When I returned to the ledge of the water the foremost of the
Incas were but a few feet away. But I looked in vain for the one
face I wanted to see and could recognize; the king was not among
them. A hasty glance across the landing opposite discovered him
standing motionless with folded arms.
The entire surface of the lake before me was one mass of heads
and arms and spears as far as I could see. There were hundreds of
them. I saw at once that the thing was hopeless, but I grasped my
spear firmly and stood ready.
The first two or three reached the ledge. At the same instant I
heard Harry call:
"They're coming through, Paul! It's you alone!"
I did not turn my head, for I was busy. My spear was whirling
about my head like a circle of flame. Black, dusky forms swam to
the ledge and grasped its slippery surface, but they got no
farther. The shaft of the spear bent in my hand; I picked up
another, barely losing a second.
A wild and savage delight surged through me at the sight of those
struggling, writhing, slipping forms. I swung the spear in
vicious fury. Not one had found footing on the ledge.
Something suddenly struck me in the left arm and stuck there; I
shook it loose impatiently and it felt as though my arm went with
it.
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