Paul first unrolled our maps and showed Ama the great world, with its lakes, seas and oceans and chains of lofty mountains. He showed her on a smaller map the location of Yucatan, and how insignificant the peninsula was when compared with the great continent of which it formed a part. Then with a pencil he made a tiny dot to show the location of Mount Aota and its comparative size.
Ama observed all this with pensive earnestness. She made no remarks nor admissions, but was evidently impressed. The poor girl had been trained to consider herself the head of a mighty nation which was so important that it haughtily excluded the rest of creation from vulgar contact with it. She had considered the Tcha of superior intellect, far in advance of any other race, and the chosen people of the one great and true god—the Sun.
In this belief she and her preceptors were to an extent justified. Their tiny kingdom lay in the heart of the Itzaex territory, and the savage nations surrounding them were in every respect inferior to the Tcha. They also served as a shield against the nations beyond, and this fact deceived the Tcha, who naturally judged all foreign people by those about them.
Their literature was rich in legendary lore, but of their contemporaries they were wholly ignorant. They kept a record of their own history, using great books made of a fibre parchment, the leaves being sometimes three feet square and bound at the edges. They used both hieroglyphics and picture writing, and what I saw was quite artistically executed. One great building was used as a library for these books and contained records dating from the time of their emigration from Atlantis, whence they had been driven by political wars. The Tcha were merely a branch of the horde that settled in Yucatan. Their leader was a powerful and able Priestess who, discovering the fertile vale within the mountain of Aota—doubtless in bygone ages the mouth of a volcano—decided to settle therein with her especial followers. In some way the Tcha escaped the destruction that overwhelmed the other cities of Yucatan, and their prosperity continued undiminished through all the centuries. They knew when Atlantis was submerged, and by means of a system of spies kept touch with the doings of the Maya tribes that afterward settled in the peninsula. The coming of the Spaniards was a danger recorded in their books, but they had persuaded the Itzaex to stand firm and oppose the invaders, and through their assistance that tribe was never conquered or their territory overrun.
It surprised me that a people so shrewd in other ways had never sent spies or emissaries to the modern nations throughout the world; but the fact was that they had not the faintest conception that our great civilization existed. They alone, in their ignorant belief, were progressive and cultured.
Our advent was destined to undeceive them in this respect.
Having shown Ama how small was her valley Allerton proceeded to prove our superior inventive genius. He exhibited to the wondering eyes of Ama and her pretty priestesses some of the novelties we had brought with us for this very purpose, and for trading. There was a small phonograph for one thing, with an assortment of vocal and instrumental records, and when these were played they created a veritable sensation. Paul promptly presented the outfit to the High Priestess, and it afforded her great pleasure. The Tcha were a music-loving people, but their musical instruments were quite primitive.
Next we stretched a copper wire from the palace of the priests to Ama’s pavilion, and set up a telephone at each end. This aroused no end of excitement and all the priests and priestesses soon learned how to use it. Ama called us up every morning, and she used the wire to convey her orders to the priests, instead of communicating with them by messenger, as before.
A pocket electric flash-light excited considerable admiration, as did some clocks and watches. The Tcha still used sundials to mark the time. Some tiny music-boxes, playing one tune, were presented by us to various officials and the gifts won us much favor.
We exhibited all these things with careful deliberation, making them serve as vehicles for many interviews with the lovely priestess. In return she graciously showed us some of the accomplishments of the Tcha.
We were taken to a vast cave where a large volume of water gushed from the rocks with irresistible force. Some inventive Tcha had long ago constructed an electric motor operated by this water power, and it supplied electric lights to all the valley. They did not turn off their lamps, but allowed them to burn until the filament burned out, masking them with shields when the lumination was not required. Archie showed them how to make a cut-off, and also improved the shape of their lamps. So receptive and skillful were the native glass-blowers and artisans generally that they soon reconstructed their entire plant on modern principles.
They made a very superior storage battery, by means of which the chariots of the High Priestess and her nobility were propelled, in much the same fashion as our automobiles. They were clumsy and slow, it is true, but curiously enough this electrical device, and the others that they used, dated from the time of their exodus from Atlantis. The records proved conclusively that electricity was known and utilized on that lost continent.
The gold which was so plentiful in the valley was taken from mines in the center of one of the neighboring mountains, connected with the hidden city by a broad tunnel. The supply was practically inexhaustible. Other metals were found in the walls of Aota, and this accounted for many of the caverns we noticed.
We learned that the beautiful rubies came from the subsoil of the valley itself, and the Tcha skillfully cut and polished them, using them for ornamenting even the most common articles of use. When Ama saw that we admired the rubies she took us to the gem-cutters’ building and gave us a pocketful each of choice and brilliant stones—fully enough plunder to repay us for our eventful journey, had we been able to carry it away. But if we were to be sacrificed to their blood-thirsty god the Sun, we would never need rubies again.
It was very hard for Ama to decide which of the strangers was to be preserved from sacrifice as the reward for saving her life. She seemed to grow quite fond of Chaka, as the days passed by. He often sat at her feet telling, like Othello, the story of his life and adventures, while she listened with fascinated interest. Moreover, he was atkayma of the Itzaex, and therefore far outranked any of the rest of us, who could claim no such high sounding titles.
Chaka was, as I have remarked, an exceedingly handsome fellow, and his soft brown eyes grew expressive whenever he turned them upon the bewitching priestess. Ama was permitted—nay, required—to marry, and being supreme among her race could choose her own husband. I sometimes wondered if it would be the fate of the young atkayma to become the husband of Ama.
But there was Paul, too, and our friend the lieutenant had by this time fallen as desperately in love with the girlish priestess as had Chaka. While he lacked the personal beauty of the Maya chieftain Paul was white, and therefore to my mind a more fitting mate for the beautiful Ama. He also belonged to the powerful American people whom the priestess had come by this time to fully respect, and that was in his favor too. Really, it was all guesswork as to which admirer she might prefer, for the girl treated them with equal frankness and consideration.
Once, when she sat apart with Chaka, I overheard him urging her to free Paul.
“It was Paul who saved you,” said he. “No other deserves the reward.”
Another time Allerton pleaded for the atkayma, saying that unless Chaka had caught her as Paul stumbled she would have been crushed.
I was glad to find myself disregarded in the matter, since I knew very well my service in crying a warning was not to be compared with what they had done. It must have amused Ama to hear these two brave fellows each plead for the other, for at last she said:
“You must decide it between yourselves, and I will abide by the decision.”
This mischievous shift accomplished nothing at all, as the girl plainly foresaw. They argued with one another until the deadlock became more set than ever. They proposed to leave it to me to decide, and I refused to interfere. Neither would any of our party umpire the case. In despair they told Ama it was up to her again.
She shook her head and sent for the ancient High Priest, curtly bidding him keep awake and attend to what she said.
“I cannot decide which of these three strangers actually saved me from death,” said she. “It is natural I should be grateful to all three, for which reason it is unjust to force me to decide the question. Therefore I command you, by virtue of your office, to say, and at once, which shall be pardoned and so saved from the sacrifice.”
“I’ll think it over,” sighed the High Priest.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” declared Ama, imperiously. “To-morrow some one of these devoted ones must be selected for the sacrifice of Adakalpa, the Feast of the Harvest. Gather thy wits then, my counselor, and speak!”
“May I sit down?” asked the ancient one, wearily.
“No, for you would then fall asleep. I command you to decide between these three—” she pointed to where we were lined up in a row “—at once. Then you may return to your couch.”
The High Priest yawned and blinked his watery eyes at us.
“Pardon all three,” he announced. “Each had a hand in the matter, and it will save us the bother of choosing between them, perhaps unjustly.”
Ama sat up, laughing. She clapped her hands delightedly.
“Oh, wise and clever counselor!” she cried. “Your decree shall be obeyed. Sleep, now, if it pleases you, for Chaka, Paul and Samsteele,” so she always called me, rolling my two names into one, “are from this moment free and honored subjects of Tcha.”
I think the old fellow who had thus favored us was half asleep before they had led him back to the gate. As for Paul, Chaka and I, we shook hands heartily and congratulated one another. The same idea was uppermost in the minds of all three—that our freedom might lead to our being able to free our comrades.
CHAPTER XXI
WE LOSE POOR PEDRO
The edict of the High Priest was proclaimed to the people in the great theatre and received with the same composure that our condemnation had been. Thereafter we three wandered at will throughout the valley, unguarded and unmolested. We were offered a palace, but retained our quarters in the house of the priests, to be with our comrades, and there in secret conference we decided upon our mode of procedure for the future.
Escape from Tcha by means of the steep walls of rock was an impossibility, unless we could stumble upon one of those secret tunnels that led to the outer declivities. Even then it would be difficult for us to get the sacrificial victims out of the temple enclosure. Compassing all this, however, it was likely we would be followed and either recaptured or slain before we could reach the Itzaex country. If not we would be in the power of either Uncle Datchapa, if he still lived, or the red robed devils of priests, who would have no hesitation in promptly murdering us.
No; it would not do at all. We had only one hope of escape: to recover our gas-jackets and soar above the valley, over the forests and back to the ship where my father was by this time anxiously awaiting us.
So we decided that Paul, Chaka and I, being free to go and come at our pleasure, must begin a careful and cautious search for the place where our confiscated property had been deposited. We judged this would be one of the warehouses where public supplies were kept.
Next day we started on our secret mission, each going a different way. I had been instructed to seek out the officer who had first arrested us and robbed us in the prison, and try to pump him; so after breakfast I sauntered away through the city, past the theatre and along the flower bordered paths that led to the low white building near the center of the valley.
I met one of the soldiers, or “public guardians,” on my way, and found him not loth to enter into conversation. He told me the officer’s name was Pagatka and his rank that of Waba, or Captain. He did not know where the Waba Pagatka might be found; the officer was likely to be anywhere that duty called him.
When I began cautiously to refer to the property that had been taken from us the fellow withdrew into a shell of reserve. He admitted he had been one of those who had surrounded us and led us into the prison; but after that he had returned to his home and knew nothing of subsequent happenings. I deemed it wise not to press him or arouse his suspicions as to what I was after. He parted from me presently and went his own way.
My search for the Waba Pagatka was unsuccessful. I entered the great hall of the prison, where a small guard was stationed, and was allowed to go anywhere I pleased. All the smaller rooms but one were unoccupied. Here a man was confined who had quarreled with his neighbor and in the heat of argument had used bad language. He told me he regretted the occurrence, as it had seriously disgraced him.
There was no place here where our gas-jackets and electrites were likely to be hidden. The soldier in charge thought I might find the Waba in the manufacturing district, so I left the prison and began my journey toward the upper end of the valley.
The air was sweet and invigorating, for the altitude, even here in the cup of the mountain, was considerable and rendered the climate delightful. Everywhere the farmers were busy in their fields, and centuries of cultivation seemed not to have exhausted the soil in the least. Perhaps they had learned how to fertilize and restore it; anyhow, the crops were bountiful and not a weed nor rank growth of any sort was to be seen.
At midday I reached a dwelling at the north edge of the city, and asked for food. It was willingly furnished and in abundance, for every inhabitant of Tcha was entitled to his neighbor’s hospitality, all supplies being provided by the government.
During the afternoon I wandered about the district of the artisans trying to catch sight of the elusive Waba Pagatka, but failing dismally. I took occasion, however, to look into several warehouses, and found them all filled with the handicraft of the people or with raw material to be worked up. Returning, I circled the city and passed the weavers’ dwellings, where I was greatly interested in the looms these clever people had invented. They wove the finest linen I have ever seen, and a material much worn by the women which seemed to me softer and more exquisitely finished than the best of our silks. Yet it was not made from the cocoon of the silk worm, but from a reed that was shredded into hair-like filaments. It was really wonderful how great a variety of things were grown, mined and manufactured by a few people in a tiny shut-in place like this.
It was late before I reached the palace of the priests and I was both hungry and tired by my day’s tramp. Entering the large room reserved for us I found my comrades sitting with solemn faces, silent and depressed. Paul and Chaka were there, so they had evidently been as unsuccessful as myself.
I glanced around the circle.
“Where’s Pedro?” I asked.
“They have taken him,” said Paul sadly.
“Where to?”
“To the sacrifice.”
I started back in horror.
“The sacrifice!”
“Yes,” returned Allerton. “It seems to-day is the Feast of the Harvest, and when the sun is highest in the sky—at midday, that is—they sacrifice to their god in gratitude for the ripening of the grain. Ama spoke of this yesterday, but I had forgotten it. This morning, while we were away, the priests came here and forced the boys to draw cuts, without explaining what it was for. Poor Pedro drew the lot, and was led away—he knew not where.”
I shuddered.
“Poor Pedro, indeed!” said I. “How did you learn all this?”
“Oh, there was no secret about it afterward,” spoke up Archie, gloomily. “They brought in three of their precious priests dead as herrings, and five that were badly done up and in need of repairs. There was wild excitement in this bungalow for a time, as you may guess, and it didn’t take us long to get the whole story from the chattering, frightened crowd. It seemed poor Pedro was dazed when first he discovered he was to be sacrificed to the sun, and he walked like a man in a dream to the slaughtering pen—up in the great temple yonder. But he woke up when they came at him with a knife, and died game, like the brave fellow he was.”
“First,” continued Joe, taking up the thread of the story, for Archie was trying to swallow a lump in his throat, “Pedro grabbed two of the priests and bumped their heads together so fiercely that their skulls cracked like egg-shells. Then he caught another by the ankles and swung him around, felling the crowd that rushed on him with this living battering-ram. Living for a time, that is, for when he finally let go the fellow was mashed to a pulp.”
“Of course,” added Ned Britton, “they got Pedro at last, as they were bound to do when his strength gave out, and I suppose his heart’s blood is now in a golden pan, exposed to the rays of their god the sun, who will drink it up. Pah! Before they carved old Pedro, though, he yelled out that he had given the sun a few extra sacrifices to keep him company, and he only wished there had been more in reach of his arm.”
“It was dreadful,” said Paul. “The old High Priest had a fit, it seems, and they can’t tell yet whether he’ll live or die.”
“Was Ama there?” I asked.
“Certainly,” said Archie, in an indignant tone. “The girl’s as cold blooded as the rest of the gang.”
“It is her religion,” declared Chaka, defending her. “She knows no better, and considers it just and right to sacrifice to the Sun-God. But when Pedro began to fight so desperately she at once arose and retired from the scene.”
This horrible news had rendered me as sad and gloomy as the others. Silently we sat, wondering if a similar fate would overtake us all. I, being no longer in personal danger, reproached myself for leaving my comrades at such a time; yet I knew I could not have saved Pedro from his fate.
“Hereafter,” said Ned, “they intend to bind the victims. This is the first time any one has ever fought them, it seems, and the priests won’t take chances after this deadly experience.”
“Too bad, Mars’ Sam,” said Nux, regretfully. “I like to kill a few Tcha before I die, too. But if dey ties me up, I sutt’nly can’t.”
The result of Pedro’s exploit was to render the priests fearful of the rest of us. Our quarters were that evening changed to a small wing at the rear of their palace, which jutted out toward the temple. It was but one story in height and could be shut off entirely from the main building by a heavily barred door. They gave us our supper—we were always liberally fed—and then closed the barrier between us.
Examining this new apartment I was surprised to find it much less secure as a prison than our former quarters. Indeed, it was no trouble at all for any of us to lower ourselves from the window to the ground. But evidently the priests were more anxious about their own safety than about ours, and there was little danger of the sacrificial victims being able to escape very far, even if they managed to avoid the guards at the gates.
The air grew very oppressive this night and the heat was intense—a new experience to us, for we had found the nights cool. Toward morning the wing in which we were confined began to sway from side to side with a sickening motion, and one lurch sent me rolling from my couch to the stone floor.
As I sat up the commotion ceased as suddenly as it had begun.
“An earthquake!” exclaimed Paul, unmasking the electric light. “It’s a wonder the building didn’t topple down on our heads.”
“Are earthquakes common here?” I asked Chaka.
He shook his head.
“Not common,” said he; “but about once in a lifetime we get some little shakes; nothing as bad as this, though.”
Next morning the sun shone as serenely as ever and when we walked out we found but little damage had been done in the valley. But the people had become sadly disquieted by the occurrence, and the priests especially, for some secret reason, were in a state of great fear and perturbation. They talked excitedly among themselves and sent constant messages to Ama, not using the telephone because they feared we might overhear them.
Suspecting that more trouble was brewing Paul, Chaka and I resolved not to quit our comrades this day, but remain and watch the course of events. We had all been alike unsuccessful the day before in locating our property, and now we judged it wise to postpone the search to another time.
CHAPTER XXII
WE FACE A DEADLY PERIL
At noon Ama sent for us three and when we arrived at her pavilion we found her pale and distressed.
“The Sun-God is angry with my people,” she said, “because the sacrifice yesterday was violent and destroyed three faithful priests. A new sacrifice is called for, to placate the terrible deity who rules the heavens and the earth.”
We stared at her aghast.
“The Sun-God is angry because you sacrificed to him a helpless stranger, who worshipped a far greater God than your sun,” I said sternly. “Listen, Ama: if more of our comrades are sacrificed, far greater harm will befall the Tcha.”
She regarded me half fearfully for a moment; then her sweetest smile swept over her lovely face.
“Samsteele,” said she, “the Tcha have sacrificed to the great Sun-God for thousands of years, and he has kept the nation prosperous and happy in return. There is no power equal to the power of the glorious Sun, and the Tcha are his favored children.” Her voice softened a little as she added: “If I could favor you, my friends, I would not send your comrades to the sacrifice; but the laws of my land and the jealousy of our great god will not allow me to save them. Shall I peril the welfare of all my people for the sake of a few strangers? Impossible! The customs of seven thousand years must be adhered to; the majesty of our god must be sustained and his just wrath appeased. I cannot help your friends. The sacrifice must take place.”
“When?” asked Paul, looking at her with pleading eyes until her own dropped.
“At sunset,” she whispered.
“To-day!”
“Yes.”
“And who is to be chosen?” I inquired anxiously.
“The two big black men. My priests think they will be more acceptable to our god than the whites. Always when we have sacrificed any of the Itzaex the mighty Sun has smiled upon us.”
I drew a long breath.
“Ama,” said I, “we will not permit this. The sacrifice shall not take place.”
She sprang to her feet, tense and white with anger.
“Shall not?” she cried: “aye, but it shall take place—at sunset this day! I, the High Priestess of the Sun, have proclaimed it, and in the Vale of Tcha there is no appeal from my edict.”
She was magnificent in her defiance, but I had no heart to admire her just then.
“If you murder those poor fellows their God—far mightier than yours—will have revenge,” I said, trembling between fear and rage, for Nux and Bryonia were very dear to me.
She drew herself up to her full height and pointed at us a slender finger.
“Go!” she said imperiously.
Never had we seen the girl in this mood before. Her eyes were cold and hard as rocks, her lips set with firm determination, her poise queenly and aggressive.
We turned slowly and left the august presence, realizing that Ama, however beautiful and bewitching she might be in repose, was a veritable tigress when aroused to defend the faith in which she had been reared.
Even the sky had grown dark during our interview, and the sun had withdrawn his face as if in shame that any benighted race should sacrifice human lives in his honor. The purple-gray mask of the sky was so unusual at this season of the year—perhaps at all seasons, so far as we knew—that it was little wonder the superstitious Tcha interpreted the sign as one of anger from their outraged deity, whose altar had been the scene of strife.
Returning to our friends we were loth to tell them of the fate in store for our honest blacks. Indeed, it was but a preface to the fate that awaited them all unless we could find a way to resist the all powerful Tcha. Finally, as the day drew on, Chaka had an idea and beckoned to Paul and me to follow him. We were permitted to go wherever we pleased, whereas the others were forbidden to leave their room.
“The High Priest is gentle,” whispered the atkayma, when we were outside. “Let us plead with him.”
We knew that the old dotard dwelt in the most splendid suite in the building, so we made our way toward it. A guard informed us that his Highness was ill, and could not be disturbed. We tried to argue the point, but the man would not relent. No one but Ama might intrude upon his master.
Saddened by this rebuff we wended our way back to our wing, only to confront another disappointment. Orders had been received from the High Priestess to forbid our mingling with the sacrificial devotees. We were to be allowed the privileges of every citizen of the valley, but the laws forbade a citizen from associating with those condemned to the sacrifice.
And here was our old acquaintance the Waba Pagatka guarding the passage with a file of his soldiers, all fully armed. Protest was useless, and so helpless did we feel that our eyes, as we gazed at one another, were filled with black despair.
We went out and wandered aimlessly around the temple enclosure. Even the grounds outside the wing where our friends were confined were now guarded, so we were unable to approach them from that side.
The sky was growing blacker and more threatening. Not a breath of air stirred. Even the birds had ceased to sing. There was a mystical hush in the atmosphere that was appalling. The priests going to and fro between the temple and their palace noted these unusual portents and turned frightened glances upward, as if seeking to propitiate their angry god.
I wondered if, seeing there was no sun, and therefore no sunset, the sacrifice would be postponed; but before long my doubts were set at rest. The fatuous priests were even hurrying the ceremonies, for presently a gorgeous procession issued from the palace.
All the members of their order were in full regalia, the silver emblems of the sun glittering on their breasts. In their midst walked, or rather tottered, Nux and Bryonia, the two gigantic blacks being so weak that they could scarcely move without assistance. Their hands were tied securely behind their backs. Afterward we learned that the anæsthetic perfume had again been employed to render all our friends unconscious and incapable of resisting. Then Nux and Bry had been bound and carried out before they had fully revived.
At the same time that the procession of priests issued forth, marching with stately tread despite their nervous fears, a similar procession of the Virgins of the Sun, with Ama at their head, appeared from the opposite enclosure.
The iron gates had been thrown wide and a vast concourse of people had assembled to witness the sacrifice. They stood silent and watchful, for none was permitted to enter the temple until the priestesses and priests had taken their places within.
A short distance from the entrance the two files united, side by side approaching the sacred edifice.
Paul, Chaka and I stood silently by, helplessly watching the terrible ceremony. I strained my eyes for a last sight of my faithful followers, believing their doom to be sealed.
The procession had begun to mount the steps of the temple when a subdued roaring sound became audible, followed by a crash resembling a thunder-clap. The ground heaved up before us and sent us all three sprawling upon our faces. Crash after crash now resounded throughout the valley and I sprang to my feet in time to see part of the great temple wall bend outward and fall in a mass of debris. Rocks from the near-by wall of the mountain began to rattle down like hailstones and the darkness was even greater than before.
“Ama!” cried Paul; and “Ama!” shrieked Chaka in return; but they could not go to her at the moment, hard as they tried. We clung together like drunken men, striving for a foothold while the ground rolled and groaned beneath our feet and our ears were filled with the screams of women and the hoarse cries of men. Priests and priestesses were flying in every direction, and we saw Ama the center of a group of maidens that managed to gain their enclosure and slam shut the gates—as if that would do any good, or shut out the awful earthquake! It relieved both Paul and Chaka, however, to know the girl was safe.
The people who had gathered for the sacrifice suffered most, I think, for they were massed together and only those on the outskirts could scuttle away through the streets, where many met death from falling walls and rocks. The moans of the maimed and dying were blood curdling, and I could hardly bear to hear them.
“Quick!” I gasped; “let us find Nux and Bry.”
I knew, of course, we were experiencing another earthquake—a frightful one this time—but there was nothing we could do for ourselves or others, unless we might find and save the blacks.
This proved not difficult. We came across them at the steps of the ruined temple, Bry lying flat while Nux knelt beside him, still bound. The priests had deserted them in the attempt to save their own lives. In a flash I whipped out my knife and set both the poor fellows free. We then raised Bry, to find he was stunned but very little hurt. Between us we supported them, trying to make our way back to our quarters.
Parts of the palace of the priests had split open or caved in, but our one-story wing seemed not to have suffered from the quake, which was by this time reduced to a few minor tremors.
Being afraid to enter the palace—from whence guards and priests had alike fled—we reached the window outside our wing and our shouts brought the pallid faces of Joe and Archie to the opening. We hoisted Bry up to them and they dragged him bodily into the room. Nux was able to climb in himself, and Paul, Chaka and I quickly followed.
“Where’s Ned?” I asked, looking around.
“He went out to skirmish for you,” said Joe. “We’ve all been out, during the worst of it, but Archie and I thought you’d get back here as soon as you could, and we concluded it’s just as safe here as anywhere.”
“Guess the city’s pretty well broken up,” added Archie, gazing from the window into the blackness that was only relieved by the glow from the light within our room. “I’ve seen earthquakes in my day, but this beats all that—” He stopped with a sort of gasp and a moment later cried out: “It’s him! Gee willikins—it’s him!”
“Who?” we exclaimed, running to the opening.
Limping slowly toward the wing and supported by Ned Britton came Pedro, who we supposed had been sacrificed to the Sun-God the evening before. His clothes were torn nearly to shreds and there was a look of terror and suffering on his face that was pitiable to behold as the dim light struck it.
Paul leaped out to assist Ned in hoisting the Mexican to the window ledge, and we others drew him in as tenderly as we could. He sank on a couch with a moan, limp as a rag.
We gave him water first, and then a swallow of spirits from Paul’s flask, but when we questioned him he stared at us silently and shook his head.
“Where did you find him?” some one asked Ned.
“Beside the temple. The wall had fallen down and a big part of the marble floor heaved up and then tumbled into a cellar underneath. I had an idea Nux and Bry might be in the ruins, and while I peered about me a head was pushed up from the cellar and I recognized Pedro. It gave me a shock, I can tell you, for we thought he was dead. The marble blocks were yet rocking and tilting pretty lively, but I made a dash and dragged Pedro out to a safer place. He was nearly done up, but I managed to get him here, as you see.”
CHAPTER XXIII
WE BECOME AGGRESSIVE
After a little time the Mexican began to recover his self possession, and with it his tongue. We found he was nearly starved, so we fed him sparingly and gave him a bit more of the spirits. By and by, a little at a time he told his story.
His struggles with the priests was much as we had heard it described, except in one important particular. Pedro fought so desperately that he dismayed his opponents, and during the mêlée one of them touched a spring that released a trap in the floor, precipitating the Mexican into a dark cellar underneath. When freed of his weight the block of stone swung into place again, and he found himself in a veritable dungeon, so far as light and air were concerned.
The cowardly priests left him there, announcing that he had been sacrificed, as they feared to admit to the people that he had gotten the best of them in the fight. Pedro’s leg had been hurt by the fall, and it caused him a good deal of pain. The air was close and damp and full of musty odors.
After a time the prisoner began to crawl around, and found the place was used partly as a storehouse, as it contained many bales and parcels of various wares. Having a few matches in his pocket Pedro lighted one of them and right before his face discovered our electrites and storage-battery belts, all in a heap. He hunted around for our gas-jackets, but they were not there. When his matches gave out he lay still in the dark and wondered what would happen to him. Probably the priests intended he should starve to death, and he was getting weak and hungry when the earthquake came. The earth swayed all around him, the building crumbled away and the marble floor heaved up and burst open, many of the marble blocks dropping into the cellar—fortunately not in his neighborhood. Pedro was frightened nearly out of his wits, but seeing dimly that a way of escape had opened up he climbed upon a heap of marble, stuck out his head, and found Ned Britton watching him.
When he had drawn this story from the Mexican—and it took him a long time to tell it—we decided to assume the defensive and aggressive and take a firm stand against the priesthood, our most vicious enemies.
The cries and moans of the stricken ones were gradually dying away and white robed priests began to steal back to their dwelling—such as had escaped injury, that is.
We examined the doorway to our wing and found the heavy metal doors that sealed it from communication with the rest of the palace. Preferring to have them remain open we managed to bend and wedge them in such a way that they could not again be closed upon us, as had been done when our comrades had been overcome by the anæsthetic. We fixed the metal window-slide the same way, and being now assured that we could no longer be confined in the room against our will we held a council to decide our future actions.
Presently there came to us the tall, thin priest whom we had noted as one in authority under the aged High Priest. His face was shrunken and his eyes, shrewd and roving in expression, were sunk in great hollows. His lips were so thin that they did not cover his protruding teeth and on his chin was a straggling beard of dark red. This fellow—his name was Katalat—had attracted our notice not only because of his repulsive appearance but for the reason that all the other priests deferred to him and he was openly antagonistic to our party. He had had little to say to us until now, but when he came into our room he cast a vengeful, vindictive glance around and said:
“The great god is very angry. See how he has punished us for not sacrificing all of you, and at once!”
“See how he has punished you for daring to harm any of us,” I retorted angrily. “If your god had desired our lives he would not have saved us from injury and destroyed so many of your own people.”
He looked at me wickedly. I think he was clever enough to know that the sun had nothing whatever to do with the earthquake.
“The noble High Priest Pentchakoma is dead,” he announced.
“That’s bad!” said Paul, heartily. “Did the earthquake frighten the old man, then?”
“The roof fell upon him. And now I, Katalat, have by our laws become High Priest in his stead.”
“Has Ama appointed you so soon?” inquired Paul.
“The High Priestess has nothing to do with the appointment. It is the law,” he retorted.
“But she is the Supreme Ruler,” said Chaka. “If she does not approve—”
“She must approve!” cried Katalat fiercely. “Otherwise—”
“Well, what then?” asked Paul, as he paused.
The telephone bell rang. We had placed the instrument just outside our room, in the passage, so it would be convenient to the priests and to us. I started to answer the summons, but the priest blocked my way.
“Stop!” he commanded. “I forbid you to communicate again with the High Priestess.”
Paul nodded to Ned, who reached out an arm, grabbed Katalat by the collar and whirled him into a corner, where the big mate stood guard over him.
“Answer the telephone, Sam,” said Allerton.
As I went I heard the priest vowing dire vengeance. It was Ama calling as I had expected.
“Are you—is—is—are any of you hurt?” she inquired, stammering in her anxiety.
“No; we are all safe. And you, Ama?”
“I am broken hearted! My poor people! My poor city!”
“Never mind,” said I. “The city can be fixed up again and more people will grow. Do you want us?”
“Not now. Come to me early to-morrow.”
“We will if the priests let us. There’s an ugly fellow here now, named Katalat, who says he’s the new High Priest and forbids our seeing you again.”
There was a brief silence.
“Beware of Katalat,” Ama said, in a hesitating voice. “I fear trouble ahead for us all. Come to-morrow, if you can—all of you.”
Then she severed the connection and I went back to make my report.
“Boys,” said I, “we’d better settle with this High Priest right now—for good and all.”
“In what way?” asked Paul.
“By wringing his neck.” Then, still speaking in English, I repeated what Ama had said.
“But we can’t murder him in cold blood,” remarked our leader, looking at Katalat thoughtfully; “nor can we allow him to lead a rebellion against us, and perhaps against Ama.”
“Let us keep him a prisoner until morning,” suggested Chaka, in his quiet way. “After we have seen the Supreme Ruler we can better decide what to do with him.”
That seemed good advice, so we told Archie and Joe to bind the priest and gag him. He fought desperately at first, but Joe had a ju-jutsu trick that quickly laid old Katalat on his back, and Archie stuffed a cloth into his mouth and silenced his cries. One or two priests, hearing the scrimmage, came pattering along the passage, but Paul and Chaka met them and sent them away again.