Leaving the parchment on the table, the old missionary moved with tottering steps to an arched doorway which opened upon the street. With a bony hand, he indicated the rim of mountains visible in the far distance.
“Yonder you see the highest, most inaccessible ranges of the Andes,” he said. “Even intrepid travelers have found many of the chasms and valleys impassable.”
“Which is the secret mountain?” Ken asked eagerly.
Father Francisco pointed out one of the ranges, which in the sunlight seemed afire with spears of red and gold.
“Have explorers never reached those peaks?” Jack questioned. “In all these years, it seems impossible that no one would have gone there.”
“Many have attained the heights, my son. But little gold has been found. As for the lost city, it remains as elusive as in the sixteenth century when the Portuguese first set eyes upon it.”
“Mr. Monahan took a direct route to yonder mountain?” Ken asked, his eyes on the rim of blue.
“No, it was his belief that the directions given in the parchment were incorrect. Either the Portuguese were mistaken in their bearings, or deliberately misleading.”
“You know the route he took?”
“To a certain point, yes. Beyond that, there is no definite information. We have only Captain Carter’s word—”