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UNLOCKING GOLANG AND
JAVA MASTERY FOR
INTERMEDIATE
PROGRAMMERS

YOUR ESSENTIAL GUIDE TO

INTERMEDIATE PROGRAMMING
MASTERY AND UNLEASHING THE
POWER OF ADVANCED JAVA
TECHNIQUES
JP PETERSON
## CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION TO GO PROGRAMMING

## CHAPTER 2: EXPLORING DATA TYPES AND VARIABLES

## CHAPTER 3: CONTROL STRUCTURES AND DECISION MAKING

## CHAPTER 4: FUNCTIONS AND METHODS IN GO

## CHAPTER 5: ARRAYS, SLICES, AND MAPS IN GO

## CHAPTER 6: POINTERS AND MEMORY MANAGEMENT IN GO

## CHAPTER 7: STRUCTS AND INTERFACES IN GO

## CHAPTER 8: CONCURRENCY AND GOROUTINES IN GO

## CHAPTER 9: ERROR HANDLING AND LOGGING IN GO

## CHAPTER 10: FILE I/O AND SERIALIZATION IN GO

## CHAPTER 11: TESTING AND BENCHMARKING IN GO

## CHAPTER 12: PACKAGE MANAGEMENT AND DEPENDENCY IN GO

## CHAPTER 13: WEB DEVELOPMENT WITH GO

## CHAPTER 14: DATABASE INTERACTION IN GO

## CHAPTER 15: BUILDING COMMAND-LINE APPLICATIONS IN GO

JAVA MASTERY FOR INTERMEDIATE PROGRAMMERS

**CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION TO JAVA AND PYTHON**

**CHAPTER 2: UNDERSTANDING OBJECT-ORIENTED PROGRAMMING**

**CHAPTER 3: DATA TYPES AND VARIABLES**

**CHAPTER 4: CONTROL FLOW AND DECISION MAKING**

**CHAPTER 5: FUNCTIONS AND METHODS**

**CHAPTER 6: EXCEPTION HANDLING**

**CHAPTER 7: FILE HANDLING AND I/O OPERATIONS**

**CHAPTER 8: COLLECTIONS AND GENERICS**

**CHAPTER 9: JAVA STREAMS API**

**CHAPTER 10: CONCURRENCY IN JAVA**

**CHAPTER 11: NETWORKING WITH JAVA**

**CHAPTER 12: GUI DEVELOPMENT WITH JAVA**

**CHAPTER 13: DATABASE CONNECTIVITY WITH JDBC**

**CHAPTER 14: WEB DEVELOPMENT WITH JAVA SERVLETS**

**CHAPTER 15: JAVA FRAMEWORKS AND ADVANCED TECHNIQUES**

 UNLOCKING GOLANG

YOUR ESSENTIAL GUIDE

TO INTERMEDIATE
PROGRAMMING MASTERY
JP PETERSON
## Introduction

Welcome to "Unlocking Golang: Your Essential Guide to

Intermediate Programming Mastery." In this book, we will
delve into the powerful world of Go programming and take
your skills to the next level. Whether you're a beginner who
has already grasped the basics or an experienced developer
seeking to enhance your proficiency, this comprehensive
guide will equip you with the knowledge and tools needed to
become an adept Go programmer.

Go, also known as Golang, is a statically typed, compiled

programming language designed for simplicity, efficiency,
and ease of use. Its concise syntax and built-in features
make it an excellent choice for developing various types of
applications, from web services to system software.

Throughout this book, we will explore advanced concepts,

techniques, and best practices that are essential for
unlocking the full potential of Go. Each chapter will provide
clear explanations, practical examples, and hands-on
exercises to solidify your understanding.
## Chapter 1: Introduction to
Go Programming

Welcome to the first chapter of "Unlocking Golang: Your

Essential Guide to Intermediate Programming Mastery." In
this chapter, we will embark on a journey to explore the
fundamental concepts of Go programming. Whether you're
new to Go or looking to refresh your knowledge, this chapter
will serve as a solid foundation for the more advanced topics
we'll cover in the subsequent chapters.

### The Essence of Go Programming

Go, often referred to as Golang, is a statically typed,

compiled programming language that was developed at
Google in 2007 by Robert Griesemer, Rob Pike, and Ken
Thompson. It was designed with a focus on simplicity,
efficiency, and readability, making it an excellent choice for
building a wide range of applications, from small command-
line tools to large-scale distributed systems.

#### Concurrency Made Easy

One of the standout features of Go is its built-in support for

concurrency. Concurrency allows a program to handle
multiple tasks concurrently, enabling efficient utilization of
modern multi-core processors. Go achieves concurrency
through its goroutine and channel mechanisms. Goroutines
are lightweight threads that enable functions to be executed
concurrently, while channels provide a means of
communication and synchronization between goroutines.

```go
func main() {
messages := make(chan string)

go func() {
messages <- "Hello, "
}()

go func() {
messages <- "World!"
}()

msg1 := <-messages
msg2 := <-messages

fmt.Println(msg1 + msg2)
}
```

In the above example, two goroutines are sending messages

to a channel, which are then received and concatenated in
the main goroutine. This showcases Go's elegant approach
to handling concurrent tasks.
#### Simple and Expressive Syntax

Go boasts a clean and expressive syntax that emphasizes

readability and ease of use. Its minimalistic approach
eliminates unnecessary clutter, making the codebase more
maintainable and understandable. Let's compare a simple
"Hello, World!" program in Go with equivalent programs in
other popular programming languages:

Go:
```go
package main

import "fmt"

func main() {
fmt.Println("Hello, World!")
}
```

Python:
```python
print("Hello, World!")
```

Java:
```java
public class HelloWorld {
public static void main(String[] args) {
System.out.println("Hello, World!");
}
}
```

The Go version requires fewer lines of code while retaining

clarity. This simplicity extends to other language features as
well, making Go an attractive language for both beginners
and experienced developers.

#### Strongly Typed and Compiled

Go is a strongly typed language, which means that variable

types must be explicitly declared and adhered to. This helps
catch errors at compile time and enhances code reliability.
The Go compiler, known as "gc," is responsible for
translating Go source code into machine code. The compiled
binaries are standalone and can be easily deployed without
the need for external runtime dependencies.

### Getting Started with Go

Before we dive deeper into Go programming, let's set up our

development environment and write our first program.
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#### Installing Go

To install Go on your system, follow these steps:

1. Visit the official Go website: https://golang.org/dl/

2. Download the installer for your operating system.
3. Run the installer and follow the on-screen instructions.

Once the installation is complete, you can verify it by

opening a terminal and running the command:

```sh
go version
```

#### Writing Your First Go Program

Let's write a simple program that prints "Hello, Go!" to the

console:

```go
package main

import "fmt"
func main() {
fmt.Println("Hello, Go!")
}
```

Save the above code in a file named `hello.go`. Open a

terminal, navigate to the directory containing the file, and
run the following command:

```sh
go run hello.go
```

You should see the output:

```
Hello, Go!
```

Congratulations! You've successfully written and executed

your first Go program.

### Exploring Data Types and Variables

Go provides a variety of built-in data types to represent

different kinds of values. Understanding these data types is
essential for writing effective and efficient programs.

#### Numeric Types

Go supports various numeric types, including integers and

floating-point numbers. Here are some of the commonly
used numeric types:

- `int` and `uint`: Signed and unsigned integers,

respectively, with a size of either 32 or 64 bits, depending
on the platform.

- `int8`, `int16`, `int32`, and `int64`: Signed integers with

specific bit sizes.

- `uint8`, `uint16`, `uint32`, and `uint64`: Unsigned

integers with specific bit sizes.

- `float32` and `float64`: IEEE-754 floating-point numbers

with single and double precision, respectively.

```go
package main

import "fmt"

func main() {
 var x int = 42
var pi float64 = 3.14159

fmt.Println("x =", x)
fmt.Println("pi =", pi)
}
```

In the above example, we declare variables `x` and `pi`

with their respective data types and initialize them with
values.

#### Strings

Strings in Go are sequences of characters. They can be

created using double quotes or backticks for raw string
literals.

```go
package main

import "fmt"

func main() {
message := "Hello, Gophers!"
rawMessage := `This is a raw
 string literal.`

fmt.Println(message)
fmt.Println(rawMessage)
}
```

The `message` variable contains a regular string, while

`rawMessage` contains a raw string literal that preserves
line breaks and formatting.

#### Boolean Type

The `bool` type represents Boolean values, `true` or `false`.

```go
package main

import "fmt"

func main() {
var isTrue bool = true
var isFalse bool = false

fmt.Println("isTrue =", isTrue)

 fmt.Println("isFalse =", isFalse)
}
```

#### Constants

Go allows you to define constants using the `const`

keyword. Constants are values that cannot be changed after
they are defined.

```go
package main

import "fmt"

func main() {
const gravity float64 = 9.81
const daysInWeek int = 7

fmt.Println("Gravity on Earth:", gravity)

fmt.Println("Days in a week:", daysInWeek)
}
```

In the above example, we define constants for the

acceleration due to gravity and the number of days in a
week.

### Conclusion

In this chapter, we've laid the groundwork for our journey

into Go programming. We've explored the core principles
that make Go a powerful and unique language, including its
emphasis on concurrency, simplicity, and strong typing.
We've also taken our first steps by installing Go and writing
a basic program.
## Chapter 2: Exploring Data
Types and Variables

Welcome to Chapter 2 of "Unlocking Golang: Your Essential

Guide to Intermediate Programming Mastery." In this
chapter, we'll take a deep dive into data types and variables
in Go. Understanding how to work with different data types
and effectively use variables is crucial for building robust
and efficient programs. By the end of this chapter, you'll
have a solid grasp of Go's data types and be able to wield
variables with confidence.

### Numeric Types

Go offers a range of numeric data types, each with specific

characteristics and use cases. Let's explore these numeric
types in detail:

#### Integers (`int` and `uint`)

Integers are whole numbers without a decimal point. Go

provides two main categories of integers: signed (`int`) and
unsigned (`uint`). The bit size of these integers varies
depending on the platform (32 or 64 bits).

```go
package main
import "fmt"

func main() {
var positiveInt int = 42
var negativeInt int = -42
var unsignedInt uint = 64

fmt.Println("Positive Int:", positiveInt)

fmt.Println("Negative Int:", negativeInt)
fmt.Println("Unsigned Int:", unsignedInt)
}
```

#### Floating-Point Numbers (`float32` and `float64`)

Floating-point numbers represent real numbers with a

decimal point. Go provides two floating-point types:
`float32` and `float64`, indicating single and double
precision, respectively.

```go
package main

import "fmt"

func main() {
 var pi float64 = 3.141592653589793
var gravity float32 = 9.81

fmt.Println("Pi (float64):", pi)

fmt.Println("Gravity (float32):", gravity)
}
```

### Strings

Strings are sequences of characters. In Go, strings can be

created using either double quotes or backticks. Double-
quoted strings can include escape sequences, while
backtick strings are raw string literals that preserve line
breaks and formatting.

```go
package main

import "fmt"

func main() {
regularString := "Hello, Gophers!"
rawString := `This is a raw
string literal.`
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Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
had helped the frost and heat to crumble many of its
stones, so that it had little shape; but at one point there
seemed to be a rude hut rebuilt from the stones.
Toward this Cliff crept.

He had scarcely reached the side of the small stone pile

when he heard what at first sounded like a groan, but
then was more like a yawn.

“Huayca!—I guess!” Cliff reasoned, “he came here and

when he saw our fire die down—he could, from that
further ledge—he decided to take a nap.”

He wasted no time in hesitation while he thought; he

sent his eyes darting here and there till he saw, close to
the hut, a spot in the crumbled masonry where he could
creep into a niche and be out of sight of anyone
emerging from the hut door.

He squeezed into his niche only just in time. Yawning,

stretching, a tall figure, arms flung wide, stood in the
hut doorway for a moment, then strolled over toward
the edge of the cliff, lay flat and peered toward Cliff’s
camp.

Cliff, peering from his hiding place, watched steadily. 73

The Indian, for the light was strong enough to
distinguish him as dark, lithe and dressed as a native,
rose to a kneeling posture.

He fidgeted with his garments while Cliff became very

intent. He saw the Indian draw a paper into view. He
flattened it on his knee, and in the growing brightness
studied it. Then, after an instant of hesitation, he drew
off one of his sandal-like foot coverings and thrust the
paper, folded, into the shoe.
Cliff did some hard thinking. This must be Huayca
although the light did not yet give proof of that. But the
paper did. Cliff’s problem was this: if he disclosed his
presence and tried to surprise the Indian the latter
might escape—perhaps run to the fissure in the rocks
and vanish. With the map—as Cliff surmised the paper
must be—in his sandal it was imperative to capture him,
and in such a way that Cliff could then be certain he
would not destroy the map before Cliff could get it or
summon help.

Therefore, his thinking made him determine that he

must get the native into some situation where surprise
and location would make up for Cliff’s inferior strength
and size.

He reasoned that no native would travel in the 74

mountains without food. Therefore there must be some
sort of pack within the hut; probably a pack containing
some charqui—the dried, thin sliced deer meat which
was a large part of a mountaineer’s food, and dried or
parched grain.

The Indian was again peering intently toward camp.

Perhaps the fire was being made up by natives, or some
other activity went forward. Cliff took the chance that
the watcher would be so absorbed that he would not
see a moving figure in the shadow beside the ruins.

Sidling along, stepping cautiously to avoid loose stones

—for the least sound, in that stillness, would carry to
keen Indian ears!—he slipped to the hut door and
vanished inside it.

The place had no windows. Except for the doorway,

lacking any door, there was no place where light could
enter; since that opening faced the west, the interior
was dark—pitch dark!

Cliff felt his way carefully. His foot touched something;

he paused and stooped. Exploring fingers assured him
that he had found a small pack; around it was a
packstrap with some rope attached so that the pack
could be tied up.

Loosening the rope, Cliff drew it free; with it he slipped 75

back to the doorway and stopped just inside and
beyond the dull glimmer of light it admitted. He saw the
Indian fasten his sandal, rise and saunter toward the
hut—for his breakfast.

Totally unsuspicious the Indian approached; Cliff held

his breath. As the other stepped in Cliff’s foot shot
across the entry and the Indian, with no way to foresee
the ruse, stumbled and fell forward. At the same instant
Cliff moved.

With pantherish quickness he grasped the two feet

which had flung out as the man fell; around them,
before the other knew just what had attacked him, Cliff
flung the rope, drawing taut the end; a slip-noose,
cleverly maneuvered over the ankles, drew tight.

Then began a battle between the man, prone but able

to kick and scramble, and Cliff, working to get his rope
over a rock.

In the camp Mr. Whitley came from his tent, yawning;

he had secured but a little sleep. He saw Tom and Nicky,
beside the campfire and approached.

“Where is Cliff?”
“He went after Whackey before dawn.” Bill, hearing, ran
over.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Quipu Bill said in an injured 76

voice, “I’m going after him. That Indian—if Cliff comes
up with him at all—may be dangerous!”

“Look!” Nicky fairly screamed, “up there——”

His pointing finger called for no further words. They all

turned their eyes up the pass. Outlined against the
yellow and crimson of sunrise was a silhouetted figure,
prancing.

Faintly came a shouted call.

Like racers at the clang of a bell the four were away up

that pass. As they neared they heard Cliff calling down
to them and telling about the ladder.

In the hut doorway they soon discovered a scowling but

silent captive.

It was Huayca, without any mistake.

“How did you ever?——” began Mr. Whitley and Nicky,

almost together.

Cliff explained. When he reached the point where he

had the rope twisted about Huayca’s ankles he grinned.

“He wriggled and yelled and squirmed,” he said, “but I 77

knew if I could keep his feet in the air long enough and
didn’t tire out first I would win; when he stopped
wriggling I got a chance to pull home a slip-knot I made
and then I got the rope end over that place in the stone
—it was sort of like a pulley and when I hauled on the
rope his feet were up in the air and I tied the rope and
ran to call you.”

“I wonder if he had the map?” Tom said.

Cliff walked to the man lying with his heels higher than
his head, and jerked off a sandal.

Then they did slap Cliff’s back!

78
 CHAPTER IX
AMBUSHED!

What to do next was a problem. They discussed it,

breakfasting after Huayca had been returned to camp.
They had the map again; but, at the same time, they
had native carriers who had tried to slip away under
cover of darkness; they had Huayca, morose, sullen,
who must be guarded constantly or released to slip
away and tell the Incas of their movements.

The mystery of the Spaniard was cleared up: when Bill

had gone to his camp the night before he had seen
from the way the man stumbled up that his ankle had
been turned; they had stopped to let it rest or to
improvise a rude hamaca—the native sedan-chair or
palanquin, really more of a stretcher.

They discussed matters from every angle but could not 79

find a plan that suited them all. If they went ahead their
natives might disappear with the very things that were
most necessary to their plans: if they kept a guard it
would show that they were not the innocent travellers
that they claimed they were. Of course Huayca knew
the truth; but had he told the other natives? If they
went on he might make their carriers turn against him.
If they released him he would certainly go straight to
the Incas, perhaps leaving the natives prepared to
desert them or to lead them into some trap and there
desert them.

Their discussion had reached no end when they saw

four natives coming up the pass, carrying a roughly
made litter. In it was Pizzara, the Spaniard.

“I twis’ the foot,” he said after he had been brought to

their circle and his litter had been set down. “Thank you
very much, I have eat the breakfast.”

He rolled a cigarette and they watched him without

speech.

“You no fools,” he declared, finally, “you know why I

follow. When I was in Senor Sander’s camp one Indian
come and say he pay me for go to stop letter. I try but
—” he nodded at Mr. Whitley, “—I not so lucky.

“But Indian disappear in Lima. He not pay me. So I

think to follow you and so come to place where is much
gold.

“But why must I follow? Let us join together. That way 80

we are stronger.”

They exchanged surprised glances.

At a slight shake of the head from Mr. Whitley, Bill

spoke. They were not going after gold, he denied, they
were going to try to rescue a white man held captive by
Incas. They all knew, of course, Cliff thought, that it
was useless to try to hoodwink the Spaniard: he knew
all but the exact route. It was wiser to admit the truth.
“We will discuss your offer,” John Whitley said, “perhaps
we may agree to it. We will let you know later.”

The Spaniard nodded, signaled to his bearers to remove

his litter but instead of returning down the pass he was
carried the other way. They saw why at once. His camp
had been broken up and his natives, not very heavily
loaded, for he traveled light, came up the path and
overtook their master.

“I don’t know how you feel and you don’t know how I
feel,” Bill was whittling industriously as he spoke, “but it
looks to me as though he has shown us the way out.”

“I don’t see how,” Nicky broke in, “if we go with him he 81

may spoil our plans and get the gold—and—and—
everything!”

“He’d follow us, anyhow,” Tom said.

“He won’t make as much trouble if he is with us as he

might the other way,” Cliff agreed, “he could be
watched.”

“If his natives could carry some of our things,” Mr.

Whitley said, “we could discharge our own: they have
not proved trustworthy.”

“That is my idea,” Bill nodded, “he has more muscle in

his carriers than he is using. Shall we join forces?”

They decided to travel in company. The spokesman was

Bill. He explained to Senor Pizzara that their own
bearers had tried to run away with their supplies; if he
would let his carriers take heavier loads so they could
discharge their own, they would agree to his plan. He
was eager to accept the proviso.
Over the swaying bridge of osier and plank that
spanned a chasm they passed as one party; their own
men went the other way with just enough food to last
until they reached the foothills.

Huayca they kept with them. He was not openly 82

guarded but either Bill or Mr. Whitley kept watch at
night and he made no effort to escape.

Pizzara asked to see the map; there was no reason to

refuse. He promised solemnly that he would help them
in their effort to rescue Cliff’s father if he still lived; he
would provide one more to aid their plans, although
these did not confide to him during the journey.

Up, ever up they toiled. Great cliffs of granite and

porphyry, massive and awe-inspiring, lined the path.
Vast chasms yawned beside the way. As Cliff expressed
it, they were pygmies going through Nature’s giant
workshops, where heat and frost, sun and rain,
earthquake and volcanic upheaval, tore apart what had
been built and threw the odds and ends everywhere.

Colder and colder grew the sharp winds as they climbed

into the snowy land above the timberline.

It was to such a scene of grand and wild awesomeness

that the three chums turned smarting eyes, one icy
morning, as they emerged from their tent.

Beyond their camp a great pair of twin peaks reared 83

snowy crests into the golden light of dawn. Through the
dip between those peaks ran the snowy pass marked in
the map. They could see part of it already, from their
camp in the slightly depressed space they had chosen in
which to avoid as much wind sweep as possible. It was
a gorgeous sight. Jagged rock, glistening white blankets
of virgin snow, fire-lit at the peaks by the approaching
sunbeams, deep clefts diving into pitchy darkness, made
a sight they could never forget.

“But look!” said Nicky, first to get his fill of Nature’s

marvels, “There aren’t any Indians!”

“Good gravy!” agreed Tom with his favorite exclamation.

“You’re right. Where—? Oh, Bill! Say, Bill!” He and the
others raced toward the figure sitting composedly by a
roaring dry-alcohol stove over whose wind-fanned blaze
he was heating coffee. Mr. Whitley emerged from his
tent, shivering, and joined them.

“What has happened?” he inquired.

“Just what I expected,” Bill said. “The gay Spanish Don

has taken his natives and gone on alone.”

“Deserted us!” cried Mr. Whitley.

“Deserted his first love for gold!” grinned Bill. “Yep! I 84

guessed he would, just about here.”

The chums looked at him in dismay.

“Oh, he left all our supplies,” Bill assured them.

“Everything is intact. That’s why I let him go.”

“But what shall we do?” asked Nicky.

“Follow!” stated Tom.

“Not exactly,” Bill corrected. “See—” he pointed toward

the saddle-like depression between the peaks,—“he
goes that way. We turn right around on our tracks and
go back—that way!”
“Give up?” said Cliff, disappointedly.

“Nope! Climb down!”

They stared at him. Was good old Bill growing queer or

was he trying to be funny?

“Climb down?” Nicky demanded. “Where? Why? And

where is Whackey?”

“You don’t know my mind, and—I’m not going to tell

you!” Bill varied his usual formula. “As for Whackey, I let
him go in the deep, dark night. We don’t need him any
more.”

It was all a puzzle and baffled the young fellows. Mr.

Whitley seemed to be deeper in Bill’s confidence, for he
smiled at them.

“Bill should not tease, up here in this cold place,” he 85

said. “The truth is, we are in the little cup of what must
have been a high mountain lake. It is just low enough in
altitude to be below the eternal ice line in summer. At
present we are really camped on a vast cake of ice
which has frozen over it since the past summer. It will
stay this way until next year; then the ice will melt
gradually and any snow that turns to water will add to
the reservoir.”

In centuries long gone, he explained, the Incas must

have chosen this as one of their water-reservoir links.
They had wonderfully perfect systems of aqueducts as
the chums knew.

“At any rate,” he proceeded, “Bill is engineer enough to

surmise that the ruined and blocked-up stone
depression we saw half a mile away is part of an old
Inca ‘pipe line’ or aqueduct, and that this one
communicates with others. In fact, when he came here
the first time he saw that it was possible to pretend to
give up and retrace our way, and then to dive into a sort
of stone subway and go around to come out beyond the
place where there might be an ambush.”

“But the others will be caught,” Cliff said, in dismay. 86

“I warned Pizzara several days ago that the Incas were

watching for us,” Bill declared. “He thought I was trying
to frighten him. We can’t chase him! I think the worst
that can happen will be that the Incas will drive him
back.”

Which, in fact, was a good guess.

A week later, after they had plunged into a rock-

buttressed cut and explored its communicating cuts,
always working by compass to pass around the frozen
lake, they came to a place where Bill halted them while
he climbed the jagged, crumbled side of their cut to spy
out the lay of the land.

It had been no fun, that week in the cut. Packs were all
exceedingly heavy since five had to carry the loads of
ten, even though depleted by weeks of travel during
which the food had dwindled rapidly. So they struggled
over rock debris, up sloping walls, over obstacles,
sometimes in dark tunnels for a short distance; but as
Bill returned to them they knew that it had been an
effort well repaid.

“Trampled snow,” he said. “Abandoned packs. Signs of a 87

fight. Rocks dropped. Arrows stuck in the snow. I guess
they turned our Spanish friend back, and turned him
quick!”
Perhaps Bill did not tell quite all he had seen; nor did
the boys press him for details.

Bill and Mr. Whitley decided that it was safe to go on;

there were no signs of Indians. It was supposed that
Huayca had joined his own forces; no doubt, seeing the
white party turn and retrace its steps, he and the others
decided that they had turned back; at any rate they
were not to be seen, those Incas, though a sharp
lookout was maintained.

Many were the adventures through which the chums

passed; once, in the White Pass, the whole party lost its
footing when Tom slipped and dragged them all over
the edge of a small crevice in the ice; but the mountain
climber’s staff, which Bill had swiftly jammed in the ice,
held them until they could scramble up—and the steep
drop where the crevice widened just beyond was
avoided.

Nicky found a wounded vicuna and tried to take the 88

frightened little mountain sheep with them, but it
disappeared during the night and they never knew
whether one of the Andean eagles, of which they saw
many, had swept it away or if in its struggles against its
tether it had lost its footing and fallen over a precipice
near the camp. Entering a cave to shelter for the night,
they once surprised some of the huge vultures, having a
feast on some frozen animal—Cliff and Nicky were badly
buffeted by their wings in an effort to escape from the
cave without rolling down a steep slide; but in time the
high places were behind them and they began to drop
slowly down into the verdure of the less chilly slopes.

After days of rest and other days of travel, they found

themselves close to a wide valley, into which there
seemed to be no entrance.

They were on a cliff, quite sheer in its drop to the vale

beneath; but as they stared, Nicky lifted a hand and
pointed—“Look!”

Far away they saw the hidden city!

89
 CHAPTER X
THE HIDDEN CITY

“There it is,” Nicky repeated, “There’s—”

“Incaville?” suggested Tom, smiling.

“No—wait! I know! Quichaka!”

“Quichaka it is,” said Bill. “But don’t make any noise. If

anybody is down below we don’t want them to know
about us until all our plans are completed.”

They grew quiet, then, looking down for several

hundred feet into the valley. To the right and to the left,
similar cliffs and steep drops made the valley
inaccessible. It had been well chosen as a retreat by the
old tribe when the Spaniards came into their country;
and it was not alone a safe retreat; it was a fertile valley
also. Corn could be seen in great, green fields, and
other spots were tilled and showed the bright colors of
growing plants.

“The city is too far away to tell much about it, even with 90
the field glasses,” said Mr. Whitley. “But it is guarded by
mountains even more rugged than those we have just
passed through. We shall soon be in its streets, if all
goes well.”
They began to prepare at once for their descent into the
valley.

It was their purpose to go in disguise. They had the

clothing for their disguises and had carefully brought
some herbs from which Bill had made a dye. They
located a fairly deep depression in a rock, discovered a
stream and carried their buckets full of water from it to
the stone, a wilderness bathtub, as Cliff called it.

Nicky and Tom, just to be perverse, as an outlet for

their enthusiasm, now that the real adventure was so
near, declared: “It’s a small depression in the rocks,
selected by Bill!” Joking so, they created a small pool,
large enough for their purposes.

Into the water Bill emptied a preparation he had

guarded carefully from moisture and damage; it was a
dye known to him, that turned the water a dull, murky
mud color at first; but when it cleared, it made a limpid,
brown-red pool.

“Off with every shred of clothes, and in we go!” he said. 91

“Every spot on your bodies, even your hair, must be
Indian.”

The plan Cliff had suggested in Amadale, and which had

been accepted by Mr. Whitley, and, later, by Bill,
depended upon a complete disguise so that they could
don the native garb, even the robes and ornaments of
Inca nobles, later and not be suspected.

Into the turgid pool they plunged. Nicky, who rather

hated cold water, was the only one who did not dive in,
so to speak. He dipped a toe and they all roared as he
drew it out. “Red-toe!” Cliff shouted. “Nicky-Nicky Red-
toe!”
“Well, you needn’t talk! Who ever saw an Inca with a
white man’s head.”

They bantered and chaffed him as he gradually dipped

in and then Tom caught Nicky off his guard and dragged
him in, all-over! He tried to duck Tom in return, and
they made a game of it until Mr. Whitley warned them
against the danger of their shouts being heard.

When, after carefully inspecting one another and being 92

certain that not even a part in their hair would show a
break in the rich, deep, copper-brownish red of the
vegetable dye which penetrated their pores but had no
ill effects, they stood around in the sunshine, drying.

The surprise to them all was the effect which the dye
had on Cliff. His light, tow-colored hair had come out a
rich, glistening and beautiful reddish golden color!

“Glory to gramma!” Nicky laughed. “Wouldn’t that be

lovely if you were a girl? Those curls! Those ringlets!
Those golden red curlies!”

“At that,” said Bill soberly, turning Cliff around as he

inspected. “This is going to turn out well for us.”

“Turn out well? How?” inquired Mr. Whitley.

“We won’t go as simple natives wandering in by

mistake, as we had planned,” Bill said. “Do you happen
to remember anything about the Inca religion?”

“Why, yes,” they all chorused, beginning to dress in the

simple, but bright wool robes Bill had selected before
they left Cuzco and which looked very well with their
deeply toned skin.
“They worshipped the Sun,” Tom said. “They built
temples to the Sun.”

“More than that,” Bill added. “To them the Sun was the 93
visible symbol of the god they worshipped, Raymi. But
they also believed that the moon was the wife of the
Sun, and that such stars as they could see were like a
retinue or court of pages to wait on the royal Sun and
his moon-wife.”

“Yes,” Cliff broke in, “I know, or I think I know, what

you are about to say. They called Venus—wait, now, let
me get it!——”

Nicky was bouncing up and down on a rock. Finally he

could contain himself no longer.

“Chasqui!” he said excitedly.

“No,” said Tom with contempt, “‘Chasqui’ means a

runner—like the chap who carried that quipu.”

Nicky looked crestfallen, but Cliff smiled.

“You were close,” he admitted, “and you reminded me

of what I wanted to say.

“Venus was the favorite star of the Incas and they called
her ‘Chaska’—that was like saying ‘Page of the Sun’ but
I guess that is a pretty free translation.” He turned to
Bill.

“Not too free,” Bill grinned. “But it really meant just

exactly what you are at this moment—‘the youth with
the flowing and shining locks!’”
“Why, yes,” said Mr. Whitley, “I remember that. And it 94
will fit in splendidly. Cliff, from now on, if all goes well,
you shall be ‘Chaska—Page of the Sun!’”

And, as they made final plans, on their rock, the rush-

roofed quarters of Huascar Inca Capac, ruler of hidden
Quichaka, were invaded by two unshod men—none
wore sandals in the presence of their ruler!—who bowed
to the floor.

“We make report,” said the taller man. “Oh, Inca—” and
a stream of titles and words of praise followed.

“Let it be spoken from the tongues of truth,” said the

Inca.

They bowed again and the story of the exodus into the
strange outer world was told. He who had been silent
related his experiences on a journey to that strange
continent where all men were pale and where many
monsters with hot breath and coughing voices dragged
great rolling houses along on hard roads of shining
metal; where houses were, oh! piled one upon another
until one could not count them to the top; where men
had even trained huge birds whose wings did not move
but whose voices were as the roar of an avalanche, so
that these birds did rise from earth to carry the men
through the air. Thus, and with many other strange
stories he explained to the wondering ruler the sights he
had seen but that he did not understand. How could he,
buried in his mountain retreat, explain a railway train, or
the high skyscrapers of America, or its aeroplanes?

“And the letter of the captive?” demanded the Inca. 95

Its story also was told up to the arrival of the party

among the snows of the white pass.
“There we flung rocks upon them, and we believe that
all ran back except one who lay still until new snow
covered him.”

The Inca commended their splendid work.

“But this I do not understand,” said he who had been to

America, and he displayed the quipu of Bill Sanders. “I
sent a message to my brother in the hills and on the
way it changed from a message of warning, that men
came, to this.”

“Read it, quipucamayu,” the Inca commanded of the

other.

“It tells, oh Inca, of the coming of one from the stars,

yes, even of Chasca, Page of the Sun, himself, as our
fathers prophecied so many ages ago.”

“Strange,” mused the ruler. “And last night a star flew 96

from the East to the West and fell into darkness.” The
natives of many lands are as superstitious about the
marvels of nature as were the Incas. “Is it a good
omen, think you?”

“Royal Inca, son of the Sun,” answered his priest, “when

the royal Atahualpa was on the eve of capture by the
men of white faces, it is told by our haravecs—poets,
minstrels—that a star fell!”

“Even so,” growled the Inca, “if Chasca comes to spell

my doom, I care not whether he come from the Sun or
from Cupay—the god of evil—I will sink an arrow into
his flesh!”

“Not so!” the priest of the Sun was shaking with

suppressed dismay. “Oh, Inca, royal though you be, say
not thus.”

“How be, if I am of the Sun a son—shall I then fear one

of his vassals—a page?”

The other noble, a high councillor, spoke softly.

“Fear not, Inca, neither anger the messenger. When

gods begin to fling arrows other gods may be stronger—
or weaker.”

That evening, just before the moon rose from behind 97

the cliff on which they camped, Tom and Nicky crouched
over a tiny electric battery.

“There’s Bill’s signal,” whispered Tom. Nicky closed a

switch.

“Come, Incas, come and watch your first fireworks

display!” chuckled Nicky. “I hope it works!” he added.

In the far city, as the ruddy glow grew on the hilltop,

men watching the stars sent word to the Inca of the
strange sight. The populace was flat on its collective
faces, half terrified, half awed at the red fire shining
brightly far to the East; as it died down they saw the
silver moon peep at them.

And late that night came runners to gasp out their

news: in that terror-fire they had seen outlined a figure
of black, its arms stretched wide, and on its head a
glory of shining hair!

Through the city the news fled from the nobles to their
subjects!

“Chasca! Page of the Sun! He has come!”

And at least one Chasca was sound asleep that that
very moment.

98
 CHAPTER XI
“CHASCA HAILLI!”

Before the peaks they had crossed were lit by the first
hint of morning light, Cliff and his fellows were busy.
Already, during the day past, they had selected a sturdy
tree with a stout bough projecting over the cliff edge. To
this bough Tom and Nicky climbed before break of day
on this eventful morning and to the top of the limb,
after making a beginning with a large nail, hammered in
a little way, they began to screw home a very strong
pulley. Gripping the bough, steadying each other, they
twisted the screw home until the pulley was safely
secured.

Cliff flung an end of the light, strong rope they had

brought and as it hissed upward Tom caught it and
thrust its end through the pulley sheaves, drew more of
it through and then, with Nicky, descended to the
ground.

Their problem had been to be able to return to the top 99

of this sheer precipice when their mission would be
accomplished. For that purpose careful plans had been
made and were being carried out.
In a sort of harness of the rope, at one end, Bill and Mr.
Whitley affixed a heavy slab of stone; this they lowered
over the sheer wall and let the rope pay out until the
stone thudded to a stop far below them.

“That stone makes a counter-balance,” Bill stated. “Now

we make a large loop at this upper end of our rope—so!
Take your seat in it, John,” to Mr. Whitley, “we put the
pack in your lap and you grip it with your knees. Now
the rock makes it easy for us to lower you. Going
down!”

When the rock came slowly and easily into their reach,
its weight making it simple for them to control the
descent of the other end, they waited until a double tug
on the rope told them that Mr. Whitley was safe and
free; they paid out and the rock slipped back into the
darkness.

“You next, Nicky, with your pack!”

In that way they all descended, Bill being last. He 100

judged the weight of his own load, combined with his
weight, to be about a half as much again as that of the
stone; so by paying out the other side of the rope
upward he let himself downward to a point where the
stone came level with him; then, holding both strands
tightly in one mittened hand, he hooked a prepared
hook on his pack to the rope under the stone, released
that side and with the stone balancing him, felt himself
descending at a speed sufficiently retarded to enable
them to break his landing without even a jar.

Then they fixed a stout twine to the looped end of the

rope and by letting the twine pay upward, lowered
stone and pack.
They next tied a fairly small rock to the low end of their
twine and drew downward on the rope. In that way,
they were able to recover the entire rope, having
loosened its loops so that it passed through the pulley;
and still they had the twine led through the upper pulley
for future use. Braced against the sheer wall, Bill acted
as a sort of “under-stander” for a human pillar, Cliff on
his shoulders, Tom as the top man; in that high position
Tom let the twine run so that the small rock’s weight
drew it up until the end was in his hand; he felt for, and
found, a crevice into which he wedged it with a sliver of
stone.

In that way they left an end of the twine too high to be 101
discovered and removed; later they could secure it and
by letting the stone at its other end pull it down, could
readily affix their rope and again reave it through the
pulley and get themselves back to the high point. They
hid the rope carefully and began preparations for the
day whose light was already dyeing the sky with vivid
colors. Looking upward as the light grew stronger they
saw that against the neutral rock their dull twine did not
show up at all and only sharp eyes might detect the fine
line high above leading over the bough. Their way of
escape was quite likely to remain undisturbed.

“I only hope our plans will work out,” said Mr. Whitley,
as they ate a cold breakfast, not wishing to light a fire.

“If we were dealing with the Peruvians near the Pacific,

or on the eastern slope, I wouldn’t try it,” Bill declared.
“The Spaniards have educated them just a little too
much to make it safe. But away off here, buried in the
mountains for centuries—ever since about 1532—I feel
sure that the old superstitions and beliefs still count in
our favor.”
They had not long to wait before discovering which way 102
the hidden valley would deal with the intruders.

Through the field glasses Bill reported that people were

moving about in distant fields and that a group seemed
to be moving slowly toward them on a road which
seemed to end about half a mile away, at a low stone
building. To that the group proceeded.

“You had better get up on your rocks, Cliff,” he

suggested. “Don’t pay any attention, whatever happens;
just look as if you were lost in meditations.”

Cliff took the position they had agreed upon and the
others squatted at a little distance. Outwardly they paid
no attention but Cliff saw, as did Bill, whose position
enabled him to report softly to the others, that his
position was the focal point for groups and solitary
figures from every direction. About two hundred
gathered at a respectful distance, murmuring in low
tones, evidently fascinated as they watched Cliff.

“If I have figured right,” Bill told Tom and Nicky, “in just
about two minutes the sun will be high enough.”

“High enough for what?” asked Nicky.

“I think I know,” Tom told him; but Bill signed for quiet 103
and from the corners of their eyes they kept watch of
Cliff. He stood without moving, a veritable statue of an
Indian in his gaily colored robe which Cliff had been
assured by Bill was a garment of the sort worn by the
nobles.

Several minutes passed and then the sun topped the

rim of the ledge and flung its rays downward; slowly the
shadow crept back until, almost as if a curtain had been
drawn away, the sun shaft fell upon Cliff’s head. It
lighted up the reddish gold that the dye had made of his
hair, and at the sight, from the clustered natives came a
deep murmur.

“Chasca—Chasca—as the prophecy told!—the youth

with bright and flowing locks!” And then a roar, “Chasca
—Hailli! Hailli!” It was a cry of mingled triumph and
respect.

“It works well,” Bill said, and slowly rose.

He stepped forward slowly. The natives melted into a

more compact mass and gave ground a pace; but Bill
made a sign that they seemed to understand. He made
a brief oration; the others listened silently. Then several
detached themselves and with incredibly swift legs,
sped away toward the distant city.

“Turn as though you were in a dream and stroll into the 104
tent,” Bill told Cliff. He obeyed.

“No use letting the novelty wear off,” Bill grinned to Mr.
Whitley. “And, besides, I want him ready to make a
grand entrance, sort of the way they do in the circus.”

“Grand entry? To what?” Nicky was still lost in the

mazes of this unusual procedure.

“To ride to town with the Inca!” Bill chuckled.

Sure enough, about noon, by which time the crowd

around their location had trebled in numbers, a
procession was seen on the road.

When it reached them the young fellows stared, hiding

their surprise at Bill’s muttered warning. Many soldiers,
with bows and arrows, some with curious looking
swords, came first; they separated into two lines, to the
right and to the left; through the lane advanced many
tall, erect men in colorful garments.

These advanced and stopped in a little group. Behind

them other men carrying two gorgeous litters, one a
little more gaudy than the other, set down their shafts
and rested.

What Bill said as he advanced to parley with several

men who came a few steps toward him, the other
members of the party could not hear. Presently he
returned.

“I told them we are servants of the royal and heaven- 105

sent Chasca, who has been sent to bless their land;
they seemed to like it. That second ‘hamaca’ is for Cliff.”

He moved close to the tent.

While he pretended to bow and to remove his shoes,

and to go through some sort of rites which made Nicky
want to laugh, Bill whispered to Cliff.

“Can you hear me, Cliff?”

“Yes.”

“When I say ‘Hailli, Chasca’ the third time, open the tent
flap. Pay no attention to anybody. Don’t answer if
anybody speaks. Keep yourself erect and act as though
everybody here was dirt under your feet. Got all that?”

“Yes, Bill.”
“Pick out the biggest of the two litters and walk right to
it as if you knew all about it. Stop by it and just bow
your head forward a little and say, ‘Hailli, Inca!’ and then
turn and let the bearers help you into the other hamaca.
Don’t talk, and don’t notice anything. I’ll do everything
—with John.”

Presently the tent flaps separated and out came the 106
counterfeit of the supposed celestial visitor. He did as
Bill had instructed him. To the litter, which was covered
with gold, or gold leaf, and heavily ornamented with
green stones and other glittering gems, he made his
solemn, unhurried way.

“Hailla, Inca!”

“Chasca, Hailli,” answered a deep voice from within. Cliff

saw a man reclining, in royal robes, of texture even
finer than the robes worn by those around him; on his
head was a circle of fringed wool, the scarlet “borla” or
sign of the Inca, with its two feathers from the sacred
birds which were kept to supply those feathers alone-
two of them to be worn by the Inca in his headgear.
Huge golden ornaments hung so heavily from the man’s
ears that they had dragged his earlobes down practically
to his shoulders. He was a strange looking person and
yet there was dignity and solemn power in his face.

While Cliff was helped to ascend to the floor of his own

litter, Nicky had a little experience of his own.

Several llamas, the native sheep, that is the largest of

the four varieties, whose wool was the most coarse and
used only for the garments of the subjects—the nobles
got the finer wools!—had been brought up. They were
the only beasts the Incas knew for burdens.
But Nicky thought they were there to be ridden! 107

Now a llama is a curious animal; he will carry a light

burden without complaint; but if the load is heavier than
he likes he will lie down and he won’t get up until the
load is lightened.

Nicky flung the strap which was fastened between two

small packs over the llama’s back and then, with a hop,
was up there himself.

Thereupon the beast lay down promptly. Nicky shouted

and slapped its woolly side, but it made a queer little
grunt and lay still. The natives broke into shouts of
laughter, as also did Tom and Bill as the latter hastened
to explain to Nicky that he must walk.

Cliff had seen the little incident and he had hard work to
avoid laughing; but he maintained sober gravity and
soon the caravan was ready and moved slowly toward
the road; first the soldiers, then the nobles, or priests
perhaps; then came Bill and John Whitley walking at
either side of Cliff’s litter; after them were Nicky and
Tom, and then a regular throng of natives chanting and
singing.

“Don’t ask about the white man—your father—too 108

soon,” Bill warned Cliff softly. “It might arouse suspicion.
But we’re on our way to Quichaka and I hope we find
your pa well and wise.”

“So do I,” muttered Cliff, “I can hardly wait!”

It was a slow but interesting journey to Quichaka. The

youths feasted their eyes on strange scenes. The valley
was laid out in splendid farms, with many vegetables
that were not easy to recognize, although great fields of
maize or corn could easily be identified. The road was
beautifully smooth, of great flat stones laid straight and
level. Once they passed over a bridge of huge
stonework piles, with heavy timbers laid across to
support the flat slabs of the roadway.

Finally they came into the city. It was spread out widely,
and, as Bill estimated later, probably had a population of
some eight or ten thousand. In the poorer quarters the
houses were of a rude clay-like composition, much like
the adobe of Mexico; the finer homes were of stones,
large and small, rough for the most part, but with their
edges, where they joined, smooth and so closely
matched that the joints were hard to detect; they had
no windows; the Incas did not know about glass. The
doors were open in the temperate noonday and early
afternoon warmth; within there was too much gloom to
show the furnishings.

Straight streets, laid out in perfect parallels and with 109

exactly right angled cross streets, finally took them to a
great square in the center of the city; there were
massive, but only single-story buildings all about. At one
side were what appeared to be the quarters of the ruler
and of his chief nobles. On the other were public
buildings whose nature was not readily seen.

At the far end of the square was a massive building

which could be discerned as the temple. It was almost a
duplicate of the description that histories gave of the
Sun Temple in Cuzco, once capital of the Inca empire;
the one in Quichaka had the same ornamented exterior
with a cornice of shining gold plates.

Groups had lined the farmland along the road; in the

suburbs the crowds had been greater.
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