“CAN WE GET THERE IN TIME?”
Pizzara had been clever, indeed! He had so maneuvered the procession as
they left the cells that Mr. Gray, the most feeble one, was in the lead
and the Indian and his sister at the rear.
Therefore they could not make a dash for escape; and when they saw
Pizzara’s menacing look as he showed them that he also had his own
revolver, a heavy, serviceable automatic, Mr. Whitley and Bill signaled
submission. After all, it was their only chance for liberty.
“Look here,” Bill turned on Pizzara. “You had better let the soldier and
his sister escape—you can’t ask them to rob their own treasure house.
They think the Sun’s gold is sacred!”
“I need them,” said Pizzara. “The soldier have his father with rope to
wait to help us at the cistern. If we have not these two how shall the
others let us take the gold?”
“You are vile!” cried Mr. Gray. “To use them as hostages!”
“Cease grumbling, my little llamas,” Pizzara said sarcastically. “Come
and let the loads be put on your little backs—or!——” he crooked his
trigger finger significantly.
The situation was too desperate for argument: when they sullenly filed
into the room beneath the sun temple, Caya and her brother showed signs
of mutiny but Bill whispered to them that if they raised an alarm there
it would result in death for them all: he hinted that some way would be
found to save the treasure—and they could take only a few choice carved
and moulded pieces. Pizzara could not always be on guard.
Strangely enough the whites were all in sympathy with the Indians: they
were not mercenary or lustful. The safety of Cliff’s father, their own
escape and a clear conscience were of more worth to them than the risk
of a few thousand dollars and the feeling that they were thieves.
They were in such a situation that they had to help a thief but they
felt sure that at some time when his vigilance was relaxed they could
leave him to dispose of his gains, secured by coercion, as best he
might.
He had chosen his loot wisely; they saw that as he indicated the lighter
statues, beautifully worked, the animals, flowers and a few urns. He
made them tear apart woolen weaves that were as fine and as soft as silk
to make bundles and thongs with which to carry more than they could
handle loose.
Cowed but sullen Caya and her brother did what they could to delay, but
finally Pizzara had as much as he thought they could care for, and off
they started, down the long tunnel, laden heavily. Even Mr. Gray, feeble
as he was, had to carry the statue of Chasca, which weighed only about
five pounds but which was a marvelously well wrought bit of purest gold:
small though it was, for gold is heavy, every feature, every line, was
perfect.
Herding them before him like the llamas he called them, Pizzara drove
his bearers along, prodding the morose Indians with his two ready
weapons.
They reached the outlet into the dry aqueduct: it was still a tunnel for
the distance it ran under the temple gardens, but its stones were
carefully fitted and joined with some hard, glasslike cement to help
retain the water if the emergency ever arose in which it would inundate
the underground ways: and, thought most of them, here was the
emergency—if the truth were discovered by the Incas!
The first beginnings of dawn were in the Eastern sky when the party,
their torch flung aside, came to the point where the water way was no
longer under the gardens but ran, as an open, deep cut, to the mighty
cistern which distributed the water from the mountain reservoirs.
“How are we going to get out of this?” Cliff asked as they saw the open
sky through the slit of open stone above them.
“Caya’s family waits with ropes near the cistern,” Bill informed them
all: he had learned of this from Pizzara who had allowed the young
soldier to make his plans before he knew that the gold would be stolen;
had Pizzara dropped a hint of his true purpose it is probable that the
Indian would have tried to rescue his sister and then informed the
Inca’s troop of the Spaniard’s plan; but Pizzara was cunning.
“But suppose they discover the escape?” broke in Nicky. “When do they
change guards again, Bill—ask Caya!”
“It has been done already,” Bill said. “I have asked her. That is why
Pizzara is hurrying us. They must know that we are free and maybe they
know that the gold is gone!”
“How far must we go?” Cliff asked.
“At least a mile.”
“But won’t they see us in this open aqueduct?”
“They probably won’t waste time searching,” Bill answered. “I expect
that a chasqui-runner—has already been sent to the guards who handle the
sluice gates.”
Pizzara, himself, seemed anxious. He urged them to hasten.
“Look!” whispered Caya, clutching Cliff’s arm. She pointed behind them.
Against the growing illumination of the sky they saw a figure, slim,
tall, standing out black against the sky, peering down at them. Suddenly
he stood straight. Faintly they heard a hail and then the figure
disappeared.
“That was a watcher,” Bill said. “It’s an even chance whether there are
soldiers close enough to shower us with arrows, or whether they get
those gates open before we reach the place where the rope will help us
climb out.”
They needed no prodding from Pizzara.
They ran over the loose pebbles and bits of loosened stone, stumbling,
gasping, their lives in their hands; and yet, with all the danger, when
Caya dropped her bundle Pizzara compelled her to stop and secure it.
“How can we get away, even if we do get out?”
Nicky panted as he asked the question. His bundle was getting heavier as
the moments passed, and his excitement, even though it lent him
strength, seemed to make the needless extra burden seem silly; he wanted
to drop it, to run faster; but they could go no faster than they did
because of Mr. Gray’s feeble condition.
“If we can get to the place my father will help us with the rope,” Caya
said. “There is a great hole in the cistern, part way down. If we can
get in there before the soldiers see us we can hide and they will not
think of looking for us there.”
“But won’t the water drown us?” asked Cliff.
“I think it may not rise that high,” she said. “But hurry—there we shall
be safe!”
“Yes,” Cliff panted. “If we can get there in time!”