Mr. Blair-Duncan's Second Letter

To the Editor of the CRIMSON:

We departed form Chita on the day following the return of Cavallo his assistant. The stories which they had to tell of their find near Machu Picchu made us eager to see the site ourselves. I shall pass over our Journey up the Urubamab canyon, and our discoveries at the foot of the mountain, interesting though they are, until our specialist, Don Calvo, has made fuller reports. Our ascent was made with some difficulty largely because of the debris of centuries.

The first object to meet our eyes at the summit was an ancient belfry. It stood at one side of the space occupied by the ruins of the university, in a commanding position as it were. The lower part was hidden in a dense growth of tropical underbrush. We hacked our way through with our machetes, shielding our eyes as best we could from the springy branches. When the foot of the tower was reached, the entrance was found to be completely blocked by dust and debris. Further efforts were necessitated, until at last the door fell open, revealing a hollow chamber free from dust and well-preserved from the ravages of time.

It took a moment for our eyes to adjust themselves in the dim light. Then all at once we discovered, in a standing posture, leaning against the wall, a human skeleton. His hands were upraised grasping a rope of twisted bark. Far above, in the shadows, we could make out the metal of a huge bell. The clapper, which had fallen to the floor, was worn with long usage.

Talma, our interpreter, who was a garrulous native of the neighborhood, fumbled in the shadows of his mind for a moment, then slowly drew forth an old fable that had been handed down by his ancestors for centuries. In olden days, it was said, there had been an unknown spirit on that mountain, and every morning, just at sunrise, he world toll out a clangor on his bell. Once people had believed that he held court had vanished into dust, the bell-ringer had been faithful to his task; until one day after a last faint peal, the sound had died away and the bell was never heard again.

Talma, our interpreter, who was a garrulous native of the neighborhood, fumbled in the shadows of his mind for a moment, then slowly drew forth an old fable that had been handed down by his ancestors for centuries. In olden days, it was said, there had been an unknown spirit on that mountain, and every morning, just at sunrise, he would toll out a clangor on his bell. Once, people had believed that he held court at that hour, but even after the court had vanished into dust, the bell-ringer had been faithful to his task; until one day after a last faint peal, the sound had died away and the bell was never heard again.

Most fables are founded on a perversion of fact. Senor Alvarotez, with great acumen, has been at work reconstructing this myth in the light of facts. On the will of the tower hung a small pla ue; its words, when deciphered accordign to the key furnished by the Bingham Expedition, read as follows: "Rising Bell. To be rung each morning at the rising of the sun". Then followed the date, in our calendar 1236 A. D. A minute examination of the chamber brought to light a collection of cracked and faded parchments, apparently of an official nature. The most interesting of these proved to be a letter couched in formal phraseology. After thanking the officer for his long and faithful service, and that of his ancestors for generations back, it went on to say (in translation):

"The Circle of the Elders has at hand a petition from the scholars to change the hour of the Rising Bell from sunrise to the fourth sun-mark thereafter. In view of the fact that the latter do not now attend upon their masters, nor have they for many years, until the later hour. The Circle is obliged to decide that no change can now be made for two causes:

Firstlym the Circle is not certain where the authority rests for such a momentous act.

Secondly, even were the Circle so informed, it doubts if such a change, contrary to the age -old tradition of the Un-

iversity, would be advisable".

This letter was dated 1372; the university ceased to exist early in the sixteenth century. From this information, aided by Talma's fable, Senor Alvarotez has deduced the following theory. The bell-ringer, no doubt, was a descendant of the one who received the letter. Even after the university had ceased to function, father and son had continued to ring the bell in the early hours of the morning; until this bellman, the last of his family, had died at his post.  Cordially yours,  J. BLATE-DUNCAN,

With the University of Nueva Barcelona, Peruvian Expedition,

Near Machu Piochu, Peru, Octr 23, 1921