Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 113: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Seven Cities of Cibola 99 When sie got to the hills, shoes could be made from the first deerskin that they took. At last, when the sun was well down on the rim of the desert, Andres prodded | his companions into life. “T am going now. I need not tell you to be careful. Keep the horse well down in the hollow. I leave him here so that I will leave little trail. Xicotl, while I am away, if any wandering Indian comes near this place you must deal with him with your macahwiitl. He must not es- cape. Understand that clearly. They are quiet enough just now, but let them onte believe that a party of men has come here and carried off Ari-zuna from their midst, and they will change, or I miss my guess. Remember, now, to keep your heads below the rim of the cfater. When I come back I will give a signal— thus——” He gave the shrill yap-yap of a coyote till one afar in the desert answered him. A moment later and he had swung up out of the hollow‘and, before they were aware of it, had faded away into the blue darkness of the night. “God guard him,” said Fray Marco softly, “for he is a proper man.’ Xicotl said nothing but polished, with his hand, the knob on the handle of his macahuitl. HAT of Mercedes? She went back to the city, an en- tirely different girl since two hours before. Then, there had been no hope of any future for her; no prospect of anything but a life-long dwelling here, so * long as the Indians proved kindly. She passed through the main gate and climbed the narrow ladder into the temple, where she was greeted by her at- tendants. The three priests sat in si- lence outside the door, their heads wrapped in their blankets. An hour later a girl brought water to her and bathed her feet, and a little later two others brought the morning meal— little cakes of maize flour and again the round pieces of white meat that she had often eaten and speculated upon. “What are these, Maota?”’ she asked. Maota, surprized, pointed to a great snake that moved sluggishly across the floor of the temple. “<Boogtti- rantier ’ she said slowly. “Do the gods not know?” Mercedes felt herself turning sick. So this was the food that she had been thinking was delicious for the past month. She felt faint and ill and, rising, — moved toward her couch, when all sud- denly turned dark before her. One hand, hastily upflung against the wall, saved her from falling. As wemen will, she raised the other hand to her hair and was suddenly conscious of a sharp pain. She had severely scratched her hand on her last remaining hairpin. With a little throaty cry Maota sprang forward, seized Mercedes’ arm and looked long at the red scratch from which a few drops of blood were, oezing. She shook her head as she carefully wiped them off with a piece of white cloth. Still faint, Mercedes flung herself at length upon the bed and thought and thought. Well, it would not be long now! This very night would see the end of it! She knew that she was taking a great risk. She felt very sure that as long as she ac- cepted her position with the Indians ‘she was safe, and she knew that if she failed to escape their resentment would be quick and certain: An hour passed. She had dropped off into a fitful sleep. When she’ awoke it was midafternoon and she was. still alone. She rose and looked out from the wooden-barred window that gave upon the town. Hot and white and aching, the town spread beneath the staring June sun, every house covered with white stucco that reflected the white-hot rays. Even the street, paved with hard-trodden, red earth, took on a metallic sheen, and the blazing sky seemed a shimmering blue bowl from which a flood of liquid fire poured down upon the earth. As she stood by the window, a few words of low-voiced talk came to her from- the ground beneath, where the three priests had been sitting when she came into the house. Raising herself on tip-toe, she could barely discern the figures of the priests, still squat- ting in the shadow of the wall. The voice was the voice of Maota, her maid. She spoke in a low voice that carried well, ERR OS 2 QTR Ne RB a A ' 390" AU la env S46 23 aL Pr th ld iad tr?