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man's face, closed to the world around him. He knew it by the look of the old man's hands, at rest and still.
Suddenly the boy could not bear to watch Chuto talking with his gods. It was like looking at something that was not for one
to see.
Nor could the boy wait until the man finished praying, wait to watch him go down the trail an unshared mission.
Cusi turned away.
11. THE SIGN
As the young boy turned away, he looked at once for Misti. As usual Suncca, the dog, was crouched nearby, watching his
master's movements. But where was Misti? Misti also was always close, proud and arrogant, but loving and waiting. Where
was Misti? Cusi looked again. Then he saw the Llama.
Misti was standing in the distance at the edge of the ychu- grass meadow. He was watching Cusi. When he saw the boy
looking toward him the black Llama walked away, then turned to look again. Cusi was mystified. Wanting to see what the
Llama would do, the boy walked toward him a few steps then stopped. Again and again Misti would walk away, stopping to
turn, to look at the boy, to coax him forward.
"That black one!" Cusi whispered. "That black one! He wants me to follow him." Then he called, "Wait for me, Misti! I'm
coming."
Misti understood. He waited quietly until Cusi was almost with him. Then he turned and wanted swiftly away.
Cusi followed. They were now in the thicket of twisted trees that separated the meadow from the rising mountain slope.
There were many trails through the thicket, mostly those used by small mountain animals coming to the meadow stream to
drink. For a time this one meandered along, joining other trail or winding back in lazy fashion. Cusi was amused. Misti must
be playing some kind of game with him.
Then the trail turned abruptly. Almost immediately they entered a steep-walled narrow canyon. At first the walls were of
natural rock, but farther on Cusi noticed that they had been built of stone. So cleverly had man's work matched natures that
Cusi had to retrace his steps and touch with fingertips the line that separated rugged rock from smooth-cut stone. At almost
the same place on the opposite wall the stone began. Cusi was interested, but Misti was impatient. His tasseled ears bobbed in
annoyance. Cusi laughed, and his laughter sounded hollow and unreal. At the sound he too was seized with a desire to hurry.
He was not now following the Llama in an idle, playful mood. He had caught the animal's impatience and insistence.
The canyon hallway narrowed to a flight of hand-hewn steps, going down, going down, and going down as far as the boy
could see. The way was so narrow now that Misti would have difficulty in turning around if they should have need to turn.
The walls were moss-covered and damp and cold and clammy smelling. The sunlight did not reach the crevice trail, and the
steps were blotted in purple shadow. There was the sound of water dripping. Drip, drip, it dropped upon stone. Cusi could see
no break in the stones of either walls or steps. He could see no trickle dripping, feel no splash as it fell drop by drop against
the stone. But he could hear it, each sound distinct and slow and by itself.
Misti was a black shape before him in the softer shadows. Step by step by step by step, the Llama and the boy went down the
cold stone steps.
Then the stairway ended. Cusi gasped. Directly in front of him was a flat cliff like rock covered with ferns and purple orchids.
The air was heavy and sickish sweet with the odor of a tall, bell-shaped flower that grew in tangled beauty against the cliff
rock.
At the opposite side of the stage-like canyon there were fallen walls of a ruined temple of pearl-white granite. Beneath the
walls was a massive carved stone seat. Cusi walked nearer, Misti watching him.
Then it seemed that the purple shadows lifted and the small canyon was filled with silvery light. Cusi rubbed his eyes and
opened them again. Perhaps it lust seemed lighter now that he was accustomed to the darkness. The explanation comforted
him. Everything was real and everyday. He had by accident stumbled on a new trail.
His mountain world was full of trails and full of ancient ruins. Temples to the Moon and the Stars, the Thunder and Lightning
and Rain, were in every valley and on every precipice.
Then he looked behind the carved throne. On a raised stone platform was a white boulder, body-length in thickness but higher
than he could see. Along its edges were large, smooth- drilled holes. Cusi's whole body was still with awe and reverence.
Without being told, he knew what the rock had been used for.
In the days of the Old when the proud Inca ruled the land the tribal priests had tied the Sun on his way through the heavens.
They had tied him to a snow-white boulder with ropes of gold. It was at the winter solstice that they tied the Sun there so he
would not go way and leave the world in cold and darkness.
Cusi looked up at the stone dais on which the great Sun had rested. He looked again. He walked nearer to see better.
The black Llama watched him with eyes that were ancient and wise and sad with the grief of a conquered people.
On the carved stone lay a pair of golden sandals. Cusi knelt to see them. They were small, too small for him to wear. They
were delicate and lovely. They were perfect, as if they had been left there yesterday. Should he touch them? Could he handle
them? Dare he take them to have and to keep and to treasure for always?
Then Cusi heard the Amauta's words as clearly as he had heard them that day before the Wise Man left him. "Your heart is
good and brave. It is yours to command your actions."
Cusi touched the sandals. He picked them up. He held them tenderly in his thin young hands. When he had feasted his eyes
on their shining beauty, he wrapped them in the folds of his poncho.
They were his. In some way that he did not know, they had always belonged to him. They were his. His heart told him they
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