ound on my knee, which had not
entirely healed, and partly, I think, by the strangeness and monotony
of our diet. Harry's palate was less particular.

On awaking, and after breaking our fast, we were both filled with an
odd contentment. I really believe that we had abandoned hope, and that
the basis of our listlessness was despair; and surely not without
reason. For what chance had we to escape from the Incas, handicapped
as we were by the darkness, and our want of weapons, and their
overwhelming numbers?

And beyond that--if by some lucky chance we did escape--what remained?
To wander about in the endless caves of darkness and starve to death.
At the time I don't think I stated the case, even to myself, with such
brutal frankness, but facts make their impression whether you invite
them or not. But, as I say, we were filled with an odd contentment.
Though despair may have possessed our hearts, it was certainly not
allowed to infect our tongues.

Breakfast was hilarious. Harry sang an old drinking-song to the
water-basin with touching sentiment; I gave him hearty applause and
joined in the chorus. The cavern rang.

"The last time I sang that," said Harry as the last echoes died away,
"was at the Midlothian. Bunk Stafford was there, and Billy Du Mont,
and Fred Marston--I say, do you remember Freddie? And his East Side
crocodiles?

"My, but weren't they daisies? And polo? They could play it in their
sleep. And--what's this? Paul! Something's up! Here they come--Mr.
and Mrs. Inca and all the children!"

I sprang hastily to my feet and stood by Harry's side. He was right.

Through the half darkness they came, hundreds of them, and, as always,
in utter silence. Dimly we could see their forms huddled together
round us on every side, leaving us in the center of a small circle in
their midst.

"Now, what the deuce do they want?" I muttered. "Can't they let us eat
in peace?"

Harry observed: "Wasn't I right? 'Most awful vile!'"

I think we both felt that we were joking in the face of death.

The forms surrounding us stood silent for perhaps ten seconds. Then
four of their number stepped forward to us, and one made gestures with
a hairy arm, pointing to our rear. We turned and saw a narrow lane
lined on either side by our captors. Nothing was distinct; still we
could see well enough to guess their meaning.

"It's up to us to march," said Harry.

I nodded.

"And step high, Hal; it may be our