Even as he spoke, the muscles of the man's great body relaxed as little by little the antidote for the urari poison began to work. Fifteen minutes later, tottering and white, but out of danger, the outlaw stood before them.
"I have saved your life," said Professor Ditson, "and I hope that you will make some better use of it than you have done. Your friends went down that way," he continued precisely, pointing to the path along which the Indians had retreated. "I would suggest that you follow them."
The outlaw stared scowlingly for a moment at the ring of armed men who stood around him. Then he turned to Professor Ditson.
"For saving my life I'll give you a tip which may save yours," he said thickly. "Don't treasure-hunt in Eldorado—it's guarded!" Without another word he disappeared down the steep trail.
"I hope I haven't made a mistake," murmured Professor Ditson to himself, as he watched Scar Dawson disappear in the distance.
[CHAPTER XII]
Eldorado
A day and a night on burro-back brought the treasure-seekers through the mountains to Yuca, the loveliest valley in the world, where nine thousand feet above the sea it is always spring. There, half a thousand years ago, the Incas built their country houses, as of old the kings of Israel built in the mountain-valley of Jezreel, and among the ruins of stone buildings, beautiful as Ahab's house of ivory, several hundred whites and half-breed Indians had made their homes. In Yuca Professor Ditson found many old friends and acquaintances, and the party rested there for a week and, thanks to Jim Donegan's generous letter of credit, which had survived the shipwreck, thoroughly equipped themselves for the last lap of the dash to Eldorado.
One morning, before the dawn of what felt like a mid-May day, the expedition headed back along the trail mounted on mules, the best and surest-footed animals for mountain work. In order to prevent any unwelcome followers, the professor allowed it to be supposed that they were going back for a further exploration of the sacred city of Machu Pichu. When at last they were clear of the valley, with no one in sight, he called a halt, and carefully consulted his map at a point where the trail led in and out among slopes and hillocks of wind-driven sand.