“Is that true?” said Perry, whose eyes dilated at the idea.
“Quite true. I saw a man kill several birds with the darts. They died almost directly they were struck, and I have been told by father that he has seen small animals die in a few minutes after being scratched.”
“But do you think—Oh, what nonsense! You have got your head crammed with that idea about the gold.”
“Perhaps so,” said Cyril thoughtfully, “and maybe I’m wrong. But I don’t like to see old Diego turn so gruff and distant, and it seemed strange for him to go and talk for a long time with the Indians in charge of the llamas. I saw them look very strangely and suspiciously at your father afterwards.”
“Those Indians? Why, what could it be to them? Ah, the Peruvian Indians are said to be joined together to protect everything belonging to the old days when they were a great nation, and keep it for the time when the Incas come back to rule over them again.”
“Say, Master Perry,” said John Manning in a low voice, “your eyes are younger than mine. Just cast ’em along the rock path we come to-day.”
“Yes, what for?”
“Are you looking straight along, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what do you see?”