"What a dreadful place!" he said. "I think that I had rather die of thirst than attempt to go down it."
"Still people have gone down in the past," answered Maya, "for look, this is where they stepped off the edge."
"Perhaps they had a rope to hold by, lady," I suggested. "When I was a young man I have descended mines almost as steep, with no other ladder than one made of tree–trunks—monkey–poles they are called—notched after this fashion, and set from side to side of the shaft, but now it would be my death to try, for such heights make me dizzy."
"Come away," said Zibalbay; "none of us here could take that road and live. The mules must go thirsty; five hours' journey away there is a pool where they can drink to–morrow."
Then we turned and left this cave of the winds and were glad to be outside of it, for the place had an unholy look, and, all the draught notwithstanding, was hot to suffocation.
Zibalbay walked to the camp, but we stayed to pluck some forage for the mules. Soon the others grew weary of this task and fell to talking as they watched the sunset, which was very beautiful on these lonely plains. Presently I heard the Lady Maya say:
"Pick me that flower, friend, to wear upon my breast," and she pointed to a snow–white cactus–bloom that grew amongst some rocks.
The señor climbed to the place and stretched out his hand to cut the flower, when of a sudden I heard him utter an exclamation and saw him start.
"What is it?" I said, "have you pricked yourself or cut your hand?" He made no answer, but his eyes grew wide with horror, and he pointed at something grey that was gliding away among the stones, and as he pointed I saw a spot of blood appear upon his wrist. Maya saw it also.
"A snake has bitten you!" she cried in a voice of agony, and, springing at him before I guessed what she was about to do, she seized his arm with both hands and set her lips to the wound.
He tried to wrench it free, but she clung to him fiercely, then, calling to me to bring a stick, she tore a strip off her robe and made it fast round his wrist above the puncture. By now I was there with the stick, and, setting it in the loop of linen, I twisted it till the hand turned blue from the pressure.
"What snake was it?" I asked.
"The deadly grey sort," he answered, adding: "Don't look so frightened, Maya, I know a cure. Come to the camp, quick!"
In two minutes we reached it, and the señor had snatched a sharp knife and a powder–flask.
"Now, friend," he said, handing me the knife, "cut deep, since it is life or death for me and there are no arteries in the top of the wrist."
Seeing what had come about, Zibalbay held the señor's hand and I cut twice. He never winced, but at each slash Maya groaned. Then, having let the blood fall till it would run no more, we poured powder into the wound, as much as will lie on a twenty cent piece, and fired it. It went off in a puff of white smoke, leaving the flesh beneath black and charred.
"Now, as we have no brandy, there is nothing more to be done except to wait," said the señor, with an attempt at a smile; but Zibalbay, going to a bag, produced from it some cuca paste.
"Eat this," he said, "it is better than any fire–water."
The señor took the stuff and began to swallow it, till presently I saw that he could force no more down, for a paralysis seemed to be creeping over him; his throat contracted, and his eyelids fell as though weighed upon by irresistible sleep. Now, notwithstanding our remedies, seeing that the poison had got hold of him, we seized him by the arms and began to walk him to and fro, encouraging him at the same time to keep a brave heart and fight against death.
"I am doing my best," he answered feebly; then his mind began to wander, and at length he fell down and his eyes shut.
A great fear and horror seized me, for I thought that he was about to die, and with them a kind of rage because I was impotent to save him. Already, to tell the truth, I was jealous of the Lady Maya, and now my jealousy broke out in bitter and unjust words.
"This is your fault," I said.
"You are cruel," she answered, "and you speak thus because you hate me."
"Perhaps I am cruel, lady. Would not you be cruel if you saw the friend you love perishing through a woman's folly?"
"Are you the only one that can love?" she whispered.
"Unless we can rouse him the white man will die," said Zibalbay.
"Oh! awake," cried Maya despairingly, placing her lips close to the señor's ear. "They say that I have killed you, awake, awake!"
He seemed to hear her, for, though his eyes did not open, he smiled faintly and murmured, "I will try." Then with our help he struggled from the ground and began to walk once more, but like a man who is drunk. Thrice he staggered backwards and forwards along the path our feet had worn. Then he fell again, and, putting our hands upon his breast, we could feel the contractions of his heart growing weaker every moment, till at last they seemed to die away. But of a sudden, when we had already abandoned hope, it pulsed violently, and from every pore of his skin, which till now had been parched and dry, there burst so profuse a perspiration that in the light of the rising moon we could see it running down his face.
"I think that the white man will live now; he has conquered the poison," said Zibalbay quietly, and hearing his words I returned thanks to God in my heart.
Then we laid him in a hammock, piling blankets and serapes over him till at length the perspiration ceased, all the fluid in his body having evaporated, taking the venom with it.
For an hour or more he slept, then awoke and asked for water in a faint voice. We, who were watching, looked at each other in dismay, for we had not a single drop to give, and this we were obliged to tell him. He groaned and was silent for a while, then said:
"It would have been kinder to let me die of the poison, for this torment of thirst is more than I can bear."
"Can we try the cueva?" faltered Maya.
"It is impossible," answered her father. "We should all be killed."
"Yes, yes," repeated the señor, "it is impossible. Better that one should die than four."
"Father," said Maya, "you must take the best mule and ride forward to the pool where we should camp to–morrow. The moon shines, and with good fortune you may be back in eight or nine hours."
"It is useless," murmured the señor, "I can never live so long without drink, my throat is hot like a coal."
Zibalbay shrugged his shoulders, he also thought that it was useless, but his daughter turned upon him fiercely and said:
"Are you going, or shall I ride myself?"
Then he went, muttering in his beard, and in a few minutes we heard the footsteps of the mule as it shambled forward into the desert.
"Fear not," I said to the señor, "it is the poison that has dried you up, but thirst will not kill you so soon, and presently you will feel it less. Oh! that we had medicine here to make you sleep!"
He lay quiet for a space, giving no answer, but from the workings of his hands and face we could see that he suffered much.
"Maya," he said at length, "can you find me a cool stone to put in my mouth?"
She searched and found a pebble which he sucked, but after a time it fell from his lips, and we saw that it was as dry as when it entered them. Then of a sudden his brain gave way, and he began to rave huskily in many languages.
"Are you devils," he asked, "that you suffer me to die in torment for the want of a drink of water? Why do you stand there and mock me? Oh! have pity and give me water."