Their share of the revenue came from the purse of Cliff’s father. While he did not buy the gold directly from them, to each he gave a substantial sum for deposit. Mr. Whitley had been reimbursed for his expenditures and had refused to take a cent more. Bill, though, had accepted a good amount with which to buy the ranch for which he yearned. For Mr. Gray, scholar and writer of many books, found on his return to America that his volumes already written had brought in a steady royalty and for a series of articles on the life and customs of the Incas he received a large cash payment.
They had agreed not to disclose to the world the actual adventures they had experienced: also, each was bound by the most solemn oath of the Mystery Boys not to divulge the fact that the Incas still lived in their valley.
To do so, Mr. Gray urged, would send a host of adventurers—or worse—to invade the hills and to rob and harm the Incas. Instead they let it be understood that the scholar had been on an expedition, had found some valuable old things in the hills and had secured them for the gift which he made of them to a National museum.
Bill was visiting the four comrades who, with Cliff’s father, had endeared themselves to him. Soon he would go further West to pick out a good ranch location.
“I wonder if Bill will find it as much excitement chasing steers and branding them as he found it rescuing my father?” Cliff said.
“Nope!” answered Bill. “But don’t forget—I’m one of the Mystery Boys still. One of these days I expect there will be a letter coming by airmail to my ranch—‘Dear Bill, come a-riding! We’re going to try to find Tom’s sister and discover what that cipher is that Nicky’s got.’”
“Why must we wait?” urged Nicky. “We’re all here now!”
“There is school!” reminded Mr. Whitley.
“Yes,” agreed Nicky. “But it will be tame after the Incas.”
“But we can do one thing,” Tom broke in. “We can decide how to go about finding out what’s in Nicky’s cipher, can’t we?”