“There is no need to run so far,” he said. “I will find a rope that will be strong and light.”
“It will save time,” Tom said.
“Yes—and time is precious!”
The old man listened. Finally he spoke.
“What of Caya?”
“I think she is safe,” Tom told him, and in what quichua he could master, aided by signs, he detailed what he knew of the plan to save her. The old woman was horrified at what she understood of the plan to go to the Inca, but the man laughed with a hoarse, hearty chuckle.
“Shame!” cried his old wife. “That you laugh at the son of the Sun.”
“But he has brought it upon himself,” the man assured her. “If he were a true descendant of the old line of rulers I would not dare to laugh: but you know he is not of the true line and when we of his council advised him to free the white stranger who would, I think, write in his papers but not tell others how to find us, he refused. This is therefore his punishment for being vain of his own counsel!”
Meanwhile Tom and the young soldier discussed plans. The latter was certain that Caya’s shepherd would never be able to come to see her tonight: the secret ways were all guarded by many soldiers and the hills were full of the searching natives.
“But there is a way, I think,” he said. “I know of an old aqueduct that has not been filled with water for years. It was built to take water to flood the secret tunnels if any came to steal our treasure; but most people, I believe, forget what it is for and how to operate its old water gate. Stay you here until I look at the gate to be sure it is not open and that we can get into its deep bed: also I will hide a strong rope there and come back. Then we will get your friends. Caya, if she is free, must leave the city. I think the mother of her shepherd in the hills will care for her until the Inca has forgotten.”