INDIAN SECRETS
The unexpected arrival of Captain Carter had stunned the Explorers,
leaving them for a moment without a plan.
They were convinced however, that Mr. Livingston’s appraisal of the
situation was correct. The old sea captain somehow had gained the
confidence of the natives and had been conducted to the mysterious
hidden city.
Warwick and Willis both urged that they be permitted to follow, in an
attempt to learn what lay beyond the tunnel.
“Not alone,” the Scout leader advised. “If we decide to risk it, we’ll
all wait here until nightfall. Even then, we may be caught.”
“The Indians aren’t mistreating Captain Carter,” Willie pointed out.
“They seem to think he’s a God.”
“His case is different,” replied Mr. Livingston. “Probably through an
earlier visit here, he managed to impress them. But if we were caught in
the secret city, we might be dealt with most harshly.”
The Scouts knew that their leader was right. Nevertheless, the
temptation to explore further was very hard to resist.
“We’ll have to wait until dusk,” Jack insisted, siding with Mr.
Livingston. “Then we can decide whether to attempt the tunnel or hike
for the river.”
During the fading hours of the afternoon, the Scouts kept constant watch
of the tunnel exit. Neither Captain Carter nor any of the bearers, who
had escorted him, reappeared. Three times they saw natives enter the
narrow passageway, on each occasion replacing the stone barrier.
As dusk came on, the Scouts again held counsel, deciding that if ever
the venture were to be made, it must be soon. Because no one was willing
to remain behind, it was agreed that all should attempt the passage
together. Jack and Ken were assigned to start ahead and to give a
warning in the event of impending trouble.
Emerging from their rock shelter, the Scouts cautiously heaved aside the
heavy stone barrier. Noiselessly, they trod through the passageway which
narrowed until they were forced to crawl.
At last, however, Ken and Jack saw open sky above, and signaled to those
behind that the way was clear.
As they emerged into the starlight, they stopped short at the sight
which lay before them. Scarcely a quarter of mile ahead were the
slumbering ruins of a long-dead Inca city.
Visible against the dark sky were three lofty entranceway arches, built
of colossal stones.
The grandeur of the sight awed the group to silence. Ken, the first to
find voice, whispered: “It’s just as the parchment described! We’ve
found the sacred city!”
Mr. Livingston leaned against a rock as he gazed beyond the massive
arches to the ruins of the old habitation.
“Ahead lies the temple of the ancient Incas,” he murmured. “Few white
men ever have viewed the sights we are about to see.”
Imbued by a deep excitement, the Explorers pushed on. Almost on tiptoe,
they passed beneath age-blackened entranceway arches. Not a native was
visible.
“It’s like a city of the dead,” whispered Ken.
Entering upon what once had been an Inca street, the Scouts picked their
way amid a litter of broken pillars and masonry.
On either side were remains of houses whose porticos were decorated with
elaborate carvings. All had been built of great stone blocks, joined
perfectly but without the use of mortar.
With cat-like tread, the Scouts moved on to the main plaza. In its
center stood a tall, black stone column, on which was poised a statue of
a man. To the right were ruins of a once magnificent temple approached
by a flight of broken steps.
“It is the ancient city Burton Monahan sought,” Mr. Livingston said with
conviction. “We may never know whether or not he ever reached here.”
“But you can bet Captain Carter has the answer,” Warwick muttered.
The Scouts had caught no further glimpse of the arrogant seaman, but
they guessed that he might be sleeping or feasting inside one of the
ruined buildings beyond the plaza. Farther on, they could see camp
fires, and smell the aroma of roasting meat.
“We can’t stay here,” Mr. Livingston advised. “Either we must return the
way we came, quickly—or find a hide-out.”
“How about one of these ruined houses?” Ken proposed, pointing out a
fairly well preserved stone building some distance from the plaza. “If
we hole in there, it will give us a chance to look over the situation.”
Jack nodded, for there was no alternative. As they crept into the stone
dwelling, he noticed that Mr. Livingston was breathing hard.
“Fever coming up again?” he asked anxiously.
“I’ll be all right,” Mr. Livingston replied, lowering himself onto the
dusty floor. “All the comforts of home here.”
Jack covered him with his jacket and gave him the last of the water from
the canteen. After the Scout leader had fallen into a restless sleep, he
and Ken quietly conferred.
“Our situation is desperate,” Jack said. “We can’t possibly escape down
river with Hap as he is now. And if we stay here until dawn, we’re
certain to be captured. Maybe we should find Carter and throw ourselves
on his mercy.”
“That guy doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”
“He’s a white man, and so are we. He might give us a break if we hit him
right.”
“We don’t even know where the old boy has staked himself out for the
night,” Ken objected. “If we try to find him, the natives will get us
first.”
“We’ll have to think of something,” Jack insisted soberly. “We can’t
stay here many hours.”
“We need water.”
“I’m going after it,” Jack announced with sudden decision. He had seen a
stone basin in the plaza, its four carved serpents spouting spring water
from their mouths. Twice he had observed natives fill their jugs.
“It’s risky, Jack.”
“No more so than staying here. By nosing around I may find out where
Captain Carter’s keeping himself.”
“Okay,” Ken agreed reluctantly, “but be careful.”
Taking the empty canteens, Jack made his way toward the water fountain.
Moving stealthily in the darkness, he stared at the great ruined temple,
unroofed and open to the stars. Somewhere within that building, or
perhaps in the palace, Captain Carter must lie sleeping.
For what enormous stakes was the seaman risking his life? The vast Inca
treasure? And where, he wondered, might it lie hidden? At the bottom of
the quarry lake perhaps, or in another hiding place equally
inaccessible.
Half way across the plaza, Jack saw a native with a lighted straw torch,
mounting the broad steps of the temple. He ducked into a stone doorway
to wait until the plaza again was empty.
Beyond the temple and the palace, all buildings lay in complete ruin.
Great chasms told him the cause of the terrific upheaval. The area had
been shaken by a devastating earthquake which in a single, mighty blow
had toppled pillars and shattered massive walls.
After satisfying himself that the plaza again was deserted, the crew
leader went swiftly to the water fountain.
He filled the first canteen and had reached for the second, when he
heard a sound directly behind him.
Jack whirled around. Against the background of blackened stone, a man
stood watching him. For a nerve shattering instant, he thought that it
was a hostile native who had come upon him. Then he was relieved to
recognize Ino.
As he grasped the canteens, uncertain whether to stand his ground or
flee, the medicine man came slowly toward him. In the starlight, the
horrible animal face mask had a terrifying appearance.
“You!” the medicine man muttered. “Why did you not go when you had the
chance?”
“So you do speak English!” Jack retorted boldly. “Why not rip off that
animal face and come clean? Who are you anyhow?”
Ino ignored the question. He seized Jack’s arm, giving him an angry
little shake.
“Fool!” he cried, keeping his voice low so that it would not echo in the
empty street. “If you are found here in the sacred city, it may mean
your death! Where are your friends?”
Jack indicated the stone house where the others waited.
“Why did you risk coming here?” Ino demanded. “You were free to go.”
“Our leader is too sick to travel. Besides—”
“Besides, you were impelled by the lust for gold!” Ino accused. “You are
friends of Captain Carter!”
“No! Absolutely not. And we didn’t come here looking for gold either. We
came—”
Ino did not permit him to finish. “You cannot stay here,” he insisted.
“You do not realize your danger. You must leave now—at once—while there
still is time.”
“I tell you we can’t go with Mr. Livingston so weak and sick,” Jack
returned in exasperation. “Why don’t you take off that silly animal mask
and reveal yourself. Are you a trader?”
“You ask too many questions,” Ino answered. “Take me to your friends and
we’ll see what can be done. You must be away from here before dawn.”
“Anxious to get rid of us, aren’t you?”
“I’ve told you,” Ino retorted irritably. “You don’t realize your own
danger! Once these natives are stirred up, there’s no telling what
they’ll do.”
“Captain Carter seems safe enough.”
“Captain Carter is the one who has excited the Indians!” Ino asserted.
“He has half convinced them that he is a God greater than their own
ruler, Panomuna. Tomorrow at dawn there is to be a test of their
powers—a challenge to the Sun God. One or the other will be victorious
and gain control. The winner, I fear, will not be Panomuna.”
“And if Captain Carter is the winner?”
“He’ll make short work of me. Captain Carter has no scruples. He’d have
done me in a long while ago had he dared.” The voice behind the animal
mask crackled with ironical laughter. “The natives, you see, believe
that I am a skilled medicine man. My knowledge of first aid and a few
herbs has stood me in good stead.”
“Why have you remained here?” Jack demanded. “Tell me your name.”
“It would mean nothing to you.”
“It might,” Jack retorted, annoyed by the man’s unwillingness to
disclose his identity. “Are you, by any chance, Burton Monahan?”
His question evoked only silence.
Jack decided upon a bold move. Before the other suspected his intention,
he lunged forward to snatch the mask from his face.