“Bob,” he said, “I’ll bet we’ve fallen into the hands of the Incas.”
His speech was in English, but at the concluding word the soldiers guarding him looked sharply at Frank. The leader, too, spun around. He glanced sharply at the boys, then once more looked away. No word was said. But both boys noted the glances cast at them, and both were quick to understand.
Incas! Frank had guessed correctly.
“Did you see that?” asked Frank.
Bob nodded.
“Well, Bob, we’re in for the experience of our lives. And as long as Jack and his father and the rest of the party are all right, I can’t say that I object. We’ve stumbled on the Enchanted City, or I miss my guess. At least, we’ve gotten near it, and have been taken prisoner by the inhabitants. But think of finding descendants of those old boys, after all these centuries, hidden away from the world, and not a soul knowing anything about it.
“Why, Bob, there has been nothing like it in history.”
Bob nodded, but his voice was more sober as he replied:
“Yes, it’s a pretty safe guess that we’ve found what we came searching for. But from all appearances, we may not be able to leave it. Didn’t that chap call this the ‘Forbidden Land?’”
“Yes.”