They were still on the raft in the middle of the lake, waiting,
spear in hand. I watched them in furious impatience, on the
border of mania.
Suddenly I saw a dark, crouching form outlined against a boulder
not ten feet away from where I stood. The form was human, but in
some way unlike the Incas I had seen. I could not see its face,
but the alertness suggested by its attitude made me certain that
I had been discovered.
Vaguely I felt myself surrounded on every side; I seemed to feel
eyes gazing unseen from every direction, but I could not force
myself to search the darkness; my heart rose to my throat and
choked me, and I stood absolutely powerless to make a sound or
movement, gazing in a sort of dumb fascination at that silent,
crouching figure.
Suddenly it crouched lower still against the black background of
the boulder.
"Another second and he will be at my throat," I thought--but I
stood still, unable to move.
But the figure did not spring. Instead, it suddenly straightened
up to almost twice the height of an Inca, and I caught a glimpse
of a white face and ragged, clinging garments.
"Harry!" I whispered. I wonder yet that it was not a shout.
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