(#44) The Clue in the Crossword Cipher (10 page)

“Why,” Carla mused, “would the artist refuse to answer the Cuzco priest who befriended him?”

All the girls surmised that it might be because the man had discovered a secret he was afraid to tell. Or was he trying to keep some special information to himself until he could contact his family in Lima?

“Maybe,” Carla said thoughtfully, “this man
was
Aguilar.”

“It’s quite possible,” said Nancy. “After all, there were many adventurers at that time, but my guess is that a European artist in these parts was unusual.”

Maponhni nodded. “You say you think this plaque indicates something valuable like a treasure? What do you expect to find—Inca gold?”

“Who knows?” George replied. “A really fabulous object may be buried somewhere. All we have to do is find the spot.”

Maponhni advised them to spend a day or two at the ruins of Machu Picchu. “What destroyed the city is a great mystery. I guess you know that. Maybe your treasure is buried there.”

The girls thanked the Indian for his help. Before they left, he asked if he might take them the next day to see the ruins at Sacsahuaman. “They are just outside of town and an amazing sight. Sacsahuaman was originally a fort.”

The girls said they would like very much to go and would be ready at ten o’clock.

The following morning Maponhni came to their hotel with his car and they started off. When they reached the ruins, the visitors stood in awe.

“How magnincent!” Nancy exclaimed, gazing at the high zigzagging stonework that formed the front of the fortress.

Maponhni said the wide three-tiered wall, made entirely of huge limestone boulders, was sixty feet high and eighteen hundred feet long.

“Some of these rocks weigh two hundred tons and were brought here without the aid of any kind of machinery. Men tumbled them end over end, using strong, slender tree trunks for leverage.”

“How did the workmen get one rock on top of the other?” Bess asked.

Maponhni said that great mounds of dirt were piled up and the stones rolled up them and put into place. “Then the mound would be made higher so the next rock could be raised to position.”

“It’s a fantastic piece of engineering,” Nancy remarked. “I’d like to climb up and look around.” The others decided to try it also.

“Go ahead, but be carefull” the Indian warned. “I will wait here.”

While they had been talking, a car had driven into the far side of the grassy area. It continued in a huge semicircle and stopped near the end of the fortress wall, about five hundred feet from the girls.

At first they thought there was only the driver, but suddenly a man arose from the rear seat and disappeared behind the last jog of the wall. He was carrying something half under his jacket, as if he were trying to conceal it.

“What was he holding?” Carla asked.

“It looked like a big can,” Nancy replied.

The girls hunted for tiny worn places in the rocks as footholds to pull themselves up toward the first level of the fortress. Nancy reached it ahead of the others and hurried along the walkway. Eager to get to the top, she climbed to the second tier and was soon out of sight of the others.

“What a place for a siege!” Nancy thought, gazing around, then she walked forward.

Near the end of the wall she started downward in a slanting direction. When she was about twenty feet from the ground she heard a noise above her. She looked up just in time to glimpse a man’s leg disappearing around the adjoining bend in the zigzag wall.

Suddenly Nancy gasped in astonishment. On a large rock above her was the newly painted, crude face of a bright-red cat!

CHAPTER XIII

El Gato

THE cat again!

“Maybe that man who painted it was El Gato himself, leaving his insigne!” Nancy thought.

She tried to peer around the corner of the zigzag wall, but could not do so without losing her balance. “I wish I could see him!” she fumed.

Wondering if he might have returned to his car, Nancy turned to gaze below. The driver was still there, but the other man was not in sight.

Nancy changed her position to look upward again. She saw an arm poke itself around the corner. The arm disappeared for a second, then reappeared. This time the hand was holding a bucket with red paint dripping over the sides.

Nancy was puzzled. “Is the man going to add to his picture?” she thought.

As she stood fascinated by the prospect, the hand suddenly swung upward. With great force the hidden figure threw the bucket of red paint directly toward her.

Nancy knew that she had to move in a hurry, but there was no place she could run from her precarious position! She must jump!

Hoping to land on the soft grass below, Nancy leaped off the side of the fortress. It was a long jump. She took it gracefully, but landed with bone-jarring impact and sat down, breathless, without moving. The can now lay in a red gooey mass not far from her.

“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.”