"What does it all mean?" Harry whispered.
"The Incas are coming home to their women," I guessed. "Though,
after seeing the women, it is little wonder if they spend most of
their time away from them. He is welcome to his repose in the
bosom of his family."
There passed an uneventful hour. Long before it ended the sound
of footsteps had entirely ceased; but we thought it best to take
no chances, and waited for the last minute our impatience would
allow us. Then, uncomfortable and stiff from the long period of
immobility and silence, we rose to our feet and made ready to
start.
Harry was for appropriating some of the strips of dried fish we
saw suspended from the ceiling, but I objected that our danger
lay in any direction other than that of hunger, and we set out
with only our spears.
The corridor was deserted. One quick glance in either direction
assured us of that; then we turned to the right and set out at a
rapid pace, down the long passage past a succession of rooms
exactly similar to the one we had just left--scores, hundreds of
them.
Each one was occupied by from one to ten of the Incas lying on
the couch which each contained, or stretched on hides on the
floor.
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