“Oh!” she said aloud, hurting all over.
Moments later, Nancy heard a car’s motor start. Turning her head, she saw the back of a man as he stepped into the rear of the automobile. He crouched on the floor so she could not see him. The car sped off along the far side of the fortress grounds and disappeared.
“Nancy!” The cry came from George, who was running at top speed toward her friend. “Whatever happened to you?”
Bess and Carla followed. All were anxious about Nancy. In a weak voice she assured them she would be all right in a few minutes. Then she told her story and pointed upward.
“El Gato!” Carla exclaimed. “To think he followed us way out here! We are not safe any place!”
Bess said she was thankful the man had not harmed Nancy. “But I’m sure he meant to and there’s no telling what he may try next.”
She had no choice but to jump!
Nancy agreed. “The cat picture is a warning, I think, and may have other significance.”
As she remained where she was and watched, her three friends climbed up to look at the red cat face. They examined it closely but could find no clue to what it might mean—besides being a warning. Bess snapped a picture of it, saying that Nancy could study the photo and perhaps see something which they had missed.
Carefully they made their way down again. By this time Nancy felt better and all the girls walked back slowly to their car. Maponhni was shocked when he heard what had happened.
“If I had known that, I would have taken the man’s license number. But maybe I can help you another way. I will ask about this man at shops in Cuzco where paint is sold. Perhaps he bought the red paint there to make the cat on the rock.”
The guide suggested that the trip to Machu Picchu be postponed until the next day.
Carla thought this was a good idea. But she insisted that they ask the clerks at the hotel not to tell anyone the girls were staying over. When they reached the hotel, Carla made her request and the men promised to keep the secret.
The girls went up in the elevator to their rooms. It had begun to rain and Bess said she was cold. There was a heater in the room and she not only turned it on, but also closed the windows.
George, meanwhile, had been reading a sign tacked to the door. It gave advice to tourists on what to do and what not to do in this high altitude.
“It says here,” she told her cousin, “that one should rest with the window open and use the heating system as little as possible.”
Bess sighed, turned off the heat, and opened the windows again. “I’ll just have to freeze,” she said.
George chuckled. “Here’s something else for you, Bess. It says eat light meals!” As Bess made a face, her cousin went on, “And if you feel terrible, call room service and a waiter will give you oxygen.”
About two hours later there was a knock on Nancy’s door. She opened it to find Maponhni there.
He did not come in, but said, “I found the place in town where the red paint was sold to a stranger. Would this description fit anybody you know: dark hair, small, shifty eyes, and very hairy arms?”
Together Nancy and Carla cried out. “Luis Llosa!”
“Where is he from?”
“Lima,” Nancy replied. “We suspect he may be the man who calls himself El Gato.”
Bess and George had come into the hall, and Bess asked, “But how in the world could Luis Llosa have traced us here, or have learned we were going to the fortress?”
George answered the question. “A slippery character like that probably has a way of finding out everything he wants to know about people he’s trailing. It wouldn’t surprise me if Llosa shows up at Machu Picchu.”
“Then I’m not going there,” Bess said with determination. “He might try to harm us!”
Maponhni smiled. “My dear Miss Marvin,” he said, “you must not miss Machu Picchu. It is one of the great ruins of the world. I will alert the police here to be on the lookout for this man to see that he does not take the train to Machu Picchu and I will go with you.”
Bess looked relieved. “Good, and I hope they catch him! All right, I’ll go.” She chuckled. “If Luis Llosa is in Cuzco, maybe I’d be safer at Machu Picchu.”
The next morning the girls set off with Maponhni. Nancy carried the plaque in her suitcase.
The tourists were intrigued by the one-car train which was more like an oversized trolley car. It climbed steadily up from the city, then suddenly stopped and went backwards.
“I wonder what is wrong,” said Carla.
A passenger across the aisle from her explained, “Nothing is wrong. This railroad has a couple of switchbacks.” When Carla looked puzzled, the man added, “It would be impossible for this train to climb straight up the mountain, so at certain points it runs backwards on a switch for a short distance. Then it goes forward again up the grade on still another track. By doing this a few times, the engineer can reach great heights quickly and without strain on the machinery.”
“I see,” Carla replied, although she was not sure she understood.
During the two-hour trip the train wound in and out among the mountains, many of them snow-capped, with corn growing at their base, where it was warm. Farther on, the train followed a valley along the winding Urubamba River and crossed several bridges over it.
The engineer made a few stops at stations. There were thatched Indian cottages nearby. Bright-eyed children crowded around the visitors and gladly accepted packages of hard candy which the girls had brought along.
“They’re adorable children,” said Bess, “and they look happy, but certainly poor.”
“Yes,” Nancy agreed. “Don’t you long to do something for them?”
Finally the train reached the little station at Machu Picchu. Buses were waiting to take the travelers up the mountainside to the hotel which stood near the ruins. On the way the sky suddenly clouded over and in moments rain began to fall.
“Oh dear!” Bess complained. “We’ve come all this way and now we won’t be able to see anything!”
Maponhni smiled knowingly. “Here in the mountains there is much mist, but usually it does not last long. Sometimes it turns to rain and then like magic the sun is suddenly out again. Do not worry. We shall see the ruins.”
When they reached the hotel, Nancy was so fascinated by the scenery that she did not want to go inside. Far below, the Urubamba River looked like a snaking piece of brown ribbon. Above were mountain peaks and here and there she glimpsed the terraced flower and vegetable gardens used by the ancient Incas.
“Don’t stand there in the rain,” George said to her. “You’ll get soaked. Let’s register.”
Nancy went inside with the others and they were assigned rooms. The desk clerk told them that lunch would be served in a short time. Since there were so many visitors, it would be necessary to have two sittings. “Miss Drew, will your group please come to the first one?”
“You bet I will,” Bess spoke up, laughing. “I’m starved.”
George gave her cousin a withering look. “Don’t forget the instructions on the hotel door in Cuzco. ‘Eat light.’ ”
Bess always made a little face at George in return for such a reprimand. “I have to keep up my strength to climb,” Bess defended herself.
The girls hurried upstairs to unpack and Nancy put the plaque in a bureau drawer. Then they met Maponhni in the dining room at a table near a long, open window. George sat with her back to it.
The Indian’s bright eyes watched the girls intently as the first course was served. It was a typical native dish—huge kerneled corn on the cob served with a large slice of Swiss cheese.
As Bess looked at her portion, she asked, “Maponhni, do we put this cheese on the corn or eat it separately?”
“Eat it anyway you like,” he replied.
Bess broke off a piece of the cheese and laid it on the kernels. She was about to take a bite when she glanced through the window. Her eyes grew large.
“George!
” Bess cried. “Look out! That beast behind you is going to bite!”
CHAPTER XIV
Alpaca Antics
As George jumped up and dashed away from the open window, Maponhni began to laugh.
“Your ‘beast’ is really very friendly,” he said. “It is an alpaca—a grass-eating animal—and gentle.”
To prove this he stepped to the next table where part of a plate of salad had been left. The Indian picked up a lettuce leaf and held it out to the alpaca. The animal nibbled it quickly.
George took another piece and extended it to the alpaca. She chuckled. “I’m sorry, old boy, but we don’t happen to serve grass in this dining room.”
The remark made Bess giggle. Getting up her courage, she too offered a piece of lettuce to the animal. When the girls stopped feeding him, their reproof was an indignant na-aah, na-aah!
At that moment a waiter came in with a tray of food. He set it down, went to the window, and clapped his hands. In Spanish he told the beast to go away. Lazily the alpaca walked off, its sheep-like head held disdainfully above its long neck.
“Oh girls! His family!” Carla exclaimed.
On the roadway just below the hotel stood a female and two baby alpacas.
“Aren’t they darling?” said Bess. “I must take some pictures of them later.”
Maponhni told the girls that alpaca fleece was valuable. “Generally it is white, but sometimes has gray or brown hair mixed in. The wool is soft enough to be used for clothing, and is very expensive.”
“Is that the finest wool there is?” George queried.
The Indian shook his head. “The wool from the vicuña is the finest in the world. The animal looks very much like the alpaca, but is a little smaller. Its fleece is soft and silky.
“In Incan times only royalty and aristocracy were allowed to use this wool. It is said that the Inca himself, ruler of the whole nation, had the finest kind of garments, most of them made from vicuña wool. But after the first wearing, they were destroyed.”
“What a dreadful waste!” George exclaimed.
“I agree,” said Maponhni. “Furthermore, those precious things were lost for all time. Had they been saved, we could have enjoyed looking at them.”
The Indian mentioned that a third animal in Peru whose fleece was used was the llama. “He’s larger than the other two.”
Maponhni said that the llama had been a beast of burden in Peru for many, many centuries. “Its wool is coarse and greasy, and is used mostly for heavy blankets, sacks, rope, and halters for the beasts. Of course, cloth for the very poor people has been woven from it since ancient times.”
“They probably used the hides to make sandals,” Carla suggested.
“I’ll bet,” George said with a grin, “that those old Incas wore the soft leather next to their skin so they wouldn’t itch from the prickly wool!”
The others laughed. By the time they had finished lunch, the rain had ceased and Bess urged the group to go outside so she could take some snapshots of the alpacas. After taking a couple of pictures, Bess handed the camera to Nancy.
“Please snap a picture of me seated on the alpaca,” she said. “And don’t let anybody slap him so he’ll run away!”
Nancy took the camera and Bess walked forward. She swung herself up onto the back of the animal. “Ready!” she called out.
Instantly the alpaca bent its knees and sat down in the roadway.
“Oh, you mean old thing!” Bess scolded. She slapped the animal gently. “Stand up!”
When the alpaca did not obey, Nancy laughingly snapped the picture, anyway.
Maponhni walked forward and with a chuckle said, “Miss Marvin, you must weigh more than a hundred pounds. That is the limit of a burden an alpaca will carry. He cannot be coaxed. You may as well get off.”
She grinned, but did not reveal her weight. She got off the animal and instantly changed the subject.
“I’m ready to go take pictures of the ruins.”
Nancy herself was eager not only to see the great archaeological wonder, but to hunt for a clue to the mystery of the crossword cipher. From the hotel, Maponhni led the way up a path to an admission stand where they paid a small fee. Then they began the climb.
To their left the mountainside rose steeply and was an amazing sight of endless series of three- to five-foot stone-faced terraces. They varied from fifteen to thirty feet in width.
Running up alongside the terraces were many stone stairways. From them branched alleyways between stone huts in various states of ruin. Maponhni explained that originally the dwellings stood from eight to ten feet in height and had thatched roofs.
“Archaeologists believe that the workers lived on one side of the city, the aristocracy on the other. They think this because one section was better built and had larger rooms than the other. At the very top stood a fine building that was like a convent. The Chosen Virgins of the Sun lived there. These maidens spent their entire time in religious work, like the nuns today, and did a lot of weaving.”
Bess looked to her right, where the ground fell steeply to the river. “It would be easy to tumble down out of this city and drop all the way to the water,” she said with a shudder.
“Don’t look down,” George advised.
The girls followed their guide as he wound in and out of the narrow, ancient streets. Nancy tried to imagine what the place had looked like when it was a flourishing city.
She entered one building which was larger than any of the others she had seen. It had several connecting rooms and Nancy concluded that this might have been the home of a high official.
By the time she returned to the entrance, her companions were out of sight. Thinking they had gone down the steep flight of steps nearby, she went after them. When Nancy reached the foot, the others were not around, so she walked forward to the edge of the path and gazed down the precipitous drop at the jungle-like valley.
As she contemplated the gorgeous view with mountains in the distance, Nancy became aware of a thudding sound behind her. Turning, she was horrified to see a huge bundle of thatch rolling at fast speed in her direction. Should it hit her, she would be swept off the mountainside. Just before it reached her, Nancy gave a mighty leap and hurdled the bundle.
“Oh!” she cried out as the thatch tumbled over the edge and disappeared.
As she stood trembling, Nancy heard a man’s voice and looked off to one side to see who he was. An Indian workman was busy putting thatch on a roof of one of the stone huts which was being restored. He pointed up the steps.
“Señor!” he called out.
Nancy looked there but could see nothing. She wondered whether the bundle had been accidentally dislodged by someone, or thrown on purpose.
The workman kept on pointing excitedly and calling, “Señor!”
Nancy was convinced now that he had seen someone throw the bundle. Running up to him, she asked, “Who was it? What did he look like?”
The workman raised his hands in a helpless gesture to indicate he did not speak English.
“Español?” Nancy asked, thinking she might manage a few simple phrases in Spanish.
Again the man shook his head. She assumed he spoke Quechua. She would find Maponhni and bring him back to question the workman. “Maybe he can get a clue to the señor this man’s talking about.”
Nancy had a long hunt before she was able to locate the others. Immediately Bess hugged her friend.
“Nancy! We’ve been looking for you because we wanted to go after that dreadful Luis Llosa!”
“What do you mean?”
“We saw him among the ruins!” said Carla.
Upon hearing of Nancy’s adventure, the others were sure that Llosa had tossed the bundle of thatch in her direction.
“If he’s here, we’ll find him!” George vowed. “Come on! Let’s separate and track him down!”
CHAPTER XV
Telltale File
Bess and George and Carla hurried off.
&nbs
p; Before Nancy began her search she turned to Maponhni. “Will you go back and talk to that workman? I think he speaks Quechua. Find out what the señor he mentioned looked like.”
“I will do that. Then I will start a search too for this Luis Llosa,” the Indian promised.
By this time several groups of tourists had arrived to see the ruins. As each girl came upon a group, she asked if anyone had seen a man who answered the description of Llosa. None of them had.
On one of the stairways Bess encountered a young man. He stopped climbing, but instead of answering her question, he motioned for her to sit on the steps with him.
“Thank you. I will stand,” Bess replied.
In broken English the stranger told her he was a Peruvian. “You are beautiful girl from North America,” he said. “I like you. We make date maybe?”
In her own mind Bess decided that he was the last person in the world with whom she wanted to make a date. She did not answer but repeated her question. “Have you seen a man who is thin and dark and has shifty eyes?”
The young man began to laugh. “You forget about that one. Tonight we make date?”
Bess was furious. She turned away and began to climb the steps. The Peruvian laughed. “Oh, you afraid of me? You are American girl they say is choosy?”
“I certainly am,” Bess said with dignity, and hurried up the steps with the speed of a frightened alpaca. Her admirer did not try to follow. By the time Bess reached the top step, she was winded and had to sit down.
“George was right. I shouldn’t have eaten all that corn and Swiss cheese,” she berated herself. Then she thought wistfully, “Why couldn’t he have been one of the nice young Peruvian men —like the ones Carla introduced us to!”
Bess remained quiet, even after she had stopped gasping. She could vaguely hear two men talking somewhere near her. The men were coming closer. In a few moments what they were saying became very distinct. At first Bess paid no attention, thinking they were tourists talking about a group of girls.