CHAPTER XIX. THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN GOD.
No difficulty whatever was experienced in reaching that retreat, andmilder prisoner never knew a guard than Ixtli proved himself to be,silently yielding to each impulse lent his arm by Waldo, smiling when,as sometimes happened, he was brought more nearly face to face with thatarmed rear-guard.
Nor were the Gillespie brothers worried by sound, sign, or token of moreserious trouble from others of that strangely surviving race. And itwas not long after reaching the rendezvous from which the professor hadsailed in the early dawn, that the youngsters agreed the echoes oftheir Winchesters could not have reached the ears of the Lost Cityinhabitants.
"That's plenty good luck for one soup-bunch," quoth Waldo, yet adding adubious shake of the head as he gazed upon their bronzed companion. "Andif it wasn't for this gentleman in masquerade costume--"
"Ixtli friend. Ixtli feel like heart-brother," came in low, mellowaccents from those smiling lips.
There certainly was naught of guile or of evil craft to be read ineither eyes or visage, just then; but the brothers could not feelentirely at ease, even yet. How many times had warriors of his colourplayed a cunning part, only to end all by blow of tomahawk, thrust ofknife, or bolt from the bended bow?
At a barely perceptible sign from Bruno, his brother drew apart, leavingtheir "white elephant" by himself, yet none the less under a vigilantguard.
"He seems all right, in his way," muttered the elder Gillespie, "but howfar ought we to trust him, after what we promised uncle Phaeton?"
"Not quite as far as we can see him, anyway. Still, a fellow can'tfind the stomach to bowl him over like a hare,--without a weenty bit ofexcuse, at least."
"That's it! If he'd try to bolt, or would even jump on one of us, itwould come far more easy. Look at him smile, now! And I hate to think ofclapping such a bright-seeming lad in bonds!"
"Time enough for all that when he shows us cause," quickly decidedWaldo, with a vigorous nod of his curly pow. "Pity if a couple of uscan't keep him out of mischief without going that far. And we want topump the kid dry before uncle Phaeton gets back; understand?"
Bruno gave a slight start at these words, but his eye-glow andface-flush bore witness that the idea thus suggested had not beenunthought of in his own case.
"Then you really think--"
"That there's more ways than one of skinning a cat," oracularly observedWaldo. "Without showing it too mighty plainly, one or the other of uscan always be ready and prepared to dump the laddy-buck, in case hetries to come any of his didoes. And, at the same time, we can behugging up to him just as sweetly as though we knew he was on the deadlevel. Understand?"
Possibly the programme might have been a little more elegantlyexpressed, but Waldo, as a rule, cared more for substance than form, andhis speech possessed one merit, that of perspicuity.
Having reached this fair understanding, the brothers dropped theiraside, and moved nearer the young Aztec.
Ixtli gazed keenly into first one face, then the other, plainly enoughendeavouring to read the truth as might be expressed therein, as relatedto himself. What he saw must have proved fairly satisfactory, since hegave another bright smile, then spoke in really musical tones:
"Good,--brother, now! That more good, too!"
In spite of the suspicions, which seem inborn where people of thered race are concerned, both Bruno and Waldo felt more and more drawntowards this remarkable specimen of a still more remarkable tribe; andnot many more minutes had sped by ere the younger couple were chattingtogether in amicable fashion, although finding some little difficulty inIxtli's rather limited vocabulary.
Not a little to his elder brother's impatience, Waldo apparently tooka deeper interest in the recent adventure than in the subject whichclaimed his own busiest thoughts, but he hardly cared to crowd theyoungster, lest he make matters even worse.
Aided by the sort of freemasonry which naturally exists between ladsof an adventurous nature, Waldo readily succeeded in picking upconsiderable information from the Aztec, even before broaching thatall-important matter.
Ixtli was the only son of a famed warrior and chieftain of the Aztecanclans, by name Aztotl, or the Red Heron. He, in common with so manyof his people, had witnessed the approach and abrupt departure of thestrange bird in the air, and had hastened forth in quest of the monster.
He failed to see aught more of the strange creature, but, disliking toreturn home without something to show for the trip, remained out overnight, then chanced to fairly stumble into the way of a mighty grizzly.
There were a few moments during which he might possibly have escapedthrough headlong flight, but he was too proud for that, and but for thetimely arrival and prompt action on the part of his white brothers wouldalmost certainly have paid the penalty with his life.
Then followed more thanks and broken expressions of gratitude, all ofwhich Waldo magnanimously waved aside as wholly unnecessary.
"Don't work up a sweat for a little thing like that, old man. Of coursewe saw you were an Injun and--ahem! I mean, how in time did you happento catch hold of our lingo so mighty pat, laddy-buck?"
"My brother means to ask who taught you to speak as we do, Ixtli?"amended Bruno, catching at the wished-for opportunity now it offered.
"And who was that nice little gal with the yellow hair? Is she--what didyou call her? Gladys--And the rest of it Edgecombe?"
Waldo was eager enough now that the ice was fairly broken, but hisvery volubility served to complicate matters rather than to hasten thedesired information.
Ixtli apparently thought in English pretty much as he spoke it,--slowly,and with care. When hurried, his brain and tongue naturally fell backupon his native language.
Sounds issued through his lips, but, despite all their animation, theseproved to be but empty sounds to the eager brothers. And, divining thetruth, Bruno checked his brother, himself acting as questioner, prettysoon striking the right chord, after which Ixtli fared very well.
Still, thanks to his difficulty in finding the right words with which toexpress his full meaning, it took both time and patience for even Brunoto learn all he desired; and even if such a course would be desirable,lack of space forbids giving a literal record of questions and answers,since the general result of that cross-examination may be put so muchmore compactly before the generous reader.
The first point made clear was that the young Aztec owed his imperfectknowledge of the English language to certain Children of the Sun, whomhe named as if christened Victo and Glady. With this as starting-point,the rest formed a mere question of time and perseverance.
Growing in animation as he proceeded, Ixtli told of the coming to theircity of those glorious children; riding upon the wings of an awfulstorm, yet issuing unharmed, unawed, bright of face, as the mighty orbthe sons of Anahuac worshipped.
He told how an envious few held to the contrary: that these fair-skinshad come as evil emissaries from the still more evil Mictlanteuctli,mighty Lord of Death-land, who had laden them with pestilence andbrain-sorrow and eye-darkness, with orders to devastate this, the lastfair city of the ancient race.
With low, sternly suppressed tones, the young warrior went on to tell ofwhat followed: of the wicked attempt made by those malcontents to punishthe bearers of death and misery; then, his voice rising and growing moreclear, he told how, from a clearing-sky, there came a single shaft flungby the mighty hand of the great god, Quetzalcoatl, before which theimpious dog went down in everlasting death.
"Struck by lightning, eh?" interpreted Waldo, who seemed born withoutthe influence of poetry. "Served him mighty right, too!"
Bowing submissively, although it could be seen he scarcely comprehendedjust what those blunt words were meant to convey, Ixtli spoke on,seemingly with perfect willingness, so long as the adored "Sun Children"formed the subject-matter.
From his laboured statement, Bruno gathered that the sudden death of onewho had dared to lift an armed hand against the woman so mysteriouslyplaced the
re in their very midst awed all opposition to the generalbelief in the divine origin of mother and child; and ere long Victowas installed as a sort of high priestess of the temple more especiallydevoted to the Sun God.
That was long ago, and when Ixtli was but a child. As he grew older,and his father, Red Heron, was appointed as chief of guards to the SunChildren, Victo took more notice of the lad, and ended in teaching himboth the English tongue and its Christian creed, so far as lay in hispower to comprehend.
Then came less pleasing information concerning the Children of the Sun,which went far to prove that the death of one evil-minded dog hadnot entirely purged the Lost City, and it was with harsher tones andfrowning brows that Ixtli spoke of the head priest, or paba, Tlacopa theevil-minded, who had built up a powerful and dangerous sentiment againstboth Victo and Glady, even going so far as to declare before the holystone of sacrifice that the Mother of Gods demanded these falsely titledChildren of the Sun.
"The fair-faced God must come soon, or too late!" sighed the Aztec,bowing his head in joined palms the better to conceal his evident grief."He has promised to come, but hurry! They die--they die!"
This was hardly an acceptable stopping-point, but questioning was oflittle avail just then. Satisfied of so much, the brothers drew aparta short distance, yet keeping where they could guard their more or lessdangerous charge, conversing in low tones over the information so fargleaned from the Aztec's talk.
"Well, we'll hold a tight grip on him, anyway, until uncle Phaeton getsback," finally decided Waldo, speaking for his brother as well.
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