“I tried to dissuade him from starting in search of Burton Monahan and the lost city,” he informed the group. “His mind is made up. So I have agreed to give him what assistance I can. All arrangements have been made for you to leave on the morrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Willie repeated. “Say, that’s great!”
“We’ve worn out our welcome in this village, that’s sure,” Jack added ruefully. “I wonder what stirred everyone against us?”
“Drink your tea,” the missionary urged, “and I will seek the answer.”
Moving painfully with the aid of a cane, Father Francisco went through the patio and thence to the front entranceway where the mob had gathered. When he rejoined the Scouts fifteen minutes later, his face was grave.
“This is more serious than I thought,” he reported. “Lolita has turned the villagers against you.”
“We suspected she was at the bottom of it,” Ken nodded. “What’s it all about?”
“Lolita has convinced the villagers that your expedition is for the sole purpose of obtaining sacred Inca treasure from the ancient temples.”
“But that isn’t so,” Jack denied instantly. “Can’t we explain to them?”
“I tried, and I believe my words carried some weight. Nevertheless, my advice is to leave Cuertos as soon as you can. Tonight if possible. Or at the very latest, early tomorrow morning.”