s to me then, rendered
powerless as they were by a little bit of rock. Brute force was all
they had; and nature, being the biggest brute of all, laughed at them.

But I soon found that they were not devoid of resource. For perhaps
fifteen minutes the scene remained unchanged; not one ventured to
approach the crevice. Then there was a sudden movement and shifting in
the mass; it split suddenly in the middle; they pressed off to either
side, leaving an open lane between them leading directly toward me.

Down this lane suddenly dashed a dozen or more of the savages, with
spears aloft in their brawny arms. I was taken by surprise and barely
had time to cut and run for the ledge within.

As it was I did not entirely escape; the spears came whistling through
the crevice, and one of them lodged in my leg just below the thigh.

I jerked it out with an oath and turned to meet the attack. I was now
clear of the crevice, standing on the ledge inside, near Harry and
Desiree. I called to them to go to one side, out of the range of the
spears that might come through. Harry took Desiree in his arms and
carried her to safety.

As I expected, the Incas came rushing through the crevice--that narrow
lane where a man could barely push through without squeezing. The
first got my spear full in the face--a blow rather than a thrust, for I
had once or twice had difficulty in retrieving it when I had buried it
deep.

As he fell I struck at the one behind. He grasped the spear with his
hand, but I jerked it free and brought it down on his head, crushing
him to the ground. It was mere butchery; they hadn't a chance in the
world to get at me. Another fell, and the rest retreated. The crevice
was again clear, save for the bodies of the three who had fallen.

I turned to where Harry and Desiree were seated on the further edge of
the ledge. Her body rested against his; her head lay on his shoulder.

As I looked at them, smiling, her eyes suddenly opened wide and she
sprang to her feet and started toward me.

"Paul! You are hurt! Harry, a bandage--quick; your shirt--anything!"

I looked down at the gash on my leg, which was bleeding somewhat freely.

"It's nothing," I declared; "a mere tear in the skin. But your ankle!
I thought it was sprained?"

She had reached my side and bent over to examine my wound; but I raised
her in my arms and held her before me.

"That," I said, "is nothing. Believe me, it isn't even painful.