CHAPTER XV—BEFORE THE COUNCIL
The balance of that day was one filled with foreboding. Mr. Hampton and Don Ernesto, an hour or so after their dismissal by Prince Huaca, were summoned by a servant again to his apartments with the understanding that they were to be escorted thence to appear before the Inca’s Council. Left to themselves, the four boys chatted together at first about their strange interview; but, as the hours passed with no word from the older men, they grew more and more to feel as if some evil impended, and lapsed at length into a gloomy silence.
Bob flung himself on a couch in a doze, Ferdinand stood at a loophole, gazing out upon the great square where the merriment continued unabated. It would last eight days, Prince Huaca had said. Jack and Frank tried to find oblivion in books among their belongings, but with ill success. As for the two huachos, Pedro and Carlos, they took the matter philosophically, and continued their endless game of cards.
“This is driving me mad,” said Jack, at length, tossing aside his book. “The afternoon is going fast, and it will soon be night. Already the square is in shadow below, and it is too dim to read. Where can they be? What can have detained them?”
An interruption came in the form of the servants, who had brought their food previously, and who now again entered, cleared the table, and set out food once more. For a moment, the wild idea of attempting to overcome them and make a bolt for Prince Huaca’s apartments, in search of his father came to Jack. But he quickly put it aside, for in the outer corridor he glimpsed the armed guards who had accompanied the servants.
“Thank goodness, they brought a light,” he ejaculated, after the servants had departed, leaving behind, beside the food, a gold vessel filled with oil in which burned a wick that gave a clear, bright flame. “Well, you fellows that are hungry, fall to. I couldn’t eat a bite.”
Frank went up to him and put an arm over his shoulders.
“Come on, old man,” he said. “I know how you feel. But it is foolish to worry. Your Dad has just been spinning so many fairy tales about the modern world that he has these old boys sitting there with their eyes popping out, and they won’t let him go; they want him to tell them some more yarns. He’ll be back, all right, presently, and the Inca probably will be coming along with him to see what we look like. ‘The Young Wizards, hey?’ he’ll say. ‘Pleased to meet you. Trot out a few tricks for us.’ And you want to have a full stomach, then, or how can you perform well? Come on, come on.”