Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  “Where’s Pedro?” I asked.

  “They have taken him,” said Paul sadly.

  “Where to?”

  “To the sacrifice.”

  I started back in horror.

  “The sacrifice!”

  “Yes,” returned Allerton. “It seems to-day is the Feast of the Harvest, and when the sun is highest in the sky — at midday, that is — they sacrifice to their god in gratitude for the ripening of the grain. Ama spoke of this yesterday, but I had forgotten it. This morning while we were away, the priests came here and forced the boys to draw cuts, without explaining what it was for. Poor Pedro drew the lot, and was led away — he knew not where.”

  I shuddered.

  “Poor Pedro, indeed!” said I. “How did you learn all this?”

  “Oh, there was no secret about it afterward,” spoke up Archie, gloomily. “They brought in three of their precious priests dead as herrings, and five that were badly done up and in need of repairs. There was wild excitement in this bungalow for a time, as you may guess, and it didn’t take us long to get the whole story from the chattering, frightened crowd. It seemed poor Pedro was dazed when first he discovered he was to be sacrificed to the sun, and he walked like a man in a dream to the slaughtering pen — up in the great temple yonder. But he woke up when they came at him with a knife, and died game, like the brave fellow he was.”

  “First,” continued Joe, taking up the thread of the story, for Archie was trying to swallow a lump in his throat, “Pedro grabbed two of the priests and bumped their heads together so fiercely that their skulls cracked like egg-shells. Then he caught another by the ankles and swung him around, felling the crowd that rushed on him with this living battering-ram. Living for a time, that is, for when he finally let go the fellow was mashed to a pulp.”

  “Of course,” added Ned Britton, “they got Pedro at last, as they were bound to do when his strength gave out, and I suppose his heart’s blood is now in a golden pan, exposed to the rays of their god the sun, who will drink it up. Pah! Before they carved old Pedro, though, he yelled out that he had given the sun a few extra sacrifices to keep him company, and he only wished there had been more in reach of his arm.”

  “It was dreadful,” said Paul. “The old High Priest had a fit, it seems, and they can’t tell yet whether he’ll live or die.”

  “Was Ama there?” I asked.

  “Certainly,” said Archie, in an indignant tone. “The girl’s as cold blooded as the rest of the gang.”

  “It is her religion,” declared Chaka, defending her. “She knows no better, and considers it just and right to sacrifice to the Sun-God. But when Pedro began to fight so desperately she at once arose and retired from the scene.”

  This horrible news had rendered me as sad and gloomy as the others. Silently we sat, wondering if a similar fate would overtake us all. I, being no longer in personal danger, reproached myself for leaving my comrades at such a time; yet I knew I could not have saved Pedro from his fate.

  “Hereafter,” said Ned.” they intend to bind the victims. This is the first time any one has ever fought them, it seems, and the priests won’t take chances after this deadly experience.”

  “Too bad, Mars’ Sam,” said Nux, regretfully. “I like to kill a few Tcha before I die, too. But if dey ties me up, I sutt’nly can’t.”

  The result of Pedro’s exploit was to render the priests fearful of the rest of us. Our quarters were that evening changed to a small wing at the rear of their palace, which jutted out toward the temple. It was but one story in height and could be shut off entirely from the main building by a heavily barred door. They gave us our supper — we were always liberally fed — and then closed the barrier between us.

  Examining this new apartment I was surprised to find it much less secure as a prison than our former quarters. Indeed, it was no trouble at all for any of us to lower ourselves from the window to the ground. But evidently the priests were more anxious about their own safety than about ours, and there was little danger of the sacrificial victims being able to escape very far, even if they managed to avoid the guards at the gates.

  The air grew very oppressive this night, and the heat was intense — a new experience to us, for we had found the nights cool. Toward morning the wing in which we were confined began to sway from side to side with a sickening motion, and one lurch sent me rolling from my couch to the stone floor.

  As I sat up, the commotion ceased as suddenly as it had begun.

  “An earthquake!” exclaimed Paul, unmasking the electric light. “It’s a wonder the building didn’t topple down on our heads.”

  “Are earthquakes common here?” I asked Chaka.

  He shook his head.

  “Not common,” said he; “but about once in a lifetime we get some little shakes; nothing as bad as this, though.”

  Next morning the sun shone as serenely as ever and when we walked out we found but little damage had been done in the valley. But the people had become sadly disquieted by the occurrence; and the priests especially, for some secret reason, were in a state of great fear and perturbation. They talked excitedly among themselves and sent constant messages to Ama, not using the telephone because they feared we might overhear them.

  Suspecting that more trouble was brewing, Paul, Chaka and I resolved not to quit our comrades this day, but remain and watch the course of events. We had all been alike unsuccessful the day before in locating our property, and now we judged it wise to postpone the search to another time.

  CHAPTER 22

  WE FACE A DEADLY PERIL

  At noon Ama sent for us three, and when we arrived at her pavilion we found her pale and distressed.

  “The Sun-God is angry with my people,” she said, “because the sacrifice yesterday was violent and destroyed three faithful priests. A new sacrifice is called for, to placate the terrible deity who rules the heavens and the earth.”

  We stared at her aghast.

  “The Sun-God is angry because you sacrificed to him a helpless stranger, who worshipped a far greater God than your sun,” I said sternly. “Listen, Ama: if more of our comrades are sacrificed, far greater harm will befall the Tcha.”

  She regarded me half fearfully for a moment; then her sweetest smile swept over her lovely face.

  “Samsteele,” said she, “the Tcha have sacrificed to the great Sun-God for thousands of years, and he has kept the nation prosperous and happy in return. There is no power equal to the power of the glorious Sun, and the Tcha are his favored children.” Her voice softened a little as she added: “If I could favor you, my friends, I would not send your comrades to the sacrifice; but the laws of my land and the jealousy of our great god will not allow me to save them. Shall I peril the welfare of all my people for the sake of a few strangers? Impossible! The customs of seven thousand years must be adhered to; the majesty of our god must be sustained and his just wrath appeased. I cannot help your friends. The sacrifice must take place.”

  “When?” asked Paul, looking at her with pleading eyes until her own dropped.

  “At sunset,” she whispered.

  “To-day!”

  “Yes.”

  “And who is to be chosen?” I inquired anxiously.

  “The two big black men. My priests think they will be more acceptable to our god than the whites. Always when we have sacrificed any of the Itzaex the mighty Sun has smiled upon us.”

  I drew a long breath.

  “Ama,” said I, “we will not permit this. The sacrifice shall not take place.”

  She sprang to her feet, tense and white with anger.

  “Shall not?” she cried; “aye, but it shall take place — at sunset this day! I, the High Priestess of the Sun. have proclaimed it, and in the Vale of Tcha there is no appeal from my edict.”

  She was magnificent in her defiance, but I had no heart to admire her just then.

  “If you murder those poor fellows their God — far mightier than yours — will have revenge,” I said, tre
mbling between fear and rage, for Nux and Bryonia were very dear to me.

  She drew herself up to her full height and pointed at us a slender finger.

  “Go!” she said imperiously.

  Never had we seen the girl in this mood before. Her eyes were cold and hard as rocks, her lips set with firm determination, her poise queenly and aggressive.

  We turned slowly and left the august presence, realizing that Ama, however beautiful and bewitching she might be in repose, was a veritable tigress when aroused to defend the faith in which she had been reared.

  Even the sky had grown dark during our interview, and the sun had withdrawn his face as if in shame that any benighted race should sacrifice human lives in his honor. The purple-gray mask of the sky was so unusual at this season of the year — perhaps at all seasons, so far as we knew — that it was little wonder the superstitious Tcha interpreted the sign as one of anger from their outraged deity, whose altar had been the scene of strife.

  Returning to our friends we were loth to tell them of the fate in store for our honest blacks. Indeed, it was but a preface to the fate that awaited them all unless we could find a way to resist the all powerful Tcha. Finally, as the day drew on, Chaka had an idea and beckoned to Paul and me to follow him. We were permitted to go wherever we pleased, whereas the others were forbidden to leave their room.

  “The High Priest is gentle,” whispered the atkayma, when we were outside. “Let us plead with him.”

  We knew that the old dotard dwelt in the most splendid suite in the building, so we made our way toward it. A guard informed us that his Highness was ill, and could not be disturbed. We tried to argue the point, but the man would not relent. No one but Ama might intrude upon his master.

  Saddened by this rebuff we wended our way back to our wing, only to confront another disappointment. Orders had been received from the High Priestess to forbid our mingling with the sacrificial devotees. We were to be allowed the privileges of every citizen of the valley, but the laws forbade a citizen from associating with those condemned to the sacrifice.

  And here was our old acquaintance the Waba Pagatka guarding the passage with a file of his soldiers, all fully armed. Protest was useless, and so helpless did we feel that our eyes, as we gazed it one another, were filled with black despair.

  We went out and wandered aimlessly around the temple enclosure. Even the grounds outside the wing where our friends were confined were now guarded, so we were unable to approach them from that side.

  The sky was growing blacker and more threatening. Not a breath of air stirred. Even the birds had ceased to sing. There was a mystical hush in the atmosphere that was appalling. The priests going to and fro between the temple and their palace noted these unusual portents and turned frightened glances upward, as if seeking to propitiate their angry god.

  I wondered if, seeing there was no sun, and therefore no sunset, the sacrifice would be postponed; but before long my doubts were set at rest. The fatuous priests were even hurrying the ceremonies, for presently a gorgeous procession issued from the palace.

  All the members of their order were in full regalia, the silver emblems of the sun glittering on their breasts. In their midst walked, or rather tottered, Nux and Bryonia, the two gigantic blacks being so weak that they could scarcely move without assistance. Their hands were tied securely behind their backs. Afterward we learned that the anoesthetic perfume had again been employed to render all our friends unconscious and incapable of resisting. Then Nux and Bry had been bound and carried out before they had fully revived.

  At the same time that the procession of priests issued forth, marching with stately tread despite their nervous fears, a similar procession of the Virgins of the Sun, with Ama at their head, appeared from the opposite enclosure.

  The iron gates had been thrown wide and a vast concourse of people had assembled to witness the sacrifice. They stood silent and watchful, for none was permitted to enter the temple until the priestesses and priests had taken their places within.

  A short distance from the entrance the two files united, side by side approaching the sacred edifice.

  Paul, Chaka and I stood silently by, helplessly watching the terrible ceremony. I strained my eyes for a last sight of my faithful followers, believing their doom to be sealed.

  The procession had begun to mount the steps of the temple when a subdued roaring sound became audible, followed by a crash resembling a thunder-clap. The ground heaved up before us and sent us all three sprawling upon our faces. Crash after crash now resounded throughout the valley, and I sprang to my feet in time to see part of the great temple wall bend outward and fall in a mass of debris. Rocks from the near-by wall of the mountain began to rattle down like hailstones, and the darkness was even greater than before.

  “Ama!” cried Paul; and “Ama!” shrieked Chaka in return; but they could not go to her at the moment, hard as they tried. We clung together like drunken men, striving for a foothold while the ground rolled and groaned beneath our feet and our ears were filled with the screams of women and the hoarse cries of men. Priests and priestesses were flying in every direction, and we saw Ama the center of a group of maidens that managed to gain their enclosure and slam shut the gates — as if that would do any good, or shut out the awful earthquake! It relieved both Paul and Chaka, however, to know the girl was safe.

  The people who had gathered for the sacrifice suffered most, I think, for they were massed together and only those on the outskirts could scuttle away through the streets, where many met death from falling walls and rocks. The moans of the maimed and dying were blood curdling, and I could hardly bear to hear them.

  “Quick!” I gasped; “let us find Nux and Bry.”

  I knew, of course, we were experiencing another earthquake — a frightful one this time — but there was nothing we could do for ourselves or others, unless we might find and save the blacks.

  This proved not difficult. We came across them at the steps of the ruined temple, Bry lying flat while Nux knelt beside him, still bound. The priests had deserted them in the attempt to save their own lives. In a flash I whipped out my knife and set both the poor fellows free. We then raised Bry, to find he was stunned but very little hurt. Between us we supported them, trying to make our way back to our quarters.

  Parts of the palace of the priests had split open or caved in, but our one-story wing seemed not to have suffered from the quake, which was by this time reduced to a few minor tremors.

  Being afraid to enter the palace — from whence guards and priests had alike fled — we reached the window outside our wing and our shouts brought the pallid faces of Joe and Archie to the opening. We hoisted Bry up to them, and they dragged him bodily into the room. Nux was able to climb in himself, and Paul, Chaka and I quickly followed.

  “Where’s Ned?” I asked, looking around.

  “He went out to skirmish for you,” said Joe. “We’ve all been out, during the worst of it, but Archie and 1 thought you’d get back here as soon as you could, and we concluded it’s just as safe here as anywhere.”

  “Guess the city’s pretty well broken up,” added Archie, gazing from the window into the blackness that was only relieved by the glow from the light within our room. “I’ve seen earthquakes in my day, but this beats all that — ” He stopped with a sort of gasp and a moment later cried out: “It’s him! Gee willikins — it’s him!”

  “Who?” we exclaimed, running to the opening.

  Limping slowly toward the wing and supported by Ned Britton came Pedro, who we supposed had been sacrificed to the Sun-God the evening before. His clothes were torn nearly to shreds, and there was a look of terror and suffering on his face that was pitiable to behold as the dim light struck it.

  Paul leaped out to assist Ned in hoisting the Mexican to the window ledge, and we others drew him in as tenderly as we could. He sank on a couch with a moan, limp as a rag.

  We gave him water first and then a swallow of spirits from Paul’s flask, but
when we questioned him he stared at us silently and shook his head.

  “Where did you find him?” some one asked Ned.

  “Beside the temple. The wall had fallen down and a big part of the marble floor heaved up and then tumbled into a cellar underneath. I had an idea Nux and Bry might be in the ruins, and while I peered about me a head was pushed up from the cellar and I recognized Pedro. It gave me a shock, I can tell you, for we thought he was dead. The marble blocks were yet rocking and tilting pretty lively, but I made a dash and dragged Pedro out to a safer place. He was nearly done up, but I managed to get him here.”

  CHAPTER 23

  WE BECOME AGGRESSIVE

  After a little time the Mexican began to recover his self possession and with it his tongue. We found he was nearly starved, so we fed him sparingly and gave him a bit more of the spirits. By and by, a little at a time he told his story.

  His struggles with the priests was much as we had heard it described, except in one important particular. Pedro fought so desperately that he dismayed his opponents, and during the mêlée one of them touched a spring that released a trap in the floor, precipitating the Mexican into a dark cellar underneath. When freed of his weight the block of stone swung into place again, and he found himself in a veritable dungeon, so far as light and air were concerned.

  The cowardly priests left him there, announcing that he had been sacrificed, as they feared to admit to the people that he had gotten the best of them in the fight. Pedro’s leg had been hurt by the fall, and it caused him a good deal of pain. The air was close and damp and full of musty odors.

  After a time the prisoner began to crawl around, and found the place was used partly as a storehouse, as it contained many bales and parcels of various wares. Having a few matches in his pocket Pedro lighted one of them and right before his face discovered our electrites and storage-battery belts, all in a heap. He hunted around for our gas-jackets, but they were not there. When his matches gave out he lay still in the dark and wondered what would happen to him. Probably the priests intended he should starve to death, and he was getting weak and hungry when the earthquake came. The earth swayed all around him, the building crumbled away and the marble floor heaved up and burst open, many of the marble blocks dropping into the cellar — fortunately not in his neighborhood. Pedro was frightened nearly out of his wits, but seeing dimly that a way of escape had opened up he climbed upon a heap of marble, stuck out his head, and found Ned Britton watching him.