CHAPTER XXXI
CLIFF BECOMES A PROPHET
“This is a splendid place to stop until we can bleach out the copper color from our skins,” Mr. Whitley suggested. “We will have to camp somewhere while Bill goes to the nearest settlement and gets something to take out this coloring: we left Cuzco as white people; we do not want to return in red skins.”
“That will enable me to study this old ruin—I think it was a fortress,” Mr. Gray added. “And, besides, I will admit that our last climb tired me greatly.”
“Why can’t we go where we had our camp before—down below?” Nicky inquired.
“We can guard this place better,” Tom told him. “One man can watch that cleft we came from and we can loosen the osier ladder and draw it up: then no one can surprise us.”
“Do you think anybody would try?” Nicky asked.
Cliff spoke up: he had been quite silent and thoughtful for many minutes.
“I vote to go on,” he said.
Even Mr. Whitley looked at him in surprise.
“Why?” he asked.