way,” said Duval, shrinking back with a shudder at the horrible imagination of the idea. “Are there others?”
“This, and this, and this,” replied Cocom, causing several statues to swing out of their places. “All passages you see, Don Juan; all snares for the unwary. Let me put the images back again. So! Now, Señor, observe. This image of Huitzilopochtli has a representation of the opal in its forehead. That is the mark of the way throughout. See!”
The statue swung round, and Cocom, stepping boldly into the yawning cavity disclosed, beckoned to them to follow. With the terrified Dolores on his arm, Jack did so, and they found themselves at the top of a flight of damp-looking steps. Once inside, and Cocom, pressing the spring, restored the image to its proper position; then, taking Jack’s hand, led him down the staircase. Clasping Dolores tightly, he cautiously descended into the pitchy gloom. They seemed to be proceeding into the bowels of the earth. Down, and down, and still down, until the hoarse roar of the torrent struck their ears, and emerging into a darkness little less dense than that in the passage, they found themselves on a rocky ledge, below the huge structure of the bridge, almost on a level with the water. At their feet swirled and foamed the flood, raging over sharp-pointed rocks. To the right, a path led upward in a gentle slope; to the left, a similar path descended. Cocom pointed to this latter.
“Another trap, Señor,” he said, grimly, “ending in the cañon. Take that path, and you would die. Follow this one to the right, and it will lead you to the great platform beyond the mountains. From thence you can descend by the great way, and when in the forest, track your path by the scarlet sign of the opal. Always the opal, Señor. Go nowhere but where that sign points.”
“I will remember,” replied Jack, confidently.
“Take this wallet, Señor. It contains food for some days, and cacao leaves, and strong drink. It will last until you reach the cave whereof I told you. Wait there for me, and I will come shortly. Remember always the rule of silence—that you are both penitents—the sign thus—lip and forehead. Now go, Señor. I depart to scatter your clothes on the narrow way, and spread a false report of your death in the torrent, while escaping. In four days, Señor, expect me at the cave. Adios, lady of the precious stone, and you, Señor.”
He sprang backward into the darkness up the stair, and left the lovers standing in that gloomy inferno, with the torrent roaring below, the huge masonry of the bridge high above, and, to the right, that perilous way which they must tread to reach safety. Duval expected Dolores to give way at thus finding herself in such danger, but, to his surprise, she was brave, and gay, and strong.
“Come, querido,” she said, cheerfully, “let us go at once. We must reach the forests before dawn, if possible.”
“It will exhaust you terribly, angelito!”
“Probably. Still, I must keep up, if only for your sake! Come, querido! let us depart.”
They moved simultaneously towards the right.
Oh, that interminable passage, long and narrow and always ascending. They thought it would never end; but at length it terminated at the foot of the waterfall. Down from a great height thundered great masses of water, smashing to foam in the basin below. The spray, rising fine and mist-like, was damp on their faces. They could not hear themselves speak, owing to the roar. Jack grasped the hand of Dolores to give her courage, and turned off abruptly to the right where they entered a passage cut out of the solid rock. Still gently sloping upward, the path lead them out into a vast clearing, girdled on all sides by great trees. The moon shone bright as day; and across the grass ran an indistinct track. Following this, they found a great flight of steps leading upward under the boughs of mighty trees—pine, and oak, and hemlock, throwing their giant branches across, and almost shutting out the moonlight sky. The staircase was crumbled and old, but wonderfully built of great blocks of stone. Jack could not restrain his admiration at this Titanic work.
“How did they do it?” he said to Dolores, as they painfully climbed up the superb stair; “they must have known a lot about engineering, those Toltecs. To swing these blocks into their places must have taken derricks and complicated machinery. A wonderful work; a wonderful race. How Philip would enjoy this!”
“I think Señor Felipe would rather be where he is—in Tlatonac,” replied Dolores, wearily. “I would I were in the Casa Maraquando.”
“Cheer up, my heart! We will be there in a few days. Will I carry you, cara?”
“Dios, no! You are already laden!”
“But you are as light as a feather.”
“Eh, Juanito. You would not find that after carrying me for an hour or so. No; I am still able to walk. I am stronger than you think.”
They steadily climbed up the staircase, and at length entered the narrow gorge described by Cocom. Here Jack made the girl sit down and drink some wine, which did her so much good that in a few minutes she declared herself ready to resume the journey. Thus fortified, they entered the gorge, and, cautiously following its windings, at length emerged suddenly into a circular space. So unexpectedly did they enter that, as passages opened out in all directions, they could not tell by which way they had come. This pit—for it was little else, hewn out of the rock—was fifty or sixty feet in depth, and must have represented years of toil. On all sides, innumerable passages darted out like rays, and it was this thought that caused Jack to exclaim—
“It is like the opal, Dolores. This space is the stone, those passages the rays; so it serves a double purpose—to mislead the runaway, and yet be a symbol of the Chalchuih Tlatonac.”
Fortune favoured the fugitives, for the moon, directly overhead, sent down her full glory into the pit. Had they arrived later, they would probably have had to wait till dawn, as the blackness would have been too intense to permit them to find the true outlet. But the moonlight, by happy chance, was so strong that, after carefully examining the sides of several entrances, Jack at length hit on the sign. A huge crimson blot, with scarlet rays, blazed on a passage to the right.
“Here we are, Dolores,” cried Duval, joyfully, “this is the right way; but we must be careful, and not risk a snare; one can never tell what these infernal Indians are up to.”
With great caution they entered the tunnel indicated by the sign, and feeling every step before them, for the whole place was intensely dark, moved onward at a snail’s pace. The tunnel wound hither and thither, until they felt quite bewildered. For a time the passage was level, but after a series of turnings it began to slope gently downwards, and so continued to the entrance.
“I hope to Heaven there are no branch tunnels,” said Jack, anxiously, “we could easily go off the main track in this gloom.”
“I am sure there are no side tunnels,” replied Dolores, decisively; “even the priests could not find their way through this place otherwise than with one way. If there were other tunnels, they would lose themselves, and that they would not care to risk.”
“Well, let us move on. At all events, the tunnel is getting straighter,” remarked Jack, hopefully. “I wish Cocom had given us a torch.”
“What is that yonder?” cried Dolores, pressing his arm. “A gleam of light.”
“Bueno! It is the exit. Come, Dolores, and say no word, lest, when we emerge on to the platform, there should be Indians waiting there. Remember our vow of silence.”
Encouraged by this sign of deliverance, they hurried rapidly forward,
