“And he has found it,” cried Tom. “I can tell by his face.”
Bill had, indeed, found the way taken by Huayca previously. He explained the method to them.
“But it doesn’t help us any, as far as I can see,” he said. “If we went that way we would still have those fellows between us and safety.”
But Cliff took him aside and whispered: then they came back and the entire party discussed a plan Cliff had thought out.
Huayca sullenly refused to obey when Bill shortly ordered him to get moving. Bill, carrying out Cliff’s idea, compelled Huayca, his own knife pricking the back of his neck, to go ahead of his tormenter, along the path through the cleft.
“Keep them interested,” Bill urged. “Light dry brush and throw it down. Do anything you can think of to make them sure you are up here—for half an hour. Then—just keep still until I get back.”
He drove the disgruntled and frightened Indian before him, down the steep steps. Bill had a flashlight and was able to prevent the bound arms from doing him any injury: in fact, Huayca had enough to do, keeping ahead of the pricking point of his knife, as he clung to the bracing osiers along the steps, with just enough loose rope between his wrists to enable him to help himself.
It would have been foolhardy to try to make Huayca climb the cliff on the far side of the chasm, as well as to get down the other cliff to the far end of the bridge.
Cliff’s plan was otherwise arranged.
Once in the chasm, Bill forced Huayca ahead of him until they had crossed the deep gulf.