RATS IN A TRAP
“You meant well,” Bill panted, as they retreated into their antechamber.
“Cliff, it was a splendid idea that you had. But——”
“With no door to barricade, we are no better off,” Cliff admitted. “They
will soon discover that we came in here.”
“We are like rats in a trap!” said Tom. “Bill, next time you shoot off
that pistol you will have to aim lower—or we will have to give up.”
“If there was some place to hide,” said Nicky despairingly.
“But there isn’t,” said Cliff. “I forgot that the temple had no door.”
“There they come!” whispered Tom.
They heard cautious feet tramping up the temple steps and looked around
desperately.
Cliff snatched up a golden platter and drew back his arm. But Mr.
Whitley caught his hand, and turned to watch a huge tapestry swinging
with a curious motion on the inner wall of the anteroom.
Cliff faced that way as did all of his companions. Were they to be
attacked from behind that curtain?
The side of the hanging cloth shook and then they saw Caya! Swiftly,
with one finger to her lip, she beckoned. In an instant, not even
stopping for their belongings, the five moved on tip-toe to the place
where she stood.
Wordlessly they trusted themselves behind that curtain, going into the
unknown.
There was another doorway there, concealed by the hanging; they had
never thought of looking behind that; there were so many decorative
cloths hung upon the wall as backgrounds for ornaments and to soften the
harsh appearance of rough stone that no other purpose had occurred to
them.
Nevertheless, the tapestry screened a way out!
In darkness, following Caya with no more sound than they were compelled
to make, they gave each other whispered directions as Cliff, in the
lead, felt her steady him at the edge of a downward step.
“It’s stairs,” Cliff whispered.
“To the tunnels!” Tom guessed.
Slowly, carefully, down they went. Faintly through the opening, muffled
by the hanging, they heard shouts of baffled rage; the soldiers and the
people had forgotten their reverence for the supposedly sacred temple,
for if the priests had come in alone they would have sought the way to
the tunnels at once.
At the foot of the stairs, down about thirty steps, Caya whispered, her
lips close to Cliff’s ear.
“I take you to your white father.”
In a time that seemed an age, feeling their way through the darkness,
they came to a point where she urged them to wait for her. She would
bring Cliff’s father if there was a chance.
In silence, shivering a little from sheer nervous strain, the five
waited, not daring to light the several pocket flashlights they had,
even for an instant. They listened with quaking forms to every tiny
sound; was that a stealthy step—or the drip of water—or a rat? They did
not know. They dared not try to see.
After a long wait a soft gliding sound reached them; they were alert,
listening, straining their ears. Caya’s voice reassured them but her
news instantly awakened fear again.
“They are coming!” she whispered to Bill. “I did find the white man
alone while his guards take counsel with messengers. I stand where white
man sees. I do so—” she made a beckoning motion. “He follow. But others
are near. I must lead them away while you escape. Go, straight forward.
Do not turn. You will come to a room full of gold and silver. At its
side are steps. They go into the Temple of the Sun.”
She paused. Far away they could hear shouts.
“Go there,” she resumed. “None dares to enter the Temple of the Sun
except the Inca, his Coya”—the queen—“and the high priest. They will not
think to seek there. Go, quickly!”
“But where are you going?” asked Cliff.
“To lead the soldiers another way while you escape.”
“We can’t let you do that!” cried the boy; and his chums, with one
accord, echoed it. But the brave girl had already turned and glided
away.
“Nothing else for it,” whispered Bill. “Come on—to the Sun Temple!”
While they ran they heard shouts in the distance, and then a high,
shrill scream!
Cliff gritted his teeth.
“If you’d let me go back and get her——”
But they would not.