An American there and in automobile costume! Where was the machine, and how in the name of all that was wonderful had it been brought to that rough country?
And why were the enemies crouching there, when their only opponent was a boy, hidden if his position may be so termed—under the planes of an airship—planes which would offer little resistance to an arrow or a bullet?
But while the boy looked and wondered a shot came from the very shelf on which he stood, and one of the exposed Indians dropped in his tracks. Then the situation became a bit clearer.
Pedro had escaped from the valley to the shelf of rock, and was standing guard there shooting whenever the attacking party attempted to reach the aeroplane.
In a moment the automobile cap and goggle and the evil faces of the Indians disappeared from view. The attacking party had dropped back into the gully, which was some distance from the machine.
Waiting a moment, in order to make sure that no one was stirring behind the shoulder of rock, Ned called softly:
"Pedro!"
"Hello!" came the answer back.
"'Where are you?" asked Ned, recognizing the voice of the Peruvian he had talked with at Lima.
"In a notch of the rock," came the answer, in Spanish.