“I have been thinking about ‘Whackey,’” Cliff replied. “Something has kept reminding me of him ever since we began to make camp here.”
“That is natural,” Mr. Whitley explained. “That is because you captured him, strung him up by the heels, up here.”
“Yes,” Cliff admitted: then he frowned. “But that wouldn’t make me feel as though he might be close to us now, would it?”
“Do you feel that way?” asked Bill.
Cliff nodded. “I keep thinking what I would do if I were in Whackey’s place,” he said.
“And what do you think you’d do?” Nicky demanded.
“This,” answered Cliff. “Suppose me to be Huayca. Well, I slipped away and tried an ambush in the white pass and then reported to my ruler, the Inca. Then, a little later, I found out that my ambush had not frightened the white invaders away. Do you see what I am trying to make plain?”
“Yes,” Tom nodded. “When the white invaders escaped from the dungeons and you heard about it, you might go with a party—or even lead it, as Whackey, of course—to destroy them if they were in the secret pass.”
“How would he know that they were not drowned in the tunnel?” Nicky objected. “How could he believe they were in the secret pass?”
“Easy!” Cliff said. “We—the white invaders were seen in the open part of the aqueduct by a chasqui—remember? Well, that proved they were not drowned in the flooded tunnels. But they were not found in the aqueduct, either, when daylight came.”