Secrets of the Andes

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!”

CHAPTER XX

Difficulties of the Trail

THE sight 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 the organ,” 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 before them. 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 mud hut, 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 be poisonous 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, helping the 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!”

CHAPTER XXI

Danger at Hand

TURNING on 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 they did 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 secret known 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!”

CHAPTER XXII

The Deadly Snake

OVER their 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.