XVI
NARVA
To return to the explorers, left prostrate on the field of battle, itmust be recorded that, for once in his career, Miranda, after his firsttaste of active fighting, and seeing how the fortunes of the day weregoing against them, repressed his natural impulsiveness and developeda prudence and caution that would have become a general seasoned instrategy.
"For me it is not good to be here," he whispered sepulchrally to hiscompanions as they lay face downward about him. "We cannot fight. Wehave no guns. We will be kill. We must go!"
It was a good summary of the situation. Every one agreed to it, so faras their constrained positions would permit an exchange of opinions;but how to act on Miranda's obviously excellent plan was not clear. Ifthey got on their feet again, they would probably be shot--and even ifthe enemy failed to bring them down right away, they could not makeup their minds in which direction to make their escape. To retracetheir steps into the depths of the outer cave would bring them betweentwo fires and, aside from other tragic possibilities, would certainlyarouse the suspicions of Anitoo and his cavemen. To seek safety in theother direction, to pass within the section of the cave guarded by theCondor Gate, was to court unknown dangers in a region that loomed darkand mysterious enough. It was this latter course, however, that Mirandachose.
"This Anitoo take us to his queen," he argued. "Perhaps she is goodwoman. It is better we go alone. Senor Anitoo, he come after."
So they made up their minds to set out at once in search of this unknownqueen. She might, or might not, be friendly. But anyway, she would bebetter than lying on one's stomach between two opposing rows of fightingmen. Luckily for the carrying out of their plan, they had extinguishedtheir torches. They were thus in comparative darkness, hidden alikefrom friend and foe. Indeed, if any one had been able to see them intheir present prostrate position they would have been taken for dead,and escaped further notice. This view of the situation becoming clearto Miranda, he cautiously raised his head and peered into the darknessbefore him. A few feet farther on he could dimly make out the bodyof the huge caveman who had fallen before his revolver a few momentsago--and at the side of the caveman lay his victim, General Herran. Thesight stirred Miranda's grief for the loss of his friend to a freshoutburst, leading him to abandon, with one of those impulsive changescharacteristic of him, his plans for escape.
"Ah, Caramba!" he wailed, with the nearest approach to tears he had everbeen guilty of; "he was one great hero! He was a man! I not leave him!He die for me!"
And then he fell to stroking his friend's face--wet from the bloodpouring from his wounds, as he supposed--caressing him somewhat roughly,indeed, in the vehemence of his grief, and absent-mindedly tugging athis great beard, as he had so often seen the General do himself. Themore he pondered his loss, the more doleful it appeared to him; and thisfeeling grew until he reached such a pitch of pathos that he resolvednever to leave Herran, dead or alive. Better to die right there withhim, he said, than to abandon his mortal remains to the canaille who hadkilled him.
These lamentations and melancholy vows, however, aroused some feebleobjections among Miranda's companions, who were growing restless intheir uncomfortable positions, and saw no relief in the idea of stayingindefinitely where they were. But Miranda paid no heed to what theysaid, except to growl out an expletive or two between his wails ofgrief, and to stroke his fallen hero's face with an increased vigor ofaffection. And then, in the midst of this lugubrious occupation, hesuddenly jumped to his feet, regardless of whatever lurking enemy theremight be near him, and started capering around Herran's body.
"This hero, he is not dead!" he cried in a sort of whispered ecstasy."When I rub the nose of him--Caramba!--he try to breathe! And he coughand say some words in Spanish!"
It was fortunate that the darkness was deep enough to hide Miranda fromobservation, else his dancing figure and the gestures of delight withwhich he accompanied this announcement would have brought upon him moreattention from the enemy than might have been to his liking. Anotherfact in his favor, besides the darkness, was that the fighting haddrifted away from this corner of the cave, leaving the explorers quitealone, in an obscurity that shrouded them from danger, but that stillrevealed to them enough of the outlines of the cave in the distance toshow them where they were and how they might best steer their way insafety through the Condor Gate, as Miranda had at first proposed. Andnow all were eager to corroborate the extraordinary news that Herran wasstill alive.
True to his professional instincts, Miranda plumped down on his knees atthe General's side, and commenced a series of probings, pummelings andrubbings in his search for wounds, mortal or otherwise. He worked withhis usual feverish haste, and it was not long before his activities drewfrom Herran protests that became more and more distinct and emphatic.Then Miranda remembered that he had seen the caveman's club descend uponthe General's head, so that if there were any wounds to be attended tothey would be in that part of his anatomy and nowhere else. And there,sure enough, under Herran's battered hat and his smashed miner's lamp,was a massive lump that testified to the magnitude of the blow thathad crumpled him up. Indeed, had it not been for the hat and the lamp,serving in this case as a buffer, even Herran's iron skull must haveyielded under the weight of the caveman's attack.
At first Miranda thought that the skull surely was fractured, andthereupon investigated the lump on top of it. This he did with so muchearnestness and nicety of detail that he was soon rewarded by a seriesof such vigorous oaths and threats as to leave no doubt in his mind ofhis victim's ability to look out for himself.
"He's all right, this General of Panama!" he exclaimed gleefully. "Hisbrains is not smashed. But perhaps he have a headache. Soon he fightagain. And now we go to the queen."
The subject of these optimistic assurances sat up with a groan, blinkinghis eyes savagely at his companions, who were now crowded around him,and wiping disgustedly from his face some of the kerosene oil that hadtrickled down from the mangled miner's lamp, and that Miranda had firsttaken for Herran's blood.
"Now, we go--we fly!" urged Miranda, his mind completely absorbedagain in the problem of extricating himself and his companions fromthe dangers of the battlefield. "They not see us. We save our life andgo to this queen. You are all right, General--is it not so?" he addedimpatiently.
The other looked at him venomously and groaned. Then, shaking himself,like a dog who has been temporarily worsted in a rough-and-tumble fight,he got to his feet and staggered along for a few paces.
"Yes, Caramba! I am all right," he said in Spanish, with painfulsarcasm. "It is a headache, as you say, that is all! Let us go!"
"That is good! Come!" grunted Miranda approvingly.
At first Herran was somewhat uncertain of his footing. But Mirandahelped him until he got over his dazed feeling sufficiently to walkalone. Then they all followed along, single file, skirting the edge ofthe darkness, beyond which they could dimly see the cavemen fighting,but without being able to tell how the fortunes of the battle weregoing, and making for the Condor Gate as quickly as they could. Oncebeyond that point they would be relieved, they thought, at leasttemporarily, from the inconveniences of a battle in which most ofthem had been forced to play the part of target only. Having passedthis danger zone, they would set about placing as generous a distanceas possible between themselves and their warlike companions. Furtherretreat, it is true, meant the abandonment of the outer cave for aventure into realms whither Anitoo had been conducting them, practicallyas captives, to an unknown fate. But the situation left them noalternative. Everything depended on their finding the queen--and then,having found her, their fate depended on the kind of woman she might be.
"A great thing this," muttered Leighton to himself; "at my age to be inthe power of the queen of a race of cavemen!"
"They are good peoples," remarked Miranda dubiously.
"I trust Anitoo," declared Una. "His queen will protect us."
"She will behead us!" exclaimed Mrs. Quayle, who
se spirits werehopelessly flustered by the uproar of battle that resounded throughthe cave. "Queens always behead people. Why did we ever come into thisfrightful place? We can never escape."
"Do be quiet, woman!" commanded Leighton, who did not care to hear hisown thoughts voiced in this manner.
"Hold the tongue!" growled Miranda savagely.
"We have escaped already," said Una soothingly. "I believe this pathwill take us out of the cave."
"Caramba! that is so," agreed Miranda delightedly. "It is change--andthere is some light."
"Yes, there actually is some light," said Leighton. "But--where does itcome from?"
Having passed through the great portal that separated them from Anitooand his men, they were soon following a narrow path that ran between twohigh walls of rock. This path was at first scarcely discernible. As theyturned a sharp corner, however, the darkness gradually lifted and theyfound it possible, for the first time, to distinguish certain objectsa considerable distance ahead of them--and judging by the directionin which the shadows from these objects were thrown, it was evidentthat the light was not a reflection cast by torches carried by warringcavemen.
This discovery was hailed as a momentous one, open to twointerpretations. Since, as every one knows, caves are never lighted fromsources contained in themselves, they must now be nearing another partyof cavemen, who were carrying lanterns, or else, through some twist insubterranean topography, they had stumbled upon an unexpected passagewayto the outer world. No sooner was the latter possibility suggested,however, than its improbability was recognized. No rays from sun ormoon were ever like these--blue, flickering, ghostly--illuminating thegrotesque forms around them. This light had a tingling quality, as ofsparks that snap and glitter when they are thrown off from an electricbattery. It was certainly not sunlight, or moonlight either, as theexplorers quickly realized. There remained the idea that it came fromlights carried by an approaching band of cavemen.
"It is like the torches of Anitoo's musicians!" exclaimed Una; "it's notfrom the sun."
"It begins to be too bright, and at the same time too far off, forthat," objected Leighton.
"It is one big fire----" said Miranda.
"A bonfire," interjected Andrew.
"----and when we come there we will see."
Pressing on along this path, the light steadily increased, althoughrevealing to the explorers nothing of its origin. They could walk nowat a fairly round pace, and as their range of vision extended theirattention was completely taken up in a study of the strange objects tobe seen in the unknown world about them.
Great walls of white basalt, veined with broad bands of glisteningemerald, towered on either side, reaching up to a crystalline roofthat spread forth, far as eye could reach, at an altitude scorning thelimitations of human architecture. The irregularities of the outer cave,with its rough bowlders and piles of fallen debris, its dark masses ofshapeless sandstone, was exchanged here for forms of marvelous symmetry,fashioned, one could but imagine, for the enjoyment of a race of beingsto whom the majesty of beauty must be an ever-living reality. Seen bythe explorers, in the wavering half light that filled the cave, thebold outlines of cliff and battlement were softened and blended in avague witchery of design suggesting meanings and distances varying withthe fancy of the beholder. It was a vale of enchantments, an Aladdin'scave, from which anything might be expected with the mere rubbing of aring--or a lamp.
As the path broadened the walls became less precipitous; on their sidesobjects could be distinguished that, anywhere else, would have beentaken for man's handiwork. Tiny dwellings appeared to be carved outof solid rock that jutted forth from dizzying heights, while featheryforms of dwarf trees and plants, whose leaves were of a spectraltransparency, whose branches were twisted in thread-like traceries oflines and figures, found sustenance where not a foothold of earth wasdiscernible. That such evidences of botanical life should appear in acavern remote from the sun's heat and light was surprising enough to allthe explorers; to Leighton it savored of the miraculous. Ever since theadventure with the Black Magnet the savant, indeed, had drifted intosuch a state of bewilderment that he was more helpless in grasping andovercoming the difficulties confronting them than those of the party whohad little of his learning or experience. Ordinarily he was accustomedto treat with contempt phenomena that to others appeared inexplicable.But here he was as a mariner adrift in midocean, in a rudderless ship,without sails or compass. Everything seemed at odds with the settledbeliefs and theories of science as he knew them. Nothing was as itshould be. He was thus less capable as a leader than the volatileMiranda who, although fairly well trained in the modern way of lookingat things, did not trouble himself to explain the marvels that met themat every turn in their wanderings.
"They live in the walls, these people!" exclaimed the doctor, "and theyhave trees and plants without the sun and rain."
That was all that need be said. The fact was a fact, delightfulbeyond most facts just because it was so outlandish, so opposed toall experience, and it gained nothing in interest or anything else bytrying to explain it--although Miranda did, on occasion, take a hand atexplaining these puzzling matters.
Entertaining as these discoveries and discussions might be, however,the feeling that they had stumbled into a region inhabited by a raceof men who lived in a manner unknown to them--and who, moreover, hadalready given evidence of unfriendliness towards strangers--was notreassuring to Miranda or any of the rest of them. The end of theiradventure grew every moment more puzzling. Since their escape fromAnitoo they had not actually met any one. Perhaps this part of the cavewas not inhabited after all. Perhaps Anitoo's talk of a queen was not tobe taken too seriously. The curious objects projecting from the wallsfar above them might not be the human dwellings that at first sightthey appeared. Even the signs of an unearthly vegetation might prove asort of mirage, or they might turn out to be mere specimens of basalticformation--fantastic enough, certainly--wrought by the subterraneanconvulsions that had given birth to this cave measureless ages ago.But the air had become so strangely invigorating, the mysterious lightso pervasive and even brilliant, that anything seemed possible. Thisatmospheric vitality, a certain bracing quality in the air, had beennoted, indeed, among their first experiences in the outer cave. But,compared with this that now tingled and coursed in their veins like someconquering elixir, the air of the outer cave was chill, dead. Here lifemight germinate and be sustained--although there lacked, as Miranda hadpointed out, "the sun and rain" to aid in these daily miracles ofnature.
But it was idle to theorize, useless to harbor doubts that led nowhere.So, they wandered on, marveling at the strangeness and the magnitude ofthis underground world, and yielding themselves, as familiarity disarmedtheir fears, to the charm of it all. For there was beauty of a rare andthrilling quality in these majestic cliffs whose perfectly proportionedsides gleamed in all the variegations of color belonging to certainkinds of basalt. Displaying in structure the columnar forms peculiar tothis rock, the admirable symmetry produced easily suggested the workof a human architect gifted in all the cunning of his art. And now thewidening space before them disclosed unmistakable signs of the humanagency they had suspected.
They stood at the verge of a precipice. Below them stretched a wideand comparatively level plain, vaulted over by a crystalline canopysupported by innumerable clusters of slender columns, and shelteringlow-storied houses, or huts, collected together in the closecompanionship of a thriving little village. The familiar accompanimentsof such a scene, supposing that it formed a part of some straggling,hospitable highway in the outer world, were there. At the doorways ofthe houses men and women stopped to talk; children played in the vacantspaces that served for yards and streets; even diminutive animals, thatappeared in the distance to be near of kin to the patient, ubiquitousburro, jogged along under their burdens of merchandise. The villagerswere evidently of the same race as Anitoo and his companions, dressedlike them in white flowing togas, but lacking their indefinable charman
d lordliness of bearing. Anywhere else they would have been taken forpeasants, attired somewhat fantastically, engaged in the most primitiveoccupations. Here, remote from everything that lives under the sun,their very simplicity was cause for wonder, if not for fear.
So far the explorers had not attracted the attention of the villagers.Where the former stood they could watch the scene below without beingobserved themselves. But they knew that this security could not last.Either they had to go on and make themselves known, or return to Anitoo,who by this time, possibly, was at the mercy of Raoul and his party.They hesitated. The problem was a knotty one--but it was not leftfor them to decide. From an unexpected quarter came an interruption,startling in some respects, that solved their difficulties--temporarilyat least--and seemed a promising augury that whatever dangers confrontedthem they might rely on backing, of a sort. A heavily veiled figure,bent with age and toiling down a precipitous path from the rocky heightbeneath which they were sheltered, silently approached them. At sightof this singular being, Mrs. Quayle, not yet accustomed to this landof uncomfortable surprises, started to run away. Her frantic effortsat speed restored the confidence of the others and, after she had beenunceremoniously brought to order by Leighton, the little party managedto face the newcomer with some show of composure.
Leaning on a long staff, the descending figure, ignoring the others,advanced towards Una, who stood by herself beneath a low shelf of rock.Pausing within a few feet of the wondering girl, the veil was slowlylifted, revealing the seamed and wrinkled face and long flowing whitehair of a woman whose great age was visible in every feature. In bygonetimes she would have been proclaimed a witch, although in her aspectthere was nothing of the malevolence tradition attributes to witches.But there was the solemnity, the dramatic gesture of the sibyl--a beingwho is supposed to rank several grades higher than the witch--when,with uplifted hand, she commanded the attention of those to whom shedeigned to speak. Drawn by something of benignity in her glance, andundaunted by her otherwise fantastic appearance, Una came forward tomeet her--a movement that at once elicited a sign of approval.
"She is one loca, one crazy woman," growled Miranda.
"Of course she is dangerous!" exclaimed Mrs. Quayle.
General Herran shrugged his shoulders and muttered vigorous profanitiesin Spanish.
"Nonsense! The woman is probably slightly demented," was Leighton'sjudgment in the matter. Una, apparently, was without opinion as tothe character or the intentions of the singular being whose gaze wasfastened upon her, and whose outstretched arm singled her out from therest.
"Oh! if she would only speak in a language we could understand," sheexclaimed. To the amazement of every one, the wish was gratifiedas soon as uttered. For the old woman--whether witch, sibyl, orlunatic--answered in plain English, an English somewhat defective inpronunciation, it is true, but correct enough in form to give evidenceof an unusual amount of study on the part of the speaker.
"I expected you. Come with me," she commanded.
Astonishment silenced further comment. For the moment even Miranda hadnothing to say. Then, recovering his usual assurance, he expressedhimself with emphasis.
"Caramba! She is one witch," he declared.
The old woman shook her head impatiently. It was with Una alone shewanted to speak; she resented as interference any word from the others.Una, on her part, was strangely drawn to her. The odd dress, the airof mystery that repelled the others, increased her interest. She wasimpressed by her calm assumption of authority, convinced that she wasthere to help them. And then, a novel idea flashed through her mind.
"Are you the queen?" she asked abruptly.
The stern Indian features relaxed into the ghost of a smile, accompaniedby a feeble chuckle from a lean and wrinkled throat.
"I am Narva," she announced quietly--but whether "Narva" was the queenshe did not deign to say.
"Very well, my lady," argued Miranda, "but we want the queen."
"Silence!" commanded Narva, turning for the first time from Una to theothers. "Come with me," she repeated.
"But why?" persisted the doctor; "what for we go with you, my senora,unless you are queen?"
"Perhaps she is the queen," suggested Andrew; "only she doesn't wantto say so. She didn't deny it!" a view of the matter that met with noresponse.
But, queen or not, Una was ready to pin her faith to this strange beingwho had accosted them in so unexpected a manner. It was useless evento attempt an explanation of how an aged Indian woman, answering tothe name of Narva, inhabiting a cave in the remote Andes, could talkEnglish, and how it happened that she appeared to know them--a partyof distressed foreigners--whom she had certainly never met before.So long as she refused to explain--and refuse she certainly did--allthis would have to remain the puzzle that it was. But, logical or not,dangerous or not, Narva seemed to be something very like their lasthope. Her bearing, although decidedly reserved, was not unkindly--waseven friendly--and so Una determined to follow her without furtherdiscussion. The others scarcely shared her confidence. Mrs. Quayle stuckto it that Narva was dangerous, probably a witch; Leighton was still indoubt as to her sanity. Finally, Miranda put the point blank question--
"Why we go with her?"
"Simply because we have no one else to go with, no other plan," wasUna's prompt reply.
There was no gainsaying this. They were wandering, without guide or clewof any kind, through a cave filled with mysteries and dangers. On thetrail behind them were two bands of natives, absorbed in the occupationof cutting each other's throats. From one of these bands it was certainthey had much to fear. In front of them was a considerable body ofcavemen, not at present engaged in war, it is true, but who might, forall they knew, prove unfriendly. Witch or queen, Narva volunteered toguide them--somewhere.
"At least we must know where she intends to take us," declared Leighton.
"I take you from these," said Narva, pointing in the direction of thevillagers.
"Why should we go from them?" asked Leighton.
"They kill you," was the laconic reply.
"What bloodthirsty people they all are!" exclaimed Andrew.
But Narva's calm statement of what was to be expected proved decisive.There remained the doubt as to her sincerity. The timorous Mrs. Quaylescented a diabolical plot in the whole affair, and her fears wereshared by some of the others. Only Una would brook no delay.
"We want to get out of the cave," she said, addressing Narva. "We havelost the way--you will guide us?"
"Something you do first," retorted Narva; "then you go free."
The suggestion that they were still, in a sense, prisoners, and thatsome kind of service was expected of them before they could regaintheir freedom, was not pleasant. What was it that they could do for sosingular a person as this, who gave the impression of having planned tomeet them in this very spot? Narva took a witch's privilege to speakin riddles. No amount of questioning could get her to explain what shemeant. The answer to everything was always "follow me"--and as shepointed to the valley whenever she said this, they gathered that thedirection they were expected to take was practically that which theyhad been pursuing ever since they left the Condor Gate. As this wouldinevitably bring them among the villagers--who, they had just been told,were prepared to "kill them"--they could not understand Narva's plan atall. There being no choice left them, however, they yielded and wentwith her.
The path leading into the valley was abrupt and dangerous. Narva,striding ahead, was unimpeded by obstacles that left the othersbreathless and panic-stricken. They wanted to turn back before they hadgone very far--but this would have been quite as difficult to accomplishas to go on.
At this point, apparently, the geological construction of the cave hadundergone some radical changes. Convulsions, undoubtedly of volcanicorigin, had rent the solid walls of granite in two, leaving irregularchasms, of uncertain depth, to be traversed before the smooth floor ofthe valley could be reached. These chasms, where their width demandedit, were spanned by s
waying bridges of rope--or liana--and wood thatproved a sore trial to the weaker members of the party, delaying theirprogress to an extent that seriously strained Narva's patience. The oldIndian was especially put out by Mrs. Quayle, whom she contemptuouslycalled "baby," and whose pathetic helplessness astride a plank over ayawning cavern aroused in her the nearest approach to laughter she hadshown.
Under Narva's guidance, however, the difficulties of this downwardtrail were overcome without mishap. The perilous abysses, once crossed,appeared not more than miniature dangers in retrospect; but immediatelyfacing them, on this plain that, at a distance, had seemed so charmingand pastoral in character, there was menace enough for the most daring.At first sight of the invaders, for so they were deemed, the villagersshowed unmistakable hostility. Dropping their various occupations withone accord, they confronted the explorers in so threatening a mannerthat the latter had either to defend themselves as best they might, orretreat. But the thought of those villainous chasms, spanned by flimsybridges of rope, was too appalling to offer the remotest hope of safetyin flight. Anything would be better than a return--if return were evenpossible--over so hazardous a path.
"We fight!" announced Miranda through clenched teeth--and, regrettinghis lost revolver, he threw himself into as warlike an attitude as hisrotund figure would permit.
This had anything but a quieting effect on the villagers. From everydirection volunteers hastened to strengthen their line of battle, andit might have fared badly with the enterprising doctor, upon whom aconcentrated attack resembling a football rush was about to be launched,had it not been for the interference of Narva. The old Indian woman,scornful at first of the excited demonstration of the villagers, nowtook an active part in what was going on. Brushing Miranda aside, shechecked the advancing mob with a torrent of angry words that soundedlike the scolding lecture of an outraged school teacher bringing herrefractory pupils to order. As she spoke in the native language of theIndians, what she said was totally unintelligible to those whom she wasdefending. But on the cavemen the effect of her words was immediate.The shouts ceased; the hastily formed line of battle was broken.The angry villagers acknowledged Narva's authority by every sign ofsubmission--sullenly given, it is true--and the way was clear and freefor the "invaders" to go on.
The singular episode impressed them deeply. They realized that theywere surrounded by people who did not want them in this underworld oftheirs, and that they were, at the same time, under the protection of abeing who, mad or inspired, was powerful enough to stand between themand danger. Who she was, or why she befriended them remained a mystery.On this point Narva was as uncommunicative as ever. On occasion, as theyhad just witnessed, she was capable of the volubility of a fishwife;with them her reserve was impregnable.
"Follow me!" she commanded--and there was nothing for it but obey.Miranda, who was the immediate cause of the trouble, mutteredmaledictions on the fate that left him at the mercy of an eccentricbeldame who might be leading them to some unthinkable witch's dance--andthe rest exhorted him to curb his warlike propensities in the future.
Gliding ahead at a quicker pace than before, Narva led the way alongthe narrow path on each side of which stood the huts of the villagers.These huts were not more than thirty in number, built of the rough-hewnstone of the cave. Each, apparently, contained two, or in some cases,three rooms on the ground floor. Roofs they had none, a deficiency inarchitecture evidently without inconvenience, since the great vaulteddome of the cave furnished them with whatever protection overhead wasnecessary. The whole series of little houses composing the villageresembled one huge, hospitable communal dwelling, not unlike the ancientpueblo ruins of Arizona, in which there was the privacy desired byseparate families, together with a close union of household intereststhat is scarcely possible in settlements where each group of individualslives under its own rooftree. As if further to preserve this communalmanner of living, the openings into the huts were without doors,although, in a few instances, curtains of a heavy red material servedas doors. These curtains were adorned with thin plates of gold, cutin primitive designs depicting various forms of animal life. The hutsso marked the explorers took to be the dwellings either of villagedignitaries, or buildings devoted to public uses.
There was scant opportunity to observe more than the barest outlinesof this singular underground settlement, as the pace set by Narva leftno time for loitering. But the explorers felt little desire to prolongtheir stay here, although they soon forgot their fears as they notedthe sullen deference with which their mysterious guide was everywheregreeted. The villagers retired before them into their various dwellings,and as the little company passed along the unobstructed street it waswelcomed with demonstrations of respect resembling the homage accordedsome eastern potentate who deigns to visit his subjects. The changewas grateful to those who a moment ago had been the objects of populardisfavor, at the same time that it stimulated their curiosity regardingNarva. The latter paid no heed to her surroundings, but her progress wastimed to the needs of those who followed her. An occasional backwardglance gave proof that her interest in them, whether for good or ill,had not abated. Talk with her, however, was impossible; and thus thestraggling little village, with its groups of obsequious Indians, wastraversed in silence.
When the last hut had disappeared in the distance Narva turned abruptly.The path was again becoming precipitous, and although the mysteriouslight with which the cave was illumined revealed whatever obstacleswere in the way, there were dark chasms in the overhanging cliffs thatfilled the timid with grim forebodings. Where they stood the ground waslevel, making a little platform, or square, three sides of which wereunprotected by walls. On the fourth side an arched opening in the smoothface of a lofty tower of granite, glittering with countless facets ofcrystal, served as entrance to a spacious interior. Emblazoned on thekeystone of this arch was the same emblem that marked the cyclopeangateway to the inhabited portion of the cave--the rudely carved figureof a condor. Beneath this sculptured symbol Narva stood for a momentregarding the others with stern composure. Then she pointed to theshadowy depths within.
"Enter!" she commanded.
The Gilded Man: A Romance of the Andes Page 17
