We tore him into strips as neatly as possible, stowing them away beneath a ledge, a spot kept cool by the water but a foot below.

“That’ll be good for a month,” said Harry.  “And there’s more where that came from.  And now—­”

I understood, and I answered simply:  “I’m ready.”

We had but few preparations to make.  The solidest parts of the fish which we had laid aside we now strapped together with one of the extra spear-thongs and slung them on our backs.  We secreted the oars and raft and the extra spear as snugly as possible.

Then, having filled ourselves with raw fish and a last hearty drink from the lake, we each took a spear and started on a search wilder than any ever undertaken by Amadis of Gaul or Don Quixote himself.  Even the Bachelor of Salamanca, in his saddest plight, did not present so outrageous an appearance to the eye as we.  We wore more clothing than the Incas, which is the most that can be said for us.

We were unable to even guess at the direction we should take; but that was settled for us when we found that there were but two exits from the cavern.  One led through the boulders and crevices to a passage full of twists and turns and strewn with rocks, almost impassable; the other was that through which the Incas had entered.  We chose the latter.

Fifty feet from the cavern we found ourselves in darkness.  I stopped short.

“Harry, this is impossible.  We cannot mark our way.”

“But what can we do?”

“Carry one of those urns.”

“Likely!  They’d spot us before we even got started.”

“Well—­let them.”

“No.  You’re in for the finish.  I know that.  I want to find
Desiree.  And we’ll find her.  After that, if nothing else is left,
I’ll be with you.”

“But I don’t want a thousand of those brutes falling on us in the dark.  If they would end it I wouldn’t care.”

“Keep your spear ready.”

I had given him my promise, so I pushed on at his side.  I had no stomach for it.  In a fight I can avoid disgracing myself, because it is necessary; but why seek it when there is nothing to be gained?  Thus I reflected, but I pushed on at Harry’s side.

As he had said, I was in for the finish.  What I feared was to be taken again by the Incas unseen in the darkness.  But that fear was soon removed when I found that we could see easily some thirty or forty feet ahead—­enough for a warning in case of attack.

Our flannel shirts and woolen undergarments hung from us in rags and tatters.  Our feet were bare and bruised and swollen.  Our faces were covered with a thick, matted growth of hair.  Placed side by side with the Incas it is a question which of us would have been judged the most terrifying spectacles by an impartial observer.

I don’t think either of us realized the extreme foolhardiness of that expedition.  The passage was open and unobstructed, and since it appeared to be the only way to their fishing-ground, was certain to be well traveled.  The alarm once given, there was no possible chance for us.