CHAPTER XIX
A Terrible Sight
"What's going on?" cried Joe Lewis, as a chorus of voices mingled withthe sound of rifle shots.
"Some trouble somewhere," returned Bob. "Wonder----"
He did not finish, for at that instant there came another shot, and abullet whizzed by his ear.
The youths lost no time in hiding behind a small mud hut, althoughthey knew a bullet could probably penetrate it. But at least itoffered temporary shelter, and that was what they wanted.
"Look!" cried Bob, gazing cautiously around the corner of the hut."There are soldiers in uniform. What do you suppose they're doing?"
They were soon to see.
The troops, which numbered about thirty, were firing at something thatthe boys could not see from their places at the side of the hut.
"I'm going to take a chance and get out in the open where I can seesomething," said Joe. "Come on. If we're careful and don't get in theway of the shooting, we'll be all right."
Carefully the chums edged around the side of the dwelling and peepedout at the street. Then they drew back quickly, as a score of shotsrang out.
What the youths saw was forty or fifty natives scattered out to escapethe fire of the soldiers. Each held in readiness an old rifle, whichhe discharged at intervals.
"Must be a revolution," observed Bob. "Perhaps those natives haveoffered violence to the governor of the town, and the troops have beencalled to settle the matter."
Bob could not have come closer to the facts.
"The soldiers are winning," said Joe. "They're better trained and havemore efficient guns."
Although the troops appeared to gain the upper hand, the fightingcontinued with as much fury as before.
A sudden fusillade of bullets coming dangerously near Bob and Joeprompted the boys to make a dash toward the end of the town, where themules and Dr. Rander were probably waiting.
"Let's get out of here," suggested Joe. "We'll get hit if we don't."
"All right. Wonder if Dr. Rander is still where we left him?"
The chums were greatly surprised when, a few minutes later, they sawthat the old man was not in sight. But the mules were tethered to astout post, and this gave the boys hope.
"Chances are, he's gone to see what the shooting's about," Bob said."Wish he'd come back. He's likely to get killed if he stays aroundthere close."
The youths were beginning to worry when Dr. Rander appeared up theroad, glancing occasionally over his shoulder.
"Quite a commotion, wasn't it?" he said when he had come nearer. "Butthe soldiers drove them away."
"What was it, a revolution?" inquired Joe.
"Yes. An Indian told me that the people in the town were turningagainst their prefect. Didn't like his rule, and wanted a change. Butthe soldiers soon fixed them."
"Is the fighting over?" Bob had not heard a rifle shot for severalminutes.
"Yes. The soldiers forced the citizens to throw away their weapons."
"And that reminds me," laughed Joe. "We'd better be getting our riflesout, because we may see some game before long. I'd like to get a shotat a condor."
"Condors live only in high mountains," explained Dr. Rander. "Wewon't see any for many days, if at all."
But although the adventurers did not catch a glimpse of these hugebirds, they saw occasional small animals, such as rabbits andchinchillas. Once Joe took a shot at one of the latter creatures, buthis aim was not steady and he missed.
At noon that day they came to a small adobe hut, from which hung agreen wreath.
"What does that stand for?" asked Bob innocently. "Is somebody dead?"
For the second time since the youths had known him, old Dr. Randerburst out in laughter.
"Hardly," he said finally. "A green wreath means that bread is forsale."
Joe almost choked with laughter.
"That's a good one on you," he said to his chum. "It's a wonder youdidn't go and gather flowers and offer them to the bereaved family."
Bob grinned.
"You'd probably have asked where the corpse was," he said. "Ormaybe----"
"We can stop here for a meal," Dr. Rander interrupted. "It is best tosave our provisions as best we can, because later on we won't be ableto find any native huts."
Inside the mud building, the three were waited upon by a huge Indianwoman, whose hard face inspired no trust from the explorers. But theywere glad when she spread before them a bountiful meal of potatoes,roast mutton, and a drink which the youths guessed was intoxicating.
"None of that brown liquid for me," came from Bob, looking withsuspicion at the huge clay cup that contained the beverage.
"Me either," echoed Joe. "Too big of a risk."
The old man, however, drank freely of the beverage and seemed pleasedwith its flavor. Whether he knew of its ingredients the chums did notknow.
As soon as the meal was over, the three again took up the journey,keeping a sharp lookout for anything that might prove of interest.
They found something before they had gone another mile.
Coming up the trail at a slow, leisurely gait was a large donkey, onthe back of which rode an Indian man, woman, and two half-grownchildren. But something else amused the chums more. In pouches securedto the mule's sides were two other Indian children, their faces soberas they looked upon the whites.
"Where's a movie camera?" demanded Bob quickly. "I'm going to take achance with them. They can't do anything to us."
"Here." Joe had removed a camera from his pocket and was turning thecrank and exposing several yards of film. "This ought to beinteresting on the screen," he said.
Much to the youths' surprise, the Indians did not protest at havingtheir pictures taken. They merely stared at the whites in wonder.
"Maybe they haven't seen a camera before, and don't know what it's allabout," was the opinion expressed by Joe.
A little later they came to a flat field, which was being cultivatedby an Indian with a team of oxen and a crude wooden plow. It was aninteresting sight. The slow animals drew the improvised instrumentsteadily through the hard soil, while the sober Indian watchedclosely.
"More movies," sang Bob, bringing out his camera. "Every little bitcounts."
Again they were surprised to see that this Indian displayed noindignation at the whites taking pictures. Perhaps after all Joe wasright and the Indians in this section were not familiar with a camera.
The adventurers had been driving their pack animals ahead allafternoon when suddenly they rounded a bend and came to a narrowriver.
"Look!" cried Joe quickly, pointing ahead. "What's that on the bank?Why, it's bones!"
Dr. Rander had heard.
"Llama remains," he explained. "Looks like llamas have picked thisspot to die on."
Scattered thickly over the river bank were scores of white bones,which undoubtedly were those of llamas.
"I knew elephants occasionally have a cemetery, but that any otheranimals do I had not the slightest idea," said Joe.
More movies were taken, and then they set about to devise a means tocross the river.
"We'll have to ford it," announced Dr. Rander, who had been waitingfor the chums to walk on up to the head. "I don't think it is so deepas to cause us trouble."
Although the weather was warm, Bob and Joe chose to put on their hipboots, to escape the chill that might otherwise result.
They found that Dr. Rander was right. The river was barely three feetdeep and was comparatively calm. So they had little difficulty indriving the mules across.
From the opposite bank two trails branched off up the mountainside.The one that was most difficult to follow, Dr. Rander chose.
"From here our going will be more arduous," he told the young men."The mountains are steeper, and more obstacles will stand in ourway."
Bob had followed the pack train to a height where he could command agood view of the surrounding country when suddenly he cried out inpain.
"My foot!" he groaned, wh
en the others rushed to his side. "Somethingbit it."
"What was it? A snake?" Joe demanded anxiously.
"Let me have a look at it," the old man said, tying the foremost muleto a gnarled tree.
When Bob removed his legging and sock, he found a large red scratch,and the flesh about it was already badly swollen. It pained severelyand throbbed so violently that the boy could hardly hold his footstill.
"Not a snake," Dr. Rander told him. "Rather a poisonous insect--theyare common in the Andes."
The old explorer bathed the foot in water from a canteen and treatedit with antiseptics, wrapping it up firmly.
"Now until that heals some you'll have to ride your mount," Dr. Randersaid. "Don't take no from him for an answer. Get on him and make himcarry you forward."
While Joe and the old man held the mule securely, Bob mounted and withdrawn reins held the animal at a standstill.
"Hurrah!" yelled Joe. "You've made him give in."
"Not altogether," Bob said. "But I think I can manage to stay on."
At the end of two days of riding the mule, Bob was convinced that theanimal was not really as balky as he had at first supposed. Over highhills and rocky paths he carried his rider, until at last Bob's footbecame well enough for him to walk.
"I'll sort of hate to do it," laughed the youth, when they were campedunder a high overhanging rock.
"I know," said Dr. Rander. "But there isn't much choice in the matter.After all, our mounts are not to be ridden except in such an emergencyas this. They tire too easily when on the rocky trails, and it isn'tbest to put much of a load on them."
On, on the little party plunged, into the heart of the mountainousregion. On every hand they saw something to hold their interest.
They had been on the trail about four days when they saw somethingthat was indeed unusual.
Moving leisurely up the narrow path were eight or ten large Indianscarrying an old organ. Ropes were tied tightly around the instrument,and to these the Indians held with a death grip.
Where they were taking the organ, the whites could only guess. Perhapsit belonged to a plantation owner, who wanted a musical instrument inhis house.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, one of the Indians cried out in fright, andthen there came other cries.
"The organ's slipping!" shouted Joe. "It's going over the cliff! Andoh!"--he gasped for breath--"it's taking one of the Indians with it!"