  Those who watched anxiously from above, suddenly saw Jack’s short-cropped head appear above the rippled water. He was thrashing wildly. “Something must have attacked him!” War exclaimed, preparing to dive to the rescue of his friend. “He’s hurt!” Jack was grasping his left arm, trying to staunch the flow of blood. His face was agonized by intense pain. “Keep out, War!” he called. “Caribe fish!” Still grasping his injured arm, Jack scissored to the rock ledge. War pulled him to safety. Blood kept gushing from the wound in his forearm. Thoroughly alarmed, Ken lowered the vine rope. War boosted from below, and Jack was hoisted to the rim. “The wound isn’t very deep,” he muttered as Ken examined it anxiously. “That savage little fish would have taken off a finger if I hadn’t swerved! His teeth sunk into me like a razor!” “Teeth!” Ken echoed incredulously as he bound Jack’s wound with a handkerchief. “A fish with teeth?” “That’s right,” supplied Mr. Livingston. “Caribe fish sometimes are under-rated because of their small size. But in large numbers they are exceedingly dangerous. That’s because they’re equipped with teeth which work like shears, opening and closing by means of powerful jaw muscles.” Ken had finished tying up Jack’s arm. “The wound isn’t deep, but it may get infected,” he said anxiously. “I wish we had some iodine and a first aid kit!” “I’ll be okay,” Jack replied carelessly. “All in all, I’m lucky to be in one piece.” “That’s so,” returned Mr. Livingston, his face grave. “Cannibal fish will kill a bird instantly, if one is unfortunate enough to drop into infested waters.” “How do you figure War and I weren’t attacked when we first dived in?” “You were wearing shorts. That probably helped. I’ve read that caribe fish are less likely to recognize flesh and blood if a man is clothed.” “That pool must be alive with ’em,” Ken shuddered. “As far as I’m concerned, the Incas can keep their treasure!” “Funny thing,” Jack said thoughtfully, “that one fish was the only one I saw. There may be others, but not many.” A low whistle from the pool belatedly reminded the three that War still was on the rock ledge below. Jack and Ken lowered the vine rope, pulling him up. “The fish can keep their old pool!” War exclaimed, shivering as he began to dress. “I’ve had enough—” His words trailed off. From the direction of the tunnel, the three heard two sharp whistles. “Willie’s signal!” Mr. Livingston exclaimed. “Take cover!” Grabbing up his clothes and the vine rope, Jack followed the others into the shelter they had selected for their hide-out. “Where’s Willie?” he worried. Before the group could settle itself, the other Scout came bounding into view. He slid down behind the rocks, breathless from running. “The natives are heading this way!” he announced. “You weren’t seen going through the tunnel?” Ken demanded. “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.” “What’s bringing those Indians back here now?” War asked irritably. “Why don’t they stay in their village where they belong?” “Quiet!” Jack warned him. “If we’re caught, it won’t be funny.” The Scouts did not have long to wait. A swarm of natives came through the tunnel, reforming at the exit in a procession. “They’re carrying the Chief on a golden litter!” War whispered in awe. “Or is it our friend Ino?” At first the Scouts and Mr. Livingston could not see the face of the man who sprawled comfortably beneath the feather-adorned canopy. The great personage was borne ceremoniously by six sturdy Indians with skirts of gold cloth and headdress of waving red plumes. “Some style!” Willie chuckled. “It’s like a circus parade!” Behind the litter, trooped natives with javelins, war clubs and painted shields. Presently the man on the litter shifted his position so that his face became visible to those crouched behind the rocks. The Scouts stiffened in shocked surprise. It was Captain Carter! “How did that conniving little crook get here and in the good graces of the natives?” Jack muttered. “Why, they’re treating him as if he were a king!” “Do you suppose he was in the village at the time we were captured?” speculated Ken. He went on, to answer his own question. “Maybe, but I doubt it.” “It’s clear he has top rating with the natives,” Jack declared. “I suspect he’s tumbled to some vital secret. Otherwise, you may be sure he wouldn’t waste time here. He must practically have his greedy hands on Inca gold!” The Scouts became silent for the procession now had drawn close. As they watched, the litter was carried past the lake and on to a mass of quartz rock which glistened in the late afternoon sun. Two of the natives rolled aside a huge stone, which hitherto had escaped the attention of the Explorers. Even from a distance, they could see that it gave entrance to another small tunnel. Captain Carter alighted from the litter. A native motioned for him to enter the narrow passageway. The seaman hesitated, seemingly suspicious that he might be walking into a trap. But after a moment of indecision, he stooped and crawled through the opening. One by one, the natives followed. “Where can they be taking him?” War speculated. “He certainly isn’t a prisoner.” “They’re treating him like a ruler!” Jack snorted in disgust. “What do you make of it, Hap?” “How he managed to ingratiate himself, I wouldn’t know,” Mr. Livingston replied with a wry smile. “But I’m sure he’s been here before. Unless I have the wrong slant, the Indians have just revealed to him a most closely guarded secret—the entranceway to the ancient Inca city!” |
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