theater jumped up, cheering, joined by scores of half-breeds who suddenly remembered their descent and, tired of being treated with contempt by the whites, joined in the roar of "Long live Huayna Capac Runtu!" The purely Peruvian element sat motionless in stalls and boxes.
Meanwhile, in the presidential box, Garcia had drawn to his constellated bosom the resplendent shirt-front of the bank-clerk, embracing before all the illustrious descendant of the Inca kings. The house, enthusiastic before, became delirious.
The gala was over, and Dick was carried out of the theater as he had been swept in. He had seen enough to realize how useless had been the Marquis' visit to the Dictator. Garcia was helpless without the Indians, and the real master of the situation was Oviedo. Dick had now no hope but in Huascar. It was eleven o'clock, and he hurried back to the inn.
There he found Natividad and the Marquis equally anxious at his protracted absence. As to Uncle Francis, nobody had seen him since the arrival at Arequipa, and nobody worried about him. Dick told them of his meeting with Huascar; he was convinced now of the Indian's good faith.
They did not exchange another word until midnight, anxiously peering out of the windows for some sign to confirm their hopes. Natividad
