“What is stage?” demanded Pedro. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Chestnuts!” exclaimed Jimmie impatiently. “He wants to know if you can work the lights as Miguel did. He wants to know if you can keep the lights burning to-night in order to attract the attention of people who are coming to drive the Indians away. Do you get it?”
Pedro’s face brightened perceptibly.
“Coming to drive the Indians away?” he repeated. “Yes, I can burn the lights. They shall burn from the going down of the sun. Also,” he added with a hopeful expression on his face, “the Indians may see the lights and disappear again in the forest.”
“Yes, they will!” laughed Carl.
“Let him think so if he wants to,” cautioned Jimmie. “He’ll take better care of the lights if he thinks that will in any way add to the possibility of release. But midnight!” the boy went on. “Think of all that time without anything to eat! Say,” he whispered to Carl, in a soft aside, “if you can get Sam asleep sometime during the day and get the gun away from him, I’m going to make a break for the tall timber and bring in a deer, or a brace of rabbits, or something of that kind. There’s plenty of cooking utensils in that other chamber and plenty of dishes, so we can have a mountain stew with very little trouble if we can only get the meat to put into it.”
“And there’s the stew they left,” suggested Carl.
“Not for me!” Jimmie answered. “I’m not going to take any chances on being poisoned. I’d rather build a fire on that dizzy old hearth they used, and broil a steak from one of the jaguars than eat that stew—or anything they left for that matter.”
“I don’t believe you can get out into the hills,” objected Carl.
“I can try,” Jimmie suggested, “if I can only get that gun away from Sam. He wouldn’t let me go. You know that very well! Look here,” he went on, “suppose I fix up in the long, flowing robe, and dig up the wigs and things Miguel must have worn, and walk in a dignified manner between the ranks of the Indians? What do you know about that?”