THE GAMES
“Come on, you Tom! Oh, Tom—come on!” Nicky shouted and screeched above
the roar of excitement. Neck and neck, down a circling path beaten in
the stubby grass, Tom and an Indian raced, stride for stride; behind
them came a fleet following.
“Come on, Tom,” said Cliff, under his breath; he had to fight down his
desire to shout; he was Chasca and must remember his pose.
Near the finish came the racers. Shouts and cries of encouragement
drowned Nicky’s shrill yells.
But Tom put forth his remaining burst of strength and with scarcely
three inches to his credit, flitted over the mark—winner in the race in
which all the young nobles contested except the Inca’s son alone.
Not far beyond Quichaka there was a sudden rise of the hills in front of
whose sharp slope a large tract had been leveled off. From early dawn
the lesser natives had streamed to their places on the hillside, and
after an early and ample breakfast Cliff and his companions had gone
forth with the Inca and his retinue, Cliff being honored by a seat in a
hamaca, as had been his fortune on their arrival. He and Bill, Mr.
Whitley and Nicky, sat near one another, watching Tom in the foot races.
Cliff sat in the place of honor at one side of the Inca whose other
place on the further side was given to the high priest of the temple of
the Sun. Below them, among the nobles, were his friends.
By his victory over the nobles Tom eliminated all competition and would,
after a rest, have to race Challcuchima—and it had been privately agreed
among the youths of Cliff’s party that they might all best the nobles
but it would be an act of wisdom to allow the Inca’s favorite son to be
the final victor in any contest except those in which Cliff, himself a
“son of the stars” would compete—there, since the Inca was claimed to be
of celestial descent, the contest might fall to whom the Fates and skill
should decree. So, later, Tom failed to exert his utmost speed, although
he felt that by doing so he might have tied, if not outdistanced,
Challcuchima.
To the surprise of all the assembled natives, but not so much to that of
his friends, Nicky came off victor—except against Challcuchima—in tests
with bow and arrow. While the willow of his own archery outfit was
lighter than the stout war bows, even in the size which the youths of
sixteen employed, his arm was sturdy and his eye was well trained.
Then came battles with swords, very much like those used in actual
fighting; of course their edges were blunted and their points rounded
off; nevertheless in the earnest thrust and swing of the mimic contests,
several accidents of guard resulted in thrusts that came near to being
fatal; in these contests the three chums were spectators.
Then came matched wrestlers and there Cliff was in his element;
wrestling, under fair rules, he loved; in its clever and
strength-testing grips and stresses he was a master.
Although they approached their supposedly celestial antagonist in some
awe and perhaps because of that feeling did not use their best skill,
nevertheless Cliff had several very arduous and breath-taxing struggles
with young nobles; but each he finally laid neatly down with both
shoulders touching the sward.
Finally he vanquished his third antagonist and threw himself down,
panting. There were cheers and, with eyes turned, he saw that
Challcuchima had just completed his own final test with a noble’s son.
These two, if they came off victors in their respective combats, were to
rest and then strive for the final victory.
The time came and the two, evenly matched in weight and with equally
quick eyes and well matched skill, took their position on the grass.
Cliff, of the two, had the disadvantage that he had not been in athletic
training as long as had Challcuchima and was, therefore, the more tired
at the end of his three bouts.
However, he had no fear or dismay in his mind. At the word of their
Indian referee, the youths came together, seeking for best holds and
advantages.
Cliff got a surprise. Hands gripping each others arms, straining for a
chance to slip quick muscles into knots when the right hold could be
won, Cliff felt his antagonist go suddenly as limp as a rag.
Challcuchima seemed to be sagging, as if he were weak and was about to
fall. Cliff was startled enough to let go in order to catch the youth
and prevent a fall. To his dismay Challcuchima was on the very instant a
steel spring and a panther for quickness and before his adversary could
recover the ruler’s son had caught him with arms that steadily bent the
American youth backward for the throw; but Cliff, in his turn, played a
surprise trick, for he let his legs go straight out from under him so
that instead of being forced down he was falling backward. That threw
his weight on Challcuchima’s wrist and the hold broke; Cliff twisted in
air as he felt the lock break, so that while Challcuchima fought to
regain his stand his opponent landed on all fours and was up and sliding
his hands up as Challcuchima caught his arms.
The pace slowed then; each realized that he could gain little by tricks
that were more acrobatic than wrestling. The half sneering curl left
Challcuchima’s lips, however, and a look of considerable respect was in
his eyes as they strove and strained, hands slipping, gripping muscles
tensing and flexing, sinews straining to the turn and twist of their
supple bodies.
As in the first strife the trickery of one was met by the quick thought
and agility of the other, so, during the long minutes, for they wrestled
continuously from start to final defeat of one or the other, each saw
himself equaled. When Challcuchima secured the Inca equivalent of a
half-nelson, Cliff knew how to create overconfidence and eventually
disarm the holder and himself get an advantage; when he seized a
fortunate instant to drive through into a hammerlock, Challcuchima had a
trick that made Cliff’s teeth snap in the pain of suddenly stressed
muscles and he had to release. For it seemed that each of them knew some
principles of the science of causing a surprise reflex by some hold that
taxed a sensitive nerve more than a straining muscle; and both used
their knowledge.
Finally, wearied by strain and exertion they stood, arm to arm, panting,
eyeing one another and then the Inca rose and spoke.
“Thus must end the contest,” he told them, “the son of an Inca, himself
descended from the god we worship, can not hope to put down Chasca,
himself holy and from the stars. Nor can Chasca put down the son of the
master he has come to visit in friendship.”
“Even so, royal Father,” panted Challcuchima. “We were evenly matched.”
Cliff smiled queerly, turning his head away; his chums wondered why. The
rest of the ceremonial was rather tedious; long and flowery speeches
were made by the Inca and his chief priest, extolling the virtues of his
son and exhorting him to carry the wise and generous rule forward when
he became Inca. Garlands were placed on the heads of all the
contestants, made of bright flowers with evergreen woven into that of
Challcuchima to show his endurance. Then he was crowned with the
special, tasseled fillet of vicuna wool, yellow in color, which attested
his appointment to be the next ruler.
When the ceremonies were over and, back in their temple, the contenders
and Bill and Mr. Whitley discussed the previous events Tom turned to
Cliff.
“Why did you smile at the Inca’s decision—when you and Chally wrestled
to a standstill?” he demanded.
“He bribed me,” Cliff answered. “Remember, when I had the hammerlock
hold——?”
“I wondered how he broke that,” Nicky interrupted and Bill nodded.
“He whispered that if I defeated him he would be disgraced, and promised
to give me anything I wanted if I would not win.”
“Did you make him promise anything?” Nicky was eager.
“No—but I will.”
“Oh!” Nicky was quick to see the idea in Cliff’s mind. “At the Feast of
Raymi—before the sacrifice—Caya’s sister.”
“Yes, if Mr. Whitley doesn’t get his chemicals to save the corn.” Nicky
turned a handspring, with a hurrah!