(#44) The Clue in the Crossword Cipher (6 page)

Although Nancy said nothing, inside she was fuming with impatience and thinking, “This is the only boat going to the arrayánes forest today. If it doesn’t run, we’ll never be able to make the trip, because we have to fly back to Lima tomorrow.”

George was mumbling, “We may miss an important clue to solving the mystery of the crossword cipher.”

The Englishman, with whom the girls had made friends, suddenly stood up. He walked forward and climbed the ladder into the pilot’s compartment. His wife, Mrs. Horace, told the girls that he was an engineer. She said he thought something other than lack of fuel might be the trouble with the launch.

“Oh, I hope he’s right,” said Bess.

“And I hope he can fix it,” George added.

Carla sighed. “From the very beginning of this case we have had nothing but setbacks,” she said dolefully.

Nancy patted her friend’s hand. “We’ll get out of this.”

Presently the engineer called to Carla, asking her to come to the pilot’s cabin. “This man speaks very little English,” he said. “Would you mind translating for me?”

Carla said she would be glad to do so and rapidly told the pilot that the Englishman was an engineer and would like to make an inspection of the engines. The pilot shrugged and told him to go ahead. The engine room was under the pilot’s compartment. A door led below.

It began to rain and people who had been on the aft deck crowded into the cabin. They asked what was causing the delay.

“I wish we knew,” Mrs. Horace replied.

Nancy and her friends watched as Mr. Horace examined wires and pipes. Presently he requested Carla to translate for him again.

“Tell the pilot that I’m sure the launch is not out of fuel. I think the fuel line is clogged. Can he clean it out himself?”

When the skipper heard this, a broad grin crossed his face and he said rapidly, “Yes, I can clean it.”

At once he went to work. Shortly the passengers were relieved to hear the engines sputter, then start up with a steady throb.

“Olé!”
cried the Spanish passengers.

“Yeah!” the English-speaking ones shouted.

The first stop on the trip was Victoria Island. Here the tourists climbed a hill to a delightful hotel, where they had a tasty lunch which included huge slices of homemade bread.

As Bess reached for her third piece, George grabbed her cousin’s arm. “No you don’t!” she said.

Meekly Bess put the slice of bread back into the basket and finished her salad. Soon after lunch, the travelers assembled at the dock and once more started off. The rain had slackened to a drizzle and by the time they reached the peninsula the sun was shining.

“Doesn’t the forest look enchanting?” Bess said, gazing toward the pinkish-yellow growth of trees ahead.

The girls hurried from the dock, but before entering the forest, stopped to examine a large round plaque nailed to a tree.

“Oh, could this be a clue?” Carla asked excitedly.

The circular piece of arrayánes wood was a little bigger than the Ponces’ plaque. There was an inscription on it which Carla translated:

“‘Trees are man’s good friends. Do not wound them.’”

“How poetic!” Bess murmured.

As the girls skirted the beach, which was covered by loose rocks and stones of various sizes, they looked intently into the most amazing woods they had ever seen.

“It’s like a fairyland!” said Nancy.

The enormously high trees grew straight up, but not as single units. Several trunks rose from a common base and each one in turn had more upward branching limbs.

The trees had no bark. George ran her hand over the wood. “Umm, smooth as satin.”

“It’s the color of evergreen wood,” Nancy said, “but these trees don’t have needles.” She gazed at the thick, small-leafed foliage which grew high overhead.

“It’s so peaceful in here!” Bess murmured as she stepped over a tree root which had grown aboveground. It trailed for some distance, then disappeared into the ground near another tree. “How strange!”

One of the tourists near her, who had overheard the conversation, said, “I understand that these roots run a long way and start forming a new tree. Probably there’s a network of roots under this forest.”

Nancy gazed all around. “Actually,” she said, “these so-called trees are more like gigantic bushes. Maybe they once were bushes for diplodocuses to feed on.”

“Diplo-who?” Bess asked.

“Plant-eating dinosaurs,” Nancy explained with a smile.

George grinned. “Can’t you just see one of them rubbing himself on this nice smooth bark and reaching up to eat the leaves? But tell me, did they have those monsters in South America as well as North America?”

Nancy laughed. “You can’t prove anything by me,” she said.

Presently the girls passed a small attractive log cabin where they assumed the guard for this government preserve lived. Nancy suggested that on the way back they stop and talk to him.

Some twenty minutes later they rapped on the cabin door. It was opened by a pleasant middle-aged man. When Nancy told him she would like to ask a few questions about the forest, he invited the girls inside. They introduced themselves and the guard said, “My name is Romero. What can I tell you?”

Nancy took Carla’s plaque from its wrapping and showed it to him.

He examined the curio with interest. “This is very old. Too bad the markings aren’t plainer. Have you any idea what they mean?”

“No, and that’s why I brought it along to show you. We understand it is made of arrayánes wood and is about three hundred years old. Have you any records here to show who might have been in this vicinity at that time?”

Romero shook his head. “I imagine it was pretty wild, but whether or not anybody ever lived here I have never heard.”

Carla said she had an ancient ancestor by the name of Aguilar who presumably had carved the plaque. “No one has ever figured out its significance, but now we girls are trying to do so.”

The guard showed interest and asked if she could tell him any more about her ancestor.

“He was supposed to have been an excellent artist and an adventurer,” Carla replied. “I suppose he traveled around a great deal.”

Romero said that he knew of one person who might possibly help the girls. “But he does not live around here. He is an old man—a full-blood Inca Indian who lives in Cuzco, Peru. He knows more stories and legends about the history of all of South America than anybody I have ever heard of.”

Nancy realized that Cuzco was many miles from Lima. Could this Indian offer enough help to make a trip there worth while?

As if in answer to her unspoken question, Romero went on, “Even if Maponhni cannot help you on your mystery, you girls certainly should visit Cuzco while you are in South America. Some of the original walls of the ruined city are still standing and nearby there are several other great ruins—a fortress, in particular.”

“I’d love to see it and also meet Maponhni,” said Nancy. “I have a hunch he can help us.”

The guard said he knew the old Indian would be glad to see them. With a twinkle in his eyes, Romero added, “Maponhni will probably say to you,
‘Munanki! Imaynan caskianqui?”’

“That is not Spanish,” Carla said. “What does it mean?”

Romero laughed. “It is the old Inca language, Quechua. It means, ‘Hello! How are you?”’

The girls repeated the phrase several times, then Nancy asked how they should reply.

“You will say,
‘Hucclla, yusul paiki.’
”

The visitors groaned. “I’ll never be able to learn that,” Bess declared. “What does it mean?”

“It means, ‘Good, thank you,”’ and
Cutimunaikicama
means ‘Good-by.“’

While Nancy and Carla were trying to memorize the three phrases, George walked around the cabin. On one wall she noticed a bunch of knotted strings of various colors tied together and suspended from several nails. She asked what it was.

“That is called a
quipu,”
Romero said. “It was the way the old Incas kept records. They did not have a written language or a way of figuring. I will show you how this works.”

He explained that the different colored cords stood for various things. “For instance, a red string could indicate the king and the knots on that particular string might indicate how many wives and children he had. The old Inca rulers and their nobles were polygamists.”

“But the common people weren’t?”

“No. Each laborer, called a
puric,
was allowed only one wife.”

George reached up and counted the knots, some of which were single, others doubled, or in groups. “It would be beyond me,” she said, “to figure this out. I guess that old king had a mighty big family.”

The guard told the girls that scholars were still working on the puzzle of the quipu. If they could learn the meaning of the knots, they might figure out some of the history of the Incas which was not yet known.

At that moment the girls heard a boat horn and knew they were being summoned to the launch. They thanked the guard for the interesting visit and said they must hurry off.

As they were leaving, Romero said, “While you are in Cuzco, be sure to go on to Machu Picchu. That is even more of a mystery than Cuzco. Nobody knows what it looked like when it was a city. That is another puzzle for you to solve, Miss Drew.”

Nancy smiled. “Another challenge!” she said gaily.

Bess groaned. “Nancy, you have enough challenges already.”

The girls said good-by to the guard and hurried off through the forest. The launch’s horn sounded again.

As they approached the beach, George suddenly pointed ahead and shouted, “Look out, everybody!”

Hurtling toward them was a large stone! As they ducked, the rock whizzed overhead and hit a tree with a resounding thud.

The next moment it ricocheted and struck Nancy a stinging blow on the back. Stunned, she teetered for a moment, then toppled over!

CHAPTER VIII

Spanish Disguise

FORTUNATELY, Nancy was not unconscious. She admitted to feeling woozy, but declared she would be all right in a little while. Carla said she would run ahead and have the pilot wait.

“Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Nancy called. She managed a wan smile. “We wouldn’t want to be left here.”

George, having made sure that Nancy was not badly hurt, had dashed down a slight slope to the beach. Hoping to spot the person who had thrown the rock, she looked up and down. No one was in sight.

“Maybe he’s hiding,” George said to herself. “I’ll hide too, and if he thinks we’ve all gone, he may come out.” She grinned. “I’ll use a little judo on him!”

George slipped behind a big arrayánes tree at the edge of the beach and waited. No one appeared, but presently she heard a motor being revved up. She stepped from hiding to see who was in the approaching boat.

Two men were pulling out of a small cove in a motorboat. Their backs were turned to George, but she instantly guessed that one of them was Manuel Sanchez. He had red hair and wore a black-and-white checked sports jacket.

“I’ll bet I did pick up a clue after all,” George thought as she climbed up the slope to rejoin her friends. Carla had returned and she and Bess were just helping Nancy to her feet.

“Did you find out anything?” Carla asked George.

“I think so.”

When she told about the man with the red hair and black-and-white sports jacket, the others agreed that he probably was Sanchez.

Bess expressed her worries. “Nancy, that man is determined to injure you. Oh, why don’t the police catch him?”

“I’m sure they will,” Nancy said quietly.

The girls walked slowly to the launch, where the pilot and Mr. and Mrs. Horace expressed concern over Nancy’s accident.

“I’m glad it was no worse,” the woman added.

The girls said nothing about whom they suspected of having thrown the rock. But they would certainly tell the police.

The pilot made a stop at Victoria Island again, where, he said, his passengers could spend an hour or two. The girls immediately went up to the hotel and engaged a room. They had tea served, and Carla got in touch with the police. As soon as Nancy had finished her tea, the others insisted that she crawl into the bed.

“And go to sleep,” Bess ordered.

Nancy was only too glad to do this and within seconds was sound asleep. The others tiptoed out and waited on the first floor until ten minutes before sailing time. Then they awakened her.

“That was just what I needed,” Nancy declared. “I’ve completely recovered.”

When they returned to the Hotel Llao-Llao, Nancy sought out Señor Diaz and asked if there had been any report on Manuel Sanchez or the caddie responsible for the runaway incident.

“I have heard nothing,” he replied. “I am sorry.”

As it neared dinnertime, Nancy said to the other girls, “I must confess I don’t feel like going to the dining room. If you’ll all excuse me, I’ll have supper in my room and get to bed early.”

George grinned. “That’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard you say in a long time. You do just that.”

“Carla can dress in George’s and my room,” Bess said.

Carla gathered up some clothes and they said good night to Nancy. The three girls dressed and went downstairs to dinner. On the way to their assigned table, they passed a long one filled with men. Mr. Ponce was among them and as an officer of the company was seated at the head.

“Are you all having a good time?” he asked the girls. “And where’s Nancy?”

The trio hesitated to tell him what had happened. Finally George spoke up. “Nancy doesn’t give up easily, but she confessed to being very tired.”

Carla added, “She is going to have dinner in her room and go to bed early.”

“That is probably a good idea. Well, have fun on the rest of your stay here and I shall see you tomorrow for our trip back.”

The girls went on to their table. Here they learned from the waiter that the first course would be smorgasbord.

When Carla saw all the food on display, she exclaimed over the quantity. “If I take even one little tidbit of each of these delicious things, I will never eat any more dinner!”