“‘Follow trail—’” Willie mimicked the old medicine man. “That’s all very nice. But where does the darn thing lead?”
The Scouts had paused on the path to let Mr. Livingston rest. Since leaving Ino at the spring, they had walked as fast as the rough ground would permit.
“This trail leads to the river, I suspect,” commented Ken. “We may find a balsa there.”
“Probably with our names engraved on it,” Jack returned ironically. “Everything’s too convenient! Why was Ino so eager to have us get away?”
“He felt sorry for us,” War answered.
Jack nodded thoughtfully. “I’m convinced Ino isn’t a native,” he said. “He understands English pretty well.”
“That ‘follow trail’ of his, popped out very easily,” agreed Ken. “But if he’s a white man, why didn’t he reveal himself to us?”
“Yeah, why does he live here with the natives?” Willie demanded. “He’d have to have a strong motive.”
“A lost gold mine perhaps, or the Inca city,” Jack suggested reflectively.
“You think Ino may be a trader who stumbled onto some secret after getting in the good graces of the Indians?”