CHAPTER XX—FRANK PLANS A MIRACLE
Michac, however, was delayed far longer than he anticipated, and the remaining hours of the night passed without his return. None passed through their corridor. No messengers appeared with word from Michac. They were left in darkness as to the course of events.
Sleep for most of them would have been impossible. Only Pedro and Carlos, apprised briefly by Don Ernesto as to what had occurred, could yield to slumber. They, however, with the stoic philosophy and acceptance of a situation that the boys on previous occasions had admired, turned in and slept soundly, ready for the next call to action.
“Boy, how I wish I could do the same,” said big Bob, glancing enviously at the slumbering huachos. “No use to try, though. I might get to sleep, but it would be only to have Frank chuck me out of bed the next minute. Seems to me I never yet got to sleep that he didn’t go out and start a couple of bunches of fellows to fighting each other, just to spoil my slumber.”
Don Ernesto and Mr. Hampton fell into quiet, low-voiced conversation, and the boys posted themselves at the loopholes to watch for developments.
The bonfires still blazed in the great square, fed ever and again by members of the Palace Guard. These latter, clad in complete armor, were posted at every street leading into the square. The fitful glare of the bonfires gleamed now and again upon breastplate or helmet.
Of all that great multitude which had been making merry, none remained. Several had been wounded in the crossfire of the two opposing forces, but their bodies had been removed. Where before all was mirth and merry-making, now reigned an ominous, oppressive silence.
Now and again the intermittent gleam of torches borne through the streets could be seen in the thoroughfares radiating from the great square. The boys wondered what it portended.
“Perhaps the High Priest is ferreting out Prince Huaca’s friends and arresting them,” suggested Frank, on one occasion.
Hours passed, while the boys kept moving about, talking, watching through the loopholes. At length, Bob, with a jaw-dislocating yawn, flung himself down on a couch, and went soundly to sleep. A moment later Ferdinand succumbed to the force of suggestion and to his overwhelming fatigue, and also lay down.
Silence, while the jailer, crouching by the door in the position he had held for hours, seemed a graven image; silence, while Don Ernesto and Mr. Hampton sat forward, voiceless, lost in thought, their elbows on their knees, on a couch near the door; silence, while Frank and Jack leaned in a loophole, their heads close together, staring down at the Temple front and the portion of the square within their view.
“Jack,” said Frank at last, in a low voice, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Yes?”
“We can get out to safety all right, probably, with Michac in command.”
“I suppose he’d let us go.”
“But we can’t desert Prince Huaca.”
“That’s right.”
“He’s a white man.”
“He certainly is.”
“He trusted us, Jack, and we ought to help him.”
“We ought to, indeed.”
“I have an idea.”
“What is it, Frank?”
“Don’t laugh, Jack, will you?”
“No, I won’t laugh, Frank. This is pretty serious business. What is there to laugh at?”
“I mean I don’t want you to laugh at my idea.”
“All right, Frank, I promise. What is it?”
A lengthy pause. Frank’s shoulders began to shake. He looked at him curiously.
“Why—why——”
“Yes, Jack, I’m laughing myself. I can’t help it. Oh, but this is too good. But”—Frank by an effort regained control of himself and resumed his normal expression—“just the same, I’m right.”
“Well, for goodness sake, what is it? What have you got in mind? I’d like to laugh, too.”
“Jack, you promised.”
“All right. Out with it.”
Jack was interested. His curiosity was piqued. What could Frank have in mind?
“Well, Jack, you remember Pedro has false teeth? A full set, with a rubber plate that looks just like a palate?”
“Yes. Go on.”
“And Carlos has a glass eye?”
“Yes, yes.”
“And, Jack, you remember Don Ernesto’s toupee?”
“Well, what of it?”
“It’s a wonderful work of art, Jack. When he wears it, you would swear it was his own luxuriant hair. And when he takes it off——”
“He’s certainly bald, and his head shines like a billiard ball. Yes, I know. What of it? What’s all this got to do with rescuing Prince Huaca—false teeth, glass eyes and toupee?”
Frank stared at him.
“Jack, don’t you see?”
Jack was sleepy, fatigued, and peevish.
“No, I don’t. What’s the matter with you, anyway?”
“Well, Jack, when you think of modern inventions, you think of the airplane and radio and steamers and locomotives and telephones, don’t you?”
“I suppose so.”
“But, Jack, the savages know nothing about glass eyes and false teeth and toupees. And I’m sure the Incas don’t know anything about them, either.”
Jack looked at Frank, puzzled.
“That’s right, Frank. But how can it benefit us?”
“Well, look here. Suppose we appeared before the Inca and his Council as a delegation from the fortress and demanded Prince Huaca’s release on pain of working our magic on the Inca and all his forces. Then we’d give them a demonstration. Your father has a little pointed beard. He could make up to look like a magician. He’d make a few passes, utter some words in English—anything would confound them, as English is unknown to them—and then Pedro would pull out his teeth, Carlos would pluck out his eye, and Don Ernesto would scalp himself. Wouldn’t that just give them fits? Wouldn’t it just——”
But Jack’s bewildered expression had given way to one of mirth, uncontrollable mirth, and he laughed until he was weak, leaning back against the wall, his hands pressed to his aching sides. Frank, too, yielded to merriment, expostulating between spasms of laughter:
“You promised not to laugh, Jack. You promised.”
The sound of their laughter reached Don Ernesto and Mr. Hampton, and they looked inquiringly toward its source; then, as the boys continued to go off into fresh gales of mirth, arose from the couch and approached them.
“What’s the joke, boys? Let us in on it,” said Mr. Hampton, smiling.
“Oh, I can’t, Dad. I can’t speak. Ask Frank.”
Jack was so weak he could hardly support himself. The ludicrous idea propounded by his friend, coming on top of his nervous strain, had induced a species of hysteria.
The two older men grinned in sympathy with the boys, although in the dark as to the cause of their laughter.
“Some boyish joke, I suppose,” said Mr. Hampton, and was about to turn away, but Jack recovered himself sufficiently to lay a detaining hand on his arm.
“Wait a minute, Dad. Give me a chance to get my breath. You must hear this.”
The two older men paused, expectant. Presently Jack recovered sufficiently to attempt an explanation.
“Frank there,” he said, pointing to his still quaking comrade. And then he explained what Frank had proposed.
“I hope we won’t give you offense, Don Ernesto,” he said, with quick compunction.
The latter, however, was a jolly sort. And he was struck with the originality of the idea. With a comical gesture he put his hand to his head, removed his toupee and held it aloft while Mr. Hampton, seeing what he was about, pulled a long face and made several mysterious passes before him.
They had moved close to the table and stood revealed in the light of the rekindled lamp.
A wild shriek came from the doorway. They swung about startled, Don Ernesto still holding his toupee aloft. The shriek brought Bob and Ferdinand to the floor. Even Carlos and Pedro sprang upright on their couch.
“Great guns, I forgot the jailer was sitting over there,” said Mr. Hampton. “Look at him.”
“Hurray,” cried Frank. “It worked.”
“What do you mean? What worked?”
It was Bob, rubbing his eyes.
Frank, however, paid him no attention.
“Look, look,” he said, seizing Mr. Hampton’s arm. “He saw Don Ernesto scalp himself and he’s scared stiff.”
“I believe you’re right, Frank,” said Mr. Hampton, delightedly.
They hurried to the recumbent form. The jailer lay on his face, his hands up to his eyes, as if shutting out an horrific sight. He was moaning like a man in the extremity of terror.
“Let’s try the teeth and the false eye on him, too,” said Frank, carried away with enthusiasm at the unexpected proof of the plausibility of his suggestion.
“No, no,” protested Mr. Hampton. “The man is beside himself with terror now.”
Bending down, he began to pat the fellow on the back, and endeavor to induce him to raise his head. Don Ernesto, meanwhile, restored his toupee. Presently, although Mr. Hampton knew no words in the other’s tongue, he had brought him back to some semblance of sanity. The jailer still trembling violently, was induced to get to his feet, but his hands were still to his eyes, as if he feared to gaze upon a terrible sight.
The room grew lighter. A glance toward the loopholes revealed the sky was becoming bright in the east.
“Look,” said Jack, “it is dawn.”
At that moment, while Mr. Hampton still patted the trembling form of the jailer, steps were heard in the corridor, and the flickering light of torches was reflected on the walls. Frank looked out.
“Here comes Michac with a bodyguard,” he said. “Say——”
He faced the room, glancing at the others.
“What?” asked Jack.
“Let’s try the whole works on Michac and his escort.”