So it was decided to set up the field radio and attempt to raise the
monastery. Prince Huaca had had the party brought to his room by way of
the secret passage, in order to avoid having them appear among the young
nobles in waiting in his anteroom. As the boys would have to be taken to
the roof to set up the aerial, he first dismissed those in the anteroom,
then called servants to carry the outfit to the battlements.
Don Ernesto, however, begged permission that Pedro and Carlos be
summoned to assist, instead of servants who could not understand them.
Prince Huaca acquiesced, and sent the jailer for the two faithful
huachos.
He, himself, was eager to observe every preparatory step. Self-contained
though he was, and despite his matter-of-fact acceptance of the
phenomenon of radio, yet it was plain to be seen that he was highly
excited over the matter. Everything had to be explained to him.
For his field outfit, Mr. Hampton carried both batteries and a
quarter-kilowatt generator, such as is in use in army operations. In
fact, the outfit paralleled an army field outfit in a number of
respects, including the umbrella type of aerial. This consisted of only
one pole of hollow steel, and constructed in collapsible sections that
made transportation an easy matter. From the top of the pole, the wires
of the aerial were carried to the ground at some distance from the base,
where they were attached to porcelain insulators. Thus, the wires served
the double function of aerial and guy wires.
While the boys busied themselves erecting the aerial, a difficult matter
because the battlement was all of stone and at first glance there
appeared to be nothing to which the insulators could be fastened, Mr.
Hampton conversed with Prince Huaca, explaining this, that and the other
about the outfit and about the reasons for doing certain things.
The prince pointed to what Jack and Frank were doing, and asked the
reason for it. The boys were forcing wedge-shaped wooden blocks or pegs,
to which insulators were fastened, into cracks between stones of the
turret floor. Originally, these pegs were so made to be driven into the
ground, thus affording anchorage for the aerial-guy wires. Had it not
been for the cracks, they would have been unable to erect the aerial, as
all about them was stone.
When this work was completed, the boys, working furiously, set up the
generator on a pair of legs sufficiently high to give clearance for the
handles by which it was to be turned. Wires were then run to the
transformer, tuner attached, the headphone wired on, and the aerial and
ground connections made.
Part of the outfit was not yet in use, and Prince Huaca pointed to the
box and batteries questioningly.
"Are these objects not employed?" he said.
Mr. Hampton explained he had brought both batteries and generator to
serve as sources of energy. They had been packed separately upon mules,
so that in case one was lost the other might still remain. When the
batteries were used, it was necessary also to use the tube transformer,
he said, indicating the oblong box in which the tubes were mounted on
springs. But when the generator was used, only the transformer and key
were necessary.
"And why is this used rather than the other?" Prince Huaca wanted to
know.
"The generator supplies more power," said Mr. Hampton, simplifying his
explanation as much as possible. "It is a little man with a big voice
that carries far, while the batteries represent a big man with only a
medium voice."
Fast though the boys went about their preparations, in the light of
torches held by servants, the time sped by more rapidly than they had
expected. All the time there came up to them the shouts and laughter of
those in the great square far below, where the festivities of the Feast
of Raymi continued unabated.
Several times one or the other would wander to the parapet and stare at
the scene below, where great fires burned, casting grotesque dancing
shadows on the fronts of the Temple and the palaces surrounding the
square, with the merry-making crowds surrounding poets and singers here
and there, or dancing to the music of the minstrels who played queer
stringed instruments.
As big Bob turned away from the parapet on one of these trips, to rejoin
his comrades, he believed he discerned the shadowy form of a skulker in
a nearby embrasure. He could not be certain, however, because his eyes
were dazzled from staring at the scene below. All about him was starlit
darkness, the moon had not yet risen. His friends, surrounded by the
ring of torchlights, were some distance off.
What could a skulker be doing here? That was the question that leaped to
mind. No sentries were posted, at least none had been seen so far. Nor
was any other member of the party absent, as he could see in a quick
glance to estimate their number.
The perilous situation in which Prince Huaca was placed recurred to his
mind. Perhaps, after all, the prince was over-optimistic when he said
that all within the fortress were loyal to him. Perhaps, in the
loosening of the restraints of discipline, bound to come with the advent
of the festival season, the soldiers below had permitted, altogether
unawares, of course, some assassin intent on taking Prince Huaca's life,
to enter the fortress, to slip by them unseen.
Bob stood, pressed against the parapet, his eyes on the spot, some yards
distant, where he believed he had seen the skulking form. He was
thinking. Not a sign of movement. Could he have been mistaken? Should he
investigate? If someone lurked there, with evil intentions against
Prince Huaca's life, he would be armed. Bob was without weapons. On the
other hand, he realized he would not have to face firearms, but only a
knife thrust or sword. And he was confident in his ability to take care
of himself in a rough or tumble combat, a confidence bred of victories
in the past, not only in school and college, but against ruffians in the
surprising adventures into which they seemed fated perpetually to fall.
"I'll have a look," he muttered to himself. "No harm in making sure."
Stealthily, he removed his shoes, set them against the parapet where
they could easily be found later, and began creeping noiselessly along
the low wall toward the embrasure.
With beating heart, and muscles taut and ready for a spring, he reached
the spot. Should he peer around the edge or get on top of the parapet
and stare down? Either way held danger, supposing the embrasure
occupied. Then he had an idea. As he had stolen along the parapet he had
come across a broken lance butt, some two feet in length, discarded by a
sentry. This he had carried with him as a club. Now he took off his cap,
put it on the end of the stick, and cautiously thrust it ahead of him
around the edge of the embrasure.
Nothing happened. Bob was disappointed. Could it be he was mistaken? Had
his eyes played him tricks? No, he felt certain he had seen a dark form
skulking there. Perhaps he had the wrong embrasure. No, he felt certain
this was the one. Casting caution aside, he thrust his head forward and
took a quick look at the interior. It was empty.
As he stood, staring, uncomprehending, something soft and thick
descended over him, a club came down on his head, a body fell upon him
from above, and strong hands gripped his throat to prevent outcry. Like
a flash of lightning, the truth was borne in upon him. He had not been
mistaken. He had seen a form skulking there. And this man, seeing him
come spying, had slipped to the top of the parapet and had leaped upon
him.
Bob's first thought was to cry out; but a fold of the enveloping bag was
in his mouth, and he felt certain the muffled sound he made could not be
heard. He realized, as in a flash, that whoever had attacked him, here
in the center of Prince Huaca's stronghold, would be intent on silencing
his lips and would have no mercy on him.
These thoughts sped through Bob's mind with lightning speed. The big
fellow, on the other hand, reacted physically to the attack. He began
fighting at once, and in a way that must have been totally unexpected by
his antagonist. Instead of plucking at the other's hands, which were
clutched about his throat, he crumpled up as if overcome and sank to the
stones.
The other retained his grip on Bob's throat, a cruel pressure that set
the blood to pounding in the boy's temples. Nevertheless, he was thrown
off his balance, his body followed Bob's, bent above him.
The moment he touched the stones, Bob sank to the ground, drew up his
legs with a convulsive effort, and then shot his feet upward with a
tremendous thrust. He felt his bare feet strike a lightly-clad body.
There was a grunt. Then the hands about Bob's throat were torn loose
from their grip, and the attacker went hurtling backward.
There was a thud, a dull groan, as the other struck against the parapet.
Bob was tearing frantically at the covering over his head, which was a
thick woolen sack. Meantime, he was emitting roar after roar of purest
rage.
"Bob, Bob. What is it? Oh."