“Let us make the attempt, Senor Hampton,” appealed Don Ernesto. “We are eight in number, capable all of us, armed with modern automatics. I believe we can protect ourselves, and, perhaps, even effect a gallant deed in the rescue of Prince Huaca.”
“Remember, Dad,” said Jack, “that Pizarro, with a handful of warriors, overthrew a far mightier host than we will face. And in a less worthy cause, besides.”
Mr. Hampton looked at the three lads, at Jack and Bob and Frank. He thought of the responsibility devolving upon him of looking after their safety. Nevertheless, there was much truth in what the others urged. In the automatics, they had weapons the like of which were unknown to the Inca’s people. In the marvels at their command, they had something with which to dazzle the others and convince them of the white man’s greater power. Besides, there was Prince Huaca—a man who had endeared himself. Mr. Hampton rubbed his eyes. Was he living in the twentieth century? He, himself, matter of fact though he was, felt the influence of another age upon him. He could see the boys had entirely yielded to that influence and that Don Ernesto was slipping fast. He felt reckless. After all, as Don Ernesto had said, it would be a gallant deed to rescue Prince Huaca. And in the mood that was upon him, he felt as if the doing of a gallant deed was all that counted.
“Very well, let us send a message to the Inca as you propose, Don Ernesto.”
“Hurray, Dad.”
“That’s the stuff, Mr. Hampton.”
“Senor, it is fine to be a boy again, is it not so?” Don Ernesto clasped his hand.
Michac was elated. The message was given the Incarial messenger, and he was sent back to the palace. Then they sat down to await developments. But not for long, as the boys recalled at once that they had not yet succeeded in calling the monastery, and all adjourned to the battlements.
Almost at once Jack succeeded in obtaining a reply. And when Brother Gregorio’s voice sounded in the receivers, he gave a cry of joy.
“Senor Jack, is it you? Tell me. How have you fared?”