They grew quiet, then, looking down for several hundred feet into the valley. To the right and to the left, similar cliffs and steep drops made the valley inaccessible. It had been well chosen as a retreat by the old tribe when the Spaniards came into their country; and it was not alone a safe retreat; it was a fertile valley also. Corn could be seen in great, green fields, and other spots were tilled and showed the bright colors of growing plants.
“The city is too far away to tell much about it, even with the field glasses,” said Mr. Whitley. “But it is guarded by mountains even more rugged than those we have just passed through. We shall soon be in its streets, if all goes well.”
They began to prepare at once for their descent into the valley.
It was their purpose to go in disguise. They had the clothing for their disguises and had carefully brought some herbs from which Bill had made a dye. They located a fairly deep depression in a rock, discovered a stream and carried their buckets full of water from it to the stone, a wilderness bathtub, as Cliff called it.
Nicky and Tom, just to be perverse, as an outlet for their enthusiasm, now that the real adventure was so near, declared: “It’s a small depression in the rocks, selected by Bill!” Joking so, they created a small pool, large enough for their purposes.
Into the water Bill emptied a preparation he had guarded carefully from moisture and damage; it was a dye known to him, that turned the water a dull, murky mud color at first; but when it cleared, it made a limpid, brown-red pool.
“Off with every shred of clothes, and in we go!” he said. “Every spot on your bodies, even your hair, must be Indian.”
The plan Cliff had suggested in Amadale, and which had been accepted by Mr. Whitley, and, later, by Bill, depended upon a complete disguise so that they could don the native garb, even the robes and ornaments of Inca nobles, later and not be suspected.
Into the turgid pool they plunged. Nicky, who rather hated cold water, was the only one who did not dive in, so to speak. He dipped a toe and they all roared as he drew it out. “Red-toe!” Cliff shouted. “Nicky-Nicky Red-toe!”
“Well, you needn’t talk! Who ever saw an Inca with a white man’s head.”