I should have liked it better if the water had not been so blue. It seems so strange bathing in blue water." "You will soon get accustomed to it," Bertie laughed. "There are no pools except that one two miles up the valley. Besides, it is much nicer to have a great bathing chamber all to yourself. Here comes José!" "Well, José, are the mules all right?" he shouted. "Yes, but I had difficulty in catching them. They had evidently been frightened by something, and were three miles up the valley with their coats all staring. It must have been either a puma or a jaguar. Of course they must have got wind of him in time; but as, fortunately, they were not tethered, they were able to get away from him." "I should think he must be up somewhere among the bushes, José," Harry said. "We had better go down tonight and see if he returns again. We shall be losing some of the mules if we don't put a stop to his marauding. Besides, it will be very dangerous for you, José, cutting the wood up there, if he is lurking somewhere. It is fortunate that you escaped yesterday." "I expect he was on the other side of the ravine, señor; and even if he had not been, the sound of the chopping would have scared him. They will not often attack in the daytime." When they had finished their breakfast José asked what he should do next. "There is nothing else to do, so it would be as well to take our pickaxes and get some of those brackets out of the walls. We will begin with the other rooms of this floor and leave these here till the last." "I will come and hold a torch for you, señors," Maria said. "I like to be doing something. I will wash up first, and then I shall have nothing to do till it is time to get ready for dinner. Now I know there is a savage beast about I should not like to go down the ladder." "There is very little chance of his coming down the rocks," Harry said. "He is more likely to be lying somewhere on the other side watching the mules." No move was made until the woman was ready to start. Then they lit two torches. She took one and Bertie the other, while José and Harry took two picks. It was hard work, for the brackets were driven far into the pillars and walls. It was necessary to knock away the stones round them to a depth of two or three inches before they could be got out. They worked one at each side of a bracket, relieving each other by turns, and after four hours' work only eighteen brackets had been got out. As far as they could tell by lifting them, the weight was somewhat greater than they had at first supposed. Harry could hold one out in each hand for a minute and a half, Bertie and José for a little over half a minute, and they agreed that they must be about twenty pounds each. By this time their shoulders ached, and it was agreed that they had done a good day's work. For the rest of the day they did nothing but sit on the sill of the window and smoke quietly. The next day's work was similar, and twenty more brackets were got out. Late in the afternoon they saw Dias coming down the steps, and at once went down the ladder to meet him. "Have you got everything, Dias?" "I think so, señor, and I can tell you that the mules have had a pretty heavy load to bring back." "Well, we will go with you at once, Dias, and bring some of the things up. I expect you have had nothing to eat since the morning. Before you do anything else you had better go in. Your wife has been keeping a dish hot for you, as she did not know when you might arrive." "I shall not be long before I come and help you, señor. I have unsaddled the mules and turned them out to graze." "It is just as well, Dias, for there is a beast somewhere about that gave them a fright last night. We will get all the eatables up to-night, the powder and drills and hammers we can very well leave till to-morrow morning." It took them four trips to bring the provisions over, for it required two of them to carry each sack of flour, and indeed all had to give their aid in getting them up the rocky slope at the foot of the wall. "No one seemed to think it unusual, your taking so large a load, I hope, Dias?" Harry said as they sat down to their evening meal. "No, señor. The man I bought the powder of was a little surprised at the amount I wanted; but I said that I might be absent many weeks in the mountains, and might want to drive a level in any lode that I might discover. I led him to believe that I had seen a spot in the mountains that gave good indications, and that two of my comrades were waiting there for my return to begin work at it. I sold the llamas to a man who carries goods from Ancon up to Canta, and got the same price that you gave for them." Harry then told him the work on which he had been engaged since he had been away. "Of course there is no hurry about the brackets, but as we could do nothing else without the powder and drills, it was just as well to get them out, as otherwise we might have been delayed when we had done our other work. We think that they weigh twenty pounds each, so that altogether they will be worth nearly four thousand pounds. Not a bad start. I am afraid we sha'n't make such quick work down below." "We shall see," Dias said cheerfully, for now that his fear of the demons had passed he was as eager as Harry himself to begin the search for the treasure. "Has Maria seen any more bats?" "Yes, she has seen some more bats," his wife said, "but no demons. Dias, what do you think? Don Harry suggested that we might eat the bats." "I have heard of their being eaten," Dias said, "and a man who ate them raw told me that he had never enjoyed anything more. But I should not like to try it myself, unless I were driven to it as he was." "How was that, Dias?" "He was a muleteer, señor, and was up in the mountains. He had a cargo of silver on his mule, and during the day he had seen some men who he doubted not were brigands on the top of the ravine he passed through. He knew of a cavern where he had once taken refuge with the animals during a storm. It lay on the hillside some twenty or thirty yards away from the road. The entrance was hidden by bushes, and he had first noticed it by seeing a bear come out as he was passing along. He had his pistols, and thought that it was better to risk meeting a bear than a brigand. He arrived opposite the cave just as it became dark, and at once led the mules up there. He first lighted a torch--the muleteers always carry these with them--and then went in with his pistols ready, but there were no signs of a bear anywhere near the entrance. "He drove the mules in and put out his torch. The entrance had been only wide enough for the laden animals to pass, but it widened out a great deal inside. He took off the loads, piled them up in the narrow part to make a barricade, and then sat down at the entrance and listened. He soon heard five or six men come down the road talking. They were walking fast, and one was saying that he could not be more than half a mile ahead, and that they should soon catch him. When they had gone, he went some distance in the cave and relighted his torch. He went on and on. The cave was a very large one, and when he had gone, as he thought, four or five hundred yards, it branched off into three. He took the middle one, and followed it for a long way. At last it opened into a large chamber from which there were several passages. Here he found a large number of things that had evidently been stolen from muleteers. There were at least a dozen mule loads of silver; goods of all kinds that had been brought up from the coast; the ashes of fires, and a great many bones and skins of llamas, and some sacks of flour. "He thought he would now return to the mules; but apparently he entered the wrong passage, for he went on till he felt sure he ought to be in the chamber where he had left the animals, and he was turning to go back when he tripped over a stone and fell, and his torch went out. Then he felt in his pocket for his box of matches, and to his horror found that it had gone. It must have dropped out when he was examining the passages. He did not think much of it at first, but he had passed several openings on his way, and in the dark he probably turned down one of these. At any rate he lost his way somehow, and wandered about, he thinks, for hours; but it might have been much less, for he told me that he quite lost his head. At last he came out into a place where he could only feel the rock on one side of him, and knew that he must be in a large chamber. "Looking up he saw, to his joy, a faint light, and moving a little, caught sight of a star. He was utterly worn out, and threw himself down. He was awakened by a strange rustling sound, and looking up saw that daylight was breaking, and that a stream of bats was pouring in through a hole, which was about three feet wide. He made several efforts to climb up to it, but failed. The bats hung thickly from every projecting point in the rocks. He hurt himself badly in one of the attempts to get up, and twisted his foot. All day he lay there. Then the idea struck him that he would kill a bat, cut it open, and use it as a poultice to his foot. The creatures did not move when he touched them, and he cut off the head of one of them and split it open. He did this three or four times during the day, and felt that the application was easing the pain of his ankle. "When it became dusk the bats flew out again, and he knew his only chance was to keep his ankle perfectly rested. In the morning he killed some more bats. He was by this time tortured with thirst, and sucked the blood of one of them, and in the afternoon ate one raw. Another night passed, and in the morning he felt so much better that he could make another trial. He ate another bat to give him strength, and in the middle of the day made a fresh attempt. He had while lying there carefully examined the wall of rock, at the top of which was the opening, and had made up his mind at what point would be best to try. This time he succeeded. He made his way down the hillside, and found that he was a quarter of a mile higher up the pass than the spot at which he had left the mules. He hobbled down, and to his delight found his animals still in the cavern. "He had when he first got there opened their sack of grain in order to ensure their keeping quiet. There was still some remaining at the bottom. He lost no time in loading them and leading them out, and made his way down the pass without seeing anything of the robbers. Afterwards he went back there with a good supply of torches, found his way to the cave, and brought down two mule-loads of silver. Gradually he brought the rest of the goods down, and today he is a rich man." "Well, I think under those circumstances, Dias, I would have eaten bats myself. It was certainly a clever idea of his to convert them into poultices, though the general opinion is that cold bandages are the best for a sprained ankle." Then they discussed their plans for the next day. "I know nothing about blasting, señor. You give me instructions, and I will do my best to carry them out; but it is useless for me to talk of what I know nothing about." "There is a lot of common sense in that, and yet in every work, Dias, sometimes while a skilled man is puzzling how to do a thing a looker-on will suggest a satisfactory plan. That treasure has been buried there I have no doubt whatever. They would never have gone to the labour of paving those cellars as carefully as they have done unless for some special purpose. The floor was undoubtedly made when the house was built, and if we find treasure-chambers there they will be those of the old people. Of course they may have been discovered by the Incas, and when they in turn wanted to bury treasure this place might occur to them as being particularly well fitted to escape search by Spaniards. However, to-morrow we shall learn something more about them. The first thing to do in the morning, when we have brought up the rest of the goods, is to sweep the floors of those chambers carefully. When we have done that we will determine where to set to work." Two trips brought up the powder and instruments. "We will take one of the kegs of powder down with us," said Harry, "and leave the other five in the empty room behind this. It is just as well not to have them in this room; the sparks fly about, and some things might catch fire. I don't think there is any real danger, but, at the same time, it is best to be on the safe side." "There are a dozen pounds of candles in this bundle, señor. You did not tell me to get them, but I thought they might be useful." "Thank you, Dias! they certainly will be useful. What are they?--tallow?" "Yes, señor." "Then before we go down we will get a couple of pieces of flat wood, and drive a peg into each, sharpened at the upper end. Candles stuck on these will stand upright, and we can put them down close to where we are working. They will give a better light than a torch, and leave us all free to use the tools. Did you think of buying some more tinder?" "Yes, señor, I have five boxes, and half a dozen more flints." They carried the keg of powder, the sledges, drills, and wedges downstairs, and then Dias and José set to work to sweep out the two chambers. The work was easy, but they were obliged to stop several times, being almost choked with the light dust. Harry and Bertie offered to take their turn, but the others would not hear of it, and they were glad to go up to what they called their drawing-room until the work was done and the dust had settled a little. Then they examined the pavement carefully with their torches. They had hoped that they might find either copper rings, or at least holes where rings had been fastened, but there were no signs whatever of such things in either of the chambers. "We will begin to work half-way down," Harry said. "Of course the treasure may lie near the cistern end, but the depth below the floor would be very shallow there. More likely the chambers would be at the deep end. If we begin in the middle we may be pretty sure that we have not passed them. We will begin rather nearer the passage wall than the other, as the depth there will be greater. It does not matter which stone we take, one is as likely as another. Step ten paces from the cistern, Bertie, and the stone you stop on we will try first." When Bertie came to a stand-still they carefully examined the pavement. "You are standing on one of the cracks, Bertie; I will stay there while you all bring the tools along." "Shall I open the powder?" Bertie asked. "No. It is no good doing that until we have quite decided what we are going to do. The wedges certainly won't go into this crack. I think our best plan will be to sink a bore-hole about two inches from the crack. We will drive it in in a slanting direction towards the edge, and in that way it will have more chance of blowing a piece out. First of all, we must make a slight indentation with a pick, otherwise we sha'n't get the bore to work. I will begin." He took a pick and struck several blows. "It is very hard stone," he said. "I have scarcely made a mark upon it." He worked for some time, and then let Bertie take the pick. The lad struck a blow with all his strength, and then dropped the pick with a loud cry, wringing his hands as he did so. "You have jarred your hands, Bertie; you should not hold the haft so tightly." "It did sting!" Bertie said. "I feel as if I had taken hold of a red-hot poker. It has jarred my arm up to the shoulder; I can't go on at present." "You try, Dias." Dias went more carefully to work, knelt down on one knee, and proceeded to give a number of what seemed light blows. "That is better than I did, Dias. The stone is crumbling into dust, and we shall be able to use the borer in a short time. Perhaps it will be better after all to drive the hole down straight. It will be easier to begin with; when we see how thick the stone is we shall know better how to proceed." In ten minutes Dias had made a hole a quarter of an inch deep. "Now, give me one of the borers--that one about two and a half feet long. I will hold it, and you strike to begin with, Dias, only mind my fingers. Keep your eye fixed on the top of the borer, and take one or two gentle strokes to begin with; then, when you know the distance you have to stand from it, do your best. You needn't really be afraid of striking my fingers. I shall hold the drill at least a foot from the top." Dias began very carefully, gradually adding to the strength of the blows as he got the right distance, and was soon striking hard. After each blow Harry turned the borer a slight distance round. When he heard the native's breath coming fast he told José to take a turn. The lad was nervous; the first blow he struck only grazed the top of the borer, and narrowly missed Harry's fingers. José dropped the sledge. "I can't do it, señor; I am afraid of hitting your fingers. I will sit down and hold it; it does not matter if you hit me." "It would matter a good deal, José. No, no; you have got to learn." "Would it not be well, señor," Dias said, "to take the borers and three hammers outside, and try them in soft ground? We could work them there till we all got accustomed always to hit them fair. There would be no occasion for them to be held, and we should get confident. I could have hit twice as hard as I did, if I hadn't been afraid of missing it." "I think that is a very good plan, Dias. The loss of a day or two will make no difference. We shall make up for it afterwards." Accordingly the drills and hammers were all taken up, and they were soon at work. Two or three gentle taps were given to the borers, to make them stand upright, and then all four began work. At first they often either missed the heads of the borers or struck them unevenly. "It is well, Dias, that we carried out your suggestion, as I see I should have had an uncommonly good chance of getting my fingers smashed, or a wrist broken. I have missed as often as any of you." They stopped frequently for breath, and at the end of an hour were glad to lay down their hammers. Dias was comparatively fresh; his practice as a woodsman now did him good service. "I should have thought from the number of trees that I have helped to cut down," Bertie said, "that I could hit pretty hard, but this is a great deal stiffer work. I should say that this hammer is at least twice the weight of the axe, and it is the lightest of the four. I ache a good deal worse than I did when I first chopped that tree down." "So do I, Bertie. We will stick at this till we get accustomed to the work. By doing so we shall gain strength as well as skill." "I will get some grease, señor, from Maria, and then I will rub your shoulders, and arms; that will do you a great deal of good." "Thank you, Dias! It would be a good plan." Dias did this to José as well as to the brothers, and then José in turn rubbed him. They waited half an hour, and then Harry said: "Let us have another spell." This time a quarter of an hour sufficed. "It is of no use, Harry; I can't go on any longer," Bertie said. "I feel as if my shoulders were broken." "I am beginning to feel the same, Bertie. However, we are all hitting straighter now. We will go up into the shade and take it quietly for two or three hours; then we will have a spell again." However, after the rest, they all agreed that it would be useless to try again, for they could not lift their arms over their heads without feeling acute pain. Three days were spent at this exercise, and at the end of that time they had gained confidence, and the heads of the drills were no longer missed. After the first day they only worked for a quarter of an hour at a time, taking an hour's rest. The pain in their arms had begun to abate. On the following day they practised striking alternately, three standing round one borer. They found this at first awkward, but by the end of the day they were able to strike in regular order, the blows falling faster after each other on to the drill. "I think we shall do now," said Bertie. "No doubt we shall hit harder with a fortnight's practice, and shall be able to keep it up longer. However, I think that even now we have sufficient confidence in striking to be able to hold the borer without any fear of an accident." The next day they began work early in the cellar. José volunteered to take the first turn to hold the drill. "You understand, José, you must turn it round a little after each stroke, and in that way it will cut the hole regularly." Harry took his place on one side of José, who sat with a leg on each side of the drill. Dias stood facing Harry, Bertie behind José holding the torch so that its light fell strongly on the head of the drill. At first the two men struck gently, but gradually, as they grew confident, increased the weight of their strokes until they were hitting with their full power. After ten minutes they stopped. "Let us look at the hole," Harry said. "How far has it got down?" José moved his position and Harry examined the hole. "About an eighth of an inch," he said. "Let us scrape the dust out of it." "Shall we take a spell now, Harry?" Bertie said. "No, we will wait five minutes and then go on again, and after that we will change places with you, relieving each other every twenty minutes." The work went on, and at the end of two hours the hole was three inches deep. Another hour and a half and the drill suddenly went down. "We are through it," Bertie said, "and I am not sorry." "Now I will lift the drill up gently, Bertie; do you kneel down, and when I stop, take hold of it close to the floor, so that we may see the thickness of the stone." "Five inches," he said as he measured it. "Now put on a little grease, Dias. I will lower it again, and we shall be perhaps able then to get some idea of what is underneath." He lowered the drill and turned it round two or three times, and then carefully raised it. Some sand and little stones were sticking to it. "Sand and gravel," he said. "That settles that point. Now we have done a good morning's work, and let us go up and have breakfast." Maria looked enquiringly at them. "I was just coming down for you. Well, what have you done?" "We have drilled one hole, Maria, and none of us have got our fingers smashed, so I think we have every reason to be satisfied with our first experience at the work." As they breakfasted they talked matters over. Harry said that he was certain that the thickness of the stone was not sufficient for them to break it up by blasting. "We shall have to try some other plan. It is equally certain that we cannot smash the stone with the sledge-hammers, and I don't think that the wedges would break it. Of course if we got one stone out it would be comparatively easy to lift the next, as we could put the crowbars under it. If we can do it in no other way, we must drill a line of holes close to each other right across the stone, and we might then break off the piece between them and the crack and get our crowbars under the slab. It might be worth while to drill holes a foot apart, from the point where we have begun to the other end of the room. Of course if we found that gravel and stones were everywhere under the slabs we should learn nothing; but the opening to the chambers is probably covered by another stone, and if we found that, we could put in one or two more holes so as to be sure that it was flat, in which case we might smash it somehow. Of course, if we don't come upon a flat stone we shall conclude that they put a layer of sand and fine gravel over the slabs covering the vaults, and must then, as I say, get up one stone and gradually lift all the rest, clearing out the gravel as we go to the depth of a foot or so. In that way we shall make sure that we shall not miss any chamber there may be. "I think that would certainly be the best plan. At present we are groping altogether in the dark, and it will take us a fortnight at least to make that row of holes close to each other, as you propose." CHAPTER XVIII DISAPPOINTMENT Six more days were spent in driving holes according to Harry's plan. The result was in all cases the same. Sand and small stones were brought up attached to the grease. They had now sunk the holes at a much more rapid rate than at first, for they were accustomed to the work, their muscles had hardened, and they were able to strike more frequently and with greater force. They would have got on still more quickly had it not been for the trouble in sharpening the drills. These were heated in the small blacksmith's fire Dias had brought. They were first placed in the fire, but this was not sufficiently hot to raise them beyond a dull red glow. When this was done a shovelful of glowing fragments was taken from the fire and placed on the hearth, and among these the small bellows raised the ends of the drills to a white heat, when of course they were easily worked. At first they had some difficulty in tempering them. Sometimes, when cooled, the points were too soft, at other times too brittle; but at the end of a week they had arrived at the proper medium. But one of the party had to work steadily to keep the drills in good order. Bertie was daily employed at this work, as José generally failed to give the proper temper to the tools. Bertie, however, generally managed to get in two or three hours' work below. Although perfectly ready to do his share, he was by no means sorry to be otherwise employed for a part of the day, and as he was now able to talk Spanish with perfect fluency he and Donna Maria maintained a lively conversation whenever they were together. All the party, however, were glad when Sunday came round and gave them a day of complete rest; then they would bathe, fish, shoot pigeons, or lie in the shade, each according to his fancy, and recommence work with fresh vigour the next morning. Just a fortnight after they had begun work they were about to begin a hole in a fresh stone. Talking it over, they had come to the conclusion that this was the most likely spot in the cellar for the situation of an underground chamber. Farther on there would scarce be width for one, for it was here but eight feet across. Where they had already tried there would scarcely have been depth enough. This seemed to them to be the happy medium. Before setting to work Dias passed his torch over the stone. Presently he stopped. "Will you light two of the candles, señor; the torch flickers too much to see very plainly." Somewhat surprised, for no such close examination had been made before, the candles were lighted and handed to him. Dias knelt down, and, with his face close to the stone, moved about carefully, examining it for some minutes without speaking. "This stone, señor, is broken," he said at last, "broken into a dozen pieces, and they have been so carefully fitted together again that the dust that settled upon it quite prevented our seeing it till we swept it again just now, and it was only because there was a tiny chip out where I first looked that I noticed it." Harry knelt down and also examined the stone. Like all the others, it had not been faced with tools. Consequently, although roughly even, there were slight irregularities in the surface. Now, as Dias pointed them out to him, he saw that there were lines running through it here and there. "Look here, señor. The stone has been struck here. Here are some dents." These were scarcely noticeable. The surface had taken the same colour as the rest of the stone. They were of irregular size, and from a quarter of an inch to an inch in diameter, and nearly in the centre of the stone, from which point several of the cracks started. "It certainly looks as if the stone had been struck with something heavy," Harry said. "I should think, by the appearance, some very heavy piece of rock must have been dropped upon it." "Yes, señor, very heavy rock--so heavy that there must have been many men to lift it." "It must have been heavy indeed to break up this slab." "Perhaps it is not so thick as the others," Dias suggested. "I don't like it, Dias. Well, let us set to work. We will try the wedges there. They were no use against the solid stone, but they might move these pieces. Put one of the borers just at the place from which these cracks start--at least, I suppose they are cracks--and let us drive it in for an inch. You hold it, José. Don't turn it, we want it to go in just in a line with this crack. I know we cannot drive it in far, but at least we may make it go deep enough to give a wedge a hold in it." Five such small holes were made in a crack that seemed to form a rough circle, then the wedges were put in, and they began to work with sledges. In ten minutes Harry, examining the place carefully, said: "The bit of stone is breaking up. There are lines running across it from the wedges. Give me the heaviest sledge." He swung it round his head and brought it down half a dozen times in the centre of the wedges. The cracks opened so far that he could see them without stooping. "Now we will try with the crowbars," he said. In ten minutes a fragment of the stone was got up; then they hammered on the wedges again, and a piece of rock, which was roughly seven or eight inches in diameter, broke completely off. "It is only about two and a half inches thick," Harry said as he drew one of the fragments out. And, holding the candle to the hole, he went on: "And there is another slab underneath. That settles it. We are at the top of one of these vaults. The question is, is it empty? I am afraid it is. This stone has evidently been broken up and fitted in again with wonderful care." "Why should it be fitted in carefully if they emptied the chamber?" "That I can't tell you, Dias, and it is of no use trying to guess now. First of all, we will get the rest of the stone up. It won't be difficult, for now that we have made a start we can use our crowbars. José, run up and tell my brother to come down. We shall want him to help with the crowbar; and besides, he would, of course, wish to be here, now that we are on the point of making a discovery one way or the other." In a minute Bertie came down with José, and Donna Maria followed. "José tells me you have broken a hole in one of the stones," Bertie exclaimed as he ran up. "We have got a bit out of a broken stone, Bertie. This stone had been broken before, and evidently not by accident. It is only half the thickness of the others, and, as you can see, there is another slab underneath." "Who can have broken it, Harry?" "That question we cannot decide, but I should say probably the Incas. We agreed that it was very possible they discovered the hidden treasures of the Chimoos. They must have learned, as the Spaniards did, how cleverly these places were hidden, and it must have been as evident to them as it is to us, that if there was a hiding-place here, this must be the spot." When one or two more pieces of the stone had been got out by the aid of crowbars, the rest was removed without the least difficulty. Another slab two feet square was exposed. In the middle of this was a copper ring, and the slab fitted, into a stone casing about eighteen inches wide. As soon as this casing was cleared, Dias and José took their places on one side, the two brothers on the other. A crowbar was thrust through the ring, and all of them, taking hold of the ends, lifted with all their strength. At first the stone did not move, but at the second effort it lifted suddenly. It was the same thickness as the one they had broken, and, on being moved, was easily handled. The torches were thrust down, and all peered eagerly into the vault. So far as they could see it was empty. "Shall I jump down, señor?' "No, the air may be bad, José. Run up and bring down a short length of rope, twenty feet will be ample. Now, let your torch drop down, Dias. If it burns, it will be safe for us to go down; if not, we must keep on dropping blazing brands into it till they burn." As, however, the torch burnt brightly, Harry lay down, and, saying, "Hold my legs, Bertie!" looked down into the vault. Eighteen inches below the surface, the hole widened out suddenly. A minute later Harry's head appeared above the surface again. "It is empty," he said in as cheerful a voice as he could manage. "Of course it is a disappointment," he went on, "but I felt certain that it would be so directly we found the stone was cracked. The only hope was that the first finders of the treasure afterwards used the place for the same purpose. That they thought it possible they might do so is clear by the care with which they fitted the stones together." None of the others spoke. The disappointment was a heavy one. Bertie broke the silence by saying; "Well, better luck next time. They may have found out this place, but there may be others which they did not find." "Quite so, Bertie. Now we have got up one stone, It will be comparatively easy work getting up the others. We will take up every stone to the end, and then work back till we get to a place where there is not more than a couple of feet between the bottom of the stone and the top of the rock." At this moment José ran into the room with the rope. Harry took it, and dropped one end until it nearly touched the floor below. "Hold on," he said, "and I will slip down first." Half a minute later he stood at the bottom of the chamber, beside the torch, which was still burning. "It is only about three feet across at the bottom," he said; "the wall by the passage goes straight up, on the other side it is the bare rock, so it is almost wedge-shaped. It is twenty feet long, and five feet high up to its roof, that makes it nearly seven to the upper part of the mouth." The vault was absolutely empty. He moved about for a minute and then said: "Gold has been stored here. There are particles of gold at the bottom, and there is gold-dust in the cracks of the broken face of the rock. Now I will come up again. Hold the rope tight; I will climb about a yard, and then I can get my fingers on the ledge." He was soon up. "Now, do any of you want to go down?" Dias and José shook their heads; and Bertie grumbled, "I don't want to look at the beastly hole; it has been trouble enough to get at it." "Well, I think we will not do any more to-day, Dias. It has rather taken the heart out of one. Still, we could not expect to hit upon the treasure for the first time. We will go up and talk it over, and when we have smoked a pipe or two we shall be more inclined to take a cheerful view of the matter. We won't talk about it till we have got to the end of our second pipe." The tobacco did its usual work, and it was with quite a cheerful voice that Bertie broke the silence: "The Incas must have been pretty sharp fellows to find that hole, Harry?" "Well, very likely they heard that the Chimoos had treasure there. Indeed they must have known, because, you see, not one of the other stones is broken, so they evidently knew where that chamber was situated." "Yes, I suppose that was it. Well, we are in fine working order now, and we sha'n't be very long getting the other stones up." "Not very long this side anyhow, Bertie. We shall want some short blocks of wood to put under the stones as we raise them. I expect they are all five inches thick, and they must be a very big weight. Evidently it is going to be a longish job. As we have been a fortnight without fresh meat, Dias had better go off and buy half a dozen sheep. We won't have dead meat this time. He can bring them slung over the mules, and we can kill them as we want them." "We have not had fresh meat, but we have not done badly, Harry; we have generally had a good many eggs and some pigeons, and José has brought us in fish from that pool. But they have dwindled down lately. He only brought in a couple of fish yesterday evening." "Well, the pigeons are getting scarcer too, Bertie. We have killed a good many, but the rest are getting very shy, and I think most of them must have gone off and settled in new places on the face of the rocks above the ravine. While Dias is away, we will try and lay in a stock of sea-fish. We can swim out and sit on the rocks during the day, and lay our lines at night. We have worked very hard for a fortnight, and we deserve a holiday." Dias, when he was spoken to, said he would start at once with four mules for Huacha. "It is not above fifteen miles," he said, "and I can get there this evening. I should think that I could buy the sheep there; if not, I must go on to Huaura. Each mule will bring two sheep. Of course I could drive them, but that would seem more singular." "You had certainly better take the mules, Dias. Tie the sheep carefully on them, so that they will not be hurt." "I will take eight of the leather bags, señor. The sheep are not large, and I will sling one on each side of the mules." "Yes, it would be as well, while you are about it, to bring eight. You may as well get some more coffee. We drink a lot of that, and like it strong. If your wife thinks we shall want more sugar, or anything else, by all means get some." As soon as Dias started, the lines were got ready. They cut a couple of saplings to serve as rods, and José, digging among the rocks, found plenty of worms, beetles, and grubs for bait. In addition, they took a cake or two of maize, to break up and throw in to attract the fish. "We had better swim out in our flannel shirts and trousers," Harry said. "They will soon dry, and they will keep off the sun. If we were to sit there without them, we should get blistered from head to foot." "Shall we fish outside the rocks, or inside, Harry?" "We will try both; but I think we are likelier to catch most inside. I should think a back-water like that would attract them." They met with equal success on both sides of the rocks, and by evening had caught over forty fish, at least half of which weighed over four pounds. Then they set the long lines, each carrying forty hooks, and returned to the castle with as many fish as they could possibly carry. Maria was delighted with the addition to her larder, and she and José set to work at once to clean and split them. In the morning they were hung in strings from the broad window. Maria said they would get the benefit of the heat from the walls, and any air there might be would be able to pass round them. By means of the night-lines they caught almost as many fish as they had done with their rods, and that day they had the satisfaction of bringing in more than they could carry in one journey. "We have got plenty now to keep us going for another three weeks," Harry said, "and we can always replenish our stock when we choose." Dias returned at sunset carrying one sheep over his shoulders. "I have left the others out there, señor; I don't think there is any fear of their straying. There is no fresh grass anywhere except near the stream, and moreover, being strange to the valley, they will naturally keep near the mules." Another month passed in continuous labour. The stones had all been taken up in the basement they had first visited, but no other chamber had been found. The parallel chamber had given them much trouble at starting, as no stone had been found showing any cracks upon it, and they had had to blast one stone to pieces before they could begin to cut up the others. No chamber whatever had been discovered until they were within six feet of the farther end. Then one was found, but it showed no signs whatever of having ever been used. "So far so bad," Harry said when the supper had been eaten almost in silence; "but that is no reason why we should be disheartened. If the Incas buried a treasure they may have thought it prudent to choose some other spot than that used by the old people." "But where could it be, Harry? You agreed that there was not sufficient depth between the floors for any place of concealment." "That is so, Bertie, of course. I have been thinking of it a lot during the past few days, when the chances of our finding a treasure under the basement were nearly extinguished. There are still the side walls." "The side walls!" Bertie repeated. "Surely they are built against the rock?" "Yes, but we don't know how straight the wall of rock is. You see, they did not build against it at all in the basement, but above that the side walls begin. The rock must have been irregular, and as the walls were built the space behind may have been filled in or may not. When they came to build they may have found that there was a cavern or caverns in the rock--nothing is more likely--and they may have left some sort of entrance to these caverns, either as a place of refuge to the garrison if the place were taken, or as a hiding-place. They might have thought it more secure for this purpose than the underground chamber, which was their general hiding-place. At any rate it is possible, and to-morrow I vote that we have a thorough inspection of the walls of the storeroom below this. That would be the most likely place, for near the sea-level the chances of finding caverns would be much greater than higher up." Bertie's face brightened as Harry proceeded. "It certainly seems possible, Harry. Of course the other place seemed so much more likely to us that we have never given the side walls a thought. We may find something there after all. I do hope we may, old boy. I cannot believe that after things have gone altogether so well with us, and we have been twice so near finding treasure, that we should fail after all. Which side shall we begin on?" "We will have a look at them before we decide, Bertie. We have not really examined them since the first day; I really forget what stores we found in the two side-rooms." An examination in the morning showed that the passage near the entrance to the rock on the left-hand side had been used for fuel, that on the other side was filled at the upper end with skins for some distance, and spears and sheaves of arrows were piled against the outer wall along the rest of the distance. "Which do you think is the most likely hiding-place?" "I should say the right-hand passage. The other with the fire-wood in it might be visited every day, but the spears and arrows would only be wanted in case of any attacks upon the castle, or to arm a large force going out to give battle there. They would naturally put anything they wanted to hide in the passage less likely to be visited." "That does seem probable," Bertie agreed; "therefore, hurrah for the right-hand side!" "I still think, señor," Dias said, "that there must be treasure concealed somewhere. I should not think a guard would have been placed here, and remained here so many years still keeping watch, as we find they did at that big loophole on the top floor, unless there was something to watch." "Quite so, Dias. I have thought that over in every way, and I can see no possible motive for their being here except to prevent the place from being examined. That was needless if there was nothing to guard, and nothing to take away, except these silver brackets, which in those days would scarcely have been worth the trouble of getting out and carrying away. There must be treasure somewhere. We know now that it is not in the basement, and we will try these side walls, even if we have to blow half of them in; there is no doubt that the stones are at least as thick as those at the end, but they will not be difficult to manage. I noticed in the upper story that they had not taken the trouble to fit them nearly so accurately as they did those of the outer walls. I don't say that they didn't fit well, but the stones were of irregular sizes, and I have no doubt that in many places we could prize them out with a crowbar. Once an opening is made, there will be no difficulty in getting a lot of them out, as the old people did not use cement or mortar. Well, to-morrow morning we will move all the spears and arrows across to the other side of that passage and have a good look at the stones, but we will go up first and look at the side walls of all the other rooms and see if they are of the same build. There may be some difference which we have not noticed. You see all the side walls of this room are built like those in front. I didn't notice whether it was the same in the other rooms." "I will look at once," Dias said, lighting a torch at the fire. "No, señor," he said, when in ten minutes he returned; "none of the walls on this floor are built of stone like this. This was the grand chamber, the stones are all nearly one size, and so well fitted that you can hardly see where they join each other. In the other rooms they are not so, but the stones are, as you noticed above, irregular in size, and although they fit closely, there is no attempt to conceal the cracks." "Thank you, Dias! Well, we won't look any more to-night; we shall see in the morning if the room below us is built in the same way. I have no doubt it is. At any rate we have done enough for to-day. There is some whisky left in that bottle, Bertie, and we may as well make ourselves a glass of grog. Maria, you had better get down that jar of pulque. We will drink to better luck next time." The woman smiled faintly. She did not often do so now, her spirits had gradually gone down as the hopes of success faded. "Now, Maria," Harry said, "you had better take a glass of pulque for yourself. I know you don't often touch it, but you have been working so of late that I think you want it more than any of us." "I cannot help feeling low-spirited, señor," she said. "I have so hoped that you would find the treasure you wanted, and marry this lady you love, and it would be such joy for us to have in some small way repaid the service you rendered us, that I felt quite broken down. I know I ought not to have been, when you and your brother bear the disappointment so bravely." "'It is of no use crying over spilt milk', which is an English saying, Maria. Besides, it is possible that the milk may not be spilt yet, and until lately your good spirits have helped us greatly to keep ours up. If I were once convinced that we had failed, I have no doubt I should feel hard hit; but I am a long way from giving up hope yet. There is treasure here, and if I have to blow up the whole of the old place I will find it. I have got six months yet, and in six months one can do wonders. Anyhow, these brackets will pay us very well for our work. I certainly should not have earned half the sum in any other way in the same time. And even if I fail in my great object, I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that I have done all in my power to gain it. She will know that I have done my best. I have always told her, when I have written, how much I owe to you and Dias, how faithfully you have served me, and how you have always been so bright and pleasant. I have no doubt it has cheered her up as well as me." Maria was wiping her eyes now. "You are too good, señor; it is so little I can do, or Dias either, to show our gratitude." "Nonsense! You show it in every way, even in the matter-of-fact way of always giving us excellent food, which is by no means unimportant. Now we will all turn in, and make a fresh start to-morrow morning." They were up at daybreak, and after taking their usual cup of coffee lit the torches and descended the stairs to the floor below. As soon as they reached the right-hand wall, Harry exclaimed: "Why, this is built in the same way as the one we have left! The stones are squared and fitted together as closely as those in the drawing-room. Then why should that be, except in that one room? The side walls all the way up are roughly built. Why should they have taken the trouble on this floor to build these, which are only meant as store-rooms, when even in the rooms above, which were meant for the habitation of the chief and his family, the rough work was deemed sufficiently good? There must have been some motive for this, Dias." "There must have been, señor; it is certainly strange." "First of all, let us clear the wall and take a general view of it. Guessing won't help us; but I have the strongest hopes that behind one of these stones lies a cavern. By the way, Dias, take a torch and go into the next chamber and see if the stones are solid there." "They are just the same as those here," Dias said when he returned. "I would rather that it had been the other way," Harry said, "for then I should have been more sure that there was some special reason for their building them in this way here." It took them all half an hour's work to move the spears and arrows to the other side. "Do you think, Harry, if we were to tap the stones we should be able to find whether there is a hollow behind any of them?" Harry shook his head. "Not in the least. I have no doubt these stones are two or three feet thick, and there could be no difference in the sound they would make if struck, whether they were filled in solid behind or had no backing. To begin with, we will make a careful examination of the walls. Possibly we shall see some signs of a stone having been moved. It would be very much more difficult to take one of the great blocks out and put it in again than it would be to get up one of the paving-stones." When they had gone about half-way along, examining each stone with the greatest care, Bertie, who was ahead of the rest, and passing the candle he held along the edge of every joint, said, "Look here! this stone projects nearly half an inch beyond the rest." The others gathered round him. The stone was of unusual size, being fully two and a half feet wide and four feet long, the bottom joint being two feet above the floor. Bertie moved along to let the others look at the edge. He was keeping his finger on the joint, and they had scarcely come up when he said, "The other end of the stone's sunk in about as much as this end projects." "Something certainly occurred to shift this stone a little," Harry said, examining it carefully. "It is curious. If others had been displaced, one would have put it down to the shock of an earthquake--a common enough occurrence here--but both above and below it the stones are level with the others, and nowhere about the house have we seen such another displacement. Look! there is a heap of rubbish along the foot of the wall here. Stir it up, Dias, and let us see what it is." "It is sand and small stones, and some chips that look like chips of rock." "Yes, these bits look, as you say, as if they had been chipped off a rock, not like water-worn stones. Though how they got here, where everywhere else things are perfectly tidy, I cannot say. However, we can think that over afterwards. Now for the stone! Let us all put our weight against this projecting end. I don't in the least expect that we can move it, but at any rate we can try." They all pushed together. "I think it moved a little," Harry said, and looked at the edge. "Yes, it is not above half as far out now as it was." "That is curious, for if it is as thick as we took it to be, it would weigh at least a couple of tons. We won't try to push it in any farther. I am sorry we pushed it at all. Now, give me that heavy sledge, José, possibly there may be a hollow sound to it. I will hit at the other end, for I don't want this to go in any farther." He went to the stone beyond it first and struck two or three blows with all his strength. Then he did the same with the stone that they were examining. "I don't think it gives such a dead sound," he said. The others were all of the same opinion. "Good! This is another piece of luck," he said. "We have certainly hit on something out of the way." "Your hammering has brought this end out again, Harry," Bertie said. "So it has, and it has pushed this end in a little. Let us try again." But although all took turns with the sledges, they could make no further impression on the stone. "Well, we will try the drills," Harry said. "In the first place, we will find out how thick it is." They at once set to work with the drill. Progress was slower than it had been before, because, instead of striking down on the head of the drill, they had now to swing the hammer sideways and lost the advantage of its weight; and they were obliged to work very carefully, as a miss would have seriously damaged the one holding the drill. It took them four hours' steady work to get the hole in three inches. Ten minutes later, to their astonishment, the drill suddenly disappeared. Dias, who was striking, nearly fell, for instead of the resistance he had expected, the drill shot forward; the hammer hit José, who had this time been holding the drill, a heavy blow on the arm, causing him to utter a shout of pain. Harry, who was sitting down having breakfast, having just handed his hammer to Bertie, jumped to his feet. "How did you manage that, Dias? I suppose it slipped off the head. You must have hit José a very heavy blow." "I have hit him a heavy blow, señor, and nearly tumbled down myself; but I struck the drill fairly enough, and it has gone." "Gone where, Dias?" "I think it must have gone right through the hole, señor." "Then there is an empty space behind!" Harry shouted joyfully. "However," he went on in changed tones, "we must see to José first. That blow may have fractured his arm. Let me look, José. No, I don't think anything is broken, but there is a nasty cut on the wrist. It is fortunate that you were not striking straight down, Dias, for I am sure we have not put anything approaching the strength into our blows, now we are hitting sideways, that we exerted before. You had better go up to Maria, José, and get her to bathe your wrist with cold water, and put on a bandage." "Now, señor, what shall we do next?" "Well, now that we know that its weight cannot be anything very great, and that certainly to some extent it can be moved, we will try hammering again at that end. Do you stand three or four feet beyond it, so as to be able to bring your sledge down with all your strength just on the lower corner. I will face you and strike six or eight inches above where you hit. Of course we must both bring our hammers down at the same instant. We shall be able to do that after two or three trials. Stand at the other end of the stone, Bertie, and tell us if it moves at all." After one or two attempts the two men got to swing their hammers so as to strike precisely at the same moment, and when half a dozen blows had fallen, Bertie said: "It comes out a little at each blow. It is not much, but it comes." Three or four minutes later he reported, "It is an inch and a half out now, and there is room to get the end of a crowbar in here." "That is curious," Harry said as he lowered his sledgehammer, and, taking up the candle, examined the end where he had been striking. "This is sunk about the same distance, Bertie. The stone must work somehow on a pivot." They now put a crowbar into the end Bertie had been watching, and all three threw their weight on the lever. Slowly the stone yielded to the pressure, and moved farther and farther out. It was pushed open until the crowbar could act no longer as a lever, but they could now get a hold of the inside edge. It was only very slowly and with repeated efforts that they could turn the stone round, and at last it stood fairly at right angles to the wall, dividing the opening into equal parts about two feet four each. "There is a pivot under it; that is quite evident. It may be a copper ball in the stone below, or it may be that a knob of the upper stone projects into a hole in the lower. However, it does not matter how it works. Here is an opening into something. Dias, will you go upstairs and tell your wife and José to come down? They had better bring half a dozen more torches. Our stock here is getting low, and we shall want as much light as possible. It is only fair that we should all share in the discovery." Dias went off. "Now, Bertie, we must not let our hopes grow too high. I think it is more likely than not that we shall find nothing here." "Why do you think so, Harry? I made sure we had as good as got the treasure." "I think, if there had been treasure," Harry went on, "that this stone would have been closed with the greatest care. They would hardly have left it so carelessly closed that anyone who examined the wall would have noticed it, just as we did. We found the other places most carefully closed, though there was nothing in them." "Perhaps there was something that prevented them from shutting--a little stone or something." "But we know that that wasn't so, Bertie, because the stone yielded to our weight; and if it did so now, it could have been shut with the greatest ease originally, when no doubt the pivot was kept oiled, and the whole worked perfectly smoothly. It is almost certain that they were able in some way to fasten it securely when it was shut. What is that piece of square stone lying there?" "It fell down from above just as the slab opened." Harry took it up. It was about six inches long by two inches square. "It is a very hard stone," he said--"granite, I should say. I expect you will find that it fits into a hole in the stone above." "Yes, there is a hole here," Bertie said, feeling it; "the stone goes right in." "Well, I think, Bertie, you will find a hole in that end of the stone we moved that it will fit." Bertie crept in, and felt along the top of the stone. "Yes, there is a hole here about the same size as the stone, but it is not more than three inches deep." "Then, that stone was the bolt, Bertie. You see it was pushed up, and the door then closed; and when the stone was exactly in its place, it would drop into the hole and keep it from moving, and nothing short of breaking up the bolt would give an entrance. It is lucky that we did not push it quite to; another quarter of an inch and that bolt would have fallen, and we could not have moved it unless by smashing the whole thing into bits. That was why they did not quite close the stone; they wanted to get in again." "Here come the others!" Maria had been washing some clothes in the stream, and they had therefore been longer in coming than if she had been in the room. They all looked greatly excited. "So you have found it, señor!" Dias exclaimed in delight. "We have found an entrance into somewhere, but I am afraid it will be as empty as the other chambers." "Why do you think so, señor?" Dias asked in dismay. Harry repeated the reasons he had given Bertie for his belief that the stone must have been left in such a position as to be easily opened when required. "Why should it have been left so?" "Because the treasure they expected had never arrived. It is possible that when the Incas discovered the treasure in that chamber we searched, they may also have found this entrance. It may have been shown to them by one of the prisoners, and they may have broken the stone here into pieces as they broke that over the chamber afterwards. Seeing what a splendid hiding-place it was, they may have, when the Spaniards first arrived, made another stone to fit, with the intention of using it for a hiding-place themselves. The fact that the stone was left so that it could be at once opened is conclusive proof to my mind that the treasure never came. That heap of sand, small stones, and chips of rock is another proof that they were ready to receive treasure, and it was probably swept out of the chamber that is behind here, and would, of course, have been removed when the treasure was put in and the door closed; but as the treasure never did come, it was left where it lay. However, we will now go and see. I have only kept you waiting because I did not want you to be disappointed." One by one they crept through the opening. For four feet in, the passage was the same width as the stone, but two feet deeper; then it at once opened into a large cavern. "This wall was four feet thick, you see, Dias. Apparently squared stone was only used for the facing, as the stones are of irregular shape on the back. This would be a natural cavern, and a splendid hiding-place it makes. No doubt its existence was one of the reasons for building this castle." The cavern was some twelve feet wide and thirty feet high at the mouth; the floor sloped up sharply, and the sides contracted, and met forty feet from the mouth. The floor had been cut into steps two feet wide, running across the cave and extending to the back. These steps were faced with a perfectly flat slab of stone. The cave was empty. The natives uttered loud exclamations of disappointment and regret. Harry had so thoroughly made up his mind that nothing would be found there that he surveyed the place calmly and in silence. Bertie imitated his example with some difficulty, for he too was bitterly disappointed. "You see, Dias," Harry went on quietly, "this place was prepared to receive treasure. The steps have all been swept perfectly clean. You see, the gold could be piled up, and no doubt the steps were cut and faced with stone to prevent any gold-dust that might fall from the bags, in which, no doubt, it would be brought, and small nuggets, from falling into the cracks and crevices of the rock. I should say that in all probability they expected that treasure ship that was lost, and had everything in readiness for hiding the cargo here directly it came. It never did come. The door was shut as far as it could be without the bolt falling down and fastening it; then they waited for the ship; and if it did not arrive, other treasure might be brought by land. Well, it cannot be helped. So far we have failed. There may still be treasure hidden somewhere. We cannot say that we have searched the place thoroughly yet." For another six weeks they worked hard. The wall was broken through in several places, but no signs of the existence of any other cavern or hiding-place was discovered. "I should give it up," Harry said, when at the end of that time they were sitting gloomily round the fire, "but for one thing: I can see no possible explanation why a party of men should have been left here, and a guard kept, for perhaps a hundred years, perhaps more, and the stories about demons been circulated, and people who ventured to approach been murdered, unless there had been some good reason for it. That reason could only have been, as far as I can see, that there was a treasure hidden here. I have turned it over and over in my mind a thousand times, and I can think of no other reason. Can you, Bertie, or you, Dias?" "No," Bertie replied. "I have often thought about it; but, as you say, there must have been some good reason, for no people in their senses would have spent their lives in this old place, and starved here, unless they had some cause for it." Dias made no reply beyond shaking his head. "You see," Harry went on, "they kept up their watch to the end. There were those two skeletons of men who had died at their post at that curious window where nothing could be seen. I hate to give up the search, and yet we seem to have tried every point where there was a possibility of a hiding-place existing." CHAPTER XIX THE TREASURE The next morning Harry said: "I will go upstairs to that look-out place again. I have been up there pretty nearly every day, and stared down. I can't get it out of my mind that the key of the mystery lies there, and that that hole was made for some other purpose than merely throwing stones out on to any of those who might go in behind the rocks. I have puzzled and worried over it." "Shall I come up with you, Harry?" "No, I would rather you didn't. I will go up by myself and spend the morning there; some idea may occur to me. You may as well all have a quiet day of it." He lit his pipe and went upstairs. José went off to the mules, and Bertie descended the ladder, and strolled round what they called the courtyard, looking for eggs among the rocks and in the tufts of grass growing higher up. Dias scattered a few handfuls of maize to the chickens and then assisted Maria to catch two of them; after which he descended the ladder and sat down gloomily upon a stone. He had become more and more depressed in spirits as the search became daily more hopeless; and although he worked as hard as anyone, he seldom spoke, while Harry and his brother often joked, and showed no outward signs of disappointment. An hour passed, and then Harry appeared suddenly at the window. "Bertie, Dias, come up at once, I have an idea!" They ran to the ladder and climbed up. The excitement with which he spoke showed that the idea was an important one. "Now, Dias," he broke out as they joined him, "we know, don't we, that a part of the Incas' treasure was sent off by boat, and the belief of the Indians was that it was never heard of again." "That is so, señor. There was certainly a storm the day after it started, and, as I have told you, it was never heard of again. Had it been, a report of it would surely have come down." "I believe, Dias, that the boat was dashed to pieces against that line of rocks outside the entrance to the passage. We have reason to believe that the people here were expecting the treasure to arrive, and had the entrance to the cave in readiness to receive it. Certainly no better place could have been chosen for concealment. The boat may have been coming here when the storm broke and drove them towards the shore. They probably attempted to gain the mouth of the cove, but missed it, and were dashed to pieces against the rocks. The Indians on guard here no doubt saw it, and would be sure that the heavy sacks or boxes containing the gold would sink to the bottom. They would lie perfectly secure there, even more secure than if they had been removed and placed in the cave, and could always be recovered when the Spaniards left, so they were content to leave them there. Still, they obeyed the orders they had received to keep watch for ever over the treasure, and to do so knocked that strange hole through the wall and always kept two men on guard there. "So it must have gone on. They and those who succeeded them never wavered. Doubtless they received food from their friends outside, or some of them went out, as you have done, to fetch it in. Then came a time when, for some reason or other--doubtless, as I supposed before, when the Spaniards swept pretty nearly all the natives up to work in the mines, and they themselves dared not issue out--the attempt to get food was made, when too late, by the men whose skeletons we found on the steps when we first came here; and the rest were all too feeble to repeat the experiment, and died--the two sentinels at their post, the rest in the room where we found them." "Hurrah!" Bertie shouted, "I have no doubt you have hit it, Harry. I believe, after all, that we are going to find it. That is splendid! I shall dance at your wedding, Harry, which I had begun to think I never should do." "Don't be a young ass, Bertie. It is only an idea, and we have had several ideas before, but nothing has come of them." "Something is going to come of this, I am convinced; I would bet any money on it. Well, shall we go and have a trial at once?" "What do you think, Dias?" Harry said, paying no attention to Bertie's last remark. "I think it is quite possible, señor. Certainly, if the Indians had been told to guard the treasure, they would do so always. You know how they kept the secrets entrusted to them whatever tortures they were put to. If the gold had been, as you say, lost amongst the rocks, I do think they would have still watched the place. I thought it strange that they should have made that hole, but when you said that they might have made it to throw stones down it seemed to me to be likely enough; but the other suggestion is more probable. Well, señor, I am ready to try it, but I am not a very good swimmer." "My brother and I are both good swimmers, and we will do that part of the work. The hardest part will be getting it up, and you will be able to give us your help at that." "Well, let us be off," Bertie said; "I am all on thorns to begin. We shall soon find it out. If it is there, it is almost certain to be at the foot of the rocks, though, of course, it is possible that the boat sank before striking them. At any rate, I feel sure she went down somewhere within the area that can be seen through that hole. It won't take many days' diving to search every yard of the bottom." They hastily descended the ladder, and, divesting themselves of their clothes, swam out through the opening. Dias climbed up on the rocks, the others swam round by the ends of the barrier. The water was so warm that they would be able to remain in it for any time without inconvenience. "We need not begin here, Bertie; we are outside the line of sight. From that hole I could not see the end of these rocks. We will start at the middle, and work in opposite directions." On arriving off the centre of the wall both dived. The depth was about twelve feet, and as the water was perfectly clear, Harry could see four or five feet round him. He was obliged to swim carefully, for the bottom was covered with rocks, for the most part rounded by the action of the sea. For an hour he continued his search, by which time he had reached nearly the end of the line of rocks. Then he landed on a ledge of rock and sat down, calling to Bertie to join him. "We will rest for a quarter of an hour," he said, "and then begin again. This time we will keep twenty or thirty feet farther out; it is more likely to be there than close in. If the boat struck, the next wave would sweep over her, and she would probably go down stern first, and her cargo would fall out that way." After their rest they started again, swam out a few strokes, and then dived. Harry had gone down five or six times, when, on his coming to the surface, he heard a shout, and saw Bertie swimming towards him. "I have found them, Harry! There are a number of ingots, but they were so heavy that I could not bring one of them to the surface." As Harry reached him the lad turned round and swam back. "There they are, just opposite that cleft in the rock! I looked directly I came up so as to know the exact spot." Harry trod water for half a minute, then took a long breath and dived. It was as Bertie had said. Scattered among the rocks were a score of ingots. They had lost their brilliancy, but shone with a dull copperish hue, with bright gleams here and there where rocks had grated against them. Putting one hand on a block of rock he lifted one of them with the other. "About twenty pounds," he said to himself. "Thank God, Hilda is as good as won!" Then he rose to the surface. "Shake hands, Bertie; there is enough there to make us all rich for life. Now we will get back again. We have to think matters over, and see how they are to be got ashore. There is no hurry; they have lain there for three hundred years, and would lie there as much longer if we did not take them. We have found them, Dias!" he shouted; and the latter gave a yell of delight. "Swim ashore, and we will join you there." Not another word was spoken until they had dressed and walked out. "I am too excited even to think," Harry broke out. "It is time for dinner. When we have had that and smoked a pipe I shall be able to talk calmly over it." Maria was wild with delight at the news, and laughed and cried by turns. Even José, who was accustomed to take all things quietly, was almost as excited. The woman was only called to herself when Harry said, laughing, "Maria, for the first time since we started from Lima, you are letting the dinner burn." "To think of it!" she cried. "It is your fault, señor; you should not have told me about it till we sat down." "You won't have to cook much longer, Maria. You will be able now to have a servant, and a house as big as you like, and a beautiful garden." "I should not like that, señor; what should I do all day with myself?" "I am glad, señor, glad for your sake," Dias said gravely. "To us it will make no difference. You said there was enough there to make us rich. Assuredly that is so; but not one peso of it will we touch. No man with Indian blood in his veins, not even the poorest in Peru, would have aught to do with an ounce of the Incas' treasures. When they were buried, a curse was laid upon any who betrayed their hiding-place or who ever touched the gold. It has brought a curse upon Spain. At the time the Spaniards landed here they were a great nation. Now their glory has departed; they no longer own the land they tyrannized over for three hundred years, and we have heard that their power in Europe has altogether gone. It must be the curse of the gold, or they would never have allowed your great Englishman, Cochrane, with but two or three ships, to conquer them here. My mind is easy as to the finding of the treasure. You came here in spite of my prayers that you would not do so. It is you who have made the discovery, not me. But I will take no share in the gold. From the day I took it I should be a cursed man; my flesh would melt away, I should suffer tortures, and should die a miserable death." "Well, Dias, I will not try to persuade you. I know that, Christian though you be, your native belief still clings to you, and I will not argue against it; but I have money of my own, and from that I will give you enough to make you comfortable for life, and that you can take without feeling that you have incurred any curse from the finding of this treasure." "I thank you heartily," Dias said gratefully; "I thank you with all my heart. I have ever been a wanderer, and now I will gladly settle down. I do not desire wealth, but enough to live on in comfort with my wife, and only to travel when it pleases me." "You shall have enough for that and more, Dias." After some more meat had been cooked and eaten, and he had smoked a pipe, Harry said: "A boat would, of course, be the best thing, but there are difficulties connected with it. There is no spot, as far as I know, where we could land for fifteen miles on either side, and there would only be small villages where everything we did would be seen and talked about. There is no place where we could keep a boat here, for if even a slight breeze sprang up the swell coming in round the passage between the rocks and the cliff would smash her up in no time." "That is so, señor." Harry was silent again for some time, and then said: "The only plan I can think of is to get some strong leather bags. Then we could take one down with us when we dive, with a strong cord tied to it, put a couple of the ingots into it, and you could haul it up on to the rocks, and so on until we have finished a day's work. Then we could carry them to this side of the rocks; there you could put them, three or four at a time, into the bag, and drop them down in the water. We would swim up the tunnel and haul them in, and then bring the bag back again. We sha'n't be able to get anything approaching all the ingots, for a great many of them must have gone in between the crevices of the rocks, and unless we broke it up with powder, which would be next to impossible without a diving-dress and air-pumps and all sorts of things, which cannot be bought in this country, we could not get at them. However, we have only just begun to look for them yet; we may come across a pile. Heavy as the sea must be on this coast in a gale, I hardly think it would much affect a pile of ingots; their weight would keep them steady even were big rocks rolled about. "I think the best thing, Dias, would be for you to go off with two or three mules. We shall soon be running short of provisions, and you had better get enough flour and dried meat to last us for a month. I don't suppose we shall be as long as that, but it is as well to have a good store so as not to have to make the journey again. Then you had better get twenty leather bags, such as those in which they bring the ore down from the mountains. We have plenty of stout rope, but we shall want some thin cord for tying the necks of the bags. You may as well bring another keg of spirits, brandy if you can get it, a bag of coffee, and some sugar, and anything else you think of. Now I am a millionaire we can afford to be comfortable. By the way, we might as well this afternoon get the rest of those silver brackets out. These are not a part of the Incas' treasure, and you can take them as your share without fear of the curse. It would be best for you to smelt them down; I know all of you natives can do that." "Do you think that they are not part of the Incas' treasure, señor?" Dias said doubtfully. "Certainly not; they were undoubtedly here before the Incas' time. But even had they been put there by Incas, you could not call them hidden treasure. They might be part of the Incas' property, but certainly not part of the treasures they hid." "But it is altogether too much, señor; it is noble of you to offer it me." "Not at all; we owe everything we find to you, and it would be only fair that you should have at least a third of the gold. But still, if you won't touch that, you must take the silver." "But I heard you say that it was worth four thousand pounds." "Well, if we are lucky we shall get twenty times as much, Dias." "Certainly we will take it, señor, and grateful we shall both be to you," Maria said; "and so will José, who will inherit it all some day, as he is the only relative we have. I agree with Dias about the gold. I have heard so often about the curse on it that I should be afraid." "Well, Maria, you see there is a lot of nonsense in all your superstitions. You know it was one of them that this place was guarded by demons. Now you have seen for yourself that it was all humbug. If you are afraid about the silver, I will take it to England and sell it there and send you the money it fetches; but that would give a great deal of trouble. It will be difficult to get the gold safely away, without being bothered with all this silver. "You had better buy some bags of charcoal, Dias. I suppose you will use that small hearth we have?" "No, señor, it would take an immense time to do it in that. I will load one of the mules with hard bricks." "You will want two mules to carry a hundred, Dias--I think they weigh about four pounds and a half each. Will that be enough?" "Plenty, señor; but I shall want another bellows. José and I can work the two of them, and that will make a great heat. We can melt two or three hundred pounds a day. I have helped to make many a furnace up in the mountains, and I know very well all about the way to build and work them." "Very well, then, that is settled. You had better start to-morrow morning with José, and we will spend the day in finding out a little more about the gold." Dias started the next morning, and the two brothers were in the water most of the day. Harry found, as he had expected, that a great deal of the treasure had sunk out of reach between the rocks; but he came upon one pile, which had apparently been originally packed in sacks or skins, lying in a heap a little farther out than they had before searched. He had no doubt that this was the point where the stern of the boat had sunk, and a considerable portion of the contents had been shot out, while the rest had been scattered about as the boat broke up, and as the skins rotted their contents had fallen between the rocks. There were, as nearly as he could calculate, two hundred and fifty to three hundred ingots in the pile. "I need not trouble about the rest," he laughed to himself. "Each ingot, if it weighs twenty pounds, is worth a thousand. Two hundred of them would make me as rich as any man can want to be. I can hardly believe in my luck; it is stupendous. Fancy a half-pay lieutenant with two hundred thousand pounds! Old Fortescue will become one of the most complaisant of fathers-in-law." The evening before Dias left, Harry had written a letter for him to post at Callao, telling Hilda to keep up a brave heart, for that he hoped to be at home before the end of the second year with money enough to satisfy her father. "I should not tell you so unless I felt certain of what I am saying. I told you before I left that it was almost a forlorn hope that I was undertaking, and that the chances were ten thousand to one against me. I think now that the one chance has turned up, and I hope to be home within two months of the time that you receive this letter." He did not say more; but even now he could scarcely believe that the good fortune had befallen him, and feared that some unlucky fate might interfere between him and the fulfilment of his hopes. When Dias returned after two days' absence the work began. Each morning they worked together at bringing up the gold and piling the ingots on the rock. It was slower work than Harry had expected, for on hauling the bag to the rocks it was often caught by the boulders, and he and Bertie sometimes had to dive four or five times before they could free it and get it ashore. The gold was piled in the tunnel just beyond the water. In a fortnight the last ingot they could get at was stored with its fellows--two hundred and eighty-two in all. They had repeatedly talked over the best plan of getting the gold away, and finally concluded that it would be risking too much to take it into a town, and that the best plan would be for Harry to buy a boat at Callao, which, as a naval officer, would be natural enough. They decided to procure three times as many bags as the ingots would really require, and that they should put in each bag three ingots only, filling it up with pieces of stone, so that the weight should not exceed what it would have been were the contents heavy ore. Harry arranged that he would go down to Callao, buy a large boat, and after having made several excursions, to accustom the officials at Callao to seeing him going about, he would make a bargain with the captains of two ships about to sail to England, to carry about two tons each of ore, which he could put on board them after dark, so as to avoid the extortion he would have to submit to before the port officials and others would allow him to ship it. The question that puzzled them most was the best way of taking the bags into the boat. Dias was in favour of their being carried on the mules to a point lower down the coast, at which they could be loaded into the boat. "It would be only necessary to carry the gold," he said, "the stones to fill the bags could be put in there." The objection to this was that they might be observed at work, and that at most points it would be difficult both to run the boat up and to get her off again through the rollers. If the boat were brought round into the inlet she could be loaded there comfortably. The only fear was of being caught in a gale. But as gales were by no means frequent the risk was small; and should a sudden storm come on when she was lying there, and she were broken up, it would be easy to recover the gold from the shallow water behind the rocks. This was therefore settled. Only half the treasure was to be taken away at once, and not till this had been got on board a ship and the vessel had sailed would the boat come back for the rest of their treasure. Dias was at once to start with the mules and carry the silver, in two journeys, to a safe place among the mountains. There he could bury it in three or four hiding-places, to be fetched out as he might require it, only taking some fifty pounds to Lima. Here he was to dispose of a portion of it to one of the dealers who made it his business to buy up silver from the natives. As many of these worked small mines, and sent down the produce once a month to Lima, there would be nothing suspicious in its being offered for sale, especially as it would be known that Dias had been away for a very long time among the mountains. It was necessary that the sale should be effected at once, because Harry's stock of money was running very low, and he would have to pay for the passages of Bertie and himself to England, and for the freight of the gold. Dias was to dispose later on of all the remaining stores, the powder and tools, and the three riding mules. Two days later the last of the silver brackets had been melted, and Dias and Harry started with the eight mules, six of them being laden with the silver. They struck back at once into the hills, and after travelling for two days, ascended a wild gorge. "It is not once a year that anyone would come up here, señor. There is no way out of it. We can bury the silver here with a certainty that it will be safe from disturbance." "Yes, it will be safe here; and as you want it you have only to make a journey with a couple of mules to fetch as much as you require, carry it home, and bury it in your garden or under the house; then you could from time to time take a few ingots into the town and dispose of them. But to begin with, I will borrow fifty pounds weight of it, and get you to dispose of it for me at Lima. My money is beginning to run short. I shall have to pay for the freight of the gold and my own passage home, and to buy a boat large enough to carry half the treasure. It is not likely that there will be two vessels sailing at the same time, in which case I shall make two trips. As I should not put it on board until the night before the ship sailed, of course I could go home with the second lot." "I shall never know what to do with a tenth part of this silver, señor. It would never do for me to make a show of being rich; the authorities would seize me, and perhaps torture me to make me reveal the source of my wealth." "Well, there are thousands of your countrymen in the deepest poverty, Dias; you could secretly help those in distress; a single ingot, ten pounds in weight, would be a fortune to them. And when you die you might get a respectable lawyer to make out a will, leaving your treasure to some charity for the benefit of Indians, giving, of course, instructions where the treasure is to be found." "That is good," Dias said. "Thank you, señor! that will make me very happy." They had brought a pick and shovel with them, and, dividing the bags, buried them at some distance apart, rolling stones to cover up the hiding-places, and obliterating any signs of the ground having been disturbed. A hundred pounds were left out, and with this in their saddle-bags they arrived at Lima two days later. Harry went on alone into Callao. He had no difficulty in purchasing a ship's boat in fair condition. She carried two lug-sails, and was amply large enough for the purpose for which she was required, being nearly thirty feet long with a beam of six feet. He got her cheaply, for the ship to which she belonged had been wrecked some distance along the coast, and a portion of the crew had launched her and made their way to Callao; the mate, who was the sole surviving officer, was glad to accept the ten pounds Harry offered for her, as this would enable the crew to exist until they could obtain a passage home, or ship on board some British vessel short of hands. The boat was too large to be worked by one man, and seeing that the mate was an honest and intelligent fellow, Harry arranged with him to aid him to sail the boat, and each day they went out for some hours. After spending a week in apparent idleness, and getting to know more of the man, Harry told him that he had really bought the boat for the purpose of getting some ore he had discovered on board a ship homeward-bound. "You know what these Peruvians are," he said, "and how jealous they are of our getting hold of mines, so I have got to do the thing quietly, and the only way will be to take the ore off by night. It is on a spot some eighty miles along the coast. I am going off tomorrow to get it ready for embarkation, and I shall be away about a week. I find that the _London_ will leave in ten days, and I shall get it put on board the night before she sails. While I am away, look after the boat. The _Nancy_ will sail five days later. I am going to put half on board each ship, as I am anxious to ensure that some at least of the ore shall reach home, so as to be analysed, and see if it is as rich as I hope. But be sure not to mention a word of this to a soul. I should have immense trouble with the authorities if it got about that I had discovered a mine." "I understand, sir. You may be quite sure I shall say nothing about it." "How are your men getting on?" "Four are shipped on board the _Esmerelda_, which sailed yesterday, the others are hanging on till they can get berths. I hope a few will be able to go in the two ships you name, but they haven't applied at present. Some of the crew may desert before the time for sailing comes, and of course they would get better paid if they went as part of the crew than if they merely worked their passage home." "I am sorry for them," Harry said. "Here is another five pounds to help them to hold on. As an old naval officer I can feel for men in such a place." Dias, after selling the silver, had, a week before, returned with the mules to the castle, and on his arrival there had sent José to join Harry and bring news to them of the day on which the boat would arrive. Dias and Bertie were packing half the bags, of which the former took with him an ample supply, to get the gold out on the rocks facing the entrance, so that they could be shipped without delay. Great pains were taken in packing the bags so that the three ingots placed in each should be completely surrounded by stones. Anyone who might take a fancy to feel them, in order to ascertain their contents, would have no reason to suppose that they carried anything beyond the ore they were stated to contain. Harry had had no difficulty in arranging with the captain of the London to take from a ton and a half to two tons of ore the night before he sailed, and three days before this Harry started with the mate. There was but a light breeze, and it was daylight next morning before they arrived. A pole had been stuck up at the edge of the cliff just above the cavern, and as it became dark a lantern was also placed there, so they had no trouble in finding the entrance of the little cove. "It is a rum-looking place, sir," the man said. "As far as I can see there is no break in the cliffs." "It is a curious place, but you will find the bags with the ore on the rocks inside here ready for us, and my brother and one of my men waiting there. They will have made us out an hour ago, so we can load up at once and get out of this tiny creek. I don't want to stay in there any longer than is necessary, for if there is anything of a swell we could not get out again." As they approached the place Harry gave a shout, which was at once answered. The sails were lowered, and the boat passed round the edge of the rocks. "It is a rum place," the mate repeated. "Why, one might have rowed past here fifty times without thinking there was water inside the rocks. Of course you must have lowered the sacks down from the top?" "It was a difficult job," Harry said carelessly; "but we were anxious to get the things away quietly. If we had taken them down to the port we should have had no end of bother, and a hundred men would have set off at once to try and find out where we got the ore." Bertie and Dias had everything ready, and as the boat drew up alongside the rocks on which they were standing the former said, "Everything all right, Harry?" "Yes, I hope so. We are to put the ore on board the _London_ to-morrow after dark; she will get up her anchor at daylight. You have got all the bags ready, I hope?" "Everything; the others will be ready for you when you come back for them." "The next ship sails in about a week. Now, let us get them on board at once, I don't want to stop in here a minute longer than is necessary. There is scarcely a breath of wind now; if it doesn't blow up a bit in the morning, we shall have a long row before us to get there in time. This is my brother, Owen; the other is a mule-driver, who has been my guide and companion for the past year, and whom I am proud to call my friend." "You don't want anything in the way of food, do you?" Bertie asked. "We have got some here," Harry laughed. "I am too old a sailor to put to sea without having provisions in my craft. Now, let us get the bags on board." It did not take them long to transfer the sacks into the boat. "They are pretty heavy," the mate said, "I should say a hundredweight each." "About that," Harry said carelessly. "This ore stuff is very heavy." As soon as all was on board Harry said: "Now we can put out at any moment, but I don't want to leave till dark. We may as well begin to get the rest of the bags out here at once. We might finish that job before we start. Then you could come down with us, Bertie, and Dias could pack up the remaining stores to-morrow and start for Lima with the mules, and his wife and José. "Very well, Harry. I think we can leave the sacks here safely." "Just as safely as if they were ashore. So far as we know no one has been in here for the past two hundred years, and no one is likely to come in the next week." By evening all the work was done. The mate had been greatly surprised at the manner in which the bags had been brought on board, but had helped in the work and asked no questions. As soon as it was dark they rowed out from the cove. There was not a breath of wind. Bertie volunteered to take the first watch, the mate was to take the next. Harry was not sorry to turn in. He had had but little sleep for the past week. Everything had seemed to be going well, but at any moment there might be some hitch in the arrangements, and he had been anxious and excited. Wrapping himself in his poncho he lay down in the stern of the boat and slept soundly until morning. "I have had a sleep," he said on waking. "I have slept longer to-night than I have done for the past fortnight. Now I will take the helm. How fast have we been moving?" "We have not gone many miles, and if what tide there is hadn't been with us we should not have moved at all, for the sails have not been full all night. A breeze only sprang up an hour ago, and we are not moving through the water now at more than a knot and a half; but I think it is freshening." "I hope it is," Harry said. "It is not often that we have a dead calm; but if it doesn't spring up we shall have to row. With two tons and a half of stuff on board it is as much as we can do to move two knots an hour through the water." "All right, sir! when you think it is time to begin, stir me up." In half an hour the breeze had increased so much that the boat was running along three knots an hour. By eight o'clock she was doing a knot better. So she ran along till, at four o'clock in the afternoon, the wind died away again, and they could just see the masts of the ships at Callao in the distance. "I should think that we are about fifteen miles off," Harry said. "About that," Bertie replied. "We had better get our oars and help her along, she is not going much more than a knot through the water an hour." They got out the oars and set to work. Occasionally a puff of wind gave them a little assistance, but it was one o'clock before they arrived alongside the _London_. A lamp was alight at the gangway as arranged, and two sailors were on watch. "The captain turned in an hour ago, sir," one of them said. "He left orders that the mate was to call him if you arrived. We will soon have him up." In five minutes the mate and four other sailors were on deck. "We have got a whip rigged in readiness," the officer said. "How much do the packages weigh, sir?" "They are leathern bags, and weigh about a hundredweight each." "How many are there?" "Forty-six." "We have got the fore-hatch open, and can hand them down in no time. If you will pass the boat along to the chains forward we shall be ready for you. Shall I send a couple of hands down into the boat to hook them on?" "No, you needn't do that." As soon as the boat reached her station a rope with a couple of small chains attached descended. One of the chains was fastened round a bag, and this was at once run up. By the time the rope came down again the other chain was passed round another bag, and in a quarter of an hour the whole were on board and down in the hold. The captain had now come out. "So you have got them off all right, Mr. Prendergast?" "Yes. There are forty-six bags. We will say, roughly, two ton and a half; though I doubt whether there is as much as that. At any rate, I will pay you for the freight agreed upon at once. They have all got labels on them, and on your arrival, after being handed into store, are to remain till called for. I am coming on in the _Nancy_. I do not know whether she is faster than you are or not. At any rate, she is not likely to be long behind you." "I think that possibly you will be home first, sir; the _Nancy_ made the voyage out here a fortnight quicker than we did; but it depends, of course, on what weather we meet with. I was on board her this afternoon, and her captain and I made a bet of five pounds each as to which would be in the port of London first. I shall have the anchor up by daylight. Now, gentlemen, will you come down into the cabin and we will take a glass together." Harry did so, and after emptying a tumbler and wishing the captain a quick and pleasant voyage, he got into the boat and rowed two or three miles along the shore, as a landing at that time of night might cause questions to be asked; and then they lay down and slept by turns until morning broke. A light breeze then sprang up, and hoisting sail they returned to Callao. The _London_ was already far out at sea. CHAPTER XX HOME Two days later, Dias, José, and Maria arrived at Callao, having left the mules at Lima. "Was it got off all right, señor?" Dias asked. "Yes. It was a pretty near touch, for we had to row nine hours, and only saved our time by an hour." "And when will you start again?" "The _Nancy_ sails in four days, so I shall go down tomorrow morning. I don't want to run the risk again of losing the boat." "Well, we shall be stronger handed," Bertie said. "Of course I shall go down with you; Dias says he will too; so we will be able to man four oars, if necessary." "What have you done with the goods?" Harry asked. "I sold them all at Lima, señor, to the man I got them from. He took off a third of the price, and said he could not have taken them if it had not been that he had just got an order down from the Cerro mines, and was short of some of the things they had ordered." "That is all right, Dias." Harry secured two rooms at the hotel, and they all sat talking far into the night. "I hope you will get your silver down as comfortably as we have got the gold." "I have no fear about doing that, señor. The difficulty will be for me to know what to do with it. I can never spend so much." "Oh, nonsense, Dias!" "I mean it, señor. Maria and I are quite agreed that we don't want any larger house than we have got; and I know that if we did want a big one, there would be all sorts of questions as to where I had got the money from." "There would be no difficulty in answering that, Dias. You told me how your friend found five mule-loads of silver in the bats' cave. You have only got to say that you found yours hidden away, which would be the truth. José is nineteen now, and you will want to provide him with some good mules, and to put by some money for him when he wants to marry and settle. I know you spoke very highly of an institution at Lima for the orphans of natives. You can hand them over some, and when you and Maria don't want it any longer you can leave them the rest." Maria cried bitterly in the morning when they said goodbye. "I shall love you and pray for you always, señors," she sobbed. "I shall never forget all your kindness." "We owe you more than you owe us," Harry said. "You have always been ready to do everything, and you have kept us alive with your merry talk and good spirits. You may be very sure that we shall never forget you." José was almost equally affected. "You will never come back, señor," he said, as the tears rolled down his cheeks. "I may some day, José. I think it likely that I shall some day get up a company to drain that lake in the golden valley. The gold will be more useful as money than lying there. It must depend partly upon whether the country is settled. People will not put money into Peru as long as you are always fighting here." Maria and José would have accompanied them down to the boat the next morning, but Dias pointed out to them that they were apparently only going out for a day's sail, and that if there were any partings on the shore it would at once attract the suspicions of the customs-house officials there. Accordingly, after a painful farewell, Dias and the two brothers went down to the boat, where the mate was already awaiting them. The voyage was as successful as the previous one had been. On the return journey the wind held, and they arrived alongside of the _Nancy_ by eleven o'clock; the bags were all safely in the hold by midnight. The first mate of the ship had two days before been taken with fever and sent ashore, and the captain had gladly accepted the offer of Harry's assistant to take the berth of second mate, that officer having succeeded to the post of the first. Harry had told him that he could sell the boat, and he had, before starting on the trip, done so, on the understanding that it would be found on the beach in charge of Dias when the _Nancy_ had sailed. Harry had given him another ten pounds to provide himself with an outfit, and had also asked him to distribute twenty among his former shipmates for the same purpose, as these had lost all their clothing except what they stood in. The ship's dinghy, with a couple of hands, towed the boat, with Dias in it, to the shore. The muleteer was greatly affected at parting with Harry and his brother. "It has been a fortunate journey for us both," Dias said, "and I shall always look back to the time we spent together with the greatest pleasure." "Here is a piece of paper with my address in London. I know that you will have no difficulty in getting letters written for you. Let me hear from you once every six months or so, telling me how you are getting on, and I will write to you. Good-bye! We shall always remember you, and be thankful that we had so faithful a guide here, and, I may say, so faithful a friend." The voyage home was an uneventful one, save that they met with a heavy storm while rounding the Horn, and for some days the vessel was in great danger. However, she weathered it safely, and when she arrived in the Thames she found that the _London_ had come up on the previous tide. "If it hadn't been for that storm we should have beaten her easily," the captain said. "But I don't mind losing that fiver, considering that we have gained four days on her." On landing, Harry went straight to the Bank of England and informed the managers that he had two hundred and eighty-two ingots of gold, weighing about twenty pounds each, which he wished to deposit in their vaults until they could weigh them and place their value to his credit, and he requested them to send down one of their waggons to the docks the next day to receive them. On the following evening he had the satisfaction of knowing that the whole of the treasure was at last in safe-keeping. Then he took a hackney-coach and drove to Jermyn Street, where he had taken rooms, having the night before carried there the trunks which he had stored before he left England. He smiled as he spread out suit after suit. "I don't know anything about the fashions now," he said, "and for aught I can tell they may have changed altogether. However, I don't suppose there will be such an alteration that I shall look as if I had come out of the ark. Certainly I am not going to wait till I get a new outfit. "It did not seem to me," he said to himself, "that I left a ridiculously large wardrobe before I went. But after knocking about for two years with a single change, it really does seem absurd that I should ever have thought I absolutely required all these things. Now, I suppose I had better write to the old man and say that I have returned, and shall call upon him to-morrow. The chances are ten to one against my catching him in now, and as this is rather a formal sort of business, I had better give him due notice; but I cannot keep Hilda in suspense. I wonder whether she has the same maid as she had before I went away. I have given the girl more than one half-guinea, and to do her justice I believe that she was so attached to her mistress that she would have done anything for her without them. Still, I can't very well knock at the door and ask for Miss Fortescue's maid; I expect I must trust the note to a footman. If she does not get it, there is no harm done; if he hands it to her father, no doubt it would put him in a towering rage, but he will cool down by the time I see him in the morning." He sat down and wrote two notes. The first was to Mr. Fortescue; it only said:-- "Dear Sir,--I have returned from abroad, and shall do myself the pleasure of calling upon you at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning to discuss with you a matter of much importance to myself." The note to Hilda was still shorter:-- "My darling,--I am home and am going to call on your father at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. I am two months within the two years.--Yours devotedly, "HARRY PRENDERGAST." Having sealed both letters, he walked to Bedford Square. When the door opened, he saw that the footman was one of those who had been in Mr. Fortescue's service before he left. "You have not forgotten me, Edward, have you?" "Why, it is Mr. Prendergast! Well, sir, it is a long time since we saw you." "Yes, I have been abroad. Will you hand this letter to Mr. Fortescue. Is he in at present?" "No, sir; he and Mrs. Fortescue are both out. Miss Fortescue is out too." "Well now, Edward, will you hand this letter quietly to Miss Fortescue when she comes in?" and he held out the note and a guinea with it. The man hesitated. "You need not be afraid of giving it to her," Harry went on. "It is only to tell her what I have told your master in my letter to him, that I am going to call tomorrow." "Then I shall be glad to do it," the man said--for, as usual, the servants were pretty well acquainted with the state of affairs, and when Harry went away, and their young mistress was evidently in disgrace with her father, they guessed pretty accurately what had happened, and their sympathies were with the lovers. Harry returned to Jermyn Street confident that Hilda would get his note that evening. He had no feeling of animosity against her father, It was natural that, as a large land-owner, and belonging to an old family, and closely connected with more than one peer of the realm, he should offer strong opposition to the marriage of his daughter to a half-pay lieutenant, and he had been quite prepared for the burst of anger with which his request for her hand had been received. He had felt that it was a forlorn hope; but he and Hilda hoped that in time the old man would soften, especially as they had an ally in her mother. Hilda had three brothers, and as the estates and the bulk of Mr. Fortescue's fortune would go to them, she was not a great heiress, though undoubtedly she would be well dowered. On arriving the next morning Harry was shown into the library. Mr. Fortescue rose from his chair and bowed coldly. "To what am I indebted for the honour of this visit, Mr. Prendergast? I had hoped that the emphatic way in which I rejected your--you will excuse my saying--presumptuous request for the hand of my daughter, would have settled the matter once and for all; and I trust that your request for an interview to-day does not imply that you intend to renew that proposal, which I may say at once would receive, and will receive as long as I live, the same answer as I before gave you." "It has that object, sir," Harry said quietly, "but under somewhat changed conditions. I asked you at that time to give me two years, in which time possibly my circumstances might change. You refused to give me a single week; but your daughter was more kind, and promised to wait for the two years, which will not be up for two more months." "She has behaved like a froward and obstinate girl," her father said angrily. "She has refused several most eligible offers, and I have to thank you for it. Well, sir, I hope at least that you have the grace to feel that it is preposterous that you should any longer stand in the way of this misguided girl." "I have come to say that if it is her wish and yours that I should stand aside, as you say, I will do so, and in my letters I told her that unless circumstances should be changed before the two years have expired I would disappear altogether from her path." "That is something at least, sir," Mr. Fortescue said with more courtesy than he had hitherto shown. "I need not say that there is no prospect of your obtaining my consent, and may inform you that my daughter promised not to withstand my commands as far as you are concerned beyond the expiration of the two years. I do not know that there is anything more to say." "I should not have come here, sir, had there not been more to say, but should simply have addressed a letter to you saying that I withdrew all pretensions to your daughter's hand. But I have a good deal more to say. I have during the time that I have been away succeeded in improving my condition to a certain extent." "Pooh, pooh, sir!" the other said angrily. "Suppose you made a thousand or two, what possible difference could it make?" "I am not foolish enough to suppose that it would do so; but at least this receipt from the Bank of England, for gold deposited in their hands, will show you that the sums you mention have been somewhat exceeded." "Tut, tut, I don't wish to see it! it can make no possible difference in the matter." "At least, sir, you will do me the courtesy to read it, or if you prefer not to do so I will read it myself." "Give it me," Mr. Fortescue said, holding out his hand. "Let us get through this farce as soon as possible; it is painful to us both." He put on his spectacles, glanced at the paper, and gave a sudden start, read it again, carefully this time, and then said slowly: "Do you mean that the two hundred and eighty-two ingots, containing in all five thousand six hundred and forty pounds weight of gold, are your property? That is to say, that you are the sole owner of them, and not only the representative of some mining company?" "It is the sole property, Mr. Fortescue, of my brother and myself. I own two-thirds of it. It is lost treasure recovered by us from the sea, where it has been lying ever since the conquest of Peru by Pizarro." "There is no mistake about this? The word pounds is not a mistake for ounces?--although even that would represent a very large sum." "The bank would not be likely to make such a mistake as that, sir. The ingots weigh about twenty pounds each. I had a small piece of the gold assayed at Callao, and its value was estimated at four pounds per ounce. Roughly, then, the value of the sum deposited at the bank is two hundred and seventy thousand pounds." "Prodigious!" Mr. Fortescue murmured. "Well, Mr. Prendergast, I own that you have astounded me. It would be absurd to deny that this altogether alters the position. Against you personally I have never had anything to say. You were always a welcome visitor to my house till I saw how matters were tending. Your family, like my own, is an old one, and your position as an officer in the King's Naval Service is an honourable one. However, I must ask you to give me a day to reflect over the matter, to consult with my wife, and to ascertain that my daughter's disposition in the matter is unchanged." "Thank you, sir! But I trust that you will allow me to have an interview with Miss Fortescue now. It is two years since we parted, and she has suffered great anxiety on my account, and on the matter of my safety at least I would not keep her a moment longer in suspense." "I think that after the turn the matter has taken your request is a reasonable one. You are sure to find her in the drawing-room with her mother at present. I think it is desirable that you should not see her alone until the matter is formally arranged." Prendergast bowed. "I am content to wait," he said with a slight smile. "I will take you up myself," the other said. Harry could have done without the guidance, for he knew the house well. However, he only bowed again, and followed the old man upstairs. The latter opened the door and said to his wife: "My dear, I have brought an old friend up to see you;" and as Harry entered he closed the door and went down to the library again. "Nearly two hundred thousand pounds!" he said. "A splendid fortune! Nearly twice as much as I put by before I left the bar. How in the world could he have got it? 'Got it up out of the sea,' he said; a curious story. However, with that acknowledgment from the bank there can be no mistake about it. Well, well, it might be worse. I always liked the young fellow till he was fool enough to fall in love with Hilda, and worse still, she with him. The silly girl might have had a coronet. However, there is no accounting for these things, and I am glad that the battle between us is at an end. I was only acting for her good, and I should have been mad to let her throw herself away on a penniless officer on half-pay." Mrs. Fortescue waved her hand as Harry, on entering, was about to speak to her. "Go to her first," she said; "she has waited long enough for you." And he turned to Hilda. He made a step towards her and held out his arms, and with a little cry of joy she ran into them. "And is it all right?" she said a minute later. "Can it really be all right?" "You may be quite sure that it is all right, Hilda," Mrs. Fortescue said. "Do you think your father would have brought him up here if it hadn't been? Now you can come to me, Harry." "I am glad," she said heartily. "We have had a very bad time. Now, thank God, it is all over. You see she has only had me to stand by her, for her brothers, although they have not taken open part against her, have been disposed to think that it was madness her wasting two years on the chance of your making a fortune. Of course you have done so, or you would not be in this drawing-room at present." "I have done very well, Mrs. Fortescue. I was able to show Mr. Fortescue a receipt for gold amounting to nearly three hundred thousand pounds, of which two-thirds belong to me, the rest to my brother." Mrs. Fortescue uttered an exclamation of astonishment. "What have you been doing, Harry?" she asked--"plundering a Nabob?" "Nabobs do not dwell in Peru," he laughed. "No, I have discovered a long-lost treasure, which, beyond any doubt, was part of the wealth of Atahualpa, the unfortunate monarch whom Pizarro first plundered and then slew. It had been sent off by sea, and the vessel was lost. It is too long a story to tell now." "And Papa has quite consented, Harry?" Harry smiled. "Virtually so, as you might suppose by his bringing me up here. Actually he has deferred the matter, pending a consultation with you and Mrs. Fortescue, and will give me his formal answer to-morrow." The two ladies both smiled. "If he said that, the matter is settled," the elder said; "he has never asked my opinion before on the subject, and I have never volunteered it. But I am sure he has not the slightest doubt as to what I thought of it. So we can consider it as happily settled after all. If I had thought that there was the slightest chance of your making a fortune quickly I should have spoken out; but as I thought it absolutely hopeless, I have done what I could privately to support Hilda, always saying, however, that if at the end of the two years nothing came of it, I could not in any way countenance her throwing away the chances of her life." "You were quite right, Mrs. Fortescue. I had fully intended to write to Hilda at the end of that time releasing her from all promises that she had made to me, and saying that I felt that I had no right to trouble her further; but from what she wrote to me, I doubt whether her father would have found her altogether amenable to his wishes even at the end of the two years." A month later there was a wedding in Bedford Square. Among those present no one was more gratified than Mr. Barnett, whose surprise and satisfaction were great when Harry told him in confidence the result of his advice, and especially of his introduction to the Indian guide. It had been arranged that nothing should be said as to the source from which Harry had obtained his wealth, as it was possible that the Peruvian government might set up some claim to it, and it was in Mr. Fortescue's opinion very doubtful what the result would be, as it had been discovered so close to the shore. Harry never took any steps with reference to the gold valley, for the constant troubles in Peru were sufficient to deter any wealthy men from investing money there. The correspondence between him and Dias and his wife was maintained until they died full of years and greatly lamented by numbers of their countrymen to whom they had been benefactors. Bertie never went to sea again except in his own yacht, but when he came of age, bought an estate near Southampton, and six years later brought home a mistress for it.