“How are we going to get out of this?” Cliff asked as they saw the open sky through the slit of open stone above them.
“Caya’s family waits with ropes near the cistern,” Bill informed them all: he had learned of this from Pizzara who had allowed the young soldier to make his plans before he knew that the gold would be stolen; had Pizzara dropped a hint of his true purpose it is probable that the Indian would have tried to rescue his sister and then informed the Inca’s troop of the Spaniard’s plan; but Pizzara was cunning.
“But suppose they discover the escape?” broke in Nicky. “When do they change guards again, Bill—ask Caya!”
“It has been done already,” Bill said. “I have asked her. That is why Pizzara is hurrying us. They must know that we are free and maybe they know that the gold is gone!”
“How far must we go?” Cliff asked.
“At least a mile.”
“But won’t they see us in this open aqueduct?”
“They probably won’t waste time searching,” Bill answered. “I expect that a chasqui-runner—has already been sent to the guards who handle the sluice gates.”
Pizzara, himself, seemed anxious. He urged them to hasten.
“Look!” whispered Caya, clutching Cliff’s arm. She pointed behind them. Against the growing illumination of the sky they saw a figure, slim, tall, standing out black against the sky, peering down at them. Suddenly he stood straight. Faintly they heard a hail and then the figure disappeared.