“I don’t like his looks, anyway,” Bob cried to Jack. “Here’s where I spoil ’em.”
And, turning suddenly, the big fellow leaped back up the steps, dashed in under Guascar’s up-raised sword, seized him about the waist, and with one mighty heave tossed his body into the face of the oncoming horde.
The flying form crashed into an armor-clad soldier and the two fell to the steps, bringing down still others who stumbled over them, unable to turn aside. In a trice the mass piled up.
“Run Bob, run,” cried Jack, who had paused and turned back a step or two, revolver raised, to help his comrade with a shot, if necessary.
Big Bob grinned, leaped back to Jack’s side, and the two raced down the steps.
This temporary diversion created by Bob’s unexpected attack had given the others a good start. Their figures were out on the great square, darting for the distant fortress. Prince Huaca had joined them. The fall of the High Priest Cinto, shot down so unexpectedly by the prince, likewise had delayed pursuit from the Temple, as the soldiers had paused uncertainly, mystified as to this new form of death wielded by the prince.
Mr. Hampton at first had not noticed the absence of his son and Bob, being interested in speeding on the others and in sweeping the prince into their party. But as they started across the square, he looked back to assure himself the boys were following. He was just in time to see Bob’s mighty heave, and the ruin which it wrought.
“Go on,” he cried to the others. “We’ll follow.”
And he waited for the approach of the two lads.
When they came up, he started running swiftly with them.