“Last night?” said Frank. “Why, this is the same night.”
“Right you are, Frank. But things move so fast here, I lose track of time.”
While the others armed, and then barricaded the door, Mr. Hampton kept watch at the loophole. Prince Huaca’s followers could no longer be seen. The armor-clad Palace Guard was sweeping across the great square, empty now of merrymakers, in a wave. But, though he could not see the soldiers of the prince, Mr. Hampton could tell what had become of them. For up from the foot of the Acropolis below his loophole came an increased sound of shouting and clashing steel.
He looked again. The Palace Guard had increased pace. Evidently, all was not going well with the attacking party at the Acropolis, as the retreating soldiers from the fortress fell upon them in the rear. Would the soldiers of the fortress win back to shelter with their comrades? Or would the reinforcements of the Palace Guard arrive in time to break down resistance? Mr. Hampton trembled. Upon the outcome depended the fate of the boys in the room behind. Jack! His eyes misted. Well, they would sell their lives dearly.
Straining to listen to the sounds from below, watching the oncoming wave of the Palace Guard, Mr. Hampton was unaware of what was transpiring in the room behind him. A hand fell on his arm. He whirled about. It was Jack.
“Somebody’s at the door.”
Mr. Hampton gripped his rifle, and sprang toward the barricade of couches behind which crouched the rest of their little force. The great door of the room opened outward. They could see the light of several torches shining upon helmet and lance point.
At sight of the barricade, and of the rifles poking over it, there was a hasty scramble on the part of those in the corridor to get out of the way. Then a white flag was thrust up on a spear point, and Mr. Hampton saw it was borne by their jailer—the man whom Prince Huaca trusted with the knowledge of the secret passage into his inner apartment, the man whose kindly face, as he had dealt with them, had made them feel they had a friend in him, even though there was no common tongue between them.
He made signs to indicate he came in peace, then beckoned another forward. This other, in the dress of a noble, seemed vaguely familiar to Mr. Hampton. Jack supplied the answer.
“Why, Dad, it’s the young noble at whose house we stopped when we were brought through the outer valley as prisoners. He’s a friend of Prince Huaca.”