The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 1 — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

A PERUVIAN PARADISE. - 45 ‘‘Senor,’’ he said, speaking almost in a whisper, ‘‘ the hand of death is on me. I arose in my weakness this morning and saved thee from the young prince Gonnatzl; I cannot save thee again. ‘Thou art in danger here. My people have had poor crops this season ; they lay it to the wrath of the gods because I have had thee as my guest and have refused to enslave thy servants. When I am dead, senor, all will be different here. Gonnatzl will have no mercy, I fear me. ‘“T have sent for him. He is to espouse his cousin, little Imozene, and as she is thy friend perhaps I may lead him to show thee mercy after all. Yet,’’ and the old man spoke more slowly and shook his head, ‘‘ the young prince is not so eager to wed his cousin as he was. I fear me he will not treat her with kindness. If thou canst be of aid to her at any time thou wilt not hesitate to offer her thy arm?”’ ‘‘T am her setvaut, oh, priest,’’ replied Keeth, bowing. _ ‘Farewell, then, white man. I can say no more—I can do no more. My life is slipping away from me. ‘The things of this world seem small to me now, oh, son.’’ Fora moment his eyes became fixed upon Keeth’s face. Their dulness passed away and something of the fire came into them which his guest had seen on that first night when the wonderful occult power of the priest was displayed. But now it was not Keeth’s soul which was enthralled. The limbs of the old man grew rigid, his eyes burned like dull coals ; slowly his lips opened and he spoke, but in a voice which the listener scarcely recognized. “Art thou there, my son? Listen! Fear not the path thou shalt tread. Death is not before thee—fear not.’’ He was silent a moment, his face growing more rigid. His lips moved stiffly. ‘‘ I see—I see what thou canst not. Ah, my people! my people! They are doomed. ‘Thy people, oh, son, shall sweep aside the children of the Incas as chaff before the thresher’s fan. But Imozene—my little Imozene! Care for her, son, I charge thee— care for her !”’ His words became inaudible, though his lips still moved. Keeth placed his ear close to them, but could distinguish nothing. The rigid lines. slowly relaxed. His breath came more easily and the old priest sighed and turned his face to the wall. He had fallen peacefully asleep and Keeth stole from the room. ; ———_—— CHAPTER XII.—INTO THE TUNNEL’S Movs. WHEN Keeth arrived at the abode of his friends he was just in time to witness a spectacle which, despite the serious matters occupying his mind, forced a laugh to his lips. Ford Kinsale and the trader had been reduced, during their captivity, to little else than rags for clothing, and at last had been forced to abandon their European garments and don the tunic of their captors. They had continually made fun of Keeth for wearing the Indian costume; but now the laugh was on the other side. The engineer was a picture of manly beauty beside his two friends. Ford was a muscular fellow, but he was lean and his long shanks stuck Eomichook (S@)