by Van Powell
CHAPTER XII CLIFF FACES A PROBLEM
"You fellows are having all the fun," Cliff said ruefully, while thedisguised five sat around after dinner the third day they spent inQuichaka. "You can go all over town and see all the sights and I have tosit like a judge, all alone in my temple."
"It won't be for long," Nicky cheered him up. "Bill saw your fatheragain--how was he, Bill?"
"He's getting better every minute," Bill informed them. "When they tookme to see him first--at Chasca's command--and I don't think theysuspected anything--I managed to get a chance to whisper to him that wewere disguised friends. He chirked up right away. He isn't so verysick--just weak. He lost hope and heart, I guess, and sort of pinedaway. But today I got a chance to whisper that his son is here--youought to see him spruce up!"
"If I could see him----" Cliff said.
"It would be dangerous. Either he, or you, might get excited and spoileverything. No! Better wait till the Feast of Raymi. Then we can havehim brought before you. He's pretending that he is no better so thatwhen you see him you can pretend to cure him."
"I think that will be best," counselled Mr. Whitley. "Now if you areready, Tom, let us go out to the farm lands and inspect that corn cropagain. I am something of a chemist and I think that if I can only findthe ingredients to mix a good insecticide, we can show them what willseem like a marvelous destruction of the pests which are eating away thegrain. We must search as quickly as we can because we want to be readyat the festival."
They went away toward the outlying farms and grain fields. Mr. Whitleywanted to see exactly what insects were at work, then he felt sure thathe could discover some means of ending their depredations.
Cliff sat in moody silence for a time.
"That girl who always laughs at me and calls me the fellow who sits downon llamas," Nicky broke the silence. "She is a nice girl, even if shedoes laugh. She told me there is going to be a big competition--I don'tquite understand what kind--races or something. Why can't Cliff enterthe race and then he could train and get out for exercise."
Bill offered to find out what was to occur, and went away. He came backvery soon and informed Cliff that before the annual Feast of Raymi, thegreat festival in honor of their sun-god, the Inca would choose fromamong his sons the one who should be the next Inca.
Such young nobles were carefully trained during a long period ofpreparation; they were taught the arts of war as the Incas understoodthem; they were also taught many other things, and then, at anappropriate time, great games and competitions were held in whichendurance, prowess and skill were tested.
Such a contest was to be held very soon, just before the great festival.Challcuchima, one of the ruler's many sons--for the Inca had many wivesand many children--was ready to receive the ceremonials of appointment.Cliff, as Chasca, had already received and commended Challcuchima; afine, clean-limbed fellow near Cliff's age, the young Indian made a goodimpression.
"I had a chat with Inca Capac," Bill said. "I hinted that it was in themind of Chasca to become as a mortal youth and try his skill against thenoble youths and the son who is the Inca's favorite. He liked the idea."
"Then we will change the temple of the stars into training quarters,"Nicky said excitedly, springing up. "I'd like to do some contesting too.And so would Tom, if Mr. Whitley can spare him."
When they returned, Tom and Mr. Whitley took the plan well; the younghistory instructor saw a splendid chance to give his young charges areal insight into Inca sports while he, with Bill, could be away in themountains, searching for certain chemicals or ore deposits from which toextract certain mineral salts for his insecticide.
The populace learned of the coming contests and became as excited aschildren. They loved sports and contests; never a cruel race by naturethe nobles, although they endured hardships and inflicted painmercilessly to themselves and to enemies in war, were by nature gentleand their sports were far less cruel than those history attributes tothe Spartan race, yet somewhat akin to these in some aspects.
In tests of endurance the Spartan methods were approached; already theyoung son of the Inca and other noble youths had been going throughthese. Clad in mean attire and sleeping on the ground, they had enduredmany hardships; among the tests was a three day fast. But that was overand there was a brief respite during which food and exercise built upstrength for the climax--races, archery as they understood it with theirwar bows and arrows, and contests of an athletic sort.
Cliff, as Chasca, but less the supposed god than the real youth, wasvery popular with all the people as he walked in the temple grounds. Heand Tom and Nicky strolled about, the day before the great contest,admiring the marvels all about them.
"Did you ever see so much gold and silver?" Tom exclaimed, "not onlytheir utensils and ornament--but look there! Beyond those real flowersand that little clump of corn--there are gold and silver flowers--andall the varieties of things that they grow!"
They strolled over to examine them. Bill joined them. Mr. Whitley wasbusy with some minerals.
The garden they entered was an astonishing place. The Incas usedprecious metals as we use bronze and marble, for statues and ornamentsand even duplicates in gold and silver of their garden fruits andflowers. Gold was so common in the mountains that it was not used formoney; in fact the Incas had no money of any sort; they did not requireit under their system of government whereby everyone was cared for bythe governing tribe, so that wool, grain and other articles of dailynecessity were distributed fairly and plentifully and everyone shared inthe labor of their production. Therefore the precious metals wereemployed for other uses than that of currency.
They examined an especially beautiful parcel of corn stalks and ears ofgrain, executed in gold and silver; the stalks were of silver, the fat,bulging grain ears were sheathed in golden reproductions of the husk,the corn kernels peeped out, perfect and golden, while the tassel ofcornsilk was made of spun silver threads. They exclaimed as they studiedthe wonderful workmanship and then went on to the fresh wonders--fruitand flowers so perfect that they would deceive except for their sheen ofwhite or deep, glowing yellow.
When they turned the corner of the star-temple they stopped in surprise.In a huddled heap, a girl lay on the ground, her body shaking with sobsthat racked her.
"Why," Nicky cried, "it's Caya. It's the girl who called me the fellowwho sits on llamas. What's the matter, Caya?"
She sat up, her dusky face streaming with tears, and shook her head, forNicky had forgotten and spoken in English.
Bill stepped close, squatted beside her and repeated the question. Atfirst she only shook her head, turned away and buried her face in herarms, rocking in grief.
Finally she gasped out, in a sobbing voice, her story.
The Incas were not usually a cruel people, and it was almost unheard offor them to make a human sacrifice to their gods. But, in some greatcrisis of their community, they were known to resort to such methods toappease their gods.
Such a crisis was the attack of the insects upon their corn.
And they were planning a sacrifice to induce Raymi, their god, to lookdown with favor on their crop and destroy the menace to their futurefood supply.
In great buildings far from the everyday life of the tribe they keptcertain chosen maidens who were employed in the service of the Sun-god,spinning and weaving tapestries, garments and ornamental cloth. Fromamong these a sacrifice was chosen, when the rare occasion came for sucha terrible need.
"They have--chosen--my--sister!" sobbed Caya.
"Goodness!" exclaimed Nicky. "We must do something to stop them."
"We can't interfere in their religious rites," warned Bill, sadly butseriously.
The girl grovelled before Cliff, as though, being the messenger from thestars he must be able to help her.
Cliff felt very badly. It was outrageous and inhuman, this thing thosepeople planned to do.
But what could he do to stop it?
He bent down and put a hand awkwardly on the girl's black, touseledhair.
"There must be some way----" he said, looking across her head towardBill.
"I can't see any way," Bill said morosely.
"When is this to take place?" he asked the girl in quichua.
"At the Feast of Raymi!" she sobbed.
"Well, you stop crying and----" Bill nudged him. Cliff, too, was usingEnglish. He hesitated, and Bill lifted the slim, quivering girl to herfeet.
"Be not afraid, child of the long and curling locks," he said kindly inthe dialect she understood, "Chasca does not wish to see your eyes wet.But what can be done, Chasca will do; but breathe not a word lestChasca's pity turn to wrath!"
She dropped to the ground and struck her forehead on the path, toCliff's great dismay. Then as she remained in that abased position hetouched his chums' arms and they, with Bill, silently slipped away.
"Run and tell Mr. Whitley," he urged Tom. "If he can get his chemicalsready in time we may save Caya's sister."
"But if he can't?" said Nicky desperately.
Cliff shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know," he said.