“But we can’t—” began Cliff.
“He certainly has put us in a tight corner,” Bill admitted, “but we can’t let him dictate and threaten——”
They followed his staring eyes as he paused. The Inca, his two sons, the high priest and Pizzara were approaching.
“Sit tight,” whispered Bill. “Let me do the talking!”
CHAPTER XVIII
TIT FOR TAT
“Certainly you may do the talking,” John Whitley agreed to Bill’s urgent hint as they all watched the arrival of the other party. “But I cannot understand how Pizzara can dare to risk his own safety——”
“The high priest hates the Inca’s older son,” Bill answered. “He will be discredited if the corn grows. He would rather see the crop ruined than to have that happen. The Spaniard must guess that. Probably he hinted enough to whet Huamachaco’s curiosity. I think the priest might even promise—promise, I said, not give!—him gold for his help in removing us from the scene.”
The rest of the party nodded; there was no time for more discussion. The Inca arrived and they all stood up respectfully and bowed to him.
“This man makes a strange story,” said the ruler. “He says you come here from across the great blue waters to steal our gold and to take away the white man who is sick.”
Bill bowed to the Inca, but his eyes watched the face of the priest; Cliff and his chums saw that the latter was smiling in a satisfied, triumphant way.