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ls　could　not　be　performed；　leaving　the　young　ones　in　adolescent　limbo。　Without　the　sacred　religious　objects；　all　worship　ceased。　To　them　it　was　the　same　as　if　the　world's　Christians；　Muslims；　and　Jews　woke　up　one　morning　and　suddenly　found　that　the　entire　city　of　Jerusalem　had　been　torn　from　the　earth　and　carried　into　deep　space。　To　non…Indians　it　was　a　simple　case　of　theft；　but　to　a　Montolo　it　amounted　to　blasphemy　that　bordered　on　atrocity。
　　　　Around　fires　in　the　underground　ceremonial　structures；　the　old　religion's　priests　whispered　of　how　they　could　hear　the　mournful　pleading　of　the　idols　on　nocturnal　winds；　pleading　to　be　returned　to　the　safety　of　their　hiding　place。
　　　　Billy　Yuma　was　desperate。　The　medicine　man　had　given　him　instructions　while　reading　the　embers　of　a　dying　fire。　To　send　his　brother's　ghost　back　to　the　underworld　and　save　his　family　from　further　disaster；　Billy　had　to　find　the　lost　idols　and　return　them　to　their　sacred　hiding　place　in　the　ancient　ruins　of　his　ancestors。　In　a　desperate　attempt　to　end　the　hauntings　and　avoid　more　ill　fortune　he　decided　to　fight　evil　with　evil。　He　resolved　to　climb　the　mountain；　confront　the　demon；　and　pray　for　its　help　in　returning　the　precious　idols。
　　　　He　was　no　longer　a　young　man；　and　the　ascent　would　be　perilous　without　the　equipment　used　by　modern　rock　climbers。　But　he　had　set　himself　to　the　task　and　was　not　about　to　back　down。　Too　many　of　his　people　were　counting　on　him。
　　　　About　a　third　of　the　way　up　the　south　wall　his　heart　hammered　against　his　ribs　and　his　lungs　ached　from　the　grueling；　effort。　He　could　have　stopped　to　rest　and　catch　his　breath；　but　he　pushed　on；　determined　to　reach　the　peak　without　pause。　He　turned　and　gazed　down　only　once；　checking　his　Ford　pickup　truck　parked　at　the　base　of　the　mountain。　It　looked　like　a　toy　he　could　reach　down　and　snatch　up　with　one　hand。　He　looked　back　at　the　cliff　face。　It　was　changing　colors　under　the　setting　sun；　from　amber　to　tile　red。
　　　　Billy　regretted　not　starting　out　earlier　in　the　day；　but　he　had　chores　to　plete；　and　the　sun　was　high　when　he　drove　to　the　mountain　and　began　his　ascent。　Now　the　orange　ball　was　creeping　below　the　ridge　of　the　Sierra　de　Juarez　mountains　to　the　west。　The　climb　was　more　difficult　than　he　had　imagined　and　was　taking　far　longer。　He　tilted　his　head；　shaded　his　eyes　against　the　brightness　of　the　sky；　and　squinted　up　toward　the　cone　top　of　the　mountain。　He　still　had　85　meters　（278　feet）　to　go；　and　full　darkness　was　only　a　half　hour　away。　The　prospect　of　spending　the　night　with　the　great　stone　beast　filled　him　with　foreboding；　but　it　would　have　been　suicidal　to　attempt　the　descent　in　the　dark。
　　　　Billy　was　a　small　man　of　fifty…five。　But　a　life　spent　ranching　in　the　harsh　climate　of　the　Sonora　Desert　had　made　him　as　hard　and　tough　as　an　old　cast…iron　frying　pan。　Perhaps　his　joints　were　not　as　flexible　as　they　were　the　day　he　won　a　bronco　riding　contest　in　Tucson；　nor　did　he　move　with　the　agility　of　the　boy　who　was　once　the　fastest　cross…country　runner　in　the　tribe；　nor　did　he　have　the　stamina；　but　he　was　still　as　tough　as　an　aging　mountain　goat。
　　　　The　whites　of　his　eyes　were　yellowed　and　the　rims　reddened　from　ignoring　the　onslaught　of　the　desert　sun　all　his　life　and　never　wearing　sunglasses。　He　had　a　round　brown　face　with　a　strong　jaw；　straggly　gray　eyebrows；　and　thick　black　hair…the　kind　of　face　that　seemed　expressionless　but　revealed　deep　character　and　an　insight　into　nature　rarely　understood　by　anyone　who　was　not　a　Native　American。
　　　　A　shadow　and　a　cold　breeze　suddenly　passed　over　him。　He　shuddered　from　the　unexpected　chill。　Was　it　a　spirit？　Where　did　they　e　from；　he　wondered。　Could　it　be　his　brother　was　trying　to　make　him；　fall　to　the　rocks　far　below？　Maybe　the　great　stone　beast　knew　he　was　approaching　and　was　issuing　a　warning。　Beset　with　foreboding；　Billy　kept　on　climbing；　teeth　clenched；　staring　only　at　the　vertical　rock　before　his　eyes。
　　　　Fortunately；　others　who　went　before　him　had　chiseled　foot…　and　handholds　on　the　steeper　face　of　the　wall　near　the　summit。　He　could　see　they　were　very　old　by　the　rounded　smoothness　of　their　edges。　Within　50　meters　（164　feet）　of　his　goal；　he　entered　a　rock　chimney　that　had　split　away　from　the　wall；　leaving　a　trail　of　loose　and　shattered　stone　inside　a　wide　crack　that　slanted　a　little　more　gently　and　made　the　climb　a　fraction　less　tiring。
　　　　At　last；　just　as　his　muscles　were　tightening　and　he　was　losing　all　feeling　in　his　legs；　the　rock　wall　gave　way　to　an　easy　incline；　and　he　crawled　onto　the　open　surface　of　the　peak。　He　rose　to　his　feet　as　the　final　light　of　day　faded；　breathing　deeply；　inhaling　the　cool；　pure　air　of　the　desert　He　rubbed　his　hands　on　the　legs　of　his　pants　to　remove　the　dirt　and　grit　and　stared　at　the　shadow　of　the　demon　looming　in　the　growing　darkness。　Though　it　was　carved　from　the　rock　of　the　mountain；　Billy　swore　that　it　glowed。　He　was　tired　and　sore；　but　strangely　he　felt　no　fear　of　the　time…worn　effigy；　despite　the　tales　about　how　the　restless　spirits　who　were　denied　entry　into　the　afterworld　walked　the　haunted　mountain。
　　　　He　saw　no　sign　of　fearsome　creatures　lurking　in　the　dark。　Except　for　the　jaguar　with　the　serpent's　head；　the　mountain　was　empty。　Billy　spoke　out。
　　　　〃I　have　e。〃
　　　　There　was　no　answer。　The　only　sounds　came　from　the　wind　and　the　beat　from　the　wings　of　a　hawk。　No　eerie　cries　from　the　tormented　souls　of　the　underworld。
　　　　〃I　have　climbed　the　enchanted　mountain　to　pray　to　you；〃　he　said。
　　　　Still　no　sign　or　reply；　but　a　chill　went　up　his　spine　as　he　felt　a　presence。　He　heard　voices　speaking　in　a　strange　tongue。　None　of　the　words　were　familiar。　Then　he　saw　shadowy　figures　take　shape。
　　　　The　people　were　visible　but　transparent。　They　appeared　to　be　moving　about　the　mesa；　taking　no　notice　d　Billy；　walking　around　and　through　him　as　if　it　were　he　who　did　not　exist。　Their　clothes　were　unfamiliar；　not　the　brief　cotton　loincloths　or　rabbit…skin　cloaks　of　his　ancestors。　These　people　were　dressed　as　gods。　Golden　helmets　adorned　with　brilliantly　colored　birds'　feathers　covered　most　of　the　phantoms'　heads；　while　those　who　went　bareheaded　wore　their　hair　in　strange　distinctive　fashions。　Their　bodies　were　clothed　with　textiles　Billy　had　never　seen。　The　knotted　mantles　that　draped　over　their　shoulders　and　the　tunics　worn　underneath　were　decorated　with　incredibly　ornate　and　beautiful　designs。
　　　　After　a　long　minute　the　strange　people　seemed　to　dissolve　and　their　voices　ceased。　Billy　stood　as　still　and　silent　as　the　rock　beneath　his　feet。　Who　were　these　strange　people　who　paraded　before　his　eyes？　Was　this　an　open　door　to　the　spirit　world；　he　wondered。
　　　　He　moved　closer　to　the　stone　monster；　reached　out　a　trembling　hand　and　touched　its　flank。　The　ancient　rock　felt　disturbingly　hotter　than　it　should　have　been　from　the　day's　heat。　Then；　incredibly；　an　eye　seemed　to　pop　open　on　the　serpent's　face；　an　eye　with　an　unearthly　light　behind　it。
　　　　Terror　stirred　through　Billy's　mind；　but　he　was　determined　not　to　flinch。　Later；　he　would　be　accused　of　an　overactive　imagination。　But　he　swore　a　thousand　times　before　his　own　death　many　years　later　that　he　had　seen　the　demon　stare　at　him　from　a　sparkling　eye。　He　summoned　up　his　courage；　dropped　to　his　knees　and　spread　out　his　hands。　Then　he　began　to　pray。　He　prayed　to　the　stone　effigy　through　most　of　the　night　before　falling　into　a　trancelike　sleep。　‘
　　　　In　the　morning；　as　the　sun　rose　and　painted　the　clouds　with　a　burst　of　gold；　Billy　Yuma　awoke　and　looked　around。　He　found　himself　lying　across　the　front　seat　of　his　Ford　pickup　truck　on　the　floor　of　the　desert；　far　below　the　silent　beast　of　the　mountain　that　stared　sightlessly　across　the　dry　waste。

　　　　Joseph　Zolar　stood　at　the　head　of　the　golden　suit；　watching　Henry　and　Micki　Moore　huddle　over　the　puter　and　laser　printer。　After　four　days　of　round…the…clock　study；　they　had　reduced　the　images　from　symbols　to　descriptive　words　and　concise　phrases。
　　　　There　was　a　fascination　about　the　way　they　snatched　up　the　sheets　as　they　rolled　out　onto　the　printer's　tray；　excitedly　analyzing　their　conclusions　as　a　wall　clock　ticked　off　the　remaining　minutes　of　their　lives。　They　went　about　their　business　as　if　the　men　behind　the　ski　masks　did　not　exist。
　　　　Henry　labored　in　focused　dedication。　His　world　existed　in　just　one　narrow　hall　of　academia。　Like　most　university　professors　of　anthropology　and　archaeology；　he　labored　for　prestige；　because　financial　wealth　eluded　him。　He　had　pieced　together　potsherds　and　had　written　a　prodigious　number　of　books　that　few　read　and　even　fewer　paid　good　money　to　own。　Published　with　small　print　runs；　all　his　works　ended　up　gathering　dust　in　the　basements　of　college　libraries。　Ironically；　the　fame　and　the　honors　that　he　foresaw　would　be　heaped　upon　him　as　the　interpreter；　and　perhaps　discoverer；　of　Huascar's　treasure　meant　more　to　him　than　mere　monetary　returns。
　　　　At　first　the　Zolars　found　Micki　Moore　sexually　appealing。　But　soon　her　indifference　toward　them　became　imitating。　It　was　obvious　that　she　loved　her　husband　and　had　little　interest　in　anyone　else。　They　lived　and　worked　together　in　a　world　of　their　own　making。
　　　　Joseph　Zolar　would　suffer　little　remorse　over　their　termination。　He　had　dealt　with　disgusting　and　despicable　sellers　and　collectors　over　the　years；　and　hardened　criminals　as　well；　but　these　two　people　were　an　enigma　to　him。　He　no　longer　cared　what　form　of　execution　his　brothers　had　in　mind　for　them。　All　that　mattered　now　was　that　the　Moores　e　up　with　concise　and　accurate　directions　to　Huascar's　golden　chain。
　　　　Wearing　the　ski　masks　had　been　a　waste　of　time；　but　they　kept　them　on　during　the　entire　time　they　were　in　the　Moores'　presence。　It　was　obvious　the　Moores　did　not　intimidate　easily。
　　　　Zolar　looked　at　Henry　Moore　and　attempted　a　smile。　It　wasn't　very　successful。　〃Have　you　finished　decoding　the　symbols？〃　he　asked　hopefully。
　　　　Moore　winked　foxlike　at　his　wife　and　gave　her　a　smug　grin　before　turning　to　Zolar。　〃We　are　finished。　The　story　we　have　deciphered　is　one　of　great　drama　and　human　endurance。　Our　unraveling　of　the　images　and　successful　translation　greatly　expands　the　current　knowledge　of　the　Chachapoyas。　And　it　will　rewrite　every　text　ever　written　on　the　Inca。〃
　　　　〃S