Jack stared into the countenance of a clean shaven man who might have been thirty-five years of age. The resemblance to photographs of Burton Monahan was marked.
“You are Albert Monahan’s missing brother!” he accused.
Ino made no attempt to replace the mask. He smiled. “So you know my name, lad. How did you learn it?”
“From your brother. He financed our expedition here in search of you.”
“My brother sent a party here? Well, if that isn’t one for the book!”
“You are Burton Monahan?” Jack pressed him. “You don’t deny it?”
“Deny it? Why should I? I’d have revealed myself before this, if I had known you were searching for me. I thought you were only here for gold.”
“Nothing could be further from our purpose. Your brother assigned us to find you and bring you back to civilization. Why do you smile?”
“Because this is the first I knew that I was considered lost. Evidently, my brother never received the message I sent.”
“Message? What message?”
“One that Captain Carter was supposed to deliver. He was to inform my brother that I was safe here. I take it he pulled a worse double-cross than I thought.”
“Captain Carter told your brother that you had been missing many months. He induced him to finance this rescue party. Carter supposedly was to help us, but instead he made everything as difficult as possible.”
“That I can believe,” Burton Monahan rejoined. “Captain Carter is a scoundrel. He has only one objective—to gain the Inca treasure.”
“Is that what brought him back here?”
“It is,” Burton Monahan said shortly. “I’ll tell you more about it later. Take me to your friends now. We must see what can be done before dawn. I’ve not exaggerated in saying that your party is in very grave danger.”
The man readjusted the animal mask, though not before Jack had obtained another clear view of his clean-cut face. He was tall and exceedingly thin, but with hard, firm muscles.
“It is dangerous to remain here in the plaza,” Burton said uneasily. “Captain Carter must not see you.”
“Where is he?” Jack asked, leading the way toward the stone house where his friends waited.
“Asleep in the palace. He’s been in a half-drunken stupor ever since the natives brought him to this sacred city.”
“I take it the natives have inducted him into all of their secrets?”
“Not yet. Captain Carter expects to play his trump card tomorrow after he discredits Panomuna. Then, unless I can prevent it, I fear he’ll try to make off with the treasure.”
“Is the treasure hidden here in the sacred city?” Jack questioned.
“No,” Burton Monahan answered. “Had it been stored in the plaza, adventurers long ago would have carted it away. The Incas hid their gold and priceless ornaments in a diabolically clever manner. So far, even Captain Carter hasn’t been able to get his hands on it.”
“This treasure isn’t at the bottom of the lake?”
“I may reveal the secret to you in good time,” Mr. Monahan responded. “First though, I must satisfy myself that you really were sent here by my brother. Tell me how you came to know Captain Carter.”
Starting at the beginning, Jack swiftly related the manner in which the expedition had been organized. Mr. Monahan seemed satisfied with the account.
“I’ll tell you about myself,” he offered, “but the story must wait until I’ve talked to your leader.”
Inside the stone dwelling, Mr. Monahan made himself known to the other Scouts and Mr. Livingston.
“Our mission has been accomplished,” the latter said weakly, grasping the explorer’s hand. “It appears, though, that I may never get back to report to your brother.”
“You will return,” Burton Monahan assured him. “This fever from which you suffer, will pass. It is Captain Carter who presents the hazard.”
“Tell us how you met him,” Mr. Livingston urged. “And why have you remained here with the natives?”
“I’ve spent much of my life in Peru,” Mr. Monahan began his strange story. “Always the tale of this lost Inca city fascinated me. A few archaeologists shared my belief that it existed, while others were convinced that the ancient parchment was born of some writer’s imagination.
“At any rate, I set off to find the locality. One misadventure after another beset my party—no need to bore you with the details, because you are familiar with the difficulties which befall. We encountered hostile Indians, and my natives deserted.
“I was taken prisoner. I do not mean that I was mistreated, but I was not permitted to leave the village. It was during this period of captivity that I gained an inkling that I was near an ancient Inca temple and the sacred city which the Indians desired to keep from the view of white men.”
“What made you pose as a medicine man?” Ken questioned.
“I’m coming to that. Because of my knowledge of first aid and medicine, it was easy to impress the natives with my skill. Gradually, I won their friendship, and adopted the medicine man role as an added protection for myself. As my knowledge of the language improved, I began to pick up additional scraps of information about the hidden city and a treasure said to lie inside a mountain.”
“By this time, I was reluctant to return to civilization, although I no longer was held prisoner. Village life was not too unpleasant. I lingered on, hoping to be permitted to view the sacred city. Even after I learned how entrance was gained, I dared not attempt it lest I be killed.”
“And what of Captain Carter?” questioned Willie.
“He came into camp one night with a few natives. Captain Carter at that time, was supplying a bandit leader with ammunition, but they had missed contact. He stumbled upon the village quite by accident.”
“But we thought you and the captain were together in your search for the city!” exclaimed Ken in astonishment.
“Captain Carter is an adventurer without scruples. I wish I never had set eyes on him! Unfortunately, I trusted him at first.”
“Didn’t the natives make trouble for him?” Jack inquired.
“They did not. Captain Carter on his first visit here was well supplied with guns. He used the ammunition to good advantage, impressing the natives, and disposing of the few who challenged his authority. Had it not been for the ruler, Panomuna, he would have been in full control here.”
“Carter, I take it, learned of the treasure?” remarked Mr. Livingston. He had pulled himself to a sitting position, his back to the stone wall.
“Yes, he was as familiar as I with the old legend. Stupidly, I accepted him as a friend and imparted my knowledge of the sacred city and the treasure. It was my hope to obtain the priceless archaeological objects and get them safely back to government officials. Captain Carter pretended to fall in with my plan. All the while, he was plotting to seize the treasure for himself.”
“Why didn’t you return to Cuya and ask assistance?” Mr. Livingston asked.
“To have done so would have started a stampede here,” Mr. Monahan explained. “Captain Carter and I both knew that special equipment would be required to lift the treasure from its resting place. So it was agreed that while I remained in the village, Captain Carter would return to my brother to obtain the necessary funds and equipment. We both felt that if the natives gained any inkling of what we were about, no white man ever again would be permitted near the sacred city.”
“Carter did see your brother,” Mr. Livingston informed him. “But he told an entirely different story.”
“I realize that now,” Mr. Monahan said bitterly. “Captain Carter is so certain of his position that he boasted to me not six hours ago that he intends to seize all the treasure and then turn the natives against me.”
“Surely he couldn’t do that!” exclaimed Warwick. “You’re in good with ’em yourself!”
“They regard Carter as a God. He has impressed them with his use of gunpowder. Why, he’s challenged Panomuna to a fire making ceremony at dawn. Carter has boasted that no matter how quickly the old Inca ruler can produce fire, he’ll do it quicker. You know, of course, who will win that competition.”
“Carter,” Jack muttered.
“He’s sure of himself or he wouldn’t have risked a challenge. I don’t know his scheme, but he’ll use some modern trick which will impress the natives. Then, after Panomuna is discredited, it’s my guess Carter will have no opposition in bringing up the treasure. He’s brought in everything he’ll need for the job.”
“You haven’t told us where the treasure lies,” Ken reminded him.
Mr. Monahan did not answer the question. Instead, he said: “Carter aims to take care of me when the time comes. As yet, I doubt that he knows of the presence of your party here. You must get away tonight while there is time.”
“You’ll go with us?” Ken asked.
“No, I must remain. Too much is at stake to abandon everything to that scoundrel Carter!”
“We’re sticking,” Jack announced stoutly. “Maybe we can get a hold of that ammunition.”
“Not a chance. Carter has it with him in the palace where he is sleeping.”
“Can’t we jump him before dawn?”
“That would be too dangerous. He has a guard of natives and they honor him as a God. As for yourselves, if you were seen here, you probably would be put to death.”
“You’ll not leave with us?” Ken asked once more.
“I can’t. It’s my duty to try to save those treasures from a vandal like Carter!”
“Then I guess we’ll stick with you,” Jack said, speaking for the others. “How about it, Mr. Livingston?”
“It’s the only thing to do,” he replied quietly.
“You can’t remain here,” Mr. Monahan informed them.
“Isn’t there a safer place where we can hide?” Ken demanded.
“I could guide you through the mountain to the hidden lake,” Mr. Monahan offered after a long hesitation.
“Through the mountain?” Jack repeated, struck by the phrase.
“Come, we must hurry!” Mr. Monahan said impatiently, without explaining what he meant. “There is no time to lose. Very soon the natives will start coming here for the dawn ceremony.”
Stooping, he lifted Mr. Livingston onto his powerful back, disregarding the Scout leader’s insistence that he was able to walk.
Unseen, the group moved through the dead city, silently passing the massive statue near the ruined temple. Mr. Monahan led the way up an uneven rocky path. Burdened by Mr. Livingston’s weight, he climbed slowly.
Presently however, they came to a low passageway through the rocks. Here, the Scout leader had to crawl for a considerable distance. But at length, they all came out into the starlight again.
“You are now inside the mountain, so to speak,” Mr. Monahan told the Scouts. “I brought you to this hidden spot because I know you are to be trusted with the secret.”
Below, only dimly visible in the fading starlight, lay a circular lake, smaller than the one into which Jack and War had dived earlier that day.
With a sweep of his hand, Mr. Monahan indicated the dark waters.
“There lies the fabulous treasure of the Incas. When Peru was conquered by the Spaniards, the Indians hurled great quantities of gold into this lake.”
“Are there two treasure pools?” asked Jack, puzzled. “This one lying inside the mountain, and the other at the site of the ruined city?”
“No,” Mr. Monahan explained, “the other lake contains little of value. An underground stream connects the two. Occasionally, a bit of treasure washes down into the lower lake. Also, a few trinkets have been offered there as sacrifice to the Sun God.”
“I suppose that explains how we happened to find a single earring.”
“Quite true, Jack. You might dive fifty times again and find nothing. Here, it is a different story. The lake bottom literally is covered with valuable relics of a past civilization.”
“The lake is very deep?” asked Willie.
“On the contrary, it is quite shallow. By daylight one can see bottom.”
“In that case, can’t the treasure be brought up?” demanded Ken eagerly.
“Impossible.”
“Because the natives keep guard, you mean?” asked War.
“The pool has its guardians—placed here ages ago by Inca priests.”
“Guardians?” Jack repeated in wonder. “What sort of guardians?”
“Cannibal fish. The waters are infested with them. I assure you they are very old and very vicious. Should anyone fall or dive into the pool, his life would be forfeit.”
Silently the Scouts and Mr. Livingston gazed into the dark waters. Guarded by cannibal fish! Even the thought of it gave them the shivers.
“A few of the smaller, practically harmless fish have found their way to the pool below,” Mr. Monahan went on. “But the guardians of this lake are a different proposition.”
“Is there no way the treasure can be brought to the surface?” inquired Jack reflectively.
“Oh, there are many ways, but all involve preparation and equipment. That was why Captain Carter went to my brother. It was our plan to work quietly and to bring the treasure up before news leaked out what we were about. As you have informed me, Captain Carter worked only for himself.”
“You’re convinced he intends to seize the gold?” Mr. Livingston questioned. He had seated himself with his back to a large rock.
“I am. As for myself, I have no desire to profit, but only to turn over the priceless relics to the government.”
“Discovery of this city with its temple and remarkable treasure should make you famous,” the Scout leader remarked.
“Indeed, that would be my reward. I’ve risked my life to remain here. I feel that Captain Carter is not entitled to any of the gold. He is a cheap adventurer, unscrupulous and grasping!”
From directly behind the speaker, there came an unexpected scraping of rock.
Startled by the sound, Mr. Monahan and the Scouts turned quickly. A shadowy figure had emerged from the tunnel exit.
Before anyone could recover from surprise, Captain Carter himself confronted the group. With indolent ease, he covered them with his automatic. In the half-light, his smile was triumphant and evil.
“Avast there, Monahan!” he growled. “Have a care how you blacken my good name! Now stand against yon rock, all of you! And reach for the stars!”
Slowly, Mr. Monahan and the Scouts obeyed the captain’s terse command to raise their hands. He lined them up against the rock, but, observing Mr. Livingston’s weakened condition, did not force him to arise.
“I should do you all in now and put an end to this cat-mouse game,” he said in a bored tone. “It would be so easy.”
“I rather doubt that, captain,” Mr. Monahan answered, matching his cool, detached manner. “True, you might shoot and toss us to the fish, but in doing so, you certainly would bring the wrath of the natives down upon your head. Don’t forget that as Ino, the Medicine Man, I still swing a little weight. Do away with me, and you’ll bring the pack down on your back!”
“You over-estimate your quack medical powers, Monahan,” Captain Carter sneered. “But that’s beside the point. Why work against each other when we can make a deal?”
“A deal?”
“This lake holds enough treasure for both of us, with a few trinkets left over for the Scouts to take home to their mamas. Why not team together to get it out?”
“Team with you!” Mr. Monahan exclaimed. “You’ve already betrayed and cheated me! Instead of revealing to my brother that I was safe, you gave him quite the opposite impression. You defrauded him.”
“He’ll get his cash back,” the captain retorted. “I was stony broke when we parted company, and didn’t have enough money to pay off my crew. I had to raise cash fast to get back here with the equipment we needed to pull off the job.”
“Apparently, it never occurred to you to tell my brother the truth. Or to go to government authorities. That was because you expected to do me in and grab everything for yourself!”
“Oh, I considered it,” Captain Carter admitted with a shrug, “but the scheme offers risks. First, the Scouts loused up my deal by bringing the authorities down on my head. As a result, I got here with a minimum of the explosives I’ll need.”
“You intend to dynamite the lake?”
“That might be the general idea. Know of a better way to get rid of those man chewin’ fish?”
“It might work,” Mr. Monahan conceded grudgingly. “But the point is, what will the natives do when you set off an explosion?”
“I always was one to go for the big chance—take all, lose all, that’s me. First, I aim to set myself up as the big Chief, deposing old mud-in-the-mouth Panomuna. Once that’s done, I’ll say hocus-pocus and toss some grenades into this lake. That should do the trick.”
“You make it sound very easy,” Mr. Monahan replied. “Just how do you propose to depose Panomuna?”
“It’s simple,” Captain Carter boasted. He flashed a cigarette lighter. “I’ll do a snappy job of starting a fire with this little gadget.”
“You think of everything, captain!” Mr. Monahan remarked sarcastically.
“That’s me. Well, what do you say? Are you playing along?”
“Just what is your proposition?”
“We’ll split the treasure two ways—half yours, half mine. You let me get out of the country before you tip government officials. That’s all I ask.”
“No! All of the treasure must be turned over to the proper authorities.”
“You’re a stubborn fool!” Captain Carter asserted angrily. “Okay, if you don’t want to play along, I’ll take all the treasure and you can’t stop me. You and your boys can take your chances on getting out of here alive. Your decision is final?”
“It is.”
“Okay then,” Carter said, lowering his automatic. “If we can’t be friends, then it’s each man for himself, and the Devil catch the hindmost. I’m warning you though—don’t try any tricks either tonight or tomorrow. I’m setting myself up as a ruler, and if you try to interfere, I’ll turn the natives loose on you.”
The captain started to leave. In passing Mr. Livingston, he scrutinized him briefly.
“Fever, eh?” he remarked. “You’ll all be down with it before long.”
“Could you spare me a cigarette?” the Scout leader asked.
“Sure, anything for a pal,” the captain replied sarcastically.
Mr. Livingston fumbled with the cigarette which the seaman gave him, and then asked for a match. Captain Carter offered him the cigarette lighter. As he lit the fag, Jack suddenly moved forward as if to attack the captain.
“Oh, no you don’t!” the officer snarled, whipping out his automatic again. “No tricks, I warned you!”
“Jumpy, aren’t you?” Jack taunted. “I wasn’t even starting your way.”
“No? Well, remember what I told you, or it will be the worse for you all.” His gaze upon the grinning Scout, Captain Carter reached out to snatch the cigarette lighter from Mr. Livingston’s fingers.
Then, his automatic still trained upon the group, he backed slowly toward the tunnel.
“You’re all invited to the ceremony at dawn,” he called in parting. “I advise you though, to watch from a distance. If I catch a glimpse of you, I’ll sick my natives onto you. Furthermore, once I’ve finished off old Mud-in-the-Mouth, I may find it expedient to purge the Forbidden City of strangers.”
After the captain had gone, the Scouts, Mr. Livingston and Mr. Monahan, put in uncomfortable hours by the lake. Though they discussed any number of plans, none of them seemed feasible.
Captain Carter, they knew, was quite capable of carrying out his threat. Aware of their hostility, he would be more than ever on the alert.
“If we show ourselves in the city, he’ll finish us off,” Mr. Monahan asserted. “My advice is to wait here until dawn. Even then, I don’t know what we can do. If we try to overpower Carter, the natives will turn on us.”
“Don’t give up hope,” Mr. Livingston encouraged the little band. “The captain may outsmart himself. I thought of a scheme, but we can’t know until tomorrow whether or not it will work.”
Near exhaustion, the Scout leader closed his eyes and slept. Toward morning he was aroused by his companions, who whispered that the hour of dawn was upon the mountain.
“Willie will stay here with you,” Jack told him. “The rest of us are going to sneak down to the plaza to see what happens.”
Mr. Livingston aroused himself. “I’m stronger,” he insisted, stretching his cramped legs. “My fever is down again. We’ll all go together.”
The others could not dissuade him. Aided by Jack and Ken, the Scout leader made it through the tunnel. Still shielded by semi-darkness, the group found a hiding place not far from the scene of activity.
“This is going to be like watching a spectacle movie!” War remarked, thrilled by the sight.
In the plaza, hundreds of chanting natives knelt before the temple, their heads bowed. As a prelude to the ceremonial test between Captain Carter and the Inca ruler, replicas of the Sun and Moon were paraded on the temple steps. An impressive silence fell upon the throng.
“This is it,” Jack whispered to his crouching companions. “Here comes Panomuna!”
A procession of priests wound its way to the broken stone steps. Moving with great dignity, the Inca ruler took his place in front of the great crowd. He wore a flame colored robe and held aloft a magnificent golden bowl.
As the first rays of the sun came over the mountain peak. Panomuna turned to face the horizon. Raising his hand, he chanted:
“Capak inti-illariymin.”
The Indians bowed before him, replying in chorus to the chant.
“Now, Panomuna will kindle the sacred fire on the altar,” Mr. Monahan informed the group. “He will concentrate the rays of the sun upon tinder in the golden bowl. Then Captain Carter will do the trick faster.”
The native ruler held his great bowl aloft, catching the rays of the sun as he pronounced his weird chant.
Soon he had created his fire, which he deposited with ceremony on the altar. The multitude cheered.
Gradually, the cries subsided and deep silence came upon the throng. Every eye fastened upon Captain Carter. Confident and sure of himself, he strode down the temple steps.
“I hope he uses that cigarette lighter!” Mr. Livingston murmured. “It would be just our luck for him to use a match.”
“The natives already are familiar with matches,” Mr. Monahan commented. “That wouldn’t impress them and Carter knows it.”
By this time Jack had caught the gleam of bright metal in the captain’s hand.
“He’s using the cigarette lighter!” he exclaimed jubilantly.
Carter raised his hands and in an imitation of Panomuna, entoned a meaningless chant to the Sun God.
“Now, I produce fire!” he shouted.
But the flames were not forthcoming.
Three times the captain tried with the cigarette lighter and failed completely to produce a spark. The natives, at first attentive, began to rumble with displeasure.
“His silly old lighter won’t work!” War chortled, scarcely able to control his laughter. “Serves him right for trying to set himself up as king. Say—” Warwick’s gaze sought first Mr. Livingston and then Jack. Both were grinning from ear to ear. “I get it!” he cried. “Mr. Livingston, you emptied the fluid out of that lighter, didn’t you?”
“While Jack created a diversion,” the Scout leader confessed. “Captain Carter doesn’t have a very good memory, or he would have recalled that I never smoke cigarettes. He was easy to fool. I was afraid though, that he’d check the lighter before the ceremony.”
“Hey, watch!” Willie interrupted the conversation. “There’s going to be fireworks now! Not created by his royal highness, Captain Carter, either!”
The captain appeared stunned by his failure to produce fire, and then dismayed. Well he might be fearful. Triumphant that his rival had failed, Panomuna now danced down the temple steps, inciting the natives to take their revenge upon the intruder.
“Keep back, you!” the captain snarled. “Keep back I say!”
He drew his automatic and as a native came up the temple steps to seize him, deliberately fired. The man fell, moaning.
Captain Carter fired twice into the crowd. Then, leaping down from the temple steps, he fled up the trail toward the entrance to the treasure lake.
“The man is mad!” Mr. Monahan exclaimed. “Now that he has discredited himself, he should try to escape before the natives turn upon him completely.”
“He’s heading straight for the treasure lake!” Jack cried in alarm. “I’ll bet he has explosives hidden up there somewhere!”
Minutes passed. From their hiding place, the Scouts watched the angry natives pursue the fleeing seaman. Their own position, they realized, was highly precarious. But escape, even through the lower passageway, was cut off. They could only wait and hope that if the situation became critical, Ino might influence the natives in their favor.
Suddenly the Scouts heard a series of muffled explosions which shook the earth.
“What was that?” Ken demanded, startled. “Sounded like dynamite all right!”
“Hand grenades being exploded under water,” Mr. Monahan informed the group. “Carter brought in a supply of them. He’s determined to get the gold, even if it costs him his life. And I think it will. Nothing can save him now.”
In the plaza, a native was pounding an alarm on the temple gong. Bong! Bong! Bong! Weirdly the sound echoed through the streets of the village.
“Even if Captain Carter succeeds in killing the cannibal fish, how can he hope to hold the natives at bay while he brings up the treasure?” Jack speculated.
“It’s madness!” Mr. Monahan asserted.
“Maybe he thinks we’ll help him,” Willie began. “Maybe—”
His speculation ceased at that point, for the ground beneath his feet began to shake and tremble.
For an instant the Scouts thought that Captain Carter had touched off another mighty explosion, more powerful than anything that had preceded it.
But their reasoning told them better. No man-made dynamite could cause an entire area to be so convulsed.
Walls of stone houses lining the streets were weaving and crackling. A massive pillar came tumbling down.
Great chasms had developed in the earth, so deep that they seemed without bottom. Monoliths of immense size were hurled down.
“An earthquake!” cried Willie, seizing a rock for support.
“One of the worst this area has had since I’ve been here!” gasped Mr. Monahan.
A great dust rose from the ruined city. Everywhere there was screaming, shouting and terror as natives sought refuge.
“The wrath of the Gods is being visited upon the city,” murmured Mr. Monahan.
“Surely, you don’t really believe that,” returned Mr. Livingston.
“Of course not,” the other admitted. “But that is what the natives will think, if any survive this awful upheaval.”
Another hard tremor shook the area, leveling the statue in the plaza. Crouching together for protection against the falling stone, the Scouts tensely waited.
No further upheavals followed. After awhile, Mr. Monahan decided to creep from the shelter to see what could be done to help the injured.
“Stay here until I test the temper of the natives,” he warned the others. “In their present mood, there’s no telling what they may do. Those explosions and the quake have thrown them into a panic.”
Cautiously, Mr. Monahan moved out into the devastated street. But before he could start toward the shattered temple, he was brought up short by the wild cries of a mob which approached the plaza from the inner lake trail.
Into view came the Indian warriors, their dust-streaked faces contorted with both fear and fierce triumph. On their shoulders they bore the lifeless, battered body of Captain Carter.
“They’ve done for him!” exclaimed the Scout leader.
“They have,” grimly agreed Mr. Monahan. “He brought it on himself by setting off those explosions!”
“Now what?” Jack asked, watching as the strange procession proceeded to the temple steps. “Are they offering prayers to the Gods?”
Mr. Monahan nodded. “And may they be appeased!” he murmured. “If they show displeasure by further earth tremors, all our lives may be forfeit!”
In the garden of Father Francisco’s mission, the Scouts, their leader and Mr. Monahan sat sipping limeade from tall, frosted glasses.
Three weeks had elapsed since the fateful morning when Captain Carter had set off a series of explosions in the lake within the mountain. Since that day, many events had transpired, some of which were not pleasant to recall.
The terrifying earthquake had completed the wreckage of many of the impressive structures in the hidden Inca city. The great temple had been half destroyed. Five natives had died in the disaster, and many more had suffered injury.
That the earth tremor had been caused by the wrath of the gods over Carter’s desecration of the treasure lake, the natives had become firmly convinced. Angered, they had set upon him, taking his life.
“So you see,” Mr. Livingston soberly related to the missionary, “everything considered, we are fortunate to have escaped. The natives accepted us only because Mr. Monahan was able to convince them that we were not there to loot the pool. After the quake we cared for the injured, and that too, helped win friendship.”
“What of the treasure?” the missionary inquired.
“A major portion already has been removed and transported to Lima under guard,” Mr. Monahan answered. “Government officials are at the scene to complete the job. Our responsibility is ended.”
From a jacket pocket, Ken removed the ancient parchment he first had seen in Father Francisco’s library.
“We return this to you, Father,” he said, offering the manuscript. “It was found in Captain Carter’s dunnage after his death.”
“That old parrot woman must have stolen it and turned it over to him,” contributed Jack. “Captain Carter knew you had the parchment, Father. He probably wanted it to prevent adventurers, and particularly our party, from seeking the lost city.”
“Your theory must be correct,” the missionary said meditatively. “However, Captain Carter did not arrive in Cuertos until after your party came.”
“We figure he probably tipped Lolita off about the parchment before he left here for America,” Willie offered his opinion. “She must have watched her chance to snatch it, and probably was paid well, either in jewelry or cash.”
“I’m afraid my directions for reaching the lost city were not very helpful,” Father Francisco apologized. “I gave you the best information available, but unfortunately, I was deceived.”
“Deceived?” Warwick asked quickly. “In what way?”
“I have always believed that according to the story, the mountain of the lost city could be seen from the doorway of this mission.”
“Actually, it can’t be,” remarked Ken.
“The wording of the manuscript was not incorrect—only our interpretation,” declared the missionary. “Come, I will show you.”
Walking with difficulty, Father Francisco led the party through the garden, into the mission. Surprisingly he did not conduct them to the door with which they were familiar. Instead, he took them once more to the half-underground library.
There, the Scouts were astonished to see that the walls had been severely cracked. Plaster still lay untouched on the carpets.
“The quake which was so severe where you were, also struck here,” the missionary disclosed. “The mission as you have noted, suffered some damage. In taking down a wall here in the library, another door, which had been plastered over, was revealed.”
“And from this original door, one would gaze directly toward the treasure mountain!” exclaimed Jack. “No wonder so many explorers were thrown off the track!”
Mr. Livingston told Father Francisco that he and the Scouts planned to return to the United States as soon as flight tickets could be obtained. Burton Monahan would remain a few weeks longer to assist government officials in cataloging the treasures taken from the Inca city.
Mr. Monahan turned gratefully to the Scouts. “I can’t thank you fellows enough for undertaking a dangerous mission in my behalf,” he told them. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’m afraid Captain Carter would have accomplished his evil purpose. Alone, I’d never have been a match for him.”
“It was Mr. Livingston’s trick with the cigarette lighter that proved his undoing,” Ken chuckled at the recollection. “’Course, the earthquake helped. Even now, the natives can’t be convinced that Carter didn’t set off the earth tremors with those grenade explosions.”
“All in all, it’s been a real trip of exploration,” Jack contributed. “One we’ll never forget. After Peru though, it will be hard to tame ourselves down enough to schedule a canoe trip to Minnesota.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” drawled War. “Right now, I can’t imagine anything that would be more fun than to hit white water.”
“Or a quiet fishing trip,” added Ken.
“Depends on the kind of fish you go after,” declared Willie with a grin. “Perch or cannibals?”
“I’ll settle for muskies,” Ken laughed. “Even a nice peppy bass!”
“The Minnesota trip may have to wait awhile,” Mr. Livingston told the Explorers.
“Oh, that’s all right,” Ken assured him. “After a long, hard trip such as this, we won’t need another vacation for awhile. Belton is good enough for us.”
“How long you fellows stay there will be strictly up to you,” the Scout leader hinted. “The truth is—I hate to tell you this—”
“Go ahead,” Willie urged. “After what we’ve been through, we can take anything.”
“You can, and that’s a fact,” Mr. Livingston responded warmly. “I’ve told you before, and I repeat, you fellows more than lived up to my hopes and expectations on this trip.”
“Tell us the news,” Jack interrupted impatiently. “What’s in the wind, Hap?”
“Word of our successful mission here has spread. I’ve already had an offer of another expedition—one which would bring us back to South America.”
“To Peru again?” questioned Ken.
“No,” Mr. Livingston replied, “but possibly to an even more interesting country. How does that strike you?”
“It hits me from the ground floor up,” asserted War. “When do we take on this new job?”
“Not for awhile,” Mr. Livingston said, smiling at his eagerness. “We all need a little rest, and I want to rid myself completely of fever before I lead you off on another jaunt. For that matter, other offers may develop.”
“Then, for the immediate future, it’s Belton?” Ken asked.
“Right. We should have our flight tickets by tomorrow.”
“Just think of the yarns we can spin when we tie up with the fellows again,” chuckled Ken, relishing the prospect. “Lucky we still have a few Inca trophies, or I’m afraid no one would believe our story.”
“So it’s back to the USA and good old Post 21,” announced Jack with a flourish.
“To paved roads and plenty of hot running water,” added War.
“To hamburgers and double-dip ice cream sundaes,” completed Willie, his eyes twinkling. “Peru’s great, but right now, I’d trade every souvenir in the world for a nice restful day at home!”
The lure of Inca gold led Burton Monahan on a dangerous trip to the mountains of Peru. When word is brought back that he has apparently disappeared, his brother asks “Hap” Livingston and his Boy Scout Explorers to try to find out what happened.
An ancient parchment provides clues to the location of the Treasure Mountain but it cannot forewarn the Explorers of the many hazards—both natural and man-made—that must be surmounted before their goal can be reached.
An exciting, live-action story, filled with thrilling incidents of courage and bravery, sure to hold the interest of every adventure enthusiast.
The BOY SCOUT EXPLORERS is a part of the BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA, a world wide organization that helps to mold the boys of today into the men of tomorrow.
The Boys of Explorer Post No. 21 have a very good leader named George (Happy) Livingston. He directs the regular meetings of the Post, and also takes them on various outings, camping trips, etc.
Follow the adventures of this group of boys, as they search for a lost treasure, etc. and run into many thrilling experiences.
THE TITLES ARE: