As these people showed no sign of hostility, the explorers began to hope that through them they would win their way out of the cave. Certainly, they were worth cultivating with this end in view. Hence, Miranda and Herran looked stealthily at their revolvers and restored them as quickly as possible to their hip-pockets, while such a burst of confidence seized Mrs. Quayle that she prepared and was actually seen to exhibit one of her most ingratiating smiles for the benefit of the approaching Indians, at the same time expressing in a loud voice to Una her approval of their music.
This pleasant feeling, however, that they were about to regain their liberty did not last long. The Indians, although showing no unfriendliness, gave unmistakable evidence that they meant to control the movements of the explorers. Still playing on their trumpets and beating solemnly on their drums, they marched around them, bowing courteously enough, but intimating at the same time that they were acting upon a definite plan that could not be interfered with. Somewhat dashed by this singular behavior, which was the more difficult to meet just because it lacked outward menace, the explorers conferred hastily together, hoping to hit on a safe line of action. The men of the party, suspicious of the friendly attitude assumed by the Indians, favored immediate resistance. Their first flush of confidence in them was gone. Herran and Miranda, especially, were doubtful of the intentions of these strange people. From whatever motive, it seemed to them that the latter had deliberately planned their capture, evidently carrying out in this the orders of some one in authority over them. That these orders might come from Raoul Arthur was their principal cause for alarm. The departure of the American miner, under every appearance of treachery, marked him out as one to be feared. He was not, it is true, among the Indians who were surrounding them in their glittering line of dancers, but his absence was not proof that he had nothing to do with this odd demonstration. But—how resist a party so superior to their own in number, one that had already gained an obvious advantage of position over them. Leighton was doubtful what to do; Andrew was helpless; Mrs. Quayle was temporarily lost in admiration of the picturesque circle of dancing figures, all regarding her with gratifying amiability. Una alone insisted that the friendliness of the Indians was genuine, and that their own safety depended on obeying them. As a compromise it was decided to talk to these people—to find out what they were after. For this diplomatic duty Miranda and Herran were chosen.
Although the energetic little doctor was certainly not gifted with an unusual amount of tact, he had at least the merit of directness, and lost no time in calling the attention of the dancers to his desire to come to an understanding with them.
“Do you talk Spanish?” he shouted brusquely in that language.
“Surely, Senor Doctor,” gravely replied a tall personage whose dignity of bearing and the fact that the border of his flowing toga was distinguished by a decorative design in embroidered gold indicated his superiority in rank over his comrades. “Surely, some of us talk Spanish.”
Having given this assurance, the speaker checked the music and dancing of the others and stood, with the air of one accustomed to ceremonious usage, waiting to hear further from Miranda.
“Yes, I am doctor, famous doctor,” said the latter, bustling up to the speaker and looking him over as if he were about to claim him for medical purposes. “I cure thousands and thousands with my pills. But how you know I am doctor?”
The Indian smiled, inclining his head graciously before answering.
“Doctor Miranda is so famous every one knows him.”
Ordinarily the vanity of Miranda was easily touched, but just now he was too suspicious to be beguiled by the compliment.