In tests of endurance the Spartan methods were approached; already the young son of the Inca and other noble youths had been going through these. Clad in mean attire and sleeping on the ground, they had endured many hardships; among the tests was a three day fast. But that was over and there was a brief respite during which food and exercise built up strength for the climax—races, archery as they understood it with their war bows and arrows, and contests of an athletic sort.
Cliff, as Chasca, but less the supposed god than the real youth, was very popular with all the people as he walked in the temple grounds. He and Tom and Nicky strolled about, the day before the great contest, admiring the marvels all about them.
“Did you ever see so much gold and silver?” Tom exclaimed, “not only their utensils and ornament—but look there! Beyond those real flowers and that little clump of corn—there are gold and silver flowers—and all the varieties of things that they grow!”
They strolled over to examine them. Bill joined them. Mr. Whitley was busy with some minerals.
The garden they entered was an astonishing place. The Incas used precious metals as we use bronze and marble, for statues and ornaments and even duplicates in gold and silver of their garden fruits and flowers. Gold was so common in the mountains that it was not used for money; in fact the Incas had no money of any sort; they did not require it under their system of government whereby everyone was cared for by the governing tribe, so that wool, grain and other articles of daily necessity were distributed fairly and plentifully and everyone shared in the labor of their production. Therefore the precious metals were employed for other uses than that of currency.
They examined an especially beautiful parcel of corn stalks and ears of grain, executed in gold and silver; the stalks were of silver, the fat, bulging grain ears were sheathed in golden reproductions of the husk, the corn kernels peeped out, perfect and golden, while the tassel of cornsilk was made of spun silver threads. They exclaimed as they studied the wonderful workmanship and then went on to the fresh wonders—fruit and flowers so perfect that they would deceive except for their sheen of white or deep, glowing yellow.
When they turned the corner of the star-temple they stopped in surprise. In a huddled heap, a girl lay on the ground, her body shaking with sobs that racked her.
“Why,” Nicky cried, “it’s Caya. It’s the girl who called me the fellow who sits on llamas. What’s the matter, Caya?”
She sat up, her dusky face streaming with tears, and shook her head, for Nicky had forgotten and spoken in English.
Bill stepped close, squatted beside her and repeated the question. At first she only shook her head, turned away and buried her face in her arms, rocking in grief.