Dinner, served on the brink of a chasm from which rose the mutter of the racing stream, was a gay meal. Buntu had vanished, and did not reappear until after nightfall, when Maria-Teresa met him near her tent. He was very apologetic, and, hat in hand, excused himself for the incident in the train. He had had no intention of being rude, and knowing that the Marquis was a great friend of the manager of the Franco-Belgian bank, he hoped that he would not carry the matter further.
Maria-Teresa, conquering a strong desire to laugh, promised the descendant of the Incas that he would not lose his clerkship through them. When he had bowed himself out of sight, she carried the story to her father and Dick, who were vastly amused. Then they all went to bed, with the exception of Uncle Francis, who passed the greater part of the night putting his notes in order and writing an article for a reverend monthly in which he re-told the story of the conquest of Peru, with the aid of the Last of the Incas. This Indian he sketched as a gloriously picturesque character, carefully omitting to say that he wore European clothes!
As every night since the appearance of the three strange heads on her balcony Maria-Teresa found sleep with difficulty. To-night, though tired by the journey, she tossed restlessly on her narrow camp-bed. Suddenly, in the dead of night, she sat up, listening. A familiar voice seemed to be speaking. She slipped noiselessly to the canvas flap covering the entrance to the tent, and peeped out.
There were two shadows out there, moving away in the moonlight One she recognized immediately for the Indian bank-clerk. Who was the other? They stopped, and half turned toward the tent. It was Huascar!
What was Huascar doing there, at that time of night, with that strange Indian? Why were they pointing at her tent? What did it all mean?... The two shadows were walking again.... Then the peace of the night was broken by a neigh, and the young girl saw a picketed horse stamping in the shadow beyond. Huascar vaulted into the saddle, while his companion loosed the picket-rope, still talking and occasionally nodding toward the tent. Then both disappeared, and silence descended again on the sleeping camp.
Maria-Teresa could not sleep all night. Huascar’s unexpected reappearance was in no way calculated to calm the half-expressed terror which haunted her, and which she refused to acknowledge, stifling what she called her cowardice.
Had she anything to fear from Huascar? She could not believe it. She knew quite well that the Indian loved her, but as a faithful dog does, she thought; and she felt certain that she could count on his devotion were she in any danger.
And yet! And yet!... And yet what? What danger could there be? It was too absurd! She was becoming as ridiculous as those two old ladies with their crazy legends! With that, she decided not to say a word to either Dick or her father. She was not going to be taken for a child afraid of every shadow it saw at night. But she would question Huayna Gapac Runtu on the very first occasion.
This occasion presented itself during the first stage of the next day’s journey. Maria-Teresa, the Marquis, Dick and old Montgomery led the way. Uncle Francis, at first delighted with the prospect of a mule-ride, soon determined to get off again. Riding along the very edge of precipices, his mount felt ten times too high, and he was sure that he would be safer on foot and, at certain times, on all-fours. He gradually became convinced that his mule would slip, and determined to dismount, at a point where two riders could not pass abreast.
The whole cavalcade was thus stopped, while those behind called on the scientist to go ahead, and he vowed that he would do nothing of the kind, twisting in his saddle and trying to discover the best way to get off. Immediate action of the Indian bank-clerk saved the situation, and probably Uncle Francis’ neck. Getting off his own mule, Runtu squeezed down the line, and catching Mr. Montgomery’s mount by the bridle, led it on to a broader path and safety. Dick, the Marquis and Maria-Teresa could not do less than thank him.