“It cannot carry the message far enough,” said he, slowly.
Over Prince Huaca’s face came a shadow of despair. He sat down suddenly, leaned his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands. He was like a man famished for water, to whose lips a cup had been held, only to be withdrawn as he was about to drink. Jack felt immensely sorry. He wanted to be of help. At the same time, his brain was revolving an idea.
“But, Father,” he began.
Ere he could complete his sentence, however, Prince Huaca interrupted. He jumped to his feet and stood with his hands firmly gripping the table.
“I will not let myself be overcome,” he said. “If the voice-through-the-air cannot carry the message, then you, Senor de Avilar, must go to your brother-in-law and tell him what I desire, that he shall come in peace but with an army sufficient to overawe Cinto.
“Ah,” he cried, “I can trust you? They will not come to loot Cusco Hurrin and slay my people, but to make friends and teach them?”
“Only so will they come,” said Don Ernesto, deeply moved at the other’s sincerity and earnestness. “I promise.”
“It will be long,” said Prince Huaca. “But,” he added, resolutely, “I shall defend the fortress and, if there be bloodshed, yet will it be less than if Cinto had his way.”
As he ceased speaking, Jack found his opportunity.
“But, Prince Huaca,” he said excitedly, “the voice-through-the-air can be made to carry your message.”