EARLYthe next morning the youths were up getting ready for the long journey into the unknown. They had all their possessions packed when Dr. Rander came with mules and provisions.
He was introduced by Bob and Joe to the other members of the expedition, who, particularly Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis, recognized him as a capable explorer.
The youths made arrangements for Karl Sutman to meet them in a town called Pasaje, at the end of a sufficient time. The aviator was to have his monoplane ready to take the youths to the locality occupied by other divisions of the expedition.
“Now do be careful and don’t take any chances,” warned Mr. Holton, after additional boxes of food had been strapped on the backs of other mules. “Remember, slow traveling with safety is far better than rapid going with danger.”
“We’ll be all right,” Joe assured him, as the mules were being placed in line. “And Karl will fly us to your locality in due time. Don’t forget that you are to be careful too.”
With fond farewells, Bob and Joe and the old man drove the mules toward the rim of mountains that skirted the eastern horizon. They rounded a high hill and lost sight of their relatives and friends.
For some time the youths were silent with their thoughts. Who knew whether they would ever see those dear ones again? Even at best, there were untold hardships and dangers in the mountains that lay before them. Would they be able to meet any crisis?
It was some time before the boys resumed their natural peace of mind. But when they did, they were eager to take in all the sights of this wonderland.
There was a wide trail that led eastward from Cuzco. Over this the pack train went at a slow but steady gait that promised to eat up the miles sooner than it might be thought possible.
“Wonder if we’ll see any big game?” remarked Bob, as he and Joe walked near the rear of the pack train. “I’d like especially to bag one of those white condors Dad was talking about. You think there are any?”
“Possibly,” replied Joe. “But if there are, it isn’t likely that we’ll see one.”
The three adventurers followed a well-beaten path to the town of Puquiura, which they found nothing more than a group of native mud huts.
“Not much life here,” observed Joe, as the caravan of pack animals passed on through the village.
“I suppose this is typical of all the towns in these mountains,” came from Bob. “Just a bunch of dirty mud dwellings.”
Led by Dr. Rander, the Americans wound around a narrow trail that reached steadily upward. They were making fairly good time, and if nothing prevented, they expected to arrive at a much larger town before noon.
“I think I’ll try riding my mule,” announced Bob, who, along with his friends, had been walking beside the mounts.
“Better watch out,” cautioned Joe. “Those little animals are treacherous sometimes.”
Bob called to Dr. Rander to wait for him. Then, pulling his mount out of the line, he placed his foot in the stirrup and threw his leg across the sturdy little mule’s back.
But just then something happened. The animal wheeled about, and, throwing its hind feet high in the air, it leaped forward with a snort of resentment.
“Help!” cried the amused and yet worried Bob.
“What do you want me to do?” inquired Joe, taking in the scene with interest.
“Grab hold of his tail! Do anything!” Despite his serious predicament, Bob could not help laughing, although he was angered.
“Get hold of his tail, huh? Not much.” Joe intended to derive as much amusement as possible from his friend’s plight.
All joking was cast aside a moment later when, at an unexpected moment, the mule gave a quick turn to the left and threw Bob to the ground. The youth caught the fall with his arm, and so escaped injury, but his anger was as strong as ever.
“I’ll fix you, you——”
Bob did not finish the words, for at that moment the mule leaped forward and galloped off at a rapid pace.
“After him!” Bob cried, dashing ahead as fast as his legs would carry him.
A more amusing sight could hardly be found. Joe’s laughter mingled with the sound of rapidly moving hoofs, and even old Dr. Rander joined in the merriment.
“Think he’ll catch him?” queried Joe, as pursuer and pursued vanished behind a heavy cloud of dust.
“I believe so,” the old man returned, straininghis eyes to make out the figures ahead. “The mule will soon tire of such fast running. He isn’t used to it.”
Dr. Rander was right. Five minutes later Bob appeared from around a hill leading the now calm animal. There was a smile of triumph on the youth’s face as he faced his friends.
“Now that everything has worked out all right, suppose we forget that anything happened,” grinned Bob, as he placed the mule back in the line.
“You going to try riding him again?” asked Joe with a laugh.
“Not on your life. I value my hide too much for that.”
They set forward, heading for the distant high peaks, which were always visible.
An hour of steady climbing brought them to a high plateau, which was bordered by mountains. From this elevation the explorers could command a good view of Cuzco, which seemed but a miniature city in the distance.
“I don’t feel so well,” groaned Bob, whose face was becoming pale. “I can’t get my breath without wheezing. And my stomach seems out of order.”
Dr. Rander happened to be near when Bob complained, and lost no time in attending to the youth.
“You probably havesoroche, or mountain sickness,” he said, noting that Bob’s pulse was unusually rapid. “Do you think you can keep on to the next town?”
“Sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to lie down somewhere.” The stricken Bob was visibly becoming worse with every minute.
“Wonder if I’ll have another touch of mountain sickness?” mused Joe, as his friend stretched out on a blanket that Dr. Rander had spread on the hard ground.
There was nothing to do but wait for the youth to recover. The old man explained that often patients remained ill for several days, and that there was a possibility of Bob’s sickness being lengthy.
In view of this, they thought it best to make camp and prepare to stay as long as necessary. There was no use making arrangements to continue the journey until Bob’s condition improved.
“Here, take this pill.” Dr. Rander held a little white tablet and a cup of water. “It will make you well sooner than anything else.”
But it was not soon enough for Bob. All the remainder of that day he moaned on with a splitting headache and terrible nausea. It was worse, he said, than sea sickness, of which he had experienced a touch on his first ocean voyage.
The next morning, although still weak, Bob was greatly improved. The ill effects had gone, and once more he had an ambition again to get to the trail.
But Dr. Rander protested.
“You are not strong enough yet,” he said. “We’ll wait till noon and see if you’re improved sufficiently by that time.”
By the time the sun was directly overhead, Bob was his old natural self again. He was overly anxious to make up for lost time.
Lunch over, the explorers again took to the trail, driving the staunch little mules along at a rapid pace.
“Now lead me to those secrets of the Andes!” said Bob, as Cuzco faded from view.
At length the adventurers came to another town, which Dr. Rander called Cameras. They would much rather have encircled the settlement, but as there was no other trail, they passed on through.
“Let’s leave the mules here near the edge of town,” suggested Joe. “I’d like to go back to that little store that we just passed. Might be able to get something we can use cheap.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Bob.
Dr. Rander announced that he would stay with the mules and catch a short rest. He cautioned the boys not to stay too long.
The store that Joe referred to was nothing more than an adobe hut filled with curios of the Andes. They purchased a few articles as souvenirs and started back to the edge of town, where the old man was waiting.
Suddenly there came the sound of rough voices, and a moment later a dozen shots rent the air.
“WHAT’Sgoing on?” cried Joe Lewis, as a chorus of voices mingled with the sound of rifle shots.
“Some trouble somewhere,” returned Bob. “Wonder——”
He did not finish, for at that instant there came another shot, and a bullet whizzed by his ear.
The youths lost no time in hiding behind a small mud hut, although they knew a bullet could probably penetrate it. But at least it offered temporary shelter, and that was what they wanted.
“Look!” cried Bob, gazing cautiously around the corner of the hut. “There are soldiers in uniform. What do you suppose they’re doing?”
They were soon to see.
The troops, which numbered about thirty, were firing at something that the boys could not see from their places at the side of the hut.
“I’m going to take a chance and get out in the open where I can see something,” said Joe. “Comeon. If we’re careful and don’t get in the way of the shooting, we’ll be all right.”
Carefully the chums edged around the side of the dwelling and peeped out at the street. Then they drew back quickly, as a score of shots rang out.
What the youths saw was forty or fifty natives scattered out to escape the fire of the soldiers. Each held in readiness an old rifle, which he discharged at intervals.
“Must be a revolution,” observed Bob. “Perhaps those natives have offered violence to the governor of the town, and the troops have been called to settle the matter.”
Bob could not have come closer to the facts.
“The soldiers are winning,” said Joe. “They’re better trained and have more efficient guns.”
Although the troops appeared to gain the upper hand, the fighting continued with as much fury as before.
A sudden fusillade of bullets coming dangerously near Bob and Joe prompted the boys to make a dash toward the end of the town, where the mules and Dr. Rander were probably waiting.
“Let’s get out of here,” suggested Joe. “We’ll get hit if we don’t.”
“All right. Wonder if Dr. Rander is still where we left him?”
The chums were greatly surprised when, a few minutes later, they saw that the old man was not in sight. But the mules were tethered to a stout post, and this gave the boys hope.
“Chances are, he’s gone to see what the shooting’s about,” Bob said. “Wish he’d come back. He’s likely to get killed if he stays around there close.”
The youths were beginning to worry when Dr. Rander appeared up the road, glancing occasionally over his shoulder.
“Quite a commotion, wasn’t it?” he said when he had come nearer. “But the soldiers drove them away.”
“What was it, a revolution?” inquired Joe.
“Yes. An Indian told me that the people in the town were turning against their prefect. Didn’t like his rule, and wanted a change. But the soldiers soon fixed them.”
“Is the fighting over?” Bob had not heard a rifle shot for several minutes.
“Yes. The soldiers forced the citizens to throw away their weapons.”
“And that reminds me,” laughed Joe. “We’d better be getting our rifles out, because we may see some game before long. I’d like to get a shot at a condor.”
“Condors live only in high mountains,” explainedDr. Rander. “We won’t see any for many days, if at all.”
But although the adventurers did not catch a glimpse of these huge birds, they saw occasional small animals, such as rabbits and chinchillas. Once Joe took a shot at one of the latter creatures, but his aim was not steady and he missed.
At noon that day they came to a small adobe hut, from which hung a green wreath.
“What does that stand for?” asked Bob innocently. “Is somebody dead?”
For the second time since the youths had known him, old Dr. Rander burst out in laughter.
“Hardly,” he said finally. “A green wreath means that bread is for sale.”
Joe almost choked with laughter.
“That’s a good one on you,” he said to his chum. “It’s a wonder you didn’t go and gather flowers and offer them to the bereaved family.”
Bob grinned.
“You’d probably have asked where the corpse was,” he said. “Or maybe——”
“We can stop here for a meal,” Dr. Rander interrupted. “It is best to save our provisions as best we can, because later on we won’t be able to find any native huts.”
Inside the mud building, the three were waited upon by a huge Indian woman, whose hard faceinspired no trust from the explorers. But they were glad when she spread before them a bountiful meal of potatoes, roast mutton, and a drink which the youths guessed was intoxicating.
“None of that brown liquid for me,” came from Bob, looking with suspicion at the huge clay cup that contained the beverage.
“Me either,” echoed Joe. “Too big of a risk.”
The old man, however, drank freely of the beverage and seemed pleased with its flavor. Whether he knew of its ingredients the chums did not know.
As soon as the meal was over, the three again took up the journey, keeping a sharp lookout for anything that might prove of interest.
They found something before they had gone another mile.
Coming up the trail at a slow, leisurely gait was a large donkey, on the back of which rode an Indian man, woman, and two half-grown children. But something else amused the chums more. In pouches secured to the mule’s sides were two other Indian children, their faces sober as they looked upon the whites.
“Where’s a movie camera?” demanded Bob quickly. “I’m going to take a chance with them. They can’t do anything to us.”
“Here.” Joe had removed a camera from hispocket and was turning the crank and exposing several yards of film. “This ought to be interesting on the screen,” he said.
Much to the youths’ surprise, the Indians did not protest at having their pictures taken. They merely stared at the whites in wonder.
“Maybe they haven’t seen a camera before, and don’t know what it’s all about,” was the opinion expressed by Joe.
A little later they came to a flat field, which was being cultivated by an Indian with a team of oxen and a crude wooden plow. It was an interesting sight. The slow animals drew the improvised instrument steadily through the hard soil, while the sober Indian watched closely.
“More movies,” sang Bob, bringing out his camera. “Every little bit counts.”
Again they were surprised to see that this Indian displayed no indignation at the whites taking pictures. Perhaps after all Joe was right and the Indians in this section were not familiar with a camera.
The adventurers had been driving their pack animals ahead all afternoon when suddenly they rounded a bend and came to a narrow river.
“Look!” cried Joe quickly, pointing ahead. “What’s that on the bank? Why, it’s bones!”
Dr. Rander had heard.
“Llama remains,” he explained. “Looks like llamas have picked this spot to die on.”
Scattered thickly over the river bank were scores of white bones, which undoubtedly were those of llamas.
“I knew elephants occasionally have a cemetery, but that any other animals do I had not the slightest idea,” said Joe.
More movies were taken, and then they set about to devise a means to cross the river.
“We’ll have to ford it,” announced Dr. Rander, who had been waiting for the chums to walk on up to the head. “I don’t think it is so deep as to cause us trouble.”
Although the weather was warm, Bob and Joe chose to put on their hip boots, to escape the chill that might otherwise result.
They found that Dr. Rander was right. The river was barely three feet deep and was comparatively calm. So they had little difficulty in driving the mules across.
From the opposite bank two trails branched off up the mountainside. The one that was most difficult to follow, Dr. Rander chose.
“From here our going will be more arduous,” he told the young men. “The mountains are steeper, and more obstacles will stand in our way.”
Bob had followed the pack train to a height where he could command a good view of the surrounding country when suddenly he cried out in pain.
“My foot!” he groaned, when the others rushed to his side. “Something bit it.”
“What was it? A snake?” Joe demanded anxiously.
“Let me have a look at it,” the old man said, tying the foremost mule to a gnarled tree.
When Bob removed his legging and sock, he found a large red scratch, and the flesh about it was already badly swollen. It pained severely and throbbed so violently that the boy could hardly hold his foot still.
“Not a snake,” Dr. Rander told him. “Rather a poisonous insect—they are common in the Andes.”
The old explorer bathed the foot in water from a canteen and treated it with antiseptics, wrapping it up firmly.
“Now until that heals some you’ll have to ride your mount,” Dr. Rander said. “Don’t take no from him for an answer. Get on him and make him carry you forward.”
While Joe and the old man held the mule securely, Bob mounted and with drawn reins held the animal at a standstill.
“Hurrah!” yelled Joe. “You’ve made him give in.”
“Not altogether,” Bob said. “But I think I can manage to stay on.”
At the end of two days of riding the mule, Bob was convinced that the animal was not really as balky as he had at first supposed. Over high hills and rocky paths he carried his rider, until at last Bob’s foot became well enough for him to walk.
“I’ll sort of hate to do it,” laughed the youth, when they were camped under a high overhanging rock.
“I know,” said Dr. Rander. “But there isn’t much choice in the matter. After all, our mounts are not to be ridden except in such an emergency as this. They tire too easily when on the rocky trails, and it isn’t best to put much of a load on them.”
On, on the little party plunged, into the heart of the mountainous region. On every hand they saw something to hold their interest.
They had been on the trail about four days when they saw something that was indeed unusual.
Moving leisurely up the narrow path were eight or ten large Indians carrying an old organ. Ropes were tied tightly around the instrument, and to these the Indians held with a death grip.
Where they were taking the organ, the whites could only guess. Perhaps it belonged to a plantation owner, who wanted a musical instrument in his house.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, one of the Indians cried out in fright, and then there came other cries.
“The organ’s slipping!” shouted Joe. “It’s going over the cliff! And oh!”—he gasped for breath—“it’s taking one of the Indians with it!”
THEsight that the explorers beheld was unpleasant to the extreme. Scarcely had Joe uttered the cry of horror when the organ suddenly fell, pushing one of the natives over the cliff.
The man screamed in terror and then disappeared into the depths below. It was thousands of feet to the bottom of the abyss, and instant death was almost certain.
Bob drew back from the brink with a shudder. Joe and Dr. Rander gave cries of repugnance. The other Indians screamed hoarsely, uttering something that only Dr. Rander understood.
The natives ran wildly down the trail, scowling and making gestures.
“Terrible!” muttered the old explorer, when they had disappeared around a turn.
“What did they say?” inquired Joe, who had been struck by the Indians’ attitude of anger.
“They intend to kill the man who wanted theorgan,” Dr. Rander told him. “They blame the Indian’s death on him.”
“Well, of all things!” exclaimed Joe indignantly. “Isn’t there anything we can do about it?”
The old man shook his head.
“When they set their minds on anything there’s no use trying to change them,” he said hopelessly.
“We might warn the man whom they intend to kill,” suggested Bob Holton.
“Don’t know who it is,” Dr. Rander returned. “And the Indians wouldn’t tell us.”
Bob and Joe all during that day felt that something could have been done to prevent the natives from killing the plantation owner, or whoever it was that was getting the organ. They were not a little vexed at Dr. Rander for treating the matter so lightly.
“But then,” said Bob hopefully, “maybe the Indians didn’t get away with it.”
Ten minutes later the youths forgot about the incident. They had been struggling over an exceedingly rough stretch when they suddenly came to another river, much wider than the one they had seen several days previously.
“Have to ford it, I guess,” said Joe Lewis. “No other way across.”
Again the boys put on their hip boots, and again they plunged into the water, driving the mules beforethem. The going here was difficult, as the current was rather strong, and the mules had to be watched more closely.
They were about halfway across when the old explorer cried out in fright.
“Help!” His voice was wild with terror.
“What is it?” demanded Joe, who was nearest him.
Then the youth saw. Dr. Rander was rapidly sinking into a hole. Already the water had reached his chest, and he was going down rapidly.
Joe at once put thought into action. He dashed over to one of the mules, opened a bag, and began searching about for a rope.
Frantic with the delay, the youth worked his hand like a machine, feeling in every corner of the bag. What if he could not find the rope?
But fortune was with him. In another bag on the opposite side of the mule he found the rope. Luckily it was not tangled.
Joe was almost afraid to turn for fear Dr. Rander would be gone. His heart gave a leap as he saw that the explorer’s head was still above the water.
“Here, get hold of this,” Joe called, throwing the rope over to the old man. “Now come on, Bob. Let’s pull.”
This last was unnecessary, as Bob was already on the spot waiting to catch hold of the rope.
“Steady, now!”
Slowly the youths pulled their friend out of the heavy mud, which oozed ominously as it released its victim. Once it seemed as if the old man would have to release his hold, but he managed to hang on desperately.
At last, when he was completely out of the mud, he moved over to his young companions and gazed at them gratefully.
“You did wonderful,” he commended. “Many people would have acted more slowly—and I would have gone under.”
“Wonder if there are any more treacherous places like that?” Bob scanned the chocolate water closely, as if by instinct to detect any dangerous spots.
“We’ll have to risk it,” Joe said. “It might be well to spread apart, so if anyone gets caught, the others can come to his rescue.”
“Good suggestion,” praised Bob. “I’ll get away over to this side.”
But if there were any more mud holes the explorers failed to come across them, and finally reached the other side safely, driving the mules before them.
On the bank Dr. Rander took off his mud-soaked clothes and replaced them with dry ones. Then, after a short rest, they resumed the journey.
“Who’s coming?” Joe strained his ears to make out the source of footsteps.
Then, rounding a growth of stunted trees, appeared a long caravan of small llamas, which were heavily loaded with what was probably firewood. Beside the curious animals walked two Indians, wearing the common “pancake” hats.
Luckily there was enough room for both cavalcades to pass freely, and they experienced no difficulty.
The natives stopped for a few minutes and conversed with Dr. Rander, who spoke Quichua freely. Then they started down the trail, driving the llamas at a rapid pace.
“Funny animals,” observed Bob when they had gone. “I was afraid all the time one or two would come at me and spit in my face, like the one back at Cuzco.”
Joe laughed.
“As long as you don’t bother them, I guess they’re all right,” he said. “But from what I’ve heard, they don’t like to be played with.”
“Don’t I know it!” grinned the other youth.
Before long they saw the origin of the llama caravan. Set back from the path was a large mudhut, about which played several Indian children. Another man and a woman came out to meet the adventurers.
Again Dr. Rander stopped to converse in the Quichua tongue. But not for long. He was anxious to lose no time in getting to the secrets. Even at best it would require many, many days.
“Hope we don’t have any trouble from now on,” said Joe, as he followed the old man up a steep slope. “But I suppose we will.”
Bob nodded.
“Exploring has its difficulties,” he said. “It will be funny if we don’t have any more things happen to delay us.”
That evening they camped in a little valley between two high peaks. All were glad to rest their tired limbs after such an arduous day over rocky paths.
At a small gurgling spring but a short distance away they drank freely and filled their canteens to capacity. Then, refreshed and ready to prepare the meal, they were about to head for the tent when Dr. Rander noticed something coming at them. He turned about quickly, his face white with fear.
The youths saw the danger and ran toward the mules as fast as they could.
Advancing toward them was a heavy swarm of green jungle flies, whose bite all knew to bepoisonous as well as annoying. If the flies attacked the explorers, the result would be marks and red, swollen scratches that would disappear only after several weeks of patient treating.
“The mosquito nets—quick!” cried Dr. Rander, opening a pack and fumbling about nervously. “We must have them! That swarm of flies is so large that there won’t be anything left of us!”
But the adventurers were not quick enough. Before they could get out the nets the buzzing flies were upon them, biting their faces and arms severely. The little insects even penetrated the heavy clothing in a determined effort to satisfy their thirst for blood.
“This is awful!” groaned Bob, working feverishly to find a net.
Scarcely would they put a hand into the packs when they would have to remove it and slap away the flies, the marks of which already pained severely.
At last Joe found the pack that contained the nets, and lost no time in distributing the latter among his friends and himself.
“Now let them come,” challenged Bob, facing the swarm angrily. “I guess it won’t do ’em any good now.”
But even with the protection afforded by the closely woven nets, the menacing little creatures bit the explorers’ arms and legs most annoyingly.
Relief did not come until dark. The blackness of the night served in some manner to cause the flies to leave, although a small few remained threateningly.
“Oh!” muttered Bob, trying in vain to bend his wrist. “They sure fixed us up plenty good.Our——My gosh! Joe, look at yourself in a mirror. And you, too, Dr. Rander.”
The three were indeed a sorry-looking sight. Their faces were so swollen that their eyes were hardly visible, and their hands and arms were no better off.
“And how it hurts!” Joe was almost frantic with the stinging pain. “It’s a good thing the sun went down when it did, or there would have been nothing left of us,” he added.
All were too bruised and tired to prepare a meal, but necessity forced them to do so. But not until Dr. Rander produced a large tube of a special salve, which he applied freely to the swollen parts.
“This will relieve the pain,” he told the youths. “In the morning we’ll be a little better, but it won’t be for a week that the sores will disappear completely.”
Dawn found the adventurers scarcely aware that they had been bitten, although the scars were still there to tell the story.
“Let’s forget all about that unpleasant encounter,” suggested Joe optimistically. “Suppose we take everything that happens purely as an adventure.”
“Now you’re talking!” Bob patted his chum on the back. “We came here for adventure, and we mustn’t kick when we get it.”
Along toward noon Bob was lucky in bringing down a wild duck, which flew from a jungle not far away. Roasted over a fire, it proved good eating, despite the fact that it was tough.
Dinner—for that was what the youths called the noon meal when they were on exploration trips—over, they took it easy in the shade of a group of stunted trees, which grew almost straight out from the mountainside.
“Trail’s pretty bad,” observed Joe, his eyes on what could be seen of the narrow path as it circled up the peak. “But I suppose it’s nothing to what we’ll find it later on.”
Which proved fairly accurate, as they later observed. At times the trail was so rough and rocky that it was with greatest difficulty that the mules were able to clamber up the steep elevations. On one occasion it was necessary for the mules to jump up a three-foot rock, which obstructed the trail dangerously near a five-hundred-foot drop.
“Steady, now,” cautioned the old man, helpingthe youths unload the mules. “If we make a misstep, it will prove our finish.”
None of the explorers did, fortunately. But one of the mules was not as lucky. It was the last animal in the line and had been carrying only trifles that were not of necessity to the explorers.
The other mules had safely jumped to the top of the rock and were grazing on the thin patches of grass that grew on the mountainside.
“Hurry, now,” came from Joe. “Let’s get this last fellow up.”
Scarcely had the words left his mouth when the unfortunate animal lost its footing and, balancing for a moment at the edge of the canyon, plunged helplessly over the brink.
“Gone!” Dr. Rander could hardly believe the fact.
Bob and Joe had watched the accident tensely, unable to render any assistance to the terrified mule. At last they climbed up on the rock with a resolution to take matters as they were.
“Talk about adventure,” said Bob with a grim smile. “I guess we’re getting plenty of it.”
“Just wait,” murmured Joe meaningly. “This won’t be anything to what’s coming, or else I’ll miss my guess.”
“I sincerely hope nothing else will happen today,” Dr. Rander said. “I wish to get beyond this short range of mountains before nightfall.”
They later saw that traveling was so slow that it would be impossible to do this. But they were well on the other side of the peaks when darkness overtook them.
“Now to make camp,” sang Bob, tethering the foremost mule to a stout crag.
“Wait,” called Joe, who was just out of sight around a turn.
“What for?”
“Because—I’ve found something. Come here.”
Bob and Dr. Rander went around the bend, where Joe was waiting for them.
“It’s a cave,” explained the youth. “A big cave. Let’s see what’s in it.”
“Better be careful,” was the old man’s warning. “It isn’t unlikely that some snake has its lair here.”
They went in cautiously, Joe holding his flashlight and Bob his revolver. How far the opening extended they had not the slightest idea, for the light beam did not reach the other end.
Suddenly Joe shrank back, as his light rested on something not thirty feet ahead.
“Bats!” he cried. “Vampire bats! And they’re coming toward us!”
TURNINGon the moment, the three ran toward the entrance of the cavern, never looking behind for fear of seeing the ugly creatures dangerously near.
“They’re coming!” panted Bob, as he heard the flapping that told that the bats were flying nearer. “And I do hope we can get out in time!”
They reached the entrance of the cave and dashed out, but not before one of the creatures had inflicted an ugly bite on Dr. Rander’s leg.
Once out of the dark opening, the adventurers felt fairly safe, even though several bats followed them.
“We can at least fight them off out here,” said Joe. “And that was something we couldn’t have done in the cave.”
The several bats fluttered about ominously, keeping close to the ground. Their faces were of peculiar shape, closely resembling that of a bulldog.What interested Bob and Joe was that the creatures could run very rapidly over the ground.
“Usually bats can’t make much speed except in the air,” remarked Bob, remembering something his father had told him. “Their legs aren’t ordinarily made for walking.”
“It’s different with these vampires, though,” came from Joe.
Dr. Rander thought it best to proceed farther before making camp, in order to protect the pack animals from the bats. He well knew that it is not uncommon for mules and llamas in this region to be attacked by bats. People, however, are usually safe from their bites.
That night the mules were molested only slightly by a few of the bats that followed the expedition. But aside from a few swollen places, they were none the worse for their experience.
“It’s a wonder one of us hasn’t a place or two to show that the bats were around,” remarked Joe, after, the morning meal.
“We have.” Bob glanced at the old explorer. “At least Dr. Rander has.”
That person had been treating the wound in his leg and watching it closely to see that infection did not set in. The right kind of care, he said, would cause the sore to heal quickly.
Again up the difficult trail the explorers went,after having broken camp and attended to the mules.
“Wouldn’t be funny if we’d meet anything here,” said Bob with a shudder. “The path is so narrow that it’s all we can do to get by ourselves.”
“No,” Bob agreed. “And there’s no way of telling——”
He did not finish the sentence, for at that moment there came a commotion from around a turn. To the travelers, it sounded like rapidly moving hoofs.
The noise increased. Then the three shrank back as they saw advancing toward them a line of galloping vicugnas, which were small animals resembling llamas.
Joe groaned hopelessly.
“Either we or they will have to go off the cliff,” he said tensely. “There isn’t room for both of us.”
The animals came nearer at a rapid pace. Apparently they were greatly frightened from some cause or other. Whether something was chasing them the travelers did not know.
“We must save the mules!” cried Dr. Rander anxiously.
“I have an idea, if it will work,” said Bob.
The other looked at him hopefully. Well they knew that if the pack animals were to plunge over the edge of the peak, the three would be faced with the possibility of starvation.
There was not a moment to lose. Whatever they did must be done quickly.
Bob moved over to the head of the pack train. Joe and Dr. Rander remained near the middle of the line, intending to frighten the vicugnas and prevent the pack animals from becoming panic-stricken. If necessary, they would shoot the vicugnas to prevent them from coming around the trail. But unless forced they did not wish to do this for fear of scaring the mules.
In front of the foremost pack animal Bob stood with a thick rope, which he had formed into a lasso. When the first vicugna came near, the youth swung the loop out from the side of the mountain and made a perfect throw over the animal’s head.
Bob gave the rope a quick pull and then let go. The impact brought the vicugna to the ground with a thud. Its followers, trying in vain to check themselves, stumbled over their fallen leader, several of them falling over the cliff. The others remained on the trail with difficulty.
“Fine work!” praised Joe, walking around the mules to his friend. “If you hadn’t thought of that, I guess we’d have had to shoot them. I didn’t know you knew anything about a lasso.”
“I don’t. That is—very little. But I thought I’d try that and see if it would work. If it didn’t, I was going to shoot them. They had to be stopped some way.”
“What do you suppose made them come around the trail so fast?” asked Joe.
Dr. Rander expressed the belief that the vicugnas had been frightened by a puma or some other animal.
“Otherwise they would not have made that wild dash,” he said. “Whenever you see a stampede of animals, you may know that there is some reason for it.”
The explorers forced the remaining vicugnas to turn back and follow the trail in the direction from which they had come. When the last animal had disappeared around the bend, Dr. Rander urged the mules ahead, and they again took up the journey.
“I don’t suppose the puma or whatever it was will frighten those vicugnas back again, will it?” Joe was a bit worried as they labored around the rough trail, which was even narrower than before.
“We’ll hope not,” the old man said.
“If the puma’s there, maybe we can get a shot at it,” suggested Bob. “I’d like to bag one for Dad and the others.”
But if there was one of these huge cats in the vicinity, it did not make its presence known. Perhaps, as Joe mentioned, it had left for another locality.
So closely did the youths look about that theydid not notice the wall of rock that appeared suddenly before them. Only Dr. Rander’s voice served to rouse them.
“Here we come to the first secret,” he asserted, pointing to a small opening in the wall of rock.
“So soon?” asked Bob wonderingly. “Why, I thought——”
“It is a tunnel,” explained the old explorer. “One that was made by the Incas. As far as I know, I am the only person who is aware of its existence.”
At once the boys were aflame with interest.
“And—and we must pass through it?” Bob peered at the narrow opening, which seemed no different from many other crevices they had seen.
“Yes. There is no other way to reach the cave of gold. At least not from this direction.”
The adventurers got through the opening easily, but the mules experienced more difficulty. And they did not at all like the idea of plunging into a dark tunnel.
But finally they were forced through by Joe, who had gone back outside. Then, with the aid of flashlights, the party proceeded to thread their way in the narrow passage.
“How much of this is there?” asked Joe, when fully five minutes had passed.
“At least a mile more,” Dr. Rander returned. “It is very long.”
But if it were a mile, it seemed to the youths like several times that much, for in the damp, odorous tunnel the time passed very slowly.
“Will we ever reach the other side?” Joe was tiring.
At last the passageway became light, and then an opening loomed up and let in the fresh air of the outside.
“Hurrah!” Joe was delighted. “But—where are we?”
On all sides of the travelers were towering peaks more lofty than any they had yet seen. Some of the mountains were narrow and pointed, with snow at their summit; others were merely huge rounded mounds of rock. All were magnificent, inspiring thoughts of grandeur.
The youths and the old man were on a narrow shelf that was perhaps five thousand feet above what looked like a tiny winding ribbon of water. It passed in and out among the mountains, stretching far out of sight in the distance.
“That is the Apurimac River,” pointed out Dr. Rander, following the boys’ eyes. “It turns on northeast and finally comes near Mount Panta——”
“That’s where Dr. Rust and the other archæologists are,” interrupted Bob, and then added: “Wonder if they found any Inca ruins?”
“There are many that we know nothing about,” the old explorer said. “Peru and the Andes literally teem with fascinating ruins. Perhaps there are more treasures, too.”
Bob resolved to venture a bold question.
“How did you come to find this treasure cave?” he asked Dr. Rander. “If you don’t mind telling us.”
“Not at all. It might interest you to know that I first found that very tunnel that we just passed through.” Dr. Rander pointed to the entrance into the passageway, from which they had emerged. “I happened to be camped not far away from that crevice in the mountainside that we first saw. It seemed no different from other cracks, and at first I thought nothing of it. But when I lingered about awhile I saw that near the top the rocks were smoother than I usually found them. This made me wonder if the opening were natural or man-made. My curiosity got the better of me and prompted me to go through and see if I could find anything unusual. Then I discovered the tunnel.”
He paused, apparently finished.
“Then what? Is the cave near us now?” Joe was breathless with interest.
“The treasure, you mean? No. It is many miles from here. Look,”—he pointed around the mountainside—“see that winding trail? That is a secretknown only to us. It alone can take us to the place we’re after.”
Joe sighed submissively.
“The old Andes are too much for me,” he said. “I had no idea they were as large and vast as this.”
“You will see even more wonderful sights,” Dr. Rander told him. “And before we go many miles farther.”
Indeed the boys found much to hold their interest. The awe-inspiring cliffs, the stupendous rocky crags, the foamy river below, the breath-taking heights—all these held a certain fascination for the two youths. They found themselves absently bending their efforts too much on seeing the sights and not enough on making out the dangerous trail.
“Be careful here,” Dr. Rander warned, as Joe almost slipped and fell. “It surely would not do to roll down this steep slope.”
“That would about put an end to everything for me,” said Joe with a grim smile.
The trail curved on up the mountainside until it reached a high pointed crag, which had been visible for several miles. Then it gradually circled around until it reached the base of the mountain.
“What’s that noise?” demanded Bob Holton,stopping quickly to listen to a deep rumbling sound that increased with every moment.
Dr. Rander looked up. Then his eyes opened wide with terror.
“It’s an avalanche!” he cried hoarsely. “Tons of rocks are coming down at us!”
OVERtheir shoulders the youths glanced up the mountainside and to their horror saw that the old man was right.
Far up the slope was a great mass of stones and earth, rolling down in a heavy cloud of dust. Every second saw the accumulation nearer and larger. In but a brief time it would be upon the little group below.
“We must do something—without delay!” Dr. Rander’s voice was cool and resolute. “The mules—they must be pushed out of the way!”
Acting on the instant, Bob and Joe and the old man worked like madmen to drive the pack animals over to a flat shelf that was but a few hundred feet away. Even this did not offer absolute safety, for the mass of rocks and earth might change its course and plunge down on the shelf.
“We’ll have to take a chance,” Bob panted.“Most likely over here we’ll be out of the danger zone.”
The flat stretch offered the only place of refuge. If the avalanche should change its course, the adventurers and their pack animals would surely be crushed.
There was a moment of fearful waiting, a brief period when the hearts of all stood still, and the huge mass of rocks roared past and on down the mountain slope.
“Thank goodness!” breathed Dr. Rander. “A narrow escape if there ever was one.”
Their eyes followed the plunging stone heap until, with a dull thud, it struck the bottom of the abyss, far below.
“If that had struck us we’d have been smashed to pulp,” muttered Joe with a shudder.
“Think of something more pleasant,” smiled Bob. “The treasure, for instance.”
That afternoon the three were struggling along the narrow path when suddenly Bob caught sight of something up on a high shelf.
“Look,” he said, pointing up to the flat stretch. “Inca ruins as sure as I’m born.”
“You are right,” Dr. Rander assured him. “That building is an ancient temple, where the Incas worshiped the sun god.”
“Sounds interesting,” Joe said eagerly. “Why can’t we go up there and explore the place?”
“Can if you want to,” the old man replied. “I have been up, but I will go again with you. Wait until I tie the mules.”
It was a difficult climb to the shelf. All were gasping for breath when they finally reached the ruins.
Those ruins the youths found interesting. The building was partially intact, being constructed of huge stone blocks cemented together with mud. It was shaped like a pyramid, the sides sloping up to form a point at the top. The entire north end was in ruins, but the other sections looked as if they had been built but recently.
“Let’s go inside,” suggested Bob, looking at the dark opening that once no doubt was closed by a door.
The others agreed, and, led by Bob, entered the building. As the windows were large and there was no covering over them, the adventurers could easily see about.
They were in a large room, over which was an unusually high ceiling. Several stone implements were scattered about; what they were doing in a temple, the boys could not guess.
“Perhaps this was meant for a storehouse or some other kind of building,” thought Bob, but did not say so. He did not wish to conflict with Dr. Rander’s opinion.
But aside from these few stone objects, there was nothing in the building that was of particular interest. Whether the structure had been deserted by the Incas, or whether someone had robbed it of its former contents, the youths did not know. Surely, if Dr. Rander was right in his belief that he alone knew of this trail, no one had been here.
They explored the building eagerly in search of anything else that might have escaped their view before.
“Ouch!” cried Joe, slapping his leg. “What was that that bit me?”
“Oh, I should have told you,” began the old man with a smile. “There are fleas here.”
“What th——” Joe was perplexed. “Fleas? What do they live on? There isn’t anything in these ruins——”
“That is out of my knowledge,” Dr. Rander said. “I never have found anything yet that they might eat. Unless it would be other fleas.”
There was a general laugh.
“Whatever it is, it’s enough to keep them alive,” observed Bob, scratching his arm. “At least as long as we stay they’ll be able to secure a good living.”
“Suppose we get out and don’t stay any longer,” was the suggestion made by Joe Lewis. “There isn’t anything here——”
“What’s that?” cried Bob suddenly, interrupting his friend.
Bob had heard a peculiar noise that caused him to turn about.
Again it came, a hideous hiss that made them jump in alarm.
“Snake!” pronounced Dr. Rander, and an instant later a long slim body unwound itself and made slowly toward the three explorers.
“It’s poisonous, all right,” observed Bob, noting the peculiar shape of the reptile’s head.
“And we haven’t a gun!” moaned Joe ruefully. “What will we do?”
“You mean we haven’t a rifle, but we have a gun.” Bob produced his revolver, which he aimed carefully at the horrible staring eyes.
“I won’t dare miss!” he thought, and then pulled the trigger.
The report of the pistol mingled with a sickening swishing noise as the snake lashed about in its death struggle.
“You got him, all right.” Joe felt a refreshing feeling of relief creep over him.
Bob nodded.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said in a determined voice. “There’s no telling how many more of these creatures we may see if we don’t.”
“I should have brought the movie camera,” laughed Joe, as they descended the hill. “That would have made a peach of a picture.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” came from Dr. Rander. “Because the sight of those ruins might have inspired some scientists to come over this trail. And the secret treasure cave might be known to them—if they could open the hidden door.”
Dr. Rander, however, had not protested to the youths’ taking movies of the region they were passing through, even though there might be danger of someone from the United States coming in search of other ruins and treasure hideouts.
“I could not say anything against your doing that,” he had told them. “Especially since you were engaged by the motion-picture house.”
So they had exposed film whenever they thought it advisable and were well pleased with the results so far. All told, they had already cranked off more than a thousand feet of film, and fully expected to use that much more.
“These scenes ought to be interesting, too,” remarked Bob, untying the foremost mule. “I believe the Neuman Motion Picture Corporation will be well satisfied with them.”
“Let’s hope so,” Joe said. “The money we get from doing this is no small sum.”
The next day they plunged into a region that was wilder and more dangerous to penetrate than any they had been in before. The rugged Andes reached up on all sides of them, often formingnarrow valleys that were shut off from the rays of the sun.
“Sure is cold tonight,” remarked Joe with a shiver.
They were camped beside a small spring that was fed by an underground stream. Darkness had fallen, and with it had come the chill of the Andean night.
Joe was resting peacefully beside the warm blaze of the campfire when suddenly he caught sight of two small fiery lights coming slowly at him.