  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. |
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