  Following Father Francisco’s direction, Jack darted swiftly to the library door. As he jerked it open, an old woman with a parrot on her shoulder, stumbled forward into the room. Obviously, she had been listening at the keyhole. Jack recognized her at once as the same unfriendly native he and Ken had met earlier on the path. In a torrent of Spanish, the woman apologized to Father Francisco. He scolded her soundly for her behavior and bade her be gone. Still chattering, the woman backed out of the room and vanished into the corridor. “Do you suppose she followed us here?” Ken speculated. “Our presence in the village seems to be stirring plenty of excitement.” “Lolita has ears like a sponge,” said Father Francisco. “She is a friend of Captain Carter’s. One of his few supporters in the village.” Forgetting the parrot woman, the Scouts once more examined the ancient Portuguese manuscript. At their request, Father Francisco read aloud a passage in which the Portuguese adventurers described their first glimpse of the treasure area. “‘Our native Indians said it was a country whose Gods did not wish it to be known,’” he recited, “‘and that they would visit wrath and terror upon all intruders.’” Skipping through the manuscript, the missionary read several beautiful passages, including one in which the writer told of making camp near the treasure mountain. “‘Darkness made terrifying the unearthly landscape of chasm, precipice and gorge,’” Father Francisco quoted. “‘At dawn, the sun lit up frightful precipices which none could scale, and in the bush-strewn and craggy path we took at the foot of these weird mountains, we had to step warily because of lurking rattlesnakes. Had we been bitten, of antidote there was none.’” Glancing up from his reading, the missionary smiled at the two Scouts. “There is more, much more. This, however, gives you a faint idea of what you might expect to encounter should you decide to try to follow the route taken by Burton Monahan.” “Does the manuscript give directions for reaching the hidden city?” Ken asked, undaunted. “In a vague way. My thought is that the Portuguese deliberately gave incorrect information so that others could not find the treasure.” “Why didn’t they go back themselves?” questioned Jack. “According to legend, the few men who survived the expedition, did attempt to return many years later, but could not retrace their way. Many men since have tried and failed.” “I’d like to read every word of the manuscript!” Ken declared. “If you linger awhile in Cuertos, I gladly will translate it for you,” offered the missionary. “The tale is most absorbing. The Portuguese adventurer relates that the secret entrance to the city was discovered by an Indian. While gathering wood for the camp, he suddenly saw a cleft by means of which the rocks could be scaled.” “Do you believe that the ancient Inca city exists?” Jack asked. Father Francisco hesitated and then answered: “There is considerable evidence that this manuscript was based on fact. The city herein described might be such a one as Cuzco, the ancient capital of the Incas. The Portuguese’s account of ruins tallies in all respects with those which have come to light in recent years.” “Strange that the city never has been spotted from the air,” remarked Ken thoughtfully. “Planes seldom fly in that area. In any case, the ruins would be well-hidden by centuries of vegetation.” “You doubt though, that Burton Monahan reached his objective?” Ken persisted. “If he did, he either lost his life or is being held captive by hostile Indians.” Father Francisco frowned and added as a question: “You noticed the mantilla Lolita wore? The fastening—a gold pin in the form of a fish?” Ken and Jack admitted that they had failed to note the ornament. “That pin disturbs me,” the missionary said. “The workmanship is unusually fine. I should judge that the ornament is of Inca or pre-Inca origin.” “How did the woman get it?” Jack speculated. “Ah, if I knew the answer to your question, I might know also what became of Burton Monahan. Lolita has worn the pin for many months now, ever since Captain Carter returned here from the unsuccessful expedition.” “Then you think he gave it to her!” Jack exclaimed. “Perhaps for some service?” “I would not know,” Father Francisco returned. “It has occurred to me that Captain Carter may have reached the hidden city, or contacted natives who have had access to its treasures. This he has denied. As for Lolita, she has told me repeatedly that she bought the pin at a native market.” “If Captain Carter reached the ancient Inca city, he must know what became of Burton Monahan,” Jack asserted, lost in thought. “Wait until we see him again!” “You will not have long to wait, I think,” the missionary predicted with a smile. At Jack’s look of astonishment, he inclined his head toward the expanse of window overlooking his area. In the distance, a small freighter could be seen plying its way toward the harbor. “The Shark, I believe,” Father Francisco identified the vessel. “Captain Carter should drop anchor within the hour. But I advise that you refrain from questioning him about Lolita’s pin.” Jack and Ken were troubled by the information the old missionary had given them. Distrust of Captain Carter which had been kept in close check, now flared anew. Yet they realized that without specific facts and proof, they dared not accuse the seaman. To hint even, that they thought he had withheld vital information about Burton Monahan, would be to invite a quarrel which might wreck the expedition before it was well underway. “If the Shark is coming in, we ought to find Willie and War,” Ken suggested, eager to get back to the waterfront. “Maybe they’ve already sighted her.” “May we come here later to go over the parchment with you in detail?” Jack asked the missionary. “Mr. Livingston will want to see it too.” “I will give you what help I can,” Father Francisco promised. “You mentioned that the treasure lake supposedly lies within a mountain,” Ken reminded him as he and Jack were ready to leave. “Does that mean it is hidden behind a mountain chain?” “The phrase has been variously interpreted. Burton Monahan believed, as do I, that the lake and the secret city are hemmed in by high mountains.” “Yet this treasure mountain is visible from the mission?” Jack probed. “So the manuscript reports. Come, I will show you.” Leaving the parchment on the table, the old missionary moved with tottering steps to an arched doorway which opened upon the street. With a bony hand, he indicated the rim of mountains visible in the far distance. “Yonder you see the highest, most inaccessible ranges of the Andes,” he said. “Even intrepid travelers have found many of the chasms and valleys impassable.” “Which is the secret mountain?” Ken asked eagerly. Father Francisco pointed out one of the ranges, which in the sunlight seemed afire with spears of red and gold. “Have explorers never reached those peaks?” Jack questioned. “In all these years, it seems impossible that no one would have gone there.” “Many have attained the heights, my son. But little gold has been found. As for the lost city, it remains as elusive as in the sixteenth century when the Portuguese first set eyes upon it.” “Mr. Monahan took a direct route to yonder mountain?” Ken asked, his eyes on the rim of blue. “No, it was his belief that the directions given in the parchment were incorrect. Either the Portuguese were mistaken in their bearings, or deliberately misleading.” “You know the route he took?” “To a certain point, yes. Beyond that, there is no definite information. We have only Captain Carter’s word—” A startled expression came upon the missionary’s kindly face. The two Scouts followed his gaze upward to the expanse of adobe wall where an ugly, jagged crack had appeared. Even as they stared in astonishment, the crack widened. Plaster began to fall. They felt the floor tremble beneath them. “An earth tremor!” Father Francisco announced calmly, grasping the doorway for support. “Quickly! Seek the safety of the street!” |
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