“You will return,” Burton Monahan assured him. “This fever from which you suffer, will pass. It is Captain Carter who presents the hazard.”
“Tell us how you met him,” Mr. Livingston urged. “And why have you remained here with the natives?”
“I’ve spent much of my life in Peru,” Mr. Monahan began his strange story. “Always the tale of this lost Inca city fascinated me. A few archaeologists shared my belief that it existed, while others were convinced that the ancient parchment was born of some writer’s imagination.
“At any rate, I set off to find the locality. One misadventure after another beset my party—no need to bore you with the details, because you are familiar with the difficulties which befall. We encountered hostile Indians, and my natives deserted.
“I was taken prisoner. I do not mean that I was mistreated, but I was not permitted to leave the village. It was during this period of captivity that I gained an inkling that I was near an ancient Inca temple and the sacred city which the Indians desired to keep from the view of white men.”
“What made you pose as a medicine man?” Ken questioned.
“I’m coming to that. Because of my knowledge of first aid and medicine, it was easy to impress the natives with my skill. Gradually, I won their friendship, and adopted the medicine man role as an added protection for myself. As my knowledge of the language improved, I began to pick up additional scraps of information about the hidden city and a treasure said to lie inside a mountain.”
“By this time, I was reluctant to return to civilization, although I no longer was held prisoner. Village life was not too unpleasant. I lingered on, hoping to be permitted to view the sacred city. Even after I learned how entrance was gained, I dared not attempt it lest I be killed.”
“And what of Captain Carter?” questioned Willie.
“He came into camp one night with a few natives. Captain Carter at that time, was supplying a bandit leader with ammunition, but they had missed contact. He stumbled upon the village quite by accident.”