y, unless it
was by the direction of the wind, as there were no stars, and it was
impossible to see beyond a few yards.

Hour after hour passed; dawn broke cold and gray. The choking sand was
left behind, and we approached a narrow valley shut in by two gigantic
ranges of hills. Here a voice hailed us from the rocks, the guide
answered the challenge, and the whole party passed through the defile
to the valley beyond.

It was now light enough to observe a number of Indian huts dotted about
on both slopes; and the horsemen who had formed my escort quickly
dispersed, leaving me with the guide.

"We are home," said he, "and the dogs have lost their prey."

Dismounting and leading the horses, we approached a hut set somewhat
apart from the rest. An Indian boy standing at the entrance took our
animals away while we entered the hut.

"Will you eat, senor, or sleep?" asked my rescuer.

"Sleep," said I, "as soon as you have answered a question or two."

I cannot repeat exactly what the man told me, as his Spanish was none
of the best, and he mixed it up with a patois which I only half
understood. However, the outline of the story was plain enough, and
will take but little telling.

My late jailer belonged to the Order of the Silver Key, a powerful
Indian society, acting under the leadership of Raymon Sorillo. He had
been placed in the fort both as a spy on the garrison and to assist
comrades if at any time they endeavoured to capture the stronghold by
way of the secret passage. Only the commandant and his chief officer
were supposed to know of its existence, but a strange accident had
revealed it to the Indians some years previously.

The jailer, of course, could have set me free, but in that case he must
have joined in my flight. The plan he adopted was to communicate with
his friends, and then, by feigning illness, to divert suspicion from
himself. As soon as we descended the steps, he replaced the trap-door,
removed all signs of disturbance, and crept cautiously back to his room.

When the Indian had finished his explanation, I asked him to what place
he had brought me.

"The Hidden Valley," he replied, "where no Spaniard has ever set foot.
Here you are quite safe, for all the armies of Peru could not tear you
from this spot."

"Does Sorillo ever come here?" I asked.

"Rarely; but his messengers come and go at their pleasure."

"That is good news," I remarked, thinking of my mother. "I shall be
able