"Yes, I am doctor, famous doctor," said the latter, bustling up to the speaker and looking him over as if he were about to claim him for medical purposes. "I cure thousands and thousands with my pills. But how you know I am doctor?" The Indian smiled, inclining his head graciously before answering. "Doctor Miranda is so famous every one knows him." Ordinarily the vanity of Miranda was easily touched, but just now he was too suspicious to be beguiled by the compliment. "Caramba!" he snorted; "and who are you?" "I am Anitoo." "That is not Spanish," said Miranda sharply. "I am not Spanish," replied Anitoo stiffly. "I come from an ancient race that ruled here long before there were any Spaniards." "Well, Senor Anitoo--you say it is Anitoo?--that may be. You are Indian--Chibcha Indian, perhaps--and not Spanish, not Colombian. But what do you make in this cave?" Anitoo smiled broadly. "This is the home of my people for many centuries," he said. "And now, suppose I ask you a question. What do you make in this cave?" XV AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR There is no doubt about it; Miranda had much the worst of it in his tilt with Anitoo. The Indian's point blank question as to why the explorers were in the cave was not easily answered. The more Miranda thought it over the less able was he to discover--or at least explain--just that very thing: why he and his companions were there. To say they were looking in a cave on the Bogota plateau for a man who had disappeared many miles away on the Honda road sounded rather unreasonable, now that he looked at it from the standpoint of a stranger; while to recall the story of foul play that linked this place with David's disappearance years ago seemed, under the circumstances, dangerous even to the impetuous Miranda. So, he shrugged his shoulders and resorted to a more evasive reply than was his custom. "We come for a picnic, and we want to get out--that is all." Anitoo again smiled broadly, yet with the subtle suggestion of holding in reserve an unuttered fund of wisdom that comes so naturally with the people of his race. "That is all?" "We look for one friend who is lost. Then, we come with another who has gone. He is one canaille! You have seen him?" "Ah!" murmured Anitoo, half to himself. "What is his name? What is he like?" "He is one Yankee. He is called Senor Don Raoul Arthur. He look--well, he look like this----" and Miranda gave an exaggerated example of Raoul's rolling and twitching eyes. "So, he is here!" said Anitoo, startled, apparently, by the information and amused by the grotesque lesson in optics given by the doctor. Miranda, on the other hand, gathered that Anitoo disliked Raoul--and this pleased him immensely. But he could get nothing more from the Indian who, although still friendly, began to show signs of impatience, talking earnestly to his followers in a language unintelligible to Miranda and Herran.