“Who, then, is master; my Uncle Datchapa or Chaka?” he demanded.
There was no response.
Chaka turned and came back to us.
“Do not fear,” he said in English. “My people will obey me. Come; let us go.”
We gathered up our traps and followed the new atkayma to where his warriors stood awaiting us. I observed that they regarded us who were white with a disdain that was scarcely tolerant and decidedly uncomfortable. Nux and Bryonia, however, won favor immediately—doubtless because of their color; perhaps for their imposing forms and composed demeanor. The latter was not unlike a notable characteristic of the Itzaex warriors.
Paul, who headed us, placed his right hand on the left shoulder of the chieftain Gatcha, which was the native salutation of peace and friendship. The old fellow seemed pleased and gravely responded. I followed suit, understanding this custom was expected, and so we all in turn saluted the warrior, who we afterward discovered was the most famous general of the nation.
Then, without more ado, we started away, our party occupying a central position beside the Atkayma Chaka, who stalked along with a newly assumed dignity that was rather amusing, although I must admit the boy had always displayed considerable dignity.
The Itzaex had doubtless seen white men before, or at least heard of them; yet I am sure the peculiar manner in which we were garbed astonished them. Not that they allowed themselves to show surprise; they were too phlegmatic for that; but even this secluded race realized that no such queer rigging was ever worn by human creatures before, white or black, and since they had no reason to laugh at us they must have been impressed with the fact that we were distinctly unusual.
Any present danger to us seemed now eliminated, for with this superb escort we would surely be able to penetrate to the heart of Itzlan, where the capital city called Itza was located. Two days’ journey from here, Chaka had called it; but the Itzaex marched with such long, swinging strides that they covered the ground more rapidly than we have been able to do before.
We held no unnecessary converse with one another on the trail, not being anxious to appear as chatterboxes before these silent natives; but when we had camped for the night in another small clearing, which we reached at dusk, we gathered in a group and in English talked over the day’s adventures and our future prospects. Chaka came and sat with us after he had indulged in a somewhat lengthy interview with Gatcha the chief, and he looked rather solemn and thoughtful.
“My father was out hunting with a small party of twelve,” said he, “when the Mopanes, who had long been lying in ambush, seized and assassinated him. One warrior made escape and aroused the City, so Gatcha gathered his men and gave chase. Before he left Itza, however, the chief tells me that my Uncle Datchapa, believing me to be dead, as had my father, caused himself to be proclaimed atkayma. That is bad, my friends, for now Datchapa will not be glad to see me.”
“Is he as bad as that?” I asked.
“My Uncle Datchapa,” returned Chaka, slowly, “is an old man, and a wise man as well. He has renown as a warrior and a statesman, and my people respect him greatly. Also he is ambitious, and as a boy my mother warned me to avoid him, lest he seek my death that he might succeed my father as atkayma. Gatcha, who has no love for Datchapa, but fears him, tells me my father also watched his ambitious brother carefully, being afraid to trust him at the head of the army. Gatcha is not sure that my uncle did not secretly send for the Mopanes and then induce the Atkayma Tcheltzada to hunt with a handful of followers. If this is true—but I hope it is not true—then Datchapa will be much disappointed when I return.”
“Never mind,” said Paul, soothingly. “My brother Chaka is the royal one.”
“Also is Datchapa royal,” was the reply. “He is my father’s brother. But our laws forbid him to become atkayma as long as his brother’s son lives.”
“Then we must be careful,” I suggested.
“It is not for myself, Cap’n Sam, that I fear,” returned Chaka, “but for my white comrades. Datchapa, wicked and ambitious as he is, dare not oppose me openly. But he is Chief of the Council, which directs our laws, and he may show enmity to my white friends and try to arouse the people to destroy them.”
“In that case,” said Joe, “I advise you to clap your precious uncle into jail as soon as you arrive. It will be the safest plan.”
Chaka made no answer to this.
We now began to appreciate the advantages of the gauze protectors with which Paul had supplied us, perhaps at Chaka’s suggestion. The natives had promptly built smudge fires of damp forest leaves, in order to drive back the hordes of mosquitoes and other insects that settled in the camp as soon as we did. My, how those mosquitoes did sing! The Itzaex, accustomed as they were to the pests, squirmed and swatted the blood-suckers continually, while we in our armor and head-gear were proof against attack. Chaka himself, who had seemed until now too proud to pose before his people in any foreign attire, hastily assumed his outfit and slept in it all night. Old Gatcha the chief, who proved not a bad fellow on better acquaintance, frankly expressed his admiration for our devices and asked if we had any more “cages” in the chests. Since we could not accommodate him he lay down naked beside the smudge of a fire and let the winged vampires bleed him at their leisure.
All were up bright and early next morning and so swift was our progress during the day that when we again made camp Chaka assured us we were but three hours’ journey from the capital.
During this day we passed no villages, being told that the great City of Itza was the only congregation of dwellings on this side of their territory. To the west and south were a dozen or more important towns, with cultivated fields and orchards connecting them; but ages of warfare with the fierce Mopanes had taught them the danger of establishing villages in this district. Itza really served as a barrier, it being too populous and powerful to be attacked.
Chaka estimated the total population of Itzlan at over fifty thousand people, while the Mopanes could number no more than ten thousand, all told. This border warfare, however, was regarded as a mere incident in life by the Itzaex, who had other foes at the opposite borders of their domain. Nor did they devote all their time to fighting; they were mighty hunters and fishermen, as well as skilled in agriculture and certain crude manufacturers. According to the youthful atkayma there were no other tribes in Yucatan so powerful and civilized as the Itzaex, and I am inclined to think he was right.
By the way, the similarity of the names Aztec and Itzaex has induced some scholars to think they were originally one and the same race; but the earliest conquistadors, who knew both people, declared that the Itzaex were much the handsomer and more intelligent people, although their buildings and civilization were somewhat inferior to those of the race of Montezuma. We must take into consideration, however, the fact that the Spaniards were never able to penetrate far into Itzlan, while they conquered the Aztec territory with comparative ease—by the aid of treachery and audacious trickery.
On the second morning we were up before the dawn and a brisk march brought us presently to a broad, flat plateau that was very beautiful and enticing, as its green fields and waving grain lay glimmering in the sun. We were all glad to be out of the dark forests, and before long, on mounting an incline, we saw before us the white, low buildings of a vast city, built around the shores of a placid lake and shaded by groups of magnificent trees.
The extent of this great City of Itza amazed us all, and Chaka smiled proudly as he pointed out the royal palace, the great temple, and the strong walls and gateways.
On nearer approach the whiteness of the buildings became more grimy and weather-stained and the houses were found to be generally small and greatly scattered. We afterward learned that Itza has a population of nearly twenty thousand, which is certainly an extensive settlement to be hidden in the wilds of Yucatan. The walls included not only the buildings but the lake itself, and were thick and strong if not very high.
Beyond the city we saw for the first time the sierras, the highest mountains in the peninsula. It was mainly a range of rounded knolls, most of them being covered with verdure and easily accessible. Directly in the center, however, were four small rocky peaks and one towering one that seemed to rise into the clouds. The sides of the latter mountain seemed precipitous and formed of straight walls of rock.
Runners had been sent forward and before we reached the walls of Itza people came pouring out of the nearest gate in a dense throng, every eye being set in our direction. There was no confusion or excitement apparent—I wonder if an Itzaex ever could get excited?—but they plainly showed their interest in their newly discovered youthful atkayma by trooping out to meet him.
And Chaka received a right royal welcome.
Men, women and children “bit the dust,” as Archie said, by prostrating themselves before him. The boy looked very handsome in his gleaming copper skin and the single heron feather set in his hair, and he walked into his hereditary kingdom as proud as a peacock, as well he might.
Just within the gates stood an impatient group clad in flowing robes embroidered with colored feather work. I think I omitted saying that most of the people of the city wore single loose robes similar to the togas of the ancient Greeks or the burnous of the Egyptians. Only those engaged in hunting or upon an expedition of war cast aside all covering but the loin cloth.
A curious fact which I observed was that all the robes were of colors or tints. Among the common people dark blues and purples were much affected. The merchants and middle classes, including the warriors, wore greens and yellows. The nobility adopted delicate shades of lavender, rose and saffron. I saw no red, as yet. Pure white was reserved for the royal family alone, and the foremost figure in the group I have mentioned was an old man arrayed in soft flowing white and bearing over his arm another garment of like texture and color.
As Chaka entered the gate this ancient dignitary—I knew at once it was his precious Uncle Datchapa—raised an arm to bar his way and gazed shrewdly into the young man’s countenance. It did not take long to convince him, for in a moment he threw the extra robe over Chaka’s head and then knelt before him as the others had done. All the group, members of the nobility and the royal council, followed suit, and there they remained until the new atkayma bade them rise.
It seemed to me that we, Chaka’s friends and comrades, were somewhat important and distinguished ourselves, and entitled to consideration; but old Datchapa and his backers disregarded us utterly, affecting to ignore our presence. We stuck stubbornly at the atkayma’s heels and except for his uncle, whom he retained at his side, all the other big bugs were forced to fall into the procession behind us.
A procession it really became now. Musicians were present who blew weird sounds upon reed flutes and beat tom-toms to keep us all in step. The streets were lined with spectators, who uttered no cheers of welcome but fell on their faces automatically as Chaka approached and rose again when he had passed on. It seemed as if we tramped miles and miles before the royal progress finally reached the shores of the lake, where stood the palace. It was a great, rambling building, two stories high and built of blocks of rough marble with pillars and ornaments showing much clever carving.
Chaka mounted the broad steps to the entrance and then turned and addressed the crowd. He told them how he had been carried away from Yucatan nine years before and of how he had managed to return. He praised his “white brothers” for their noble assistance and introduced Allerton to them especially, placing his hand on Paul’s shoulder in token of his friendship. He then expressed his joy at beholding again his native land, his sorrow at the terrible death of his beloved father, the former atkayma, and his intention of ruling his people wisely and with consideration. He called upon them to prove their allegiance and pledge their support at all times to their royal ruler, the Child of the Gods, who promised to protect them in return.
They answered the speech by raising their right arms and shouting a single word: “Kaym!”[2] in unison, after which the throng quietly dispersed.
Posed just before the entrance door to the palace I had noticed three interesting figures which, during the proceedings, had remained motionless as statues. They were all three tall and imposing, with sharp, thin features and alert eyes. Their robes were of a blood-red color and had a cape or broad collar of white. Upon their heads they wore high, round, brimless hats of white feather-work, the first headdresses of any sort I had seen.
Chaka now turned to this trio and knelt humbly before them. One after another placed a hand upon his bent head and muttered a few words, after which they all three turned and disappeared through a small doorway.
The atkayma remained kneeling for several moments, while we stood watching him. Then he soberly regained his feet and motioned to us to approach.
“Follow me closely,” he said in English. “There is danger all about you, so try to be discreet, my brothers.”
Then he entered the broad arch that led into the palace.
As compared with the palaces of civilized nations I cannot say much in favor of Chaka’s royal dwelling. When I consider that it existed in the heart of an isolated, practically unknown wilderness, I admit it was something to win approval. It must have been centuries old, for the mark of ages was upon it everywhere, as it was upon most of the buildings of Itza. Built of square blocks of a coarse and unpolished but durable marble, set with cement, there had been little attempt at architectural display on the part of the builders. The palace covered nearly an acre, having several wings which had been added at different periods. The interior was cool but dirty; the walls and floors had never been scrubbed, I imagine. The ceilings of the main floor were so low that I could reach up and touch them; those on the second floor, to which we ascended by means of a narrow, steep stair without a rail, were more lofty.
The place was full of servants, officials and hangers-on; but Chaka managed to recognize the chief steward, or whatever he was called, and after a brief interview with that factotum had us ushered into a big bare room on the second floor, in one of the wings.
We took our precious chests with us, of course, and prepared to camp. That’s the right word to use, for the only furniture in the room was a row of stone benches around the wall. Aside from the doorway were two outside openings intended for windows, over which a network of vines grew, keeping out the sun but admitting light and air and permitting us to get a limited view of the street. Over the doorway hung a sort of portiere of wool and feather-work, gorgeously colored. The chamber was a primitive abode, indeed, yet we approved it because our position could be defended and we knew not what to expect from the bigoted, unresponsive Itzaex.
Relying on Chaka’s ability to protect time, at least, we now divested ourselves of our bulky equipment. That was a distinct relief, for it was the first time since leaving the ship that we had lain it aside. We replaced it with thin white duck trousers and jackets which we had brought along for such an occasion in one of the chests. Ned Britton proposed strolling out and seeing the town, but Allerton thought it wiser to remain where we were until we had word from Chaka.
About noon a troop of Indian girls entered, bearing food in various pots and earthen dishes which they set upon the floor before us. I have remarked upon the beauty of the male Itzaex, but I must confess their women are not up to the standard. Nearly all are short and dumpish in form, with dull eyes and apathetic countenances. I never saw a pretty Itzaex girl while I was there.
The food was plentiful and of good quality, but poorly seasoned and carelessly cooked. The meats were mutton or wild game, supplemented by various vegetables such as rice, barley and a root resembling turnip. The bread was heavy and tough; but we managed to eat it, nevertheless, and I am sure we ought to have been satisfied for the feast was as good as the natives were able to provide.
After dinner we waited in vain for Chaka to come to us. As the hours rolled by Allerton began to be uneasy and disturbed. Not until the sun had sunk low upon the horizon and we had come to heartily detest the blank walls of our room did our friend, the atkayma, finally appear. He seemed grave and thoughtful as he entered, and after a word of greeting he squatted on the floor before us.
“They have kept me busy,” he said in English. “I could not come before. There have been councils and discussions all day. Just now I have come from the great temple, where the priests have been telling me my duty.”
“Poor Brother!” said Paul. “It is not easy to be a king.”
Chaka shrugged his shoulders.
“Not that, Brother Paul,” said he. “But it is not easy to run against the traditions of an ancient people, to defy a powerful priesthood and stand alone against a nation.”
“Have you done that, Chaka?”
“I had to do it. Otherwise you would all now be dead.”
“Do they object to us so strongly?” I asked.
“White men,” said the atkayma, “centuries ago deceived my people, who destroyed them. Never since have they permitted a white man to penetrate into their country. Their one great hatred—greater than that for the Mopanes—is this hatred of the whites. When I, as the head of the nation, brought you here, the people submitted reluctantly; but now they demand your death—that you be sacrificed upon the funeral pyre of my murdered father. It is the custom to sacrifice to the gods on such an occasion.”
“I suppose your precious uncle is at the bottom of this,” remarked Archie.
“He has induced the priests to demand you as sacrifices. I have just come from the great temple, which is on an island in the lake. The priests will not listen to my protests. They are determined to destroy the hated white men and the blacks who are with them. According to our law no strangers may exist in our land or leave it alive.”
“We’ll show them a trick or two,” remarked Ned Britton, smiling.
Chaka hesitated; then he added:
“The priests and the council have hinted that unless you are all delivered up to them at daybreak to-morrow morning, when my father’s body is to be cremated with much ceremony, they will assassinate me, their atkayma, and place my uncle at the head of the nation.”
We looked at one another a little bewildered at this. Chaka had misjudged his power over these stubborn people, and a serious complication had unexpectedly arisen.
“In that case,” said Allerton slowly, “something must be done to-night.”
Chaka nodded, but made no other reply. He sat on the stone floor, swaddled in his robe of royalty and hugging his knees in a very unroyal attitude. Paul eyed him thoughtfully, likewise refraining from speech. We others knew it was an occasion when we were not called upon to interfere with the promoters of the expedition.
Gradually the sun sank. After a brief twilight darkness flooded the room. We were growing impatient when Chaka slowly arose and said:
“Come, my Brother Paul. Also you, Cap’n Sam; and Cap’n Joe, as well. We must talk. It will be a small council. My other friends will remain here and wait for us.”
“I don’t like dividing our party,” said I, doubtfully.
“There will be no division.”
“Where are you going, then?” asked Ned.
“To the roof above. Soon we will return. Wait.”
Allerton, Joe and I followed the atkayma to the door. Just outside another narrow stair led to a small opening through which I saw a starry sky. We ascended these stairs and stood upon a flat roof surrounded by a low parapet.
The sky was a clear blue, set with myriads of diamond stars. Already a full moon was rising above the city, shedding its soft light so broadly that we could clearly distinguish the surrounding landscape. The air was dry, hot and perfectly still.
“Yonder,” said Chaka in English, as he faced the south, “stands the great mountain of Aota. Around it are the four peaks of Gam. That country is barren and covered with rocks. There are secret caves in which dwell fierce animals with evil spirits, and deep wells that draw one to his death. So my people have always been told, and they believe the tale. No Itzaex ever go to those mountains; they are considered sacred to the spirits of evil.”
“And where lies the hidden city?” asked Paul, eagerly.
“In the very center of Aota, whose steep sides it is impossible for man to climb.”
“It can’t be a very big place,” I remarked.
“That mountain is bigger than it seems from here,” declared Joe.
“Yes,” said Chaka; “it is a big mountain, and in its center, so my father told me, is a big valley where all things beautiful grow and flourish. The people are not many as compared with the Itzaex. Perhaps they number a thousand—perhaps two thousand—I do not know. But they are a powerful race, descended from those who once came from Atlantis, and in their valley they find all that they need to support life.”
We stood looking thoughtfully at the barren, towering peak. No wonder elaborate preparations had been made to invade such a stronghold.
“I wish we had their gold and rubies without the trouble of going there,” I said.
“Well,” said Allerton, awakening to a more alert mood, “we haven’t; and the journey must be made. What do you propose, Chaka? Can we steal away from the city to-night and start toward Aota?”
The atkayma shook his head.
“Look!” said he, pointing below. “The walls are guarded by my warriors. I myself might easily pass through, but not the white people. Already the word has gone abroad that the priests demand your lives. The funeral pyre of the dead atkayma requires victims. My uncle has aroused public hatred against you and the Itzaex nation thirsts for your blood.”
“That’s pleasant,” commented Joe.
“But what’s the program, then?” I inquired. “We don’t agree to be murdered, of course, however thirsty your people may be. That isn’t what we came here for.”
“No,” said Chaka. “We have really little to fear. If my Brother Paul and my other friends approve, I will show them how we may escape.”
“Speak, my brother,” returned Paul.
“It is not wise to go to-night,” began Chaka, “for I do not know the way to the mountain very well. All I know is that by some means we must get to the top of Aota. There is no wind. If we ascend into the air now we will remain suspended over the city, except for the small progress we could make with our wings, which have never been tested. In this country a breeze always springs up in the morning. It blows from the north and the north-west. That would help to carry us away toward the mountain, or at least far away from the city.”
“But aren’t we to be burned on the funeral pyre at daybreak?” demanded Joe.
“At daybreak I am commanded to deliver you to the priests at the great temple,” said Chaka. “There will be many ceremonies. You will be taken to the top of the temple, which is a pyramid, and there, in the sight of the people below, you are to be slain. Afterward your bodies will be laid upon the funeral pyre. My plan is to allow all this to happen but the killing. We will inflate our gas-jackets in readiness and at the right time, while the breeze is blowing, mount into the air and escape.”
“Well, I’m game,” said I, drawing a long breath, for I saw exciting times ahead.
“I’m with you, Chaka,” added Joe in his quiet voice.
Allerton walked to the parapet and stood there several minutes, thinking deeply. Then he returned and placed his hand on Chaka’s shoulder.
“It is a good plan, my brother,” he said. “We will follow it to the end.”
We went below and told the others. Nux and Bryonia grinned and nodded as if they had been invited to attend a circus; Ned asked a few questions and said he was satisfied; Pedro shook his head and vowed it seemed “ver’ much danger” but he would go with the crowd. Archie was asleep and growled when we woke him up. “Settle it to suit yourselves,” he said, yawning. “I’m agreeable to anything but keeping awake all night.”
I’m ashamed to say I slept very soundly myself, worn out by our long journey and its excitements. I think every one slept, for that matter, unless it was the Mexican. When the atkayma went away he sent us some soft mats which we spread upon the benches and reclined upon.
It was still dark when Chaka again aroused us. He was accompanied by two tall Itzaex in red robes, who bore lighted torches. A group of Indian maids came behind them with a simple breakfast of fruits and milk.
We first ate and then proceeded to don our equipment. There was a word of protest from one of the priests, but Chaka silenced him and to the amazement of the torch-bearers calmly began to put on his own gas-jacket and electrite outfit. He refrained from assuming the head-gear and threw his ample robe over the other fittings, thus effectually hiding them. I believe these priests, shrewd as they seemed, were wholly unable to guess what our strange apparel was for. After all, it matter little to them, so long as we came quietly to our fate.
When finally we were fully equipped and the surplus material had been packed into a chest, the atkayma produced a small but very strong cord made from hemp, with which he proceeded to loop us all together in a string, himself being attached to one end and Paul to the other. Archie began to protest at this, but Allerton told him it was intended as an additional safeguard.
Then we started on, the priests going first and Chaka following, drawing the rest of the string after him. The ropes had been left long enough for us to trundle the chests along easily, and so far as I was concerned the only uncomfortable thing was my wings, which kept getting in my way. These had been left to dangle at our sides until such time as we chose to thrust our arms through the loops, in order to use them for flying. In their folded state they did not resemble wings at all, and although the Itzaex prided themselves on never showing a trace of curiosity I am quite sure we had them guessing in more ways than one.
Once outside the palace we found a great concourse of natives awaiting us, headed by some twenty red-robed priests. In spite of the evil looks cast upon us there was no insulting word or jibe uttered. I gave the Itzaex credit for saving their breath when it was not needed.
Although the sky had now begun to lighten and all near-by objects were fairly distinct, the torches were still carried ahead as we began our march. This was brief. Soon we came to the lake and were led upon a large flat-boat which at once set out for the temple, urged by a score of rowers with long paddles. The people tumbled into hundreds of other craft, big and little, and followed at our heels.
Arriving at the island the priests took us in charge and escorted us up the steep steps forming the side of the great temple.
This was the largest building in Itza. It was shaped like a pyramid, with steps on all four sides leading to the flat top, some hundred feet from the base. Openings here and there showed that the center of the pyramid was divided into rooms, where the priests doubtless dwelt and held their secret rites and ceremonies. All great public events, such as our proposed carving, were held on top the temple in plain view of the populace gathered below.
Just as we had reached the top—a long and weary climb—the sun rose red over the horizon, and at once there was a clang of gongs and bells and a shrill blowing upon many conch-shells. While this lasted—a full minute, perhaps—we quietly gazed about us.
We stood upon a platform about fifty feet square, the outer edge being lined with priests standing in statuesque attitudes. In the very center of the place was a cube of marble with a hollow space at the top, in which lay a glistening knife. It was not a pretty sight, I assure you, and for an instant it made me shudder.
Now the priests set up a low chant, while at the bottom of the steps appeared the three patriarchs I had noticed at the palace the day before. This was the holy triumvirate, and they ascended with dignified deliberation while the multitude below and those still occupying the fleet of boats all prostrated themselves reverently.
“It’s time to inflate the gas-jackets, boys,” whispered Allerton.
He uncorked a canteen of water and saturated the crystals of themlyne in his case, afterward handing the canteen to me. One by one we all followed suit, while the chanting priests eyed us doubtfully but forbore to interfere. The gas generated freely and began to fill the hollow jackets, which swelled until we were just able to keep our feet on the platform. Pedro let in a little too much, and would have floated had not Chaka quickly shut off the valve and released some of the excess gas. Pedro, frightened at his own buoyancy, managed to regain his feet with difficulty, and the incident made the priests surrounding us all the more suspicious.
“Are your electrites ready?” inquired Paul.
We nodded.
“Use them if necessary,” he commanded.
Then we waited. I looked anxiously for the promised breeze, which so far had failed to put in an appearance. But it was yet early.
Slowly the holy three mounted the steps and we were all ready for them when they arrived at the top. Scarcely glancing at us they turned to the people and commanded them to rise, an order that was speedily obeyed.
Then one of the three began a harangue in a loud impressive voice. He said they were gathered to witness a sad and solemn but most important ceremony, decreed by the all-wise gods of their fathers. The former atkayma, the noble and wise Tcheltzada, a direct descendent of the gods, who had ruled the nation for many years, had finally met his fate fighting nobly against their enemies the Mopanes, who had beheaded him. By the command of the royal Datchapa a terrible revenge had been taken upon the murderers and the noble victim’s head and body had been recovered. These now lay at the foot of the pyramid on the funeral pyre, and in order to please and propitiate the gods, who had loved and cherished the great Tcheltzada, a number of strangers, including several of the hated white people, were to be slain and their blood sprinkled upon the ashes of the lamented atkayma. All this in honor not alone of the dead, but of his son the new Atkayma Chaka and his most holy brother, the wise and esteemed Datchapa, who as leader of the royal council had decreed the interesting ceremony that was about to take place.
I could see how cleverly the priests favored old Datchapa by giving him the credit of catering to the people’s hatred and lust for blood. It boded ill for Atkayma Chaka’s future that his wiley uncle practically controlled the powerful priesthood.
As the chief priest concluded his speech he turned about and asked:
“Who condemns these prisoners to the sacrifice?”
“I do,” answered a voice, as Datchapa stepped from behind a row of priests. “As head of the Royal Council of Itzlan I condemn these prisoners to be slain and their blood mingled with the ashes of Tcheltzada—if the gods consent to accept the tribute.”
At this all eyes were fixed upon an ugly little image of the god Bacáb, which was perched upon a shelf about midway up the front of the pyramid.
“Do the gods so consent?” demanded Chaka in a loud voice, taking his part in the ceremony.
The three priests knelt and stretched their arms toward the grinning Bacáb, and to my astonishment the image nodded its head in a very natural way.
“The gods consent!” cried aloud the three, in unison.
At that moment I saw Chaka protrude the nozzle of his electrite from his robe and point it at his uncle. Every other eye was at that instant turned intently upon the horrible figure of the god.
Suddenly old Datchapa threw up his arms and toppled backward. He was standing near the edge of the platform, so the people might observe his dignified form as he condemned the prisoners, and the result of his fall was that he began to bound down the steps in an inert heap, slowly at first and then with more rapid bumps and leaps until at last he fairly rose into the air and tumbled full upon the funeral pyre of the defunct Tcheltzada.
A cry of horror went up as priests and populace alike observed this dreadful scene, none able to interfere. If the gods approved the sacrifice it seemed like a queer way of attesting their delight.
There had been no sound of firearms, nothing to indicate from whence came the blow that had felled the royal Datchapa. While the consternation was at its height Chaka cried aloud:
“The gods disapprove! Beware, oh, Priests, the vengeance of the gods!”
For a silent, repressed people, the Itzaex now indulged in as near an approach to pandemonium as they will ever come. Some of the natives sided with the priests and some against them. The priests themselves were frantic with anger not unmixed with fear, and shrewdly realized their prestige was at this moment in sore jeopardy. Moreover, Chaka’s attitude was defiant; he claimed the whites as his friends, and whatever strange thing had happened to Datchapa might logically be attributed to his doing.
In a fit of unreasoning fury one of the triumvirate caught up the knife from the altar and leaping full upon the young atkayma strove to plunge it into his heart. The armor prevented the blade from penetrating, but the impact knocked Chaka from his feet and priest and potentate were now rolling together dangerously near to the steps. Ned caught Chaka’s leg and saved him, and as the priest clung to his victim and again raised the wicked blade to strike I sent a charge from my electrite against him and he quit the struggle then and there.
But it was war, now, and no mistake. With a savage growl the whole posse of priests was upon us, and what we did in the next few seconds startled us almost as much as it did our audience. Every man brought his electrite into full play and we mowed down the red-robed rascals like blades of grass. So effective was the electric current discharged that the victims had no time to even gasp: they simply tumbled down and lay still. Moreover, the charge spread at such close quarters, like small shot from a blunderbus, and one charge sometimes paralyzed three, or even four, at a time. A few fell upon the steps, but none experienced the sensational descent of old Datchapa. Before we realized it the platform was cluttered with motionless bodies and not one enemy remained erect or animate.
Our remarkable victory ought to have won the admiration and applause of the people; but it didn’t. On the contrary the natives burst into a hoarse roar of ferocious rage and with a single impulse started up the pyramid.
From all sides they rushed, vengeful and furious, and we decided not to await their coming.
“Turn on the stop-cocks and let more gas into your jackets,” said Paul. “Be careful not to get too much—just enough to float us comfortably.”
“Where’s the breeze?” I asked as I obeyed.
“Never mind the breeze. Let’s get off this hill.”
“How about the chests, sir?” inquired Ned.
“Chaka and I will inflate their coverings. Hurry, my lads—there’s no time to lose.”
Roped together as we were it was funny to see the effect of adding to the gas already in our jackets. Nux and Bryonia, accustomed to prompt obedience, were first to float, and each held on to a chest until that, too, was rendered light enough to float. Ned and his chest soared next; then Archie, Joe and I went up. Pedro’s chest started upward and he lost hold of its handles. I don’t know whatever would have become of that precious box had not Archie grabbed its wheel as it went by and held on to it like grim death. Next moment Chaka and Allerton together left the top of the pyramid; but something was wrong with Pedro; he could not find the cock that admitted the gas to his jacket.
He was roped between Bryonia and Ned, and his weight threatened to hold us all anchored when Paul and Chaka, on the ends of the string, appreciating the danger, turned more gas into their own jackets and drew big Pedro gradually off his feet. Slowly—too slowly, altogether—we rose into the air.
The Itzaex, during this time, had been scrambling up the sides of the pyramid. Now the foremost to reach the top, a big, powerful fellow, made a leap and grasped Pedro by the leg, anchoring the lot of us again, although the Indian could not drag us down, but hung clinging while Pedro swore and kicked at him with the other foot.
I thought this was a good time to work my electrite, and down fell the Indian, crumpling several of his fellows who had rushed forward to help him, while our anxious bunch gained new headway and slowly mounted skyward. Ned found the supply cock and gave Pedro’s jacket its full allowance of gas; so now we kept together better and were soon a good fifty feet above our starting place and perhaps a hundred and fifty feet above the ground of the island.
“That’s high enough,” said Paul. “Press the valves gently, each one of you, and let out gas until we cease to rise—but not enough to start a descent.”
We did the best we could, but some of course blundered and lost too much gas, being then obliged to let in a new supply. Finally, however, we had both the chests and ourselves in a condition of “statue quo” and hung motionless just above the pyramid. It was a queer sensation to be “up in the air” like this. I felt a bit dizzy at first, and I noticed poor Pedro kept his eyes shut as if afraid to look down.
Few of the Itzaex were armed that day, as none had expected a fight; so except for a few darts hurled toward us with uncertain aim we were not molested. It was interesting, though, to look down and see that great pyramid black with human beings who stood in amaze watching our aerial exhibition. The Itzaex are not easily astonished, but I’m sure we had them going just then, and small wonder.
“Here comes the breeze!” cried Paul, suddenly. “Get your wings ready, lads, and head for that tall mountain. Now—all together!”
The breeze came almost directly from the north and caught us so abruptly that it fluttered our string of adventures like rags on a clothesline before we collected our wits and made ready to take advantage of it. I got my arms through the loops, spread my wings and tried my best to flop them as a bird would.
I now realized the wisdom of connecting us together, for we were all new to the use of these curious wings and worked them in so many diverse ways that had we been independent of one another we soon would have become hopelessly separated. As it was, the more successful flyers dragged on the others, and the wind impartially dragged us all on together; so after a few moments, when I remembered to look back, I found the pyramid and its mass of humanity a good mile distant.