“No signs of anything happening yet,” uneasily. “I wonder if Soncco told the truth about the open link in the chains. He may have said that simply to pacify us, so we would submit to being bound without a struggle.” “Wait a little while longer. Then--well, I believe Soncco told the truth. We must get Villac Umu. If there is a fight, any one and every one else will do for the next, but I think that with the high priest out of the way Soncco can handle the crowd; he is the one they really hold in superstitious fear. Snap the chain suddenly and jump to one side so far as you can. Remember that Pizarro conquered the whole nation of millions of people by capturing the leader; we have a chance of doing the same thing on a smaller scale with that beast out of the way.” Minutes passed; they waited in vain. “I must have been mistaken, after all,” Stanley said gloomily as he caught an impatient look from Soncco. “Look! he is signalling us now. Let’s break away. Are you ready?” “Yes. Give the word.” A crash halted the reply on Stanley’s lips. “Cursed drink that has dimmed my vision,” Quizquiz shouted, at the same time dashing his heavy golden goblet to the floor of his litter, “for it must be my blurred eyes that deceive me. Look, Villac Umu! Do you see anything?” The Inca and the high priest were anxiously scanning the heavens, shielding their eyes with jewel-bedecked hands. Concern and fear were plainly pictured in their faces. “It is not the drink.” Stanley was quick enough to comprehend the situation and to make use of it to their advantage. “What you see is a giant hand grasping the neck of your helpless Sun-God. Soon his light will fade and you will be floundering in the darkness. Your time has come!” Then to Ted in a joyous shout: “I was right! I was right! Look! The eclipse; it is starting.” The two could scarcely keep from jumping from their places, but the decisive moment had not arrived. The stillness of death had fallen upon the multitude. The drum-beats stopped suddenly, the reed flutes ceased their wails, the voices of the singers were hushed, and half-emptied cups of wine slipped from nerveless fingers and fell to the ground. Every eye was turned skyward, and upon the sea of faces came a pallor and a look of horror, for the impossible was unquestionably happening. A black disk was rapidly stealing over the face of the sun from the west; half of the flaming orb was already obscured, and slowly but relentlessly a sickly gray twilight was falling upon the earth. Brilliant colors faded in the uncanny dusk, and jewels that had flashed and shimmered grew dull and lifeless. Familiar objects took on strange, fantastic shapes before they melted in a maze of grotesque shadows. “Speak, Villac Umu! Speak!” Quizquiz’s voice was bordering on despair. “You are High Priest of the Temple of the Sun and know the will of the gods. You said this thing could not happen.”