At first I took it for a separate
strata of rock, darker than that above. But there was a strange
brokenness about its appearance that made me consider it more
carefully.
It appeared to be composed of curious knots and protuberances. I
stopped short, and, advancing a step or two toward the wall,
gazed intently. Then I saw that the dark line was not a part of
the wall at all; and then--well, then I laughed aloud in spite of
myself. The thing was too ludicrous.
For that "dark line" along the bottom of the wall was a row of
squatting Incas! There they sat, silent, motionless; even when my
laugh rang out through the cavern they gave not the slightest
sign that they either heard or saw. Yet it was certain that they
had watched our every move.
There was nothing for it but retreat. With our knives we might
have fought our way through; but we were unarmed, and we had felt
one or two proofs of their strength.
Harry took it with more philosophy than I had expected. As for
me, I had not yet finished my laugh. We sought our former
resting-place, recognizing it by the platter and basin which we
had emptied before our famous and daring attempt to escape.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149