“The mammaconas? Were they here then?” The scientist, intensely interested, urged his mount alongside Natividad’s.
“Yes señor... the mammaconas... and three head priests of the temple... only they may touch the Virgin of the Sun.... señor, for the past fifteen years I have known all this, but they called me a lunatic. Why should we suppose that the Indians have changed? Do they not eat, drink, and get married just as they did five centuries ago? If their outward customs have not changed, why should their secret rites have done so? Why, señor, why?... But nobody will believe me. It all began when I was a young man. I had to investigate a mysterious crime, the only possible explanation for which was a religious one. You must not forget that you are dealing with Incas to this day.... And I got my knuckles rapped.... Five years later, when the Orellana girl disappeared, they treated me in the same way. So I let them give what explanation they liked, and worked on my own. I speak Quichua like a native now, señor. I also learned Aimara, which is their sacred language in the Cuzco and round Titicaca.... That’s where they are making for now; some hidden temple, where their priests have been working since the days of the conquest.”
Uncle Francis looked at his companion suspiciously. Were they all engaged in a huge practical joke at his expense? This Chief of Police was singularly calm under the circumstances; off-handed, almost gay.
“We are sure to catch them, are we not?”
“Of a surety, señor. Dios mio, be content! We will catch them.... How can they possibly escape? We are on their heels; if they stick to the mountains, they run into our troops; if they go down into the costa, every corregidor (mayor) is at my orders.”
There was a moment’s silence, and he went on:—
“Will you not put on that cloak at your saddle-bow, señor? The nights are chilly, and we are nearing the cordilleras.... The only road, you see. They must have passed here. At dawn, we shall be able to see their trail distinctly.... If only those crazy people who dashed on ahead do not make fools of themselves.... A plucky youngster, little Christobal.... We shall soon overhaul them.... One does not climb these mountains as a bull jumps over the barrier at the ring....”
Natividad’s garrulous flow of words was interrupted by a chuckle from Uncle Francis. Not a little astonished, he asked him what he meant, but Mr. Montgomery contented himself with replying:—“I understand, I understand.” Natividad, who did not understand, eyed him doubtfully.
Just before day-break they reached the first masses of the true Andes. Their mounts did not appear over-tired, and after a two-hours’ halt at a wayside guebrada, where beasts and men obtained food, they continued the journey. Over them towered the giant mountain chain, blazing in the molten light of dawn.
The half-breeds at the guebrada could not, or would not, give them any information as to those they followed. That the Indian cavalcade had not stopped there, however, was certain, or larder and loft would have been empty. Natividad, convinced he would get nothing else out of the men, forced them, in the name of “the supreme government,” to exchange two strong mules for two of the horses.