As she spoke a faint and distant sound fell upon our ears—such a sound as might have been made by a bell struck far away at night.
"That is how they will find us," he said, springing to his feet. "Do you hear, Ignatio? The dogs have hit our trail. Which way does our road run now, lady?"
"Along the banks of this stream."
"Then we must go forward in the water," said the señor, "it is our only chance, for the hounds cannot track us there."
Now we began to scramble down the bed of the stream as fast as the boulders and the weariness of Zibalbay would allow. Fortunately it was not a broad river, nor very deep, still sometimes we could hardly stand in the rapids, and twice, not daring to set foot upon the bank, we were forced to swim the length of the pools, which we did in terror fearing lest they should be haunted by alligators. For something over an hour we followed the stream thus, till suddenly Maya halted, saying that if we would gain the building where they had dwelt, we must leave the water and plunge into the forest. By now we were exhausted—indeed, unless he were carried, the old Indian Zibalbay could not have gone another mile; so, notwithstanding the danger of setting foot upon the land, on learning that the place was near and that food was to be found in it, we hesitated no longer, but once more began to thread the bush. Not more than three hundred paces from the banks of the river we came upon a high mound densely overgrown with trees, between the boles of which appeared masses of cut stone.
"This is the place," gasped Zibalbay. "Look, yonder above us are the walls of the temple, and here is the stairway that led to it," and he pointed to a long flight of crumbling stone, almost hidden in ferns and bushes, which stretched from the base of the pyramid to the ancient Indian fane on its crest. Up these steps we went with caution, for the climb was dangerous, Molas carrying Zibalbay upon his broad back, since so weary was he that the old Indian could mount them in no other fashion.
This staircase was built in three flights, the top flight, now almost entirely broken away, emerging on what once had been a broad and splendid terrace, but to–day was a chaos of stonework, in the crevices of which grew bushes and even large trees. Over the head of the stairway still stood a colossal arch sculptured with the figures of gods and beasts. This arch was in the last stage of decay—indeed the crown of it, a mass of masonry that must have weighed between one and two hundred tons, had been nearly separated from its supports by the action of time and rain, aided perhaps by a shock of earthquake, and hung threateningly over the top steps of the stair. In truth so slight were the attachments which remained between it and its supporting side columns and buttresses, that at first sight it seemed as though it must fall at once. A closer examination showed, however, that it was held in place by three or four great roots, which, springing from trees that grew upon the crown of the arch, in the course of years had thrust themselves deep into the crevices of the masonry of the massive pillars, and through their foundations into the soil beneath. Beyond the arch, on the further side of the terrace, rose the ruined temple, a long single–storied building with a flat roof whereon grew many shrubs and palms.
Passing through the central doorway of this temple, Maya led us into a chamber decorated everywhere with serpents carved in stone, which had been occupied, and recently, for it was clean, and upon the floor were ashes and bits of burnt wood. In the corner also lay a little pile of articles covered over with a serape that Maya hastened to remove, revealing amongst other things an earthen cooking–pot, a copper axe of similar workmanship to the machete with which the señor had killed Don José, two curiously fashioned blow–pipes with a supply of poisoned darts, and, lastly, bags containing dried flesh, beans, and cuca paste.
"All is safe," she said; "now let us eat that we may be strong to meet danger."
While we were filling ourselves thankfully with the dried meat, the señor spoke to me, saying he hoped that our pursuit had been abandoned.
"You can know little of these men to speak thus," I answered; "they must hunt us down for their own sakes, also Don Pedro will certainly seek to avenge the blood of his son. Our only hope is that the water will baffle the hounds, or that, if they strike the place where we left it, the heat of the day may have killed our scent. But I fear that this will not be so, since the ground is damp beneath the trees."
"Then what do you propose to do?" he asked. "Start on again, or stop here?"
"Señor, we must stop here because we cannot travel farther, unless you would abandon the old man and his daughter. Moreover in the forest it would be easy to overwhelm us, but this place is hard to climb, and here at least we may die fighting. Let us make ready for the worst, señor."
"How are we to make ready," he asked, "when we have nothing to fight with except machetes and Indian blow–pipes? The powder in the pistol flasks is damp and the caps will miss fire, so that if we are attacked our death is certain."
"It seems so," I answered, "yet if it pleases God we may live. Yonder lie stones in plenty; let us pile them up beneath the archway, perhaps we can kill some of our foes by rolling them down the steps."
This we did, then, while Maya watched us. At length the task was finished, and as we turned to leave the heaps of stones, of a sudden we heard a dog baying down by the river, followed by a sound of men and horses forcing a path through the bush. For a while we stared at each other in silence, then Molas said, "They are coming."
"If so I wish they would come quickly," answered the señor.
"Why, White Man? Are you afraid?" asked Maya.
"Yes, very much," he answered, with a little laugh, "for the odds are heavy, and probably we shall soon be killed, that is, all the men among us will be killed. Does not the prospect frighten you?"
"Why should it," she answered, with a shrug and a smile, "seeing that if it comes to the worst, I shall be killed also and spared a long journey home?"
"How can you be sure of that, Lady?"
"So," she answered, holding a tiny blow–pipe dart before his eyes. "If I prick myself with this here—" and she touched the large vein in her neck, "in one minute I shall be asleep, and in two I shall be dead."
"I understand; but you talk of death very easily for one so young and beautiful."
"If so, señor, it is because I have not found life too soft, nor"—she added with a sigh—"do I know what destiny awaits me in the future; but I do know that when we sleep upon the Heart of Heaven, we shall find peace if nothing more."
"I hope so," said the señor. "Look, here they come," and as he spoke a party of seven or eight men, three of them riding on mules, appeared at the foot of the mound, and, dismounting, picketed their animals to trees.
"Now for it," said the señor, rising and shaking himself like a dog that leaves the water. "I wonder how many of us will be left alive when this sun sets."
As he spoke one of the men reached the foot of the stairway holding a great hound in a leash. For a moment the dog sniffed the stones, then, lifting his head, he bayed aloud, whereat the band shouted, for they knew that they had trapped us. Still for a while they did not advance, but, gathering themselves in a knot, they consulted together earnestly. We looked at each other in despair, for truly our case was desperate. Fly we could not, and we had no arms wherewith to fight, therefore it seemed certain that within some few minutes we must lose our lives at the hands of these murderers, if indeed they chose to kill us outright in mercy. The señor hid his face in his hands for awhile, then he looked up and said,
"Can we bargain with them, Ignatio?"