Kitabı oku: «Secrets of the Andes», sayfa 6
CHAPTER XV
Attacked by Indians
BOB shook his head to rid himself of the sickening saliva. He wiped his face with his handkerchief, with his hands, with anything he could find. At the same time he stepped out of reach of the treacherous animal.
When he had completed rubbing, he turned sheepishly to Joe.
“Guess I learned my lesson,” he said quietly. “But who’d ‘a’ thought it of the brutes?”
“Isn’t wise to do anything unless you know what you’re doing,” Joe reminded him.
“I’ve a notion to go over and wring its neck!” snorted Bob, glancing at the llama, which had resumed its grazing as if nothing had happened.
“Better not,” Joe warned him. “You might not be able to do it. And the Indian that owns them might come out.”
“Let him come!” Bob was confident that he could manage both the llama and the Indian.
He decided to let the matter drop, however, and continue the walk about the plateau.
As the youths hiked farther, they passed the grassy region and came to a higher slope that was dotted with occasional patches of cacti, thorn bushes, and stunted trees. The Australian eucalyptus, a small tree, was abundant.
“Can’t raise anything here,” remarked Bob. “Almost as bad as it is on the Sahara Desert.”
The chums made a wide circuit about Cuzco, coming in sight of the monoplane from the opposite side.
“You’re just in time to stand guard,” Mr. Holton told Bob. “And while you’re doing that, the rest of us will look around a bit. We’ve all been busy studying maps of the Andes.”
The adventurers took turns watching the airplane and seeing the country all during the remainder of that day. If it were able to follow schedule, the train from Mollendo, bringing the others of the expedition, would arrive the next afternoon.
At that time all the air travelers but Mr. Lewis were in the railroad station waiting. Mr. Lewis had remained at the field to guard the ’plane.
“It’s coming,” said Mr. Wallace, and a minute later the train pulled up and stopped.
Dr. Rust and the other scientists stepped off, to be met by the naturalists and the youths.
“I think it might be wise,” began Mr. Holton, “to establish a temporary camp here near Cuzco, perhaps in the field by the monoplane. Is everyone with me in this?”
Professor Allan nodded.
“I am in favor of it,” he said. “Until we make further preparations for our work in the mountains it would be wise to put up our tents there.”
At the field they found Mr. Lewis waiting for them. He also agreed to follow Mr. Holton’s suggestion.
Four tents were pitched in a semicircle beside the airplane. The expedition’s supplies were placed systematically inside, and then began a discussion about the coming exploration.
“We who are after Inca ruins have decided to set off for the region near Mount Panta,” Dr. Rust said. “In our opinion, there is an opportunity to find wonderful Inca remains in this section. Most likely we will stay within twenty miles of that mountain for three or four weeks. Where we will go then we will have to decide later.”
“Now of course you archæologists want to know as nearly as possible where we naturalists will be,” began Mr. Holton. “I don’t know whether everyone will agree,” he went on, “but I know of a place that supposedly abounds with wild creatures. And I would suggest that we head for that spot.”
The others looked at him inquiringly.
“This morning while I was out scouting around I came across an American who was just returning from a hunting trip in the Andes,” Mr. Holton resumed. “He informed me that the valley of the Comberciato is teeming with wild game. According to his estimate, that’s about a hundred miles from here, northwest. It – ”
“I’ve heard of it, too,” cut in Mr. Wallace, his face beaming with scientific enthusiasm. “Why not go there? We’ll probably find it worth our while.”
“I’m willing,” came from Joe’s father.
“Then let’s call it settled,” Mr. Holton said. “We’ll start out as soon as possible.”
“Here’s where Mr. Sutman and his airplane come in,” remarked Professor Allan. “By the use of the ’plane, we can keep informed as to the whereabouts of the other division of the expedition. It will prove a valuable asset to our equipment.”
Bob and Joe and Mr. Dunn took it on themselves to go back to the railroad station and have the many boxes of food and supplies removed to the camp. The scientists had purposely left them in charge of the agent until after deciding the course of the expedition and had carried only the lighter bags and cases to the camp.
The railroad agent, when asked of a means of transporting the boxes, pointed outside to a large cart drawn by a mule. Walking lazily at the side was an Indian.
“He will do it for you,” the railroad man said in poor Spanish.
Then, knowing that the Americans could not speak the Quichua language, the agent called to the native and asked if he would be willing to take the boxes.
The Indian merely nodded and went into the building after the first load. In all, there were about seventy-five cases, and he knew it would be necessary to make several trips.
“That mule doesn’t look any too willing to pull the load,” observed Joe with a laugh. “Be funny if he’d stop still when only about halfway there.”
When the cart was loaded with about fifteen or twenty of the boxes, the Indian called for the animal to pull ahead. But the stubborn mule refused to budge.
“Now what will he do?” mused Joe, looking at the impatient Indian.
He soon saw. The native removed five boxes and carried them back into the station. Then, with the cart lighter, he again attempted to make the mule move ahead.
But apparently it was still too much of a load, at least for comfort.
“That crazy donkey just doesn’t want to go, that’s all.” Mr. Dunn had been taking in the incident with a great deal of interest.
The Indian was becoming impatient. He had apparently removed all he was going to from the cart and intended to resort to force.
Walking to one side, he pushed with all his strength on the balky animal, at the same time saying something in Quichua that the whites guessed was not pleasant.
Slowly, very slowly, the mule struggled forward, snorting as if in rage. Gradually he quickened his pace, but never exceeded a walk.
“At this rate it’ll take us the rest of the afternoon to get everything in camp,” muttered Bob, amused and yet angered at the stubborn beast.
The youth guessed fairly right. The sun was almost ready to sink below the horizon when the last box was unloaded from the cart, after five trips had been made to carry all of the supplies.
“Too late to do anything tonight,” said Mr. Lewis, as the Indian, mule, and cart disappeared over the plateau. “I suppose we’d better take it easy, anyway. We’ll have some busy days ahead of us.”
Early the next morning the explorers were up preparing for the mountain journey.
“The first thing now is to get mules,” said Mr. Wallace. “And,” he added with twinkling eyes, “they’ll have to be faster than the one that carried our stuff last night.”
“You forgot.” Dr. Brown, the physician, was moving up to Mr. Wallace. “The first thing isn’t to get mules,” the doctor continued with a smile. “Medical attention always comes before anything else.”
“That means a physical examination?” asked Bob.
“Yes. And it also means vaccination against smallpox and typhoid fever. Those two diseases are very common in this part of Peru.”
Dr. Brown had attended to everyone but the youths and Mr. Wallace. But it did not take long to finish with them.
“Now as I was saying,” began Mr. Wallace, “the next thing is to get mules. And I know where we can find them. I inquired yesterday and found that a wealthy Peruvian who lives at the edge of Cuzco can let us have as many as we need. He will also see that we get native guides.”
“Don’t forget that we need about twenty-five mules – for both parties of the expedition,” Professor Allan reminded him.
“I haven’t,” the naturalist returned. “We can get as many as we need. Suppose we do it now.”
Mr. Wallace, Dr. Rust, and Professor Kelley set out at once to get the pack animals.
Meanwhile, Bob and Joe took movie cameras and walked leisurely up the hillside, intending to photograph anything that would come before them.
The boys had not gone far when they came upon a large group of Indian men, dressed in short, coarse trousers, hand-woven shirts, and brightly colored blankets. On their heads were the flat “pancake” hats which are common in this region.
“Here’s a good chance to take movies,” said Joe happily. He had brought the camera to his shoulder and pointed it toward the Indians, turning the crank steadily.
Suddenly the natives rushed angrily at the youths and made a grab at the motion-picture cameras.
CHAPTER XVI
Just in Time
“LET go!” cried Bob, in his excitement forgetting that the Indians could not understand English.
The group had completely surrounded the youths, and one man was holding tightly to Bob’s camera.
The two chums knew that they had little chance against so many. But they fought doggedly to save the moving-picture machines, which were the only two they had.
With one supreme effort, Bob pushed the Indian nearest him to the ground and turned to find an opening in the crowd of natives.
But they were all about him, pushing and grabbing and striking to the best of their ability. It was plain that they were determined to take possession of the small boxes that the whites carried.
If it had not been for the necessity of holding onto the cameras, Bob and Joe could have put up a good fight, and perhaps driven the Indians away. But as it was they found themselves at a sore disadvantage.
“Help!” cried Joe, raising his voice to a shout. “Help! Help!”
Several seconds later a figure showed itself at the brink of the hill and came toward the fighting group.
“It’s Dad!” Joe cried happily. “Now there’ll be a fight!”
Mr. Lewis was soon joined by Mr. Holton and Karl Sutman. Like a flash the three grasped the meaning of the scuffle and rushed to the aid of the chums.
They dived headlong into the furious mob, using their fists to great advantage. One big fellow Mr. Lewis knocked flat on his back in a daze.
“Here, take my camera,” directed Bob, speaking to Karl. “Run as fast as you can back to camp. I want to take a lick at some of these beggars.”
Karl did as asked and dashed out of the mob for the tents. The last Bob saw of him he was rounding a bend and heading toward the monoplane.
Then Bob faced the man who had grabbed his camera.
“Take that!” the youth snarled, sending the Indian crashing to the ground.
The other natives, seeing that they were unable to hold their own against these whites, took to their heels and disappeared in the distance, kicking up a cloud of dust behind them.
“Well, we licked them.” Mr. Lewis was panting for breath. His face was red from fatigue, his clothes torn and wrinkled.
And the others were no better off. They had put up a game fight, determined to drive away their enemies.
“What was their motive for attacking you?” inquired Mr. Holton, wiping his face with his handkerchief.
“Beyond us,” Joe answered him. “We just looked at them and pointed our cameras at them – ”
“Oh.” Mr. Holton seemed to understand everything. “That’s all you did, huh? Well, you did enough to excite their anger. Those natives are decidedly against having their pictures taken. They believe that any evil which might befall their pictures will come upon them later.”
“So that was it?” Bob laughed. “Well, we’ll know enough not to try the same thing again. Anyway, we got several feet of film exposed, and that’s better than nothing.”
The adventurers made their way down the hill, to be met by Karl and the others of the expedition, who had come to learn of their friends’ misfortune.
“Quite an encounter,” commented Mr. Dunn, when he was told the details. “These Indians are bad characters when their anger is aroused.”
Back at the camp, the explorers got everything in readiness for the expedition to depart as soon as Mr. Wallace, Dr. Rust, and Professor Kelley returned with the mules and guides.
It was nearly noon when Bob caught sight of a long line of mules heading toward the camp. They were coming slowly and leisurely, but always closer. Near the rear were the three explorers and two natives, who had been driving the animals.
“I see you met with success,” said Mr. Buenagel, addressing Mr. Wallace.
“Success is right!” the naturalist was beaming all over. “Don Chusmena here” – indicating a small Peruvian who had been conversing with several natives – “has generously offered to let us use twenty of his mules. They are all fine specimens, worthy of making the mountain trip. And the price is right.”
The mules were driven up to the camp and herded together in a group.
Mr. Wallace introduced Don Chusmena to the others. The Peruvian in turn acquainted the Americans with the Indians who were to act as guides for the expedition. He assured them that the natives knew every foot of ground in the Andes country. One Indian was to lead Dr. Rust and the other scientists who were to search for Inca ruins. The other native would guide Mr. Lewis and any others that might be in the party of naturalists.
Both Bob and Joe had decided to stay with the expedition and not fly in the monoplane with Karl Sutman. Mr. Holton, however, intended to accompany the aviator and Dr. Brown, the expedition’s physician. Karl and the two men were to fly on ahead and look for Inca ruins from the air, keeping in touch with the others. It was intended that Karl head for the valley of the Comberciato, where he and Mr. Holton and the physician would await the others of the naturalist party.
“That leaves you and Mr. Wallace and Dad and I together,” remarked Joe. “I’m sorry your father isn’t going with us.”
Bob nodded.
“He’ll meet us at the Comberciato River, though,” the youth said.
“But that won’t be until two weeks from now, at least.” Joe would have been better satisfied if Mr. Holton had intended to go on foot instead of in the airplane.
Mr. Lewis and Mr. Wallace desired to get their division of the expedition started as soon as possible. But since it was so late they thought it best to wait until the next morning.
“That’ll give us time to look around some more,” said Joe, picking up a motion-picture camera. “Come on, Bob. There’s a lot to be seen around Cuzco.”
“Be careful boys,” warned Mr. Holton. “Don’t try to photograph any more Indians, or you may get into a bigger scrape than the one this morning.”
“Leave it to us,” laughed Joe. “We’ll be all right.”
The youths headed west toward the river Almodena. They resolved to cross it and proceed northward to the Fortress of Sacsahuaman and other Inca ruins.
From the river there was a narrow road that led up the plateau to the high hill that overlooked the city. As this hill stood between the boys and the ruins of the fort, which were located high upon another cliff, they found it almost necessary to climb to the top and then down the other side.
“Now for the ruins,” said Bob eagerly, pointing to the top of the low mountain that was before them.
The youths had begun the difficult climb to the summit and had rounded a turn in the rocks when they caught sight of an old man climbing slowly up the dangerous ridge.
“Look!” cried Joe in terror. “He’s falling!”
The old man’s foot had slipped, and he was trying as best he could to balance himself on a narrow ledge.
His efforts were in vain. The next moment he began to plunge helplessly downward.
With the quickness of a cat, Bob stepped forward and, bracing himself as best he could, he threw himself against the man. The impact of Bob’s heavy body stopped the man’s fall and sent him against the side of the cliff. It bruised his face and shoulders, but he was safe.
After a few moments of resting, the old man looked up, wild-eyed and white with fear. There was an expression of intense gratitude on his wrinkled face as it was turned toward Bob.
“You saved my life!” he cried in excellent English, gazing fearfully below. “And I want to reward you. I want to tell you of some Inca secrets – secrets of the Andes!”
CHAPTER XVII
The Old Man’s Tale
AT once Bob and Joe were breathless with interest. They had often heard of Inca secrets but had thought them nothing more than myths. Now, as this strange old man stood before them, the youths wondered if there might have been some truth in the fantastic tales told of Inca mysteries.
The old man hesitated for several minutes, staring off into space. Then, when the youths were becoming impatient with the long silence, he continued, speaking in a low voice.
“Far, far away, in the heart of a huge mountain, is a narrow tunnel that leads to a large cavern of Inca secrets.” Again the stranger hesitated, looking below at Cuzco.
“Why doesn’t he hurry?” thought Joe, almost saying the words aloud.
Finally the old man continued.
“This cave is so large that it occupies the entire mountain,” he went on. “It is lighted with a strange brilliance, that comes mysteriously from the outside. But ah! The Incas were marvelous inventors. They could do many things that we Americans cannot do.”
“Then you are an American?” inquired Bob quickly.
The old man nodded.
“I spent my early years in the United States,” he explained. “Graduated from college and set out to be a scientist. Then I became interested in Inca ruins and came here to look for them. My entire lifetime I have spent in these mountains, looking for ruins and treasure.”
“Treasure?” cried Joe. “Is there treasure here?”
“Undoubtedly there is,” was the answer. “In fact I believe I have found some.”
The young men were all excitement.
“Tell us about it!” begged Joe.
“I am not certain that I have found any,” the stranger said. “But I came across a sort of bin that is covered with a heavy stone block. Alone I am not able to lift it off. I firmly believe that in the bin is something valuable. This is in that cave I told you about.” He stopped and glanced about; then, satisfied that no one else was near, he continued: “It is a long, hard journey to this wonderful place. There is a secret trail, that is known only to myself. And to add to that, there is a single entrance to the cave. It cannot be opened until you press a hidden button.”
He stopped a moment and gazed thoughtfully at the young men.
“You saved my life,” he went on, looking at Bob gratefully. “For this I will gladly give you half of any treasure in the bin, if we can find any. Will you make the trip with me?”
For a few moments the youths said nothing. They wondered if there was really any treasure in the bin. And they wondered, too, if it might be possible to locate still more in the near-by mountains.
“I am willing to go,” said Bob at last. “It won’t put us out any, I’m sure. I think we can arrange it some way. Maybe Dad – ”
He got no further, for at that moment the old man raised a hand for silence.
“Of course your dad is all right,” he said conclusively. “But I do not wish to take anyone but you and your friend here with me. Even your father might without thinking tell someone about this secret, and then we would lose everything. And I want no one else to know.”
“Then,” began Bob, “you want only Joe Lewis here and myself – my name is Bob Holton – to go with you?”
“You are right,” came the reply. “And my name is Rander —Doctor Rander. I would be much better satisfied if only we three went.”
“I think it can be arranged,” Bob told him. “What direction do we have to go?”
“East. Almost straight east from Cuzco. But of course there are many roundabout paths that we must follow, and much of the way is over no trail at all.”
“We’ll let you know a little later, if that is all right,” said Bob. “Where can we get in touch with you?”
Dr. Rander explained that he was staying in a little adobe hut at the other edge of Cuzco and that he had a sufficient number of mules to carry the provisions needed.
“How soon do you want to start?” inquired Joe, who was anxious to make the trip.
“I am ready any time,” the old man said. “If you wish, we will start tomorrow.”
Bob explained that they would talk it over with their fathers and call on their friends that night. With this, the youths headed back to camp, not desiring to lose more time even in seeing the ruins at the top of the hill.
“What do you think of it?” asked Bob a little later, as he and his friend came in sight of the monoplane.
“I think a lot of it,” Joe answered. “Why, it will be wonderful!”
“Don’t be too sure that we can go,” Bob reminded him. “It all depends on what our dads think. If they’re afraid to let us leave the expedition and start out with this Dr. Rander, why, I suppose that will end it all. And the old man won’t let anyone else go with us.”
“Funny he’d tell us about that secret, isn’t it? If he had kept still, he’d have had all the treasure for himself. But then, I suppose he was so glad you saved his life that he was more than willing to let you in on it. Then, too, he’s not sure of finding it.”
At the camp, the boys found their fathers and others awaiting them.
“What do you think of the ruins?” asked Mr. Holton, as the chums came up.
“We don’t know much about them,” returned Joe. “But there’s something else we want to tell you.”
While the men listened, Joe told of seeing the old man climbing up the steep hill and of Bob’s saving his life when he fell. He told of the secret treasure that the stranger said was in the Andes, and of the old man’s desire for the two youths to accompany him in the mountains. He finished by saying that he believed it might be worth while to go.
“Perhaps you’re right,” came from Mr. Holton. “It might pay you to go with him. Do you think he can be trusted?” Mr. Holton had great faith in the judgment of his son and Joe.
“Don’t know why not,” said Bob. “He seemed so glad that he had not fallen down the cliff that he was happy to tell us about the treasure.”
“There isn’t a chance of his being crazy, is there?” asked Karl Sutman, who was also listening to the conversation.
“Oh, of course there’s a chance,” replied Bob, “but I’d be willing to bet anything that he isn’t.”
“We can go with him, can’t we?” queried Joe, glancing especially at his father. “We may find treasure, after all.”
“I see no reason why you shouldn’t,” came from Mr. Lewis. “Of course you’ll be careful. And there’s very little danger of getting lost, with all the native huts scattered about. What do you think, Howard?”
“Like you,” Mr. Holton replied. “After all, Bob and Joe are able to take care of themselves. If Karl will stay in the vicinity of Cuzco until they get back, it will ease matters some. Or, if the boys will be gone too long, Karl can come on with the rest of the expedition to the valley of the Comberciato, and then return later to pick up Bob and Joe in Cuzco.”
“I’ll be glad to do it,” Karl Sutman said, and so the matter remained settled.
That evening Bob and Joe went to Dr. Rander’s hut at the edge of Cuzco. The old man seemed glad to see them, offering them the best chairs he had.
“Now about the secrets,” he began, after he had closed the door and made sure that no one was near. “First of all, we must keep it strictly to ourselves. If, while on our way, anyone should ask why we are going into the mountains, we must not tell them.”
“For one thing, we’re going to take movies of the country,” said Joe, and then explained this in full to the old man.
The youths spent all evening at the old man’s hut. When at last they were ready to leave, they had agreed on one thing: They were to start early the next morning.
As they walked silently back to the camp, gazing up at the starlit sky, Bob and Joe wondered what would be their adventures for the next few weeks. Would they actually come into possession of valuable treasure?
