All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 70: what you’re looking at

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60 seemed to be frightened, and ran down the valley. Mr. Kelly and I both saw her quite plainly.” ‘‘T did not know her name,” said Kelly gravely, ‘‘ but we certainly have seen a most remarkable young woman, Robert; most remarkable.” The Martian paused and glanced significantly at Katherine. Jones just then was carrying too many odd affairs in his mind to notice that both his wife and his friend looked queerly, or to pay attention to the emphasis in Kelly’s words. Besides, Tomas, who kad noticed, broke in to ask if anything new had hap- pened. Jones found it wise to say nothing. The three Americans walked down to- ward the bridge. At a little distance behind ‘them Tomas followed, bearing the body of his dead comrade. Jones asked how and where they had seen the girl, sketched briefly his underground adventure, and told Kelly what was known of Nee-Nah. ‘“Could she have had anything to do with the affair back yonder, I wonder?”’ he continued. “I wish I had the time and men to turn this old place inside out. I shall suggest it to Don Castro, anyway.” One ray of sunlight, shed between two hills, still lay warm upon the bridge. As they crossed, the Martian continually changed his position, looking to one side and the other and behind him. Katherine watched him intently; indeed, to a lesser extent, she imitated him. For the first time Jones noticed that there was something strange in their glances and actions. ‘‘ Here; what kind of a parade are you two doing?” he demanded, laughing. ‘“* Have you lost anything?” “Robert, after seeing that marching army of turtles vanish into dust, I thought that I was prepared for anything,” replied the Martian; ‘‘ but I was mistaken. Bear with me, Robert. You yourself have just passed through a strange experience. ‘Robert, look at my shadow here; at Mrs. Jones’s; at your own. Does any of us appear to have more than one?” Jones looked, and laughed again. “ Bless you, no. What are you driving at’ ‘‘ Robert, the young woman who crossed this bridge a few minutes ago had six of them—as true as I’m a living man!” ALL-STORY WEEKLY. ‘Six what?” ‘‘ Shadows, Robert.” ‘Tt is true, Bob,” interrupted Katherine. “I saw them, too—six shadows—if they were not ghosts.”” She laughed nervously, “They raced beside her as she ran.” Jones beat the air with his hands as though he were combating hornets. ‘““] think that we are all going loco, as the Indians say,” he answered. CHAPTER X. DON CASTRO’S STRANGENESS. IGHT was closing down on the camp when the adventurers from Chavin reached it. Near a leaping fire of ichu grass the ever-gregarious Grimshaw was seated on the edge of a spread poncho opposite the squatting figures of two of the muchachos. With a set of celluloid dice and a handful of medios, the fat man was amusing him- self and the Cholos by instructing them in one of the oldest games in the world. He did not appear at all lonely; and a scorched odor on the evening air, as of something cooked not wisely but too well, bore testi- mony that the “bones” had weighed heavily in the balance against the mucha- chos’ preparation of supper. As the others entered the fire- lighted circle, Zalmon arose with the agility which in him was always surprising, and stood clicking the dice in his fingers. ‘““T trust that you found the ruins inter- esting,” he said affably. “Very,” returned Jones, striding past him. ‘““Exceedingly,” observed the Martian, two syllables less laconic, and flung his lean form down by the fire, into which he began to gaze as though its depths held a weighty problem. ‘Something is up,” thought Grimshaw. Five minutes later Tomas came in with the broken body of Enrique slung across the back of a mule. Zalmon listened to the voluble explanations of the Aymara, and did not believe a word of them. ‘“ Something is certainly aloft,” he mused. “That fellow can lie like a Chinese cook, cCoOmiclbooks C©