Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe May 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
The life of an anthropologist is no doubt filled much ofthe time with the monotonous routine of carefully assemblingpowdery relics of ancient races and civilizations. ButWhite's lone Peruvian odyssey was most unusual. A storypseudonymously penned by one of the greats in the genre.
Fra Rafael saw strange things, impossible things. Then therewas the mystery of the seven young virginal girls ofHuascan.
Fra Rafael drew the llama-wool blanket closer about his narrowshoulders, shivering in the cold wind that screamed down from Huascan.His face held great pain. I rose, walked to the door of the hut andpeered through fog at the shadowy haunted lands that lifted toward thesky—the Cordilleras that make a rampart along Peru's eastern border.
"There's nothing," I said. "Only the fog, Fra Rafael."
He made the sign of the cross on his breast. "It is the fog thatbrings the—the terror," he said. "I tell you, Señor White, I haveseen strange things these last few months—impossible things. You area scientist. Though we are not of the same religion, you also knowthat there are powers not of this earth."
I didn't answer, so he went on: "Three months ago it began, after theearthquake. A native girl disappeared. She was seen going into themountains, toward Huascan along the Pass, and she did not come back. Isent men out to find her. They went up the Pass, found the fog grewthicker and thicker until they were blind and could see nothing. Fearcame to them and they fled back down the mountain. A week lateranother girl vanished. We found her footprints."
"The same canyon?"
"Si, and the same result. Now seven girls have gone, one after theother, all in the same way. And I, Señor White—" Fra Rafael's pale,tired face was sad as he glanced down at the stumps of his legs—"Icould not follow, as you see. Four years ago an avalanche crippled me.My bishop told me to return to Lima, but I prevailed on him to let meremain here for these natives are my people, Señor. They know andtrust me. The loss of my legs has not altered that."
I nodded. "I can see the difficulty now, though."
"Exactly. I cannot go to Huascan and find out what has happened to thegirls. The natives—well, I chose four of the strongest and bravestand asked them to take me up the Pass. I thought that I could overcometheir superstitions. But I was not successful."
"How far did you go?" I asked.
"A few miles, not more than that. The fog grew thicker, until we wereblinded by it, and the way was dangerous. I could not make the men goon." Fra Rafael closed his eyes wearily. "They talked of old Inca godsand devils—Manco Capac and Oello Huaco, the Children of the Sun. Theyare very much afraid, Señor White. They huddle together like sheepand believe that an ancient god has returned and is taking them awayone by one. And—one by one they are taken."
"Only young girls," I mused. "And no coercion is used, apparently.What's up toward Huascan?"
"Nothing but wild llamas and the condors. And snow, cold, desolation.These are the Andes, my friend."
"Okay," I said. "It sounds interesting. As an anthropologist I owe itto the Foundation to investigate. Besides, I'm curious. Superficially,there is nothing very strange about the affair. Seven girls havedisappeared in the unusually heavy fogs we've had ever since theearthquake. Nothing more."<