In the tiger's lair

by Leo E. Miller

Ted pounded the linen side of the fuselage frantically with his gloved hand, and at the signal Stanley automatically pushed the control forward, ever so slightly, and the ship went into a steep dive. It was part of their old code, originated on the Western Front, and in the emergency both remembered it instantly.

They were not a moment too soon. The great bird shot past above them with a rush of wings audible above the slow throbbing of the throttled-down motor.

Just as Stanley brought the plane to a level keel, the bird wheeled, and again came toward them, from the front, but this time the pilot saw it in time. He must avoid collision with the audacious creature, for the impact of the heavy body against the struts of propeller would be enough to shatter them and send them crashing to the ground. His first impulse was to use the machine-gun in an attempt either to kill the bird or to cause it to swerve; but a second thought seemed better. He waited until the black form was a scant hundred yards away; then he pulled hard on the control, and instantly the bird seemed to drop into space below them. What had really happened was that the ship had bounded upward in a steep zoom, passing high above the attacker, and before the latter could turn, Stanley had resumed the level course and opened wide the throttle. The ship started forward at such great speed that the bird, swift of wing though it was, could not overtake them; and they soon lost it in the distance, a black speck growing constantly smaller in the unclouded sky.

After that they flew at a lower altitude, so as not to arouse the ire of other condors that might be soaring at that dizzy height.

Ted was carefully scanning the ground, on which everything now appeared with startling distinctness. Below was an Indian trail on which a caravan of llamas had been wending its leisurely way. The leader of the file stopped and evidently sounded an alarm of some kind, for in a moment the panic-stricken animals were dashing down the trail, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake and scattering their packs by the wayside. After leaping a stone wall they disappeared into the doorway of a hut. At the same time a number of Indians, wearing bright-colored blankets, darted out of the rear doorway, routed from their abode by the onrushing beasts, but no sooner had they gained the open than one of the group discerned the strange monster above them, and back they dashed into the hut.

Ted was watching the spot long after to see if any of the occupants of the shelter would appear after they had passed, when the engine again slowed down.

“That looks like the spot over there,” Stanley shouted, nodding toward the landscape in front of them.

Ted looked in that direction and nodded assent. Far ahead, and to one side, lay a circle of yellow vapor; it seemed to hug the earth in a solid ring, while columns and whisps rose into the sky to a great height. That could mean but one thing. It was the impenetrable barrier of poisonous gases arising from the chain of volcanoes surrounding the Hidden Valley. A quarter of an hour later they had crossed the margin of the ring. There it was, directly beneath them—the long valley with its winding river, Uti with the dismal lagoon glistening in the sunlight, and the great wall that separated the two places showing like a narrow gray ribbon. To the left was another valley with high, steep walls of rock hemming it in on all sides, but there was no vapor clinging to the rim of that enclosure.

Stanley shut down the power and they began a rapid and almost noiseless descent in a series of graceful spirals. When down to five hundred feet above the ground, he again opened the throttle and circled a few times, while both craned their heads over the sides of the cockpits, looking for a suitable place to land. In a moment they recognized the level strip of beach on the border of the lake, the very spot, in fact, where their canoe had been stranded several years before; another spiral, then a long glide, and they had landed on the hard sand.

At last they were in the region of gold-filled caves, a mere stone’s throw from the place where the vast treasure of the Incas had lain untouched for so many centuries. The two scrambled out of their cramped quarters and jumped to the ground. Then, dashing their helmets and goggles aside, they started in a wild rush toward the cave.