“They’re carrying the Chief on a golden litter!” War whispered in awe. “Or is it our friend Ino?”
At first the Scouts and Mr. Livingston could not see the face of the man who sprawled comfortably beneath the feather-adorned canopy.
The great personage was borne ceremoniously by six sturdy Indians with skirts of gold cloth and headdress of waving red plumes.
“Some style!” Willie chuckled. “It’s like a circus parade!”
Behind the litter, trooped natives with javelins, war clubs and painted shields.
Presently the man on the litter shifted his position so that his face became visible to those crouched behind the rocks. The Scouts stiffened in shocked surprise.
It was Captain Carter!
“How did that conniving little crook get here and in the good graces of the natives?” Jack muttered. “Why, they’re treating him as if he were a king!”
“Do you suppose he was in the village at the time we were captured?” speculated Ken. He went on, to answer his own question. “Maybe, but I doubt it.”
“It’s clear he has top rating with the natives,” Jack declared. “I suspect he’s tumbled to some vital secret. Otherwise, you may be sure he wouldn’t waste time here. He must practically have his greedy hands on Inca gold!”