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 headgear 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 mattered 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.
CHAPTER 13
WE SEEK SAFETY IN FLIGHT
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 the
ir 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 Bacâb, 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 Bacâb, 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 blunderbuss, 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 the 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 “status 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 adventurers 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.
In the last few weeks I’ve been reading about aeroplanes and airships, and what has been accomplished with them. How imperfect — how futile and absurd — they all seem when compared with the Wells Gas-Jacket and Fibre Wings. All their intricate machinery, their rudders and ballast, accessories and paraphernalia are sure to give place to the eminently practical and satisfying mode of aerial navigation which I believe we were the first to employ during our adventurous trip to Yucatan. Allerton, who was more expert than the others, soon unfastened the cord and began to fly independently, and the ease with which he did it was marvelous. Using the wings to guide him, as a bird does, he let the stiff breeze carry him along with remarkable swiftness, tacking sidewise as he pleased and following any direction his fancy dictated. He would not let the rest of us cut loose, though, but explained to us the theory of his flight and taught us by example how to control our wings.
CHAPTER 14
WE INTERVIEW THE RED-BEARD
The mountain, Chaka stated, was four days’ journey from the City of Itza. This was because the country surrounding the barren peak was rugged and very difficult to traverse. Yet our path through the air was so smooth and our speed so great that it was early in the afternoon when we approached so near to Aota that caution induced us to descend and call a halt.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 706
