Incas Treasure House -Pt 5, Conclusion

The Open Road for Boys, 1932 March

The Incas' Treasure House -Part 5, Conclusion

By A. Hyatt Verrill

Illustrated by Heman Fay, Jr,

From The Open Road for Boys magazine, March, 1932. Digitized by Doug Frizzle, December 2013.

Incas’ Treasure House Part 1

Incas’ Treasure House Part 2

Incas’ Treasure House Part 3

Incas' Treasure House Part 4

The Story So Far

Bob Stillwell and Pancho McLean become lost in the Andes on their way to La Raya, a mining camp in Peru where Bob's father is manager. While lost they save the life of an Indian chief, disabled by a jaguar. Because of this they are well treated by the Indians of the chief's village. The boys find these Indians different from all others and they conclude that they are a lost tribe, living as did the Indians under the Incas before the time of Pizarro. They discover a temple with amazing golden ornaments and relics of the Spanish conquest.

Having recovered, Tonak starts with the boys and two young Indians, Kespi and Kenko, for La Raya, but first, because Bob and Pancho saved his life, Tonak shows them a fabulous treasure which the ancestors of his people kept from Pizarro's clutches, and tells them that they may take with them as much of it as they can carry.

The Indians suddenly desert the boys, just as they come in sight of a large exploring party under Mr. Stillwell, who has left La Raya before the news that the boys were lost had arrived. He is astounded to find Bob and Pancho in the midst of the desert, and amazed at the precious stones and gold they carry. Haskins, the foreman, and "Red" Masden, who are the only other white men in the party (except Larañaga, a Peruvian surveyor) are told the secret of the treasure. Arrangements are made to guard it, but the boys' suspicions become aroused and they feel that Haskins is worried and fears violence.

CHAPTER XIV  TREACHERY

MR. STILLWELL laughed when the boys told him of their suspicions. "Of course Haskins isn't worried, he said. "But he's responsible for everything and it's no light matter to keep an expedition of this sort running right."

"He told us Red didn't know anything about what we had," said Pancho. "Don't you think Red does know, or has guessed?"

Mr. Stillwell looked at Pancho with a peculiar expression in his half-closed eyes. "How should I know what Red thinks?" he said. "I haven't told him anything."

Had the two boys known what Red had told Haskins in the whispered conference Pancho had witnessed, and which Haskins in turn had reported to Mr. Stillwell, they would have understood several matters that puzzled them. They would have known why the miner carried his revolver, why he made the rounds of the camp in the middle of the night, and why—although they were not aware of the fact—Red slept on a most uncomfortable bed of blankets spread over the loads of the pack-mules, instead of upon his comfortable camp cot. Also, Bob would have known why his father had evaded Pancho's question and had looked so queerly at him.

There was not in fact anything definite to worry about. Red had strolled over to the boys' camp while they had been talking with Mr. Stillwell and Haskins inside the tent on the morning of their astonishing appearance, and had surprised two of the Cholos poking about the packs left by Tonak and his Indians. Whether or not they had discovered that they contained gold Red did not know.

"Even if those Cholos saw the gold, I don't think there is need for worry," Mr. Stillwell had declared. "These two have worked for me for several years. They are so accustomed to seeing and even handling bullion at La Raya that I don't think it would occur to them that they could steal this gold or that it was unusual for the boys' packs to contain it."

"Sure, if they don't talk, there's nothin' to it," agreed Haskins. "Trouble is, a Cholo can't keep his mouth shut. The men have been talkin' quite a bit 'bout them boys bobbin' up. Like as not they'll get arguin' where they come from an' how, an' then them Cholos'll up an' tell what they know. Now I ain't sayin' as how there's danger from these here men. Them two Rotos is the only ones as has got backbone enough for anythin'. It'd be dead easy for 'em to lift a few bars or bags or plates an' hide 'em in the sand or amongst the rocks an' come back an' get 'em when they was ready. So I reckon the bes' thing is to have Red keep them there packs alongside him at night an' for all of us to kind of be watchin' out. I'm goin' heeled from now on an' if any of that bunch tries any funny business it'll be an unlucky day for him."

"Yes, I think it wise to be on the safe side," agreed Mr. Stillwell. "I'm thankful none of the men know about the stones."

"It's lucky we're in Peru," declared Haskins, "an' not some place where they's bandits. Howsomever, I'm goin' for to keep my eyes on them there Rotos— they're jus' nat'ral born pizen, even if they can shoot a vein to beat all get out."

THAT night the expedition camped in a deep, fertile ravine, and before they dropped off to sleep, Bob and Pancho determined to go out on a hunt at dawn the next day. They arranged to join the expedition again at about noon, farther down the ravine.

It was still quite dark when they awoke and crept out of their tent. Tiptoeing through the silent camp they met Haskins, who wished them good luck in a hoarse whisper. After eating the sandwiches which old Chin Foo had thoughtfully provided, they hurried up the canyon.

By the time the sun rose, they had traveled a mile and more from camp, Bob taking the right side of the canyon and Pancho the left. Often they were within sight of each other, but at times the ravine widened, and fallen rock masses and miniature jungles intervened.

In one such spot, Pancho heard the sound of a gunshot from the opposite side of the canyon. "Well, Bob's found something anyway," he said to himself. "I wonder what he got." Almost at the same instant a deer sprang into view and Pancho threw his rifle to his shoulder and fired. "Missed!" he exclaimed, as he saw the creature vanishing like a fleeting shadow. "Guess I'll go over and see what luck Bob had."

Just ahead the canyon narrowed abruptly. As he reached this point Pancho shouted and listened for Bob's reply. But all was silent. Pancho felt suddenly panic-stricken. Why didn't Bob answer? Taking a long breath, he opened his mouth to call again, but no sound issued from his lips. A slight noise caused him to turn and he stood transfixed, gazing into the muzzle of a gun along the barrel of which squinted a dark, villainous face!

Along the barrel of the gun...

Pancho felt his last moment had come. The thought raced through his mind that Bob already had been killed by the shot which he had heard. Incapable of moving, unable to utter a sound, he awaited the blinding flash that would end his life. Suddenly he heard the man say in Spanish, "Drop your gun!"

Pancho's fingers relaxed and his rifle fell clattering to the ground. Instantly a second figure sprang from behind a rock, seized the rifle, cocked it, and jamming the muzzle against Pancho's back ordered him to move along.

Faint with fear, yet vastly relieved to be still alive. Pancho stumbled forward. He had recognized the man who had seized his rifle as one of the Roto "powder-men" belonging to Haskin's gang, and he now recalled the other as one of the burly Slav miners. Somehow they must have discovered the secret of the treasure, and must have learned that he and Bob were going on this early morning hunt. With guns in their possession, they were doubtless planning to hold up the party and seize the gold and jewels. An ambush could easily be arranged among the rocks, from the shelter of which the villains could pick off the three white men, and as many of the others as they chose. And Bob! A lump rose in Pancho's throat as he thought of what must have been Bob's fate.

THE three soon came out on a bare slope below almost sheer cliffs. The fellow behind Pancho ordered him to turn to the right where a narrow shelf led up the canyon wall. Presently the narrow pathway ended behind a pillar of rock where a dark cavern opened in the cliff. With a kick and a curse the Roto ordered Pancho into the cave. As, with an involuntary cry of pain, he stumbled forward on hands and knees, he was thrown on his face and his wrists and ankles were quickly lashed together. In the dim light of the cavern he recognized the fellow who was manhandling him as the other Roto. Like a sack of meal he was dragged across the floor and flung into a corner.

"Pancho!" came a muffled cry from the blackness.

"Bob!" gasped Pancho, "Where are you?"

"Here!" came the whispered response.

"Over beyond me," came a new voice almost in Pancho's ear. "Ouch! You're lying on my wrists. Roll over!"

"Wh-who's that?" whispered Pancho. "Me—Larañaga!" came the reply. "They got me, too. They need me to guide them, but they plan to kill Mr. Stillwell and the others!"

"Shut up in there!" ordered the Roto from the outer cavern. Larañaga lowered his voice to a whisper. "There's only one chance for them," he said. "Haskins is no fool. He'll miss these fellows sooner or later and know something is wrong. The fools! With good wages due them, to kill and rob for the sake of a few horses and the camp outfit!"

Larañaga evidently did not know about the treasure, did not realize that the Rotos and the big Slav were playing for high stakes. Pancho pondered whether he should let his fellow prisoner remain in ignorance or tell him about the gold and precious stones. He was about to speak up, when an exclamation from Bob stopped him.

"Listen!" Bob hissed. "They forgot to search my pockets! I've a knife. If we can get it open we can cut each other free!"

"Caramba, it is true!" agreed the Peruvian. Perhaps I can reach the knife."

It was slow and painful work, trying to secure the knife with his lashed hands, but at last Larañaga drew it out and got it open. It took only a short time to cut Bob free, and the rest was easy. With sighs of relief the three rubbed their numbed, swollen hands and wrists.

"It's more comfortable," said Bob, "but I don't see as we're any better off."

"We'll be a lot worse off if they come in and find us free," Pancho remarked.

"No fear—for the present," declared Larañaga. "They're expecting our party at any moment and won't give us a thought until the fight is over."

The sharp report of a rifle suddenly rang through the canyon!

CHAPTER XV  ATTACKED

WITH no suspicion of danger, Mr. Stillwell led his party up the canyon toward the spot where the three desperadoes crouched behind the rocks, their rifles cocked and ready. They could not have found a place more perfectly designed for an ambuscade. In front of the cavern erosion had formed a groove or gutter with its outer edge nearly two feet above its floor. Lying with their bodies in the hollow, with rifles resting in crevices of the rock, the men could be seen only from above, by some one looking down from the top of the canyon, or by the condors sailing in great circles in the cloudless sky.

Mr. Stillwell did not expect to meet the boys for another hour, and not until the expedition was actually within range of the plotters' guns did he have any inkling that something was wrong. Then the alert Haskins rode up, scowling darkly.

"Them two Rotos has skipped!" he announced.

"Skipped!" repeated Mr. Stillwell, "you mean—"

"Gone. An' that ain't the whole of it neither. That big Slav, Peter, has cleared out with 'em, an' Larañaga's mis-sin'. Now what do you make out of that?"

"Larañaga—I can't believe he would associate with those Rotos," cried Mr. Stillwell. "Is any of the gold missing?"

"Not a chance!" declared Haskins. "An' I ain't sayin' as Larañaga j'ined them pizen Rotos. Maybe they're aimin' on makin' us ransom him."

"I believe you're right!" exclaimed Mr. Stillwell, pulling his horse to a stop. They've taken him prisoner. And the boys! Do you suppose they've got them too, and will demand the gold as ransom? Good Heavens, Haskins, the boys have guns! Those villains would stop at nothing if they know about the treasure. They may already have killed Bob and Pancho to get their rifles! Quick! Call Red and a few men you can trust. We must plan a rescue if it's not already too late!"

In response to Haskins' summons, Red rode up hastily. Suddenly there came the sharp report of a rifle, and Red's sombrero flew from his head! With a single motion he threw himself behind his horse, whipped out his revolver and fired at the tiny puff of smoke that had spurted from the face of the cliff.

The detonations of his forty-five drowned the sound of a second rifle shot; but a Cholo, frantically striving to control a terrified mule, spun like a top and sank limply to the ground.

"Back!" roared Haskins, wheeling his mount. "Back to them rocks!"

INSTANTLY all was confusion. The Slav laborers took to their heels like stampeded cattle. The arrieros, shouting, cursing, cracking their whips, strove to check and turn their mules and burros. The frightened animals snorted, reared, and kicked. Only the Indians and the llamas remained calm.

Back to them rocks!

Unmindful of their danger, the three white men herded men and animals back to the partial protection of boulders and trees. A mule uttered a piercing scream and plunged to its knees to roll over kicking spasmodically. Burros squealed with fear or fell dead or wounded. A lumbering Slav uttered a bellow of mingled pain and rage as a bullet clipped his shoulder.

One Cholo lay dead beside the trail and a second crawled, dragging a shattered leg, into a crevice of the rocks. Haskins' face was covered with blood from a furrow cut by a bullet across his forehead. Red's mount had been killed under him, and Mr. Stillwell's saddle-horn had been broken by a rifle ball. But by far the greater number of shots spattered harmlessly against the rocks or thudded into the earth. Not until the last man and all the animals were comparatively safe in the shelter of the natural barrier did the three Americans turn their attention to their enemies.

"Those scoundrels have the boys' guns!" cried Mr. Stillwell as the trio crouched with poised weapons. Haskins' heavy revolver roared as he fired at a momentary glimpse of a moving body on the cliff side. "How many shells did them boys have?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," said Mr. Stillwell. "I think Bob had at least fifty and Pancho about half as many."

Red and Haskins fired together.

"Mebbe the Rotos loaded up with more before they vamoosed," remarked Red.

"Dumb fools!" growled Haskins. "Lessen they kill us three they can't never get away with it. Hullo! Who's them up there atop the cliff?"

On the summit of the canyon wall, above the spot where the bandits lay concealed, three figures had appeared, stooping, gazing down over the edge.

"Injuns!" exclaimed Red. "Reckon they heard the shootin' an' come along to see what's up."

"Injuns they be," agreed Haskins. "But what be they up to? Looks like—By thunder, they're throwin' somethin' down sure's I'm a settin' here. An' them villains up there have quit shootin'. Now what the dickens can that—"

Mr. Stillwell had leaped to his feet.

"The boys! Thank Heaven!" he shouted, springing over the rocks and dashing across the canyon.

At the spot from which the bandits' rifles had blazed, Larañaga and the two boys had suddenly popped into sight, waving their arms and shouting.

CHAPTER XVI  AYHUALLA!

AS the first shot fired by their captors echoed through the cave, Larañaga, Bob and Pancho tensely listened for answering shots. Between the sharp cracks of the rifles close at hand, they could hear faint sounds and the occasional staccato, barking of pistols. Slowly the three prisoners drew nearer the entrance to the cavern, but they could see nothing of what was transpiring in the canyon even when they at last crouched just within the shelter of the cave. From their right came the crashing reports of rifles, and wisps of pungent smoke drifted to their nostrils. Now the shouting had ceased. Only the intermittent rifle fire and the answering reports of revolvers broke the silence.

"Caramba!" whispered Larañaga. "The fiends have not killed our comrades. They are still shooting. How many pistols can you distinguish?"

"Two fired then—almost together!" replied Panchito.

"There goes another!" said Bob. "Dad and Haskins and Red must be all right. They're the only ones who were armed."

"If they have plenty of cartridges they will win," declared Larañaga. "How many have these brigands?"

"I had twenty-three and used two—that leaves twenty-one," Pancho told him.

"I had fifty though," said Bob, "a full belt, and—"

A sharp, agonized cry from one of the bandits interrupted Bob's words.

"Gracias a Dios!" exclaimed Larañaga. "One of the scoundrels has been hit!"

"Give it to 'em!" shouted Pancho, in his excitement forgetting he was supposed to be a bound and helpless prisoner within the cave. But the Rotos and their companion were too occupied to notice, even if they heard his exultant shout.

"I've got to see what's going on!" cried Bob, stealthily creeping to the entrance of the cave and peering around an angle of the rock.

"Whew!" he exclaimed, drawing back. "They're right around the corner. But they're back to and won't see us. Come on, let's watch!"

"That big fellow is badly hurt," whispered Pancho as the three, emboldened by the men's position and their own excitement, darted from the cave and dropped behind a sheltering rock whence they had a clear view of the whole scene.

"Dead!" muttered Larañaga. "If it weren't for being shot by mistake by our friends we could now escape. These fellows could not see us until we reached the bottom of the canyon."

Bob grasped his arm. "Look!" he cried. "Where on earth did that come from?"

At his words the others turned toward the Rotos at whom Bob was gazing in puzzled amazement. From between the shoulders of the nearer man a slender shaft projected like a miniature flagstaff. Before the astonished three could speak, other shafts flashed downward to stand quivering, one in the sprawled body of the dead Slav, another within an inch of the surviving Roto, who, apparently oblivious of his companions' fate, was still firing at the men across the canyon. But at the impact of the missile he turned, uttered a startled cry, and twisting over on his back fired straight upward.

"Arrows!" gasped Larañaga. "Indians! From above! They—"

The words died on his lips as he stared at the Roto. Gazing toward the canyon rim with rolling, fear-filled eyes, he worked the rifle bolt frantically but only metallic clicks followed. The magazine was empty. With an oath he cast the useless weapon aside, half rose, then remembering the enemies across the canyon, he dropped back and like a gigantic reptile clawed and writhed his way toward the cavern's mouth. Never had the boys dreamed such awful fear could be written on a human face.

Scarcely had he moved forward his own length when a large stone whanged on the ledge before him. With a jerk and a cry of terror he flung himself back. Too late! With a sickening thud a rock struck his back. He screamed, and doubling up like a jackknife writhed horribly for a moment and then lay still. "Quick!" cried Larañaga, leaping to his feet. "It is over! We are saved!"

"Hold on! Wait!" yelled Pancho, grabbing the Peruvian and jerking him back. "They'll think you're a Roto and shoot at you. We'll show ourselves first. They'll recognize us. Come on, Bob! Jump up and yell like blazes!"

As they did so, Bob's father sprang from behind a rock and came dashing across the canyon, followed by Haskins and Red.

THE boys and Larañaga raced down the narrow ledge and skirted the face of the cliff to the bottom of the canyon to meet the three men.

"Where's them blasted Rotos?" demanded Haskins, as the two groups converged. "What happened to 'em? Did we get 'em or was it them Injuns on the cliff?"

"Madre de Dios! Did you not know then?" panted Larañaga. "I thought you sent Indians to attack from above."

"Gosh it was awful!" exclaimed Bob.

"They killed one with an arrow and the other with rocks!" interrupted Pancho.

"Yes, and that big Peter was already shot," put in Larañaga.

"But who in time were them Injuns?" demanded Haskins. "I seen 'em up there, thro win' somethin' down. Let's go up an' have a look at them Rotos. We'll want the rifles, anyhow."

As the two boys, shuddering a bit, approached the dead men, Pancho uttered a surprised cry and darting forward seized the arrow-like shaft that had struck the rocks. "It—it's one of Kespi's throwing spears!" was his amazing declaration.

"It sure is!" gasped Bob. "But—"

"You mean—" began Mr. Stillwell, "you mean it's a weapon belonging to those Indian friends of yours?"

"How about this here pig-sticker?" asked Red who had withdrawn the spear from the body of the dead Roto.

"That's old Tonak's!" cried Bob excitedly. His spears always had this mushroom-shaped mark and a silver band. But Dad! how could they be here?"

"It sure beats me," commented Red. "Them Injuns made a mighty good job of it. Cleaned out the whole nest. That Peter wasn't shot by a bullet. There's a hole in his head, but not a bullet hole or I'm a liar."

"Yes, by hookey, an' I figger this is what made it," interrupted Haskins. As he spoke he exhibited a smoothly finished spherical object of grayish stone.

"That's a sling stone!" cried Bob, "just like those the Indians used."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Stillwell, who had taken the little ball from Haskins. "Did you notice it's weight, Haskins? It's tin—cassiterite—stream-tin! And as heavy as lead. No wonder it could kill a man."

" 'Pears to me," Haskins observed, "that them three Injuns must ha' been campin' on our trail ever since we met up with the boys."

"Gee, I'd like to see them again!" declared Bob.

"Me too!" chimed in Pancho. "Can't we find them and thank them for helping us?"

Red chuckled, "I reckon not," he said. "If they'd wanted to be met up with they'd have been here by now. Looks to me like their job's done and most likely they're hittin' the high spots on their way back to their hide-out."

BUT Red was mistaken. As the party crossed to where the rest of the expedition lay hidden behind the rocks, the boys halted and glanced back.

"Look! Look!" cried Bob excitedly. "There they are!"

Standing upon the verge of the canyon wall, motionless as statues, were three figures that the boys would have known anywhere. Wildly they shouted and waved their hats.

"Tonak! Kespi! Kenko!" they yelled at the tops of their lungs.

For a moment the Indians upon the cliff top remained silent, as quiet as if carved from stone. Then slowly they raised their arms, their right hands lifted toward the sky, their left hands resting over their hearts in the Incan gesture of farewell.

"Ayhualla! Ayhualla!" Faint and thin as the whisper of a breeze the words drifted across the canyon. The next instant the three figures vanished.

In silence the boys turned to the waiting horses. Silently they mounted and rode forward as with the cracking of whips, the shouts of Cholos and Indians, the clatter of hoofs and the tramp of the Slavs' hobnailed boots the cavalcade once again resumed its interrupted journey.

"Day after tomorrow we'll be in La Raya," muttered Bob with a note of regret in his voice. "But—well, I suppose it will be awfully tame after all the adventures we've had. Somehow I'd like to be going back to Tonak's village."

"So would I," declared Pancho. "I'd give a lot to be with those Incans again. They're mighty fine fellows."

Mr. Stillwell smiled. "Remember the old saying, boys," he reminded them. "Distance lends enchantment, you know."

"By gum, I don't know about that neither," exclaimed Haskins.

"Seems to me the nearer I be to my pay the better it looks. Danged if it don't."

THE END

Incas Treasure House Pt3

The Open Road for Boys, 1932 January

The Incas' Treasure House (Part 3 of 5)

By A. Hyatt Verrill

The Open Road for Boys magazine, January, 1932

Illustrated by Heman Fay, Jr.

Incas’ Treasure House Part 1

Incas’ Treasure House Part 2

The Story So Far

Bob Stillwell and Pancho McLean become lost in the Andes on their way to La Raya, a mining camp in Peru where Bob's father is manager. Luckily they save the life of an Indian chief, disabled by a jaguar. Because of this they are well treated by the Indians of the chief's village, but the chief declines to send them to La Raya until he has recovered. He dispatches a messenger, however, to report the boys' safety. The boys find these Indians different from all others and they conclude that they are a lost tribe, living as did the Indians under the Incas before the time of Pizarro. They discover a temple with amazing golden ornaments and relics of the Spanish conquest.

At La Raya, Mr. Stillwell has left on a prospecting expedition without knowing that the boys are lost, but when they fail to arrive Mr. Griswold, the chief of operations, is worried. A search fails, and a talk with an old-time prospector, Carmody, throws no light on the boys' whereabouts.

CHAPTER X AN AMAZING STRANGER

ALTHOUGH La Raya was called a "camp," it was really a sizable town. Far up on the mountain sides, colored a vivid rose, with splashes of vermilion and orange from the lead and silver oxides, were the tunnels and shafts of the workings. Along the east bank of a river near-by stood the mills and refineries, while on the western shore squatted the long, low quarters of the native Indian and Cholo laborers. In a level space where the valley widened, was the town itself. La Raya, originally an almost unknown Indian village, had become an obscure Peruvian town, dirty, poverty-stricken, despite the fact that untold fortunes were hidden in the mountain overhanging its red-tiled roofs. Then the Americans had acquired the mines, and had cleaned, rebuilt and modernized the place. A neat, green little plaza faced the cabildo, or city hall, presided over by the fat, fiercely-moustached but good-natured Alcade, Don Diogenes Beltran, who represented the Peruvian government but who never had anything to do except to gossip with Padre Augustin, doze in the sun, or play cards with Lieutenant Navez. The lieutenant, a boyish, smiling youth with a budding moustache and a sword almost as long as himself, represented the Peruvian army. He had six brown-faced little soldiers and four policemen in khaki and scarlet uniforms to aid him in maintaining order in this spot where disorders were almost unknown.

In the old town dwelt the Peruvian employees of the company, the few Peruvian officials and their families, and some of the American and British employees. But the majority of the Anglo-Saxons lived in attractive bungalows on a little rise beyond the town.

Such was the "camp" to which the missing boys had been invited, a community of more than five hundred inhabitants, including the Indians and Cholos. The natives came and went as they pleased, on foot, on burros, or driving strings of donkeys or llamas in from the hills; sometimes to seek work, sometimes to visit friends, but more often bringing fruits, vegetables or native handiwork to the La Raya market. No one paid any heed to these brown-skinned, sturdy, poncho-clad natives of the mountains who seldom ventured in the American section, but strolled through the streets of the lower town or gravitated naturally to the Indians' barracks across the river.

So, when, on the day old Carmody had talked with Mr. Griswold, a strange Indian drifted into La Raya, none of the Americans or Peruvians noticed him; but the other Indians he met looked at him curiously. Those whom he passed raised their hands to their foreheads in salute, and the market place and barracks were soon buzzing with speculation as word of the strange Indian's arrival spread.

Taller by a head than the brown-skinned employees of the mines, erect, with a keen, hawk-like face and pale ochre-colored skin he was obviously of a distinct and superior race. And his costume—though to the unobservant eyes of the white men it seemed merely a variation of the inevitable poncho and loose trousers—instantly identified him to the Indian denizens of La Raya.

FOR a time, the stranger wandered about, gazing into shop windows and staring at the two ramshackle cars the place boasted. Then he made his way toward the American camp. Carmody was talking with the superintendent when one of the assistants entered the office.

"There's an Indian outside who insists on seeing you, sir," he informed the superintendent. "He doesn't speak more than a few words of Spanish and I'm not much on Quichua. He won't tell me what he wants, but he said to give you these."

As he spoke, Johnson placed four empty rifle cartridges on the desk. The superintendent stared at them, a puzzled frown on his face, but Carmody sprang forward, seized one of the shells, and examined it intently.

"By gum an' Godfrey, bring him in!" he cried excitedly. "These here ca't'idges is from them missin' boys' rifle! I'll bet my boots this Injun's got a message from em.”

By Jupiter's black pocket!

"Good Heavens!" exclaimed the superintendent. "Maybe you're right. Perhaps —" His words were interrupted by the reappearance of Johnson followed by the stranger, with Chico, one of the company's natives, to serve as interpreter.

As the Indian entered, Carmody uttered a sharp ejaculation, and gazed at the fellow with a strange expression of amazement and perplexity.

"By Jupiter's black pocket!" he exclaimed. "Now where the everlastin' blazes did that there bird come from?"

"What's the matter with him?" demanded the superintendent. "He looks just like any cacique to me."

Carmody snorted. "Why, he's a everlastin' ap-ap'rition, that's what he is. There ain't nothin' like him been seen knockin' 'bout these here diggin's since old man Pizarro killed the Inca. He's a reg'-lar chasqui, that's what he is. He—"

"Chasqui?" enquired the superintendent, whose knowledge of Peruvian history was limited to the country's mining industries. "What's that?"

"Lor' bless your dumbness!" replied the old prospector. "A chasqui was a runner what them ol' Incas used for to send messages. But shucks! there ain't no Incas an' no chasquis nor nothin' o' the sort left, less'n—Here we be, wastin' time chinnin' 'stead of finding out what this bird's got to say 'bout them two boys."

Turning to the Indian, Carmody spoke to him in Quichua, telling him the man at the desk was the "chief" of the place, and asking him what he wanted to tell him.

At the fellow's reply, Carmody started. "By gum, he ain't speakin' no Quichua like I ever heard afore," he muttered under his breath. Then, turning to the superintendent: "He says them two boys is O. K. up to his village. I don't savvy every word what he says, 'cause he's chinnin' some dialec' what I ain't never heard afore, but I get the meanin' right enough. And he says somethin' 'bout them boys havin' killed the 'spotted one'—meanin' of a jag'ar, I 'spect, an' a-savin' of his curaca's life— ain't been no such thing as a curaca for nobody knows how long—an' how, soon's ever the ol' chief's able to git about on his pins, he'll be bringin' the boys down his-self. Them there ca'ti'ges he brung in is to show you he's on the level."

"Where's the village? Why didn't the boys send a message?" snapped the superintendent. "How do I know he didn't pick those shells up somewhere and cook up the whole yarn? Sounds fishy to me, Carmody."

The old prospector shook his head. "Seems likely enough to me," he declared. "Derned sight likelier than to be here chinnin' with a Injun what might have come to life outen one o' them there old graves."

Turning to the silent, impassive Indian he again questioned him. "Nothin doin'," he announced presently. "Says his village is way back in the hills; Chaca-Lyacta, he calls it, meanin' 'Place of the Bridge,' but shuts up tighter'n a sardine tin soon's ever I ask him anythin' 'bout it."

"Tell him we'll send men back with him when he goes—you can go along to interpret, can't you, Carmody? No sense in those two boys waiting for some fool Indian to get well. Tell him we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning, and meantime he can bunk with Chico and Manuel."

Carmody grinned and chuckled. "Lor' bless your soul, boss!" he cried, "I don't know how to figger it out, but howsom-ever 'tis, he's a king's messenger. You might just as well ask the British Minister over to Lima to bunk in with Chico an' Manuel. An' nothin'd ever get them two Injuns to dare act like they was his eq'als neither. They'll clear out an' let his nibs have their quarters to hisself. But I shouldn't be a mite s'prised if he'd enjoy seein' of a movie. Reckon Chico wouldn't mind takin' him to one."

When asked, Chico seemed highly honored at the opportunity, and trotted off at the strange Indian's side.

"Now I'm a-goin' to hunt up Griswold and tell him the news," the old prospector announced. "He'll be glad to know them there boys is safe an' sound."

"THANK Heaven!" Mr. Griswold exclaimed when the old prospector had related all that had occurred. "I'm going along with the others, Carmody. I'll leave a note here for Mr. Stillwell before I go. Thought you said there were no Indians in that district!"

The old prospector's eyes half closed and his face set in a new expression. "I did, Mr. Griswold," he admitted. "But I was meanin' these here ord'nary Injuns. Ain't I been tellin' you this chap's different? Now, like as not you'll be laffin' at me, but I'll tell you somethin', sir, that I ain't breathed to no other livin' soul. Member what I tol' you 'bout the natives back in the ol' times knockin' down a bridge to keep the Dons from a-gettin' through by the Inca road, an' a-ambushin' of 'em arter-wards? Now I 'aint never had no such faith in findin' that there Inca treasure as mos' folks think, but there's that story 'bout them Inca folk an' the bridge. Why'd they knock it down, I'm askin'. Why didn't that bunch of Injuns do jus' like all the others did—clear out, or else treat the Dons friendly-like?

"Now then, by gum an' Godfrey, this is how I figger it out. The treasure was hid up there, an' the Injuns tore down the bridge to keep them Dons from findin' of it. Then, arter the Spaniards had gone, they come back and went on livin' there jus' the way they allus done afore a Spaniard stuck his long nose into the Inca pie. An ' by crickety chop-sticks, I'll bet this here chasqui's one o' them guys. Didn't he say his village was called the 'Place of the Bridge' ?"

"But my dear man!" exclaimed Mr. Griswold, trying hard not to smile at the old fellow's earnestness, "if by chance the boys had stumbled on such a hidden treasure-house and lost city they would have been done away with. The Indians never would permit them to live and still less return to civilization."

Carmody nodded and stroked his scraggly gray beard reflectively. "I've thought of all them things," he declared. "Like as not the boys would have been put out o' the way 'ceptin' for the fact they done the Injuns a good turn— killed a jaguar what was maulin' of the ol' chief, you know. No Injun'd ever harm anyone who done a thing like that. No, sir, they'd be treated like frien's and r'yalty, by Jiminy. Only thing bothers me is, why in thunder that chasqui will take us back! That's beyond me."

NEXT morning, Mr. Griswold was up early. He was lacing one of his high boots when Carmody burst into the room without the formality of knocking.

"Great jumpin' Jemima!" he exploded. "He's gone! Vamoosed! Cleared out! By gum and Godfrey, he's given us the slip! That Injun chasqui, I mean."

"What!" exclaimed Mr. Griswold, "you mean the fellow has left?"

The old man flung himself into a chair. "Yep!" he replied. "I knowed there was somethin' funny 'bout him bein' willin' to guide us back there. He didn't never mean for to do it. An', by Jupiter, I'm dead certain now I figgered out things kerect."

"Can't—don't the other Indians know where he went?" asked Mr. Griswold.

Carmody laughed hoarsely. "Lor' bless you, they know more or less," he cried. "But they'd never tell. No, sir, we just got to set here an' wait for them there boys to turn up. Yes, by cricky, he's gone, an' less'n I'm plumb lucky I ain't never goin' to set eyes onto that there Place of the Bridge an' know whether them strange Injuns have got that treasure or not."

"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Griswold, "the boys will be able to tell you all about it."

CHAPTER XI  JEWELS BEYOND PRICE

IN THE lost Inca village, Bob and Pancho found that the days and weeks passed quickly. Almost before they realized how time had flown, Tonak was up and about, apparently as well as ever except for his wrist, which was twisted and partly useless. At last the boys asked him how soon he could guide them back to La Raya.

The chief shook his head sadly. For a moment he sat gazing into space and the boys began to fear he was about to tell them he had no intention of ever letting them go. Then, rising, he placed his hands on their heads. "My sons and brothers must leave us," he said. "I and my people will grieve that it is so. But it is the call of nature. Each creature must go with its kind and so must each tribe of men. Does the Chuncho of the jungles dwell with the Collas on the mountains? Does the Huanca find happiness in the villages of the Panos? No. When the great Pachakamak made all things on earth and breathed life into them he ordered that each living thing should ever seek those of its own kind. Though we of Chaca-Lyacta love you as our own, it is best that you should go to your people. I and my people owe you what we cannot repay. But my sons' race loves riches and riches will be given you. Tomorrow I, Tonak of the house of Yupanqui Inca, will lead you forth to your friends and to you will give that which will make you mighty chiefs. Now, my sons, I go to prepare for the journey."

Much that the chief said had been in his own dialect, and his broken Spanish was difficult for the boys to understand, but they caught the meaning of his words.

"Whoopee! Tomorrow we'll scram!" cried Bob.

"Didn't I say he was a real Inca?" exclaimed Pancho triumphantly.

"How do you know he is?" demanded Bob. "He didn't say so."

"Didn't he?" retorted Pancho. "Didn't he say he was Tonak of the house of Yupanqui Inca? Let's see—" Pancho was silent for a moment counting on his fingers—"I think Yupanqui was the father of Huayna Kapak who was the father of Atahualpa. Gosh, Bob, this fellow must be a direct descendent! Say perhaps he's going to make us a present of some of those things in the temple!"

"I hope he doesn't give us one of those old mummies or that dead man in the armor," interrupted Bob. "And I don't see how anything he's got will make us chiefs, as he calls it, at home."

THE boys found Tonak waiting for them when they appeared the following morning. He was dressed like the other Indians, wearing nothing to denote his rank, and was leaning on a heavy staff of polished hardwood with an elaborately wrought silver head and decorated with silver bands. With him were Kespi and Kenko, each carrying a pack supported by brow-bands, while gathered in a circle were the villagers, all waiting to bid the white boys farewell.

One by one they approached, lifted Bob's and Pancho's hands to their foreheads and solemnly repeated the words: "Ayhualya Huauki Nyukapak Inti Huakaychar." (Farewell, my brother, may God guard you.)

When the last good-bye had been said, with Tonak leading the way the little party descended into the ravine and clambered up the further side while the entire population of the village chanted in unison the farewell song of the Incan people.

"Ayhualya! Ayhualya!—Inti guard thy weary journey

Over deserts, over mountains—

All our prayers and thoughts are of thee.

Ayhualya! Ayhualya!—Inti guard thee on thy journey.

All we live for, all we wait for—

Is for thee to come again—

Ayhualya! Ayhualya!"

In a plaintive wail the cadence ended, and though the boys could understand only a few of the words of the ancient song, they were far more deeply touched than they would have liked to admit. Presently they reached the summit of the hill, and glancing back for a last view of the village, saw the people still gathered at the brink of the ravine, waving a last farewell.

Along an almost undistinguishable trail they plodded on, Tonak always in the lead, turning and twisting, doubling back and forth, ascending hills, slipping and sliding into ravines, traversing cañons, at times following the beds of streams. Four hours after leaving the village, Tonak came to a halt in a deep cañon which had become narrower and narrower, until now it ended in a blind wall. From the base of the seeming cul-de-sac rose a conical hill, towering for nearly a hundred feet above the summits of the banks.

"Behold, my sons!" exclaimed Tonak. "Did I not promise to lead you to the place of riches? You alone of all save the people of Chaca-Lyacta may look upon the treasure house of the Incas!"

The boys gasped. They could scarcely believe their ears. Treasure house of the Incas! They had heard of the fabulous hoard of gold and gems that, according to legend, had been gathered for the ransom of the captive Inca, Atahualpa, but which had been buried somewhere in Peru when the carriers learned of their ruler's death at Pizarro's hands. Neither of the boys had ever given the story a second thought, yet here was Tonak—who claimed to be a descendent of the Incas—telling them that they were looking on the Incan treasure house. But they could see nothing that appeared in the least like a ruin, a building, or even a cave. Wondering, they gazed about while Tonak and the other Indians grinned.

"I don't see—" began Bob.

Pancho gripped his arm. "Look!" he exclaimed. "Look at that hill, Bob! It's not a real hill, it's built of stones! It's a —a pyramid! That must be the treasure house!"

Bob whistled. "But there isn't a door or a window or anything in it. And—"

Tonak again spoke. "To none but he who rules in Chaca-Lyacta and those of the village is the treasure known," he said. "Through four times four hundred hundred suns have we watched over it that, if need should come, we might buy the freedom of our people. But now the time has passed. Never again will an Inca sit upon the golden throne of Cuzco and rule over the kingdom of Tihuantisuyo (the Incan name of the empire meaning The Four Corners of the Earth). We are few and scattered, and aside from us of Chaca-Lyacta all are but vassals of the sons of the Bearded Ones who conquered our land and destroyed our Inca. Some time will come the Spaniards and force the secret of the treasure; but to you, my sons, we give gladly. From what lies within the secret portals take what you desire as a parting gift from Tonak and his people."

The boys were speechless. Were they actually about to gaze upon that mythical, fabulous treasure? No, that was too fantastic to be true. And yet—

TONAK had turned and was moving forward towards the blank wall at the head of the ravine. There Kespi and Kenko dropped their burdens and at Tonak's direction began tossing the stones to one side while the two boys watched fascinated. Presently a rectangular, sculptured stone was revealed. Then, as the last of the rocks were removed, Tonak placed his staff in the mouth of a carved jaguar and leaned hard against it while the two Indian youths put their shoulders to the stone. It swung aside slowly, silently, revealing a low, dark doorway.

From their packs Kespi and Kenko produced torches. With flint and steel they were lit, and, taking one, Tonak bent and entered the portal, beckoning the boys to follow. For perhaps fifty feet they passed along a narrow stone corridor barely three feet in width and five feet in height. Then they descended a short flight of stone steps, entered a large circular room, crossed this past an immense stone statue of a jaguar-headed god, entered another low, narrow passage, and, traversing this for another fifty feet, came to a smaller square court in the centre of which was a stone image of the sun god.

Bowing before this, Tonak and the two Indians ascended the low pyramidal dais on which the statue stood, and tugged with all their strength at a projecting stone ornament. Slowly the monolith moved to one side, disclosing a dark opening. Excited, with fast beating hearts, the two boys followed the Indians into the aperture. Descending a flight of stone steps they entered a narrow corridor, passed along it, turned right and then left into other passageways, ascended more stairs and entered a large room. As the Indians halted and held high their flaring torches the boys gasped, staring speechlessly, incredulously, at what they saw.

Piled in the corners and about the walls of the stone chamber were great heaps of glittering yellow gold! Bars and ingots, hammered breastplates and great wheel-like suns; stacks of thin gold sheets; ceremonial axes and maces; spears and sceptres; massive chains and crowns; ornaments of every form; vases and lamps; dishes and utensils were everywhere. In one spot, piled almost to the ceiling, were cloth bags and rawhide sacks, some of which had burst. From the rents, streams of yellow gold dust had trickled to the floor. There seemed to be tons of the precious metal, and the boys scarcely noticed the great stacks of silver bars, the silver vases and utensils and weapons that lay on every side.

Heaps of glittering yellow gold!

"Do—do you suppose all that really is gold?" whispered Bob in awed tones.

"It must be," replied Pancho. "But I never thought there was so much in the whole world."

Tonak's voice interrupted their thoughts. "It is yours, my sons," he announced. "Take what you desire. Did I not say that my white sons would be great chiefs amid their own people?"

"Great millionaires!" exclaimed Pancho. "Whew, there must be more treasure here than in the Treasury at Washington. It—"

"And he says we can have all we want!" cried Bob, gazing about at the vast store of riches. "But that's just a joke. How could we carry off all we wanted? It must weigh tons."

Apparently the old chief read their thoughts. "Two times ten hundred yana-conas (cargo carriers) and two score trains of llamas groaned beneath the treasure that you gaze upon," he told them. "We are but five, and we have far to go and gold is heavy. Yet my sons have not seen all. Behold! This treasure may you take more easily."

As he spoke Tonak stepped to a carved chest hasped and bound with massive silver, and lifted the lid. The boys leaned forward with sharp exclamations of amazement.

(To be continued) Incas' Treasure House -Part4