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blowgun and slipped it into his shirt pocket, then he used his flashlight to illumine the olive-skinned face and long, jet black hair. She was young, beautiful, close to Lila’s age and stature.
    â€œShe’s a native,” Dr. Cooper observed. “Probably a Kachaka.”
    Jay was dismayed. “How’d she get Lila’s hat?”
    â€œShe may have found it . . . or she could have encountered Lila.” He gently stroked her forehead and spoke to her. “Hello, little girl. Come on, wake up.”
    A glow fell upon the girl’s face and the stones of the old wall. There was a sound behind them.
    As they turned, they saw torches coming over the wall and the dimly lit outlines of several men— big men—in loose clothing, some bare-chested. Some wore straw hats. They were carrying knives, rifles, clubs. A voice jabbered at them in an unknown language. More torches appeared. The light washed over the area.
    A man approached them ahead of the others, his intense, lined face clear in the light of the torches. He was a native. Wearing pants and a ragged shirt topped by a tattered straw hat, he also carried an old rifle. When he saw them with the pitiful, unconscious girl, his eyes filled with horror and then rage. He screamed at them, aiming his rifle.
    They let go of the girl and raised their hands.
    The man screamed orders to his men, who immediately pushed through the brush toward them, brandishing their weapons. Two grabbed Jacob Cooper, putting a knife to his throat. Two more grabbed Jay and held him, taking away his father’s gun. Two others gently picked up the girl and carried her aside. One more helped himself to the Coopers’ flashlights.
    Dr. Cooper spoke, though he was careful not to move or give his captors any reason to use the knife. “We were trying to help her. She was being attacked.”
    The man seemed amused. “You like to make up stories?”
    Here was a little hope. “You know English?”
    The man cocked his head and smirked as if he’d heard a dumb question. “I pick up a little here and there. Yours sounds very good.”
    â€œSir, we rescued your daughter. She was being attacked—”
    â€œBy you! ” the man hollered, gesturing with the barrel of the rifle. “You cannot fool me! You are mukai-tochetin!” His eyes darted about the ruins for an instant as if looking for hidden dangers. “You are everywhere! You want to scare us and kill us. Why? We are Kachakas! We did not violate the tomb!”
    Uh-oh. This could be serious. “You are Kachakas?”
    â€œYou know that. Mukai-tochetin know everything. You know I am the chief, and you know the girl is my daughter.” He raised his rifle and appeared to be seriously considering pulling the trigger. “And that is why you tried to kill her, yes? To hurt me!
    â€
    â€œSir . . . I am Dr. Jacob Cooper from America, and this is my son, Jay—”
    The chief aimed the rifle directly into Dr. Cooper’s face. Dr. Cooper could see right along the barrel into his eye. “No more lies! You only want to scare us, to kill us, to kill my daughter and hurt me!” He pulled back the hammer. “But I think I hurt you first!”

SIX
    A nother man shouted at the chief and then spoke hurriedly, as if trying to reason with him. It must have been a good argument—the chief uncocked his rifle and lowered it. The two talked a moment, throwing suggestions and counter-suggestions back and forth and pointing at the Coopers.
    Finally, the chief gave in and spoke in English. “We take you to our village.” He jerked his thumb toward the man who argued with him. “Manito says if you are really mukai-tochetin, it will do no good to shoot you. But he thinks you are not mukai-tochetin. He thinks maybe you are just stupid Americans. We find out.”
    With some not-so-gentle prodding from their well-armed captors, Jay and Dr. Cooper started