“Gentleman,” announced Uncle Naboth, “these boys is Indians, and mighty good Indians, too. They’re goin’ to take us four white folks into the San Blas country as their slaves. They’ll be finely welcomed, for they’ll pound an’ kick us all around, and we’ll be meek as Moses till we git our fists on them di’monds. It’s jest as easy as rollin’ off a log, an’ a heap more fun.”
I admit the suggestion filled me with admiration, and I saw Duncan Moit’s face brighten as soon as he heard it.
“That’s it, sir!” he exclaimed. “That is just the idea I was looking for, to connect with my own. By putting the two together I believe we shall succeed without a doubt.”
“What is your idea, then?” I asked.
“To travel in my convertible automobile.”
“What! Through a wilderness?”
“Along the streams as far as the water will allow, and then over the level plains. The machine will run in any farming country, for you must remember that it does not sink into soft ground as ordinary heavy automobiles do. Indeed, by turning the pumps into the vacuum chambers and exhausting them, I can render the car so light that it will almost skim over a marsh.”
“But what’s the use of travellin’ that way?” asked Uncle Naboth.
“We gain safety, in case of attack; speed, if we are forced to fly; comfort, by carrying our hotel always with us, and, above all, I rely upon the invention to awe the simple Indians and make them look upon us as superior creatures. The machine is here and in working order; it would be folly, when it offers so many advantages, not to use it.”
“Very good,” said I, approvingly, for I could see the force of his arguments.