onary, preceding Valverde, known as the Priest of
the Hills.

"But the great treasure was in the lake," he wrote in his letters.

"There was no stint of gold, jewelry, emeralds, food, and other things
sacrificed here when a native was in trouble. With prescribed
ceremonies, two ropes were taken and attached to the rafts which were
drawn to that portion of the lake where the altar was supposed to be,
below the surface. Two zipas, or priests, would accompany the person
wishing to make the sacrifice on rafts which were composed of bundles
of dried sticks or flotsam, tied one to another, or made from planks
in the form of a punt holding three or more persons. By this means
they would reach the altar and, using certain words and ceremonies,
throw in their offerings, small or large, according to their means. In
further reference to this lake, it was the principal and general place
of worship for all this part of the country, and there are those still
alive who state that they witnessed the burial of many caciques who
left orders that their bodies and all their wealth be thrown in the
waters. When it was rumored that the bearded men (the Spaniards) had
entered the country in search of gold, many of the Indians brought
their hoarded treasures and offered them as sacrifices in the lake, so
that they should not fall into the hands of the Spaniards. The present
cacique of the village of Simijaca alone threw into the lake forty
loads of gold of one quintal each, carried by forty Indians from the
village, as is proven by their own statements and those of the nephew
of the cacique sent to escort the Indians."

Forty quintals, Wilson computed, is L8820, which would make this
single offering worth to-day $26,460,000!

He looked up from the dry, crisp documents in front of him and glanced
about the room. The tables were lined with readers; a schoolgirl
scowling over her notes, pencil to her pouting lips, an old man
trying to keep his eyes open over his magazine, a young student from
Technology, and a possible art student. Beyond these, there were
workingmen and clerks and middle-aged bachelors. Truly they were an
ordinary looking lot--prosaic enough, even mediocre, some of them.
This was the twentieth century, and they sat here in this modern
library reading, perhaps, tales of adventure and hidden treasure.
Outside, the trolley cars clanged past. The young man attendant
glanced up from his catalogue, yawned, studied the clock, and y