The Inca's Treasure House
Part 1 of 5
By A. Hyatt Verrill
Illustrated by Heman Fay, Jr.
From
The Open Road
for Boys, Vol. XIII October, 1931 No. 10. Digitized by Doug Frizzle,
March 2013.
CHAPTER I - LOST!
THEY were lost! For some time both boys had felt sure of it, and could no
longer conceal their helplessness,
or their realization of the dangers they
faced. They gazed at each other
wide-eyed, without speaking, for each dreaded to voice his fears.
It seemed days since they had crawled from
under the overturned car, unhurt, to
find the Cholo chauffeur crumpled
lifeless under the steering wheel;
yet Pancho's watch told them it had
been only eight hours since they had
been laughing and chatting in the
car as it bumped across the desert
toward La Raya mining camp where the
boys had planned to pass their
vacation with Bob Stillwell's father,
the manager.
For months they had looked forward to the
trip, ever since Bob had received a letter from
his father telling of the wonders of Peru and suggesting that he bring a
friend with him. Of course Bob had chosen Pancho McLean, his most intimate
chum, who, having lived for several years in Mexico, spoke Spanish fluently.
Bob's father had sent word that he could not meet the boys as he had planned, but one of the officials of the
La Raya Company had greeted them aboard ship at Callao, and had seen them
safely started on their way to the mines in one of the
company's cars.
The accident happened
suddenly, unexpectedly. One instant they
were speeding across seemingly trackless desert, the
next instant the car had skidded,
crashed into one of the countless
outcrops of jagged rock that dotted the
waste, and overturned.
Shaken and terrified, Bob and
Pancho cut through the wrecked top.
With trembling hands they tried to
drag the chauffeur free, but after
one horrified glance at the fellow's
battered face and crushed head they
hastily retreated.
“Let's take food and the water bottles and get going," said Bob.
"That poor chap is beyond help, and there's
no use staying here."
"How about the guns?" asked Pancho, as they prepared to burrow beneath the car in search of food and the
thermos bottles.
"What's the use," said Bob. "There's nothing to
shoot in this desert, and we'll have to get someone
to bring in the rest of the stuff. We can get the
guns then. I'm not going to lug a
gun across this desert. It'll be bad enough hiking as it is."
"I don't know,"
muttered Pancho. "I'll feel safer with my rifle."
"All right, take it if
you want to," said Bob, "but mine stays right here."
It was not a pleasant job,
salvaging the precious water
bottles, the lunches provided for their journey, and the
few other necessities while the dead man lay so close beside them; and it was a still more unpleasant duty to
cover the body with the cushions and ripped top in order to protect it
from the
black vultures which already were gathering.
At last it was done and the boys
breathed sighs of relief.
"Now which way do we
go?" asked Pancho, glancing at the
glaring desert and distant mountains.
"Follow the road, of course," replied Bob.
"Yes, if there were a road to follow, but I don't see
any."
The boys gazed about in
bewilderment. Beyond the spot where the car had skidded, there
was no sign of road, nothing to distinguish one part of the
rock-strewn waste from another.
"I never noticed we
weren't following a road," muttered Bob. "There was one back a ways. I
wonder how far."
Suddenly Pancho laughed.
"We are boobs!" he exclaimed. "Even if there's no road, we can follow the wheel marks back the
way we came."
"Yes and walk fifty
miles before we get anywhere," said Bob. "We passed the last village a little after eight and it's now
eleven.'"
"The Cholo said we'd be
at a place called Palitos in time for lunch," Pancho declared. "So it
can't be more than twenty-five miles away, but it might as well be a hundred if
we don't know the road. I wonder how
long we'd have to wait here before someone
comes along?"
"We'd die of
thirst," declared Bob. "This isn't the
regular route to La Raya, you know. They generally go down to the coast and take a steamer at Lobos. Dad had us come this way because there
won't be a ship for ten days. What's twenty-five miles? All we've got to do is
to head for the hills, if Palitos is
there."
"Fine!" Pancho
exclaimed sarcastically. "There are thousands of hills. Count 'em."
"Well, the car was heading northeast
so we can hike that way," declared Bob "Come
on, feller, move your feet."
THE walking was not hard, and
though the sun beat down mercilessly
and the desert quivered with heat, the boys trudged doggedly on. But they had not learned that mirages in the Peruvian deserts can play tricks, that the hill they
had selected as a guide to their
objective did not exist—at least in that spot—but was really ten miles further than it appeared.
Tired and hot they threw themselves
down to rest at the foot of a
billowy sand dune. They ate greedily, and washed the
dry food down their parched throats
with copious draughts from the thermos
bottles.
"I guess we must be
pretty near there," remarked
Bob when, refreshed and with appetite satisfied, he rose and looked about.
"I hate to think of climbing over these
dunes."
"No reason why we
should," said Pancho. "The car couldn't have done it so there must be a way around them."
They soon found that there were a dozen ways around—or rather between the
sand hills. Moreover, they were
criss-crossed with innumerable narrow trails.
"That looks like an old
river bed to me," observed Pancho, as they
pushed wearily onward. "I don't see how a car could ever get up
here."
"Oh those Fords can go
anywhere," grunted Bob. "Anyhow, this is a sort of pass and the trail still leads up it, so there must be someone
in here."
Presently the trail swung around a jutting shoulder of the mountains, leaving the
stony area behind, and zig-zagged up the
steep slope.
The boys halted undecided.
Should they follow the wash or keep to the
trail? Finally, deciding that the
trail was probably a short cut, and that from
a height they could obtain a view of
their surroundings, they turned up the
narrow pathway.
Up and up they climbed, until at last they
came to a wide stretch of hard rocky puna, or upland desert.
"It doesn't look as if
anyone ever lived here!" cried Bob. "Whew! I hope we don't have to go
all the way back."
"I don't know,"
said Pancho, who was studying the
surroundings carefully. "It looks as if there
were a valley over between the hills
to the left, and there's some
green among the rocks. That means
water and most likely the village is
in the valley. Let's go on and
see."
"There's green all
right," declared Bob, a few minutes later. "Perhaps you're right, Gee
whittaker! I'd like to lie down and rest!"
"There's a house!"
Pancho shouted suddenly.
Elated at thought of finding
a village, they rushed forward.
Clinging to the hillside was green
vegetation, and, at the edge of the stunted growth, a hut; but the boys' faces fell as they
reached it. The rude shelter of sticks and dry wild cane was empty; it had been
deserted for months, as even their
inexperienced eyes told them. And the vegetation consisted of only a scanty growth of
wild cane, of giant prickly-pears and scraggly, dwarfed algorobo trees
that clustered about a tiny fissure in the
rocks where a trickle of moisture showed.
Worst of all, there was no valley—only a dark, yawning canyon
surrounded by forbidding cliffs.
UTTERLY spent, Bob and Pancho
flung their tired bodies to the ground in the
shadow of the abandoned hut. The sun
was already dipping toward the west
and the mountains cast long purple
shadows across the rocky puna. Their
tramp had been for nothing and night was fast approaching. Still the two did not realize the
predicament they were in. They were
confident that had they kept on up the pass, instead of striding off on the trail, they
would by now have been in the
village they sought.
"My feet are two big
blisters," Bob groaned. "But, if we've got to go we might as well be
on our way," he sighed resignedly. "I'd be too stiff to move if I
stayed here much longer."
For several minutes they tramped with heavy feet across the puna, then
came to an abrupt halt. The trail led up, not down, the
hillside. Silently the two boys, now
inwardly fearing the worst, turned
in the opposite direction only to
find that the trail described a wide
loop and again led up hill. "How are we going to get out of here?"
Bob looked around helplessly. "Why didn't we notice some landmark?"
"Because we felt too
cocksure there were people
here," replied Pancho.
Suddenly he laughed.
"There are your people!" he exclaimed. "They're goats, and these paths are only goat trails!"
Pancho dropped to one knee
and cocked his rifle. "Going to have fresh meat for dinner," he
declared. The goats had approached within easy gun shot. A half-grown kid
dropped in its tracks and the others scampered off.
There was plenty of fuel in the little thicket, a fire was soon blazing, and a
hearty meal of broiled kid worked wonders in restoring the
boys' spirits. To be sure, the sip
of water they permitted themselves seemed only to increase their thirst, but they
were too tired and sleepy to worry over it much. Stretching themselves on the
warm sand, they were soon sleeping
soundly.
CHAPTER II - INTO THE ANDES
SUNLIGHT streaming on their faces awakened them.
"I've been thinking," observed Pancho, as they
ate breakfast, "that the best
plan is to climb one of these hills
before it gets too hot. Then perhaps we can spot a valley where there's water or a village or something."
"All right," assented
Bob, "but I hate to think of climbing up there
and then being no better off."
"We can't be any worse
off," Pancho reminded him. "We've either
got to find a village or a stream or we'll be up against it, Bob. There's no
use kidding ourselves. As it is we're lost and we haven't a decent drink of
water left."
It was a terrible climb up the steep slope. Loose rocks rolled beneath their feet, the
razor-edged outcrops cut their hands
and shoes, and their thirst became
an almost unbearable torture. At last they
reached the summit and gazed about.
Far below them was the little hidden desert surrounded by its rim of
rocky ridges. Beyond the western
hills lay the hazy expanse of the big desert, a shimmering sea of sand.
Their eyes swung hopefully,
expectantly around the horizon, and they shouted triumphantly. Almost at their feet a deep valley lay between the hills, and in the
bottom of the
cleft was rich green vegetation and a sparkle of running water!
Promptly
they drained the
last of the precious fluid in their thermos
bottles. No need to save those few drops now. Then, stopping only long enough
to pick out a descent that seemed passable, they
hurried downward towards the valley.
How they
managed to reach the bottom without breaking their
necks neither boy ever knew. They
got there somehow,
and threw themselves down beside the little stream.
"I never knew water
could taste so good," exclaimed Bob, when at last he raised his dripping
face. "I'm going to stay right here till we're rescued."
"I'm not,” declared Pancho.
"But just the same that water's
the best thing I ever tasted."
Refreshed, and having bathed their
dust-covered bodies and blistered feet in the
cool water, they discussed their next move.
"I'll bet there are people not far away," declared Bob.
"This is the only place we
could see from the hill that had water."
"We'd better keep on up
this valley," declared Pancho. "I'm for sticking to the water as long as we can. We won't die of thirst,
and there should be game in these thickets."
As they
walked up the valley, Pancho held
his rifle ready. He had begun to fear that they
would either have to go hungry or
depend upon small birds for their
lunch, when he saw something moving
among the rocks and called his companion's attention to it.
"Looks like a rabbit to
me," said Bob.
"Or a woodchuck,"
added Pancho. "Anyway, it may be good to eat, whatever it is."
The creature was now standing
erect on its haunches watching the
boys in the ravine below. It was an
easy shot, and at the report of the rifle the
beast tumbled and slid down the
hillside.
"Maybe it's a
chinchilla," suggested Pancho, as they
examined their kill. "They live
in Peru
and their fur is valuable. We'd
better save the skin, Bob."
"Do you suppose it's
good to eat?" asked Bob.
"Guess it depends on how
hungry we are," replied Pancho. "We'd better wait a while; it's not
lunch time yet."
AS THEY continued up the valley they
shot two more of the viscachas, as
the gopher-like animals are called
in Peru,
and at Bob's suggestion that it would be easier to carry them
in their stomachs
than in their hands, they found a shady spot, built a fire and proceeded
to broil their game. With their appetites whetted by their
tramp, the tender white meat tasted
most delicious even without salt or seasoning.
They were just finishing
when, with a whirring of wings a large, brownish bird sprang from the
ground almost at their feet and
dropped into a tangle of vines across the
little valley.
"Partridge!"
exclaimed Pancho.
"Well, he'll be good for
dinner," declared Bob. "Let's see if we can get him."
Cautiously the boys crept forward, but the
vines and weeds were so thick that they
couldn't detect the mountain
partridge, or perdis. Not until they
were within a few feet of it did it take flight with a roar that startled them. With only a rifle and a limited supply of
ammunition their only hope was to
get a fair shot at it when it alighted, but the
bird, whose plumage blended perfectly with the
sand and rocks, appeared to vanish as it dropped to the
hillside.
Oblivious of all else, the boys crept, crawled and stalked the elusive perdiz, until at last Pancho brought it
down with a lucky shot.
"Here 'tis!" cried
Bob, dashing forward and holding it up in triumph. "Now we'll have a good
dinner."
"And here's the end of the
valley," exclaimed Pancho. "And not a sign of a house or a human
being."
It was true. The valley
narrowed into a mere rift in the
mountains with almost perpendicular walls.
"How are we going to get
out of here?" queried Bob.
For some
time they examined the rocks, searching for a way up, but in vain. Then
Bob discovered some ancient,
crumbling masonry, and the two
examined it with intense interest.
"It looks like a regular
flight of steps leading out of here," declared Bob.
"No—I don't think
so," said Pancho. "It curves the
wrong way. Say! I know what it is—look, you can see it sticking to the rocks up there—it's
part of an old bridge or viaduct that has fallen to pieces. There must have
been a road up there, crossing this
ravine."
"Maybe it's the old Inca road that Mr. Griswold told
about!" cried Bob. "If so, we can follow it to some place. And I'll bet we can climb up here."
Carefully, for a slip meant a
nasty fall and possibly broken bones, the
two began clambering up the steep
side of the little canyon, aided by the bits of masonry still adhering to the cliff. It was a hard climb, but at last it was
accomplished and they stood safely on the
summit above the canyon. Then, for the first time, they
remembered about water and food.
"Whew!" ejaculated
Bob. "We forgot to get water and the
bottles are empty!"
"We are a couple of boobs,"
declared Pancho. "Well, we've simply got to climb down again."
"We might explore around
a bit before trying to go down," said Bob hopefully. "Say, look here!
We're on a road!"
CHAPTER III - THE OLD INCA ROAD
UNQUESTIONABLY, a shelf of
rock on the mountain side had been
cut by hand. It was too even and level for a natural formation, and the remains of a stone pavement were visible amid the rocks and sand that had slid down the mountain through long centuries.
"It's a road all
right," agreed Pancho. "Maybe the
old Inca road. See, there's more of
it across the canyon. It must have
crossed over by a bridge once. I wonder where it leads."
"That's what we'll find
out," said Bob positively. "We'll just hike along till we get somewhere."
Luck this time was with them. A few hundred yards beyond the ravine a stream trickled down the mountain, and the
two drank all they could hold and
filled the bottles. Then they walked steadily on, gradually ascending, until
by the time they
began to think of preparing to pass another
night in the open they were thousands of feet above the desert where their
car had been wrecked. On every side was a wilderness of peaks, ridges and
purple canyons. In the distance,
snow clad peaks gleamed against the
sky.
"We're on top of the world!" cried Bob as they
gazed about.
The boys decided to spend the night where they
were, and as they searched for dry
agave stalks and twigs for fuel they
discovered the half ruined walls of
a stone building.
"Someone
lived here once," declared Pancho. "Let's clean it out and camp
inside; it's a lot better than staying out in the
open."
Very soon a fire was blazing
in the ruins, and the perdiz was broiling over a bed of coals.
Outside, the chill mountain wind
whistled, but the boys were comfortable and warm. They laughed and chatted as they picked the
bones of the big partridge,
apparently as light-hearted and free from
worry as if they had been on a
week-end camping trip instead of lost among the
Andes.
The fact that they had come
upon the old road, that they were enjoying the
shelter of what had once been a building, convinced both that they would soon reach a settlement. That the road had not been in use since the mail-clad soldiers of Pizarro traversed it more
than four centuries before, that the
stone walls that sheltered them from the
biting wind were the remains of an
Incan tambo or rest-house and had not been occupied since the days of Atahualpa, never occurred to them. Unaware of these
facts, never dreaming that every mile they
traveled along the ancient highway
was taking them farther from
La Raya, Palitos and all other
outposts of civilization, the boys
slept soundly, to awaken shivering in the
chill morning air and with ravenous appetites.
"I wish we'd saved some of that bird for breakfast!" lamented Bob,
as he crouched over the smouldering
ashes of the fire.
"You're always
wishing," Pancho reminded him. "I could wish a lot better than that.
I could wish we had a heaping dish of hot buckwheat cakes and maple syrup and
fried sausages or—"
"Oh, shut up!"
cried Bob. "I wish we had some
of that coca that the Indians chew
to keep from being hungry."
"No use wishing for
anything," said Pancho philosophically. "Come
on, let's be on our way. Maybe we'll find something
to shoot, even if it's only a buzzard!"
HALF an hour after leaving the ruined tambo they
came in sight of a gravelly slope, and instantly dodged back. Less than a
hundred yards distant they had seen
several animals grazing.
"Deer!" whispered
Pancho, cocking his rifle and cautiously wriggling forward.
As his shot rang out he
sprang to his feet. "Got him!" he cried. "Golly, Bob! Look at
those fellows go!"
"Whee! I've never seen
anything step on it so fast!" exclaimed Bob, as the
frightened creatures vanished in the
distance.
"Well, we got one and
now we can have breakfast," Pancho reminded him.
"It's not a deer,"
Bob said as they approached the dead animal.
"Looks more like
llama," said Pancho.
"I know what it is! We
saw one in the zoo at Lima. It's a vicuna!"
"Guess you're right.
Anyhow, I suppose he's edible so let's find a place where we can build a fire
and eat."
"We can't cook him whole,"
Bob observed. "We've got to skin him and dress him and wait till he's
cold, you know."
"Seems to me it would be
a lot easier and quicker to cut off his legs and leave the
rest," declared Pancho. "We couldn't carry the
whole thing along with us anyway."
Even to cut off the vicuna's hind quarters with only their pocket knives was no easy job, and the boys were tired, bloody and heartily sick of their amateur butchering before it was finally accomplished. Each carrying a haunch of the vicuna, they
left the carcass to the buzzards and made their
way to a little stream where they
washed the blood from their
hands and the meat. Soon two steaks
were sizzling over a fire. Blackened, smoky, half-cooked as it was, the meat tasted delicious. As they
were eating, they made a surprising
discovery. They had built their fire
against a big grayish-green object that Bob had thought was a moss-covered
rock. Now as he gnawed at a slice of the
meat and glanced at the dying fire,
his jaws stopped working and he stared incredulously. The supposed rock was
burning!
"Look! Look there!" he cried, seizing his companion's arm. "That rock's on fire!"
Pancho exclaimed in
amazement. He picked up a heavy stone and threw it at the
glowing mass. A shower of sparks flew up, there
was a dull thud, and a piece of the
burning object broke off.
"It's not a stone,"
he declared. "It's some sort of
wood. Say, Bob, we're in luck! I've seen lots like it and now we know they'll burn, we won't have any more trouble over
fuel."
"Say, that's a lucky
break," declared Bob. "Let's build a big fire and roast this meat
now. Then it won't spoil and we can eat it any time."
At once the boys began to gather
a great pile of the strange woody
masses, which were really yaretta plants, the
customary fuel of the denizens of the
higher Andes. Then, after roasting the vicuna, they
started along the road. Back and
forth around the mountain sides,
along narrow ridges, zigzagging up the
precipitous slopes, winding along the
edges of mile-deep canyons, the
ancient road led, until the boys
were hopelessly confused.
Seemingly near at hand, an
immense snowcapped peak thrust its dazzling summit far above the surrounding mountains.
"I'll bet we're not far
from La Raya," declared Bob.
"Dad said the camp was on a
mountain within sight of a glacier, and that's the
only mountain with a glacier we've seen. My guess is that the mine's right on the
other side of it, so all we have to
do is to walk half-way around it."
"Sounds easy,"
Pancho replied, "but there may
be canyons and all sorts of obstacles in the
way. Anyhow, it's miles to that mountain, and a lot more miles around it.
"
"You don't seem very
worried over it," commented
Bob, "and somehow I can't get
terribly scared myself. But I am troubled about Dad. He must be worrying, and
wondering what's happened."
"We were fools to have
left the car," said Pancho.
"If we'd only stayed there they'd have found us. It's too late now. Come on, the
sooner we get started the sooner
we'll get somewhere."
PRESENTLY, they realized that they
were no longer climbing upward. Glancing back, Bob saw that they had already descended several hundred feet.
"We're going down
hill!" he cried, "Probably this old road leads into some valley where there
are people."
"We're going down, all
right," agreed Pancho, "but likely as not we'll be climbing again in
ten minutes. The fellows that built this road just went wherever they felt like it. You're right, though, Bob!
There's a valley down there and
green stuff!"
Far below them opened a deep valley richly green.
Feeling sure they were nearing inhabited country, the boys hurried forward. Sliding and slipping,
barking knees and shins, yelping with pain as they
bumped into clumps of cacti, they at
last reached the bottom of the
slope in a cloud of dust and a small avalanche of dislodged gravel and stones.
"Well here we are, but
where are we?" remarked Pancho.
"How should I
know?" grinned Bob. "There are trees down farther,
and water. Let's have a bath and wash some
of this mountain off of us."
Refreshed by their bath in the
cold water, they started down the valley.
"There's one thing
sure," announced Pancho presently. "If we can follow this stream it's
bound to lead to a river, and as people nearly always live near rivers we're
certain to find someone in time. And
if there's any game anywhere it will
be where there are water and trees.
"The vicuna
wasn't," Bob reminded him.
"No, but we might hunt
for a month and not see any more of them,"
declared Pancho. "I'll—Gosh, Bob! What was that!"
They halted in their tracks, listening intently. From somewhere
ahead sounded a piercing scream followed by snarling growls, groans and the crashing of brush!
(To be continued)
For the book version, and complete story see:
http://stillwoods.blogspot.ca/2008/01/incas-treasure-house.html
or link to Part 2 from Open Road for Boys.
or link to Part 2 from Open Road for Boys.
