I could
see the spears still lying where they had been thrown down.
But as I looked the two Incas emerged from the passage. They
picked up the spears, walked to the raft, and again launched it
and paddled toward the center of the lake.
I thought, "Here is my chance; I must make that ledge before they
return," and I started forward so precipitately that I ran head
on into a massive boulder and got badly stunned for my pains.
Half dazed, I went on, groping my way through the semidarkness.
The trail was one to try a llama. I climbed boulders and leaped
across chasms and clung to narrow, slippery edges with my
finger-nails. Several times I narrowly escaped dumping myself
into the lake, and half the time I was in plain view of the Incas
on the raft.
My hands and feet were bruised and bleeding, and I had bumped
into walls and boulders so often that I was surprised when I took
a step without getting a blow. I wanted those spears.
I found myself finally within a few yards of my destination. A
narrow crevice led from where I stood directly to the ledge from
which the Incas had embarked. It was now necessary to wait till
they returned to the shore, and I drew back into the darkness of
a near-by corner and stood motionless.
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