Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 150 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

‘You may well wonder, my son. Yes; it was true, indeed. They were ladies.” ne ere from, father?’ “They came from T of the revolution there. ey belonged to the y that was beaten. One of them belonged a Cuban merchant called Ximenes—” **Ximenes! Dios!” ‘“* What is the matter, my son?’ ‘““ Nothing, father. Go on.” ‘The other was called Garcia, They were with their fathers and hd five mules loaded with gold, all their fortunes, going to Mexico.” Olaf turned to Charley Brown. ‘* You hear that?’ he said in English. ‘“Of course I do. I’m not such a bloomin idiot, I can’t understand Spanish if I can it. I told you our girls were safe.” ‘* But how came they here”’ * Blest if | know. S’pose Old Wickedness got the best of them after all, and they had to pull up stakes and run.” ‘* Then we shall find them in Mexico.” “* Perhaps,” said Charley doubtfully. ‘Why not?” ‘Because Mexico’s as full of guerrillas and other robbers as an ss full of meat. Five mules loaded with gold! That’s enough to a saint. And no escort I suppose.” cigalpa, on account tempt ‘* Ask the old man.” , “Padre,” said Olaf, turning to the old priest, ‘‘did these travelers have any soldiers with them when they passed.” “Not one, my son. There were two old men and three Indian peons.” ‘*Then they’re gone up sure,” muttered the young doctor. ‘* Which road were they to take, father?’ ra k teeny! ber right, th nk, my so remem , they were to go by the Lost City road to Chiapas, because no one passes that way, on account of the legends of ghosts at night. I recommended it to them as safest for them. If there are ghosts on the road, at least thereare no robbers, and five mule-loads of gold is a great tempta- tion.” Olaf nodded to Brown, well pleased. ‘“We areinluck. We shall overtake them.” Here Ramirez, to whom their questions were enigmatical, broke in: ‘** Do you know this party, gentlemen?’ Olaf made him a sign to restrain his questions for the present and answered: ‘Yes, they are friends of ours. We ma save them from danger before they reac Mexico.” Then Don Jose called them to dinner and over the savory fumes of roast monkey—than which is no better eating, it is said—they entered into further conversation with the old priest who had lived all his life in that spot. ‘You have seen a good deal of the Indians, padre, is it not so?’ ‘““T was oe up among them, my son, and I talk all their dialects.” ‘* How many are there, father?’ ‘‘There are enumerated one hundred and thirty-seven varieties more or less distinct, of the Maya stock,” began the old man who was evidently riding a hobby. ‘I devoted much time and attention to the subject, because [ had nothing else to do, and Iam satisfied that the Maya is the original lan e of the Aztec nation that was conquered by the great Cortez.” “ And have you ever heard from them of the Lost City, father?’ =: The padre’s voice sunk to a low impressive key as he said solemnly: ‘* My sons, I have seen the Lost City.” Olaf started up full of excitement. “You! Why I thought no white man had ever been there and come back alive.” ‘‘T did not go there my son. God forbid. I should not be alive now had I done so. But I have seen it with these two eyes when they were many years younger and better than they are now, and I shall never forget the sight.” His hearers, much interested, began to ask questions again. ‘When was it? How was it? What did you see? Is ita ruin? Does it have any people in ‘IT saw it when I was a young novice, before I took even deacon’s orders. I went ona long tramp among the mountains in my novitiate to meditate on holy things with. no one to make my thoughts wander. I wandered on till I lost my way in the forest and among the passes.” ** Could yg find the way again?’ asked Don Jose eagerly. “T could, my son. I took precautions as you shall hear to mark the trail as I came back, and Ihave dreamed ever since of some day going back there. But it is all over now. I am an old man and J shall never see with my living eyes that wondrous city again.” He fell into a fit of musing again from which he was wakened by Brown asking: ‘* Was it a ruin, father?” The English doctor blushed all over at his first attempt at connected Spanish, and tho padre answered absently: “No, no, itisnoruin. It is a real city, with real people; but such a city, such a people I never saw. Ah, senores, some have said that El Rubio Bravo, King of the Swordsmen. isme 11 the conduistadores were cruel, that they mur- | a gun to shoot something; but I had not so much dered innocent Aztecas. I tell you if they were | as a knife, nothing but my nails.” all like these people ‘Cortez was a scourge sent from God to punish them for their sins.’ Now perfectly burning with curiosity Olaf cried out: ‘*For Heaven’s sake, padre, tell us the story. How did you come on them and what did you see?” The old monk leoked at him doubtfully. * You know I am not certainif I saw them, senor,” he said quietly. ‘* Not certain? What do you mean?” ‘“‘T mean that it is all so strange, so very strange, that I have often wondered since if: it were not all adream.” “Well, dream or reality, tell us. you lost your way in the mountains, it?’ ‘‘T lost my way in the forest, notin the moun- tains. It was in the mountains I found it again, senores. But 1 may as well begin at the begin- ning and tell you all about it.” The padre took a pinch of snuff—his only vice —and began his story. You. say How was CHAPTER XIII. THE PADRD’S STORY. ‘‘ You know, senores, even if you are not Catholics, that we Catholics frequently make what we call retreats.” Don Jose nodded. ‘‘This would be a nice place to make one.” “Very true, senor. henever you wish to come, you shall be welcome.” Olaf interrupted him. ‘* But J do not know what is a retreat.” ‘It isa season of retirement from the world, to fast and pray, senor, and good Catholics make it once a year. Well, it was my turn to make a retreat in my novitiate, and J asked the Father Superior’s permission to make mine in the mountains toward the Lost City, because it was said that there were terrible spirits in that direction, and Ll wished to do battle with them for the church. Alas, I saw none, unless you call human beings such. Well, I went there with the father’s advice,and I was so much wrapped up in my thoughts that I went three days and nights without food, and on the fourth day found myself in a strange place, where I never been before.” | ' “What was it like?’ **It was an open forest, without -underwood, with tall cascarilla trees at the foot of a rock. which I could see towering up so straight that it looked like a wall. Down the middle of it came a little stream of water, as cold as ice, and this had worn a passage into the rock, up which I climbed.” ‘Were you strong enough to climb, after three days’ fast?’ “Three days is nothing, my son. I have fasted ten at a time, and have seen visions.” ‘** Well, go on.” ‘“*] will admit that I was very hungry s my son; but there was nothing to eat, sol had to g° on, after drinking of that beautiful water. ¢ seemed to give me immediate strength, and I went up the bed of the stream, which led me on finally into a sort of tunnel or cave, down which the stream cut its way, and finally brought me out on a table land of rock, in the midst of which the stream had made a pool, coming from the side of a vast snow-crowned moun , out of > shot the spur of rock on which I stood. On that side there was nothing but the huge mountain and the sky above, but on the other side I saw—” ‘* What? the Lost City?” cried Olaf eagerly. “No, my son,” said Padre Miguel, smiling. ‘* Not the Lost’ City, but this Mission.” ‘Then if you saw the Mission from there, we can see the rock from here,” said Brown, with British logic and common sense. ‘Certainly, my son, yonder it is. I. cannot see it, but’ your eyes are young. I know the direction.” He — off to the east across the sea of dark forest under his feet—for the Mission was built on a lofty table land—to where a chain of snow-capped mountains rose up, about forty miles off. ‘Can you see a white spur of rock over the forest at the foot of the mountains, senores, with a stream of water that sparkles, if the sun is in the right quarter?” ‘*T see it,” quoth Ramirez. “*So do I,” said Brown. Olaf deliberately leveled a strong field-glass at it, before he would declare: “I too. Yes, there is the stream and the pool of which you spoke. Yes, and there is a cavern beyond, out of which the stream runs.” ‘* That is the place, and there I found myself. Well, you may be sure by that time I began to wish I had not made my retreat so very far, and to think about something to eat, if only some berries.”’ ‘Very natural, padre.” ‘*Yes, senores, the flesh is weak with the best of intentions; and though I hAd been so busy in my —— I had forgotten all about my hunger, the moment I remembered my bunger I forgot my prayers. 1 actually’ wished I had | Se 4) ‘‘ Well, what did you do, padre?’ ‘‘T wandered along the foot of the mountain on that table rock, looking for some wild bananas or pineapples or something; but of course found none, and the consequence was that I went on round the shoulder of the mountain and came into a side valley, where I discovered, to my great joy, a little pool of water, full of tortoises and frogs.” ‘“‘ And did you eat them?’ ‘“‘ Indeed 1 did, senores.” ‘* But how did you kill and cook them?’ “There were apeg of sharp flints lying round, and you know, senores, we people are half Indians round here. We know how to make and use flint knives. As for fire, I knew how to make that too; for there was plenty of dry moss on the rocks, and flints to strike fire with.. In short I cooked and ate a good-sized tortoise, and then felt so much ashamed of my- self that I prayed to be forgiven, and resolved to do penance for my sins by fasting for a week longer, and wandering out of sight of any place where I could get er I tell you I felt strong to resist the devil and all his imps, at that time. of my life.” Olaf interrupted him here. ‘* Are we getting near the Lost City yet?” ‘‘ Albin good time, my son; I did not see it. for three days after that.” | Olaf groaned with i tience. Brown shrugged his shoulders and smiled, Ramirez lighted a cigarette. The padre placidly proceeded: ‘‘] skirted that mountain and got to then then went on to a pass between two oth an finally found myself surrounded with hills of all sorts, and once more completely lost. ‘“‘ Only there was this difference. ‘Tn the forest I did not know how I got there, but in the mountains I was able to go ye ‘the way I had come; retracing my course by the landmarks.” ‘“* How long before you found you were lost?” asked Olaf abruptly. : “Three days, senor.” “Thank God!” “Why, senor?” ‘“‘ Because we are so much nearer to the Lost City, father.” he old poet smiled. “Don’t impatient, my son. It was noon of the third day that I again began to feel hun- ger, and determined not to give way to it. I went recklessly on till I came to the other side of the mountains, where I saw below me a green valley of surpassing and wonderful -rich- ness, evidently the ab cage § of men; for I could see gardens and herds of sheep, cattle and horses, grazing on a level savanna in the midst of palm-groves. I was so much ware at the sight—for I thought I had come into the State of Honduras by mistake—tbhat I turned round, re-entered the pass I had left, and sunk down to rest under a rock, where I speedily fell axis ‘‘ Well, padre,” said Olaf, resignedly, ‘‘ I sup- pose you have about as little ouriouliy as any man. a should not have gone to sleep in your ‘But Idid. It is true, my son, I slept till the middle of the night, and dreamed a very strange dream. I thought that | had gone on into the valley and found in its midst the Lost City of the Aztecs, crowned with a huge teocalli to the War God, to whom they were offering nu- man victims. I was so much impressed by the dream that I woke in a profuse sweat, and, as I did so, heard in good earnest the very drums and cymbals I had heard in my dream from the priests of the War God. They were all rouné me, and seemed to echo from every rock, but could see nothing. I thought it was the work of the evil one, sol fell on wy knees and prayed woe heartily to be spared. It was then quite ark. ‘* Just then a bright light shone up the pass, and I saw, coming toward me, a crowd of men in gorgeous feather dresses, carrying long spears, and bearing in their midst a white man, stripped and crowned with flowers, whom they were leading along with ropes covered, as if in grim mockery, with garlands of flowers. ‘“‘] was frightened to death, and shrunk-back into my dark hole in the rock, and so the great rabble passed me, singing in the Maya tongue a hymn to the god Quetzalcoatl. ‘““T saw too well what it was. In one single moment it flashed on me. These were the men of the Lost City, in the same state as Cortez had found them, centuries ago, and they had by some means captured a white man and were leading him as a victim to the altar. ‘He was a young man, fair and handsome, a Rubio like you, and .I heard him prayi ng to himself in some foreign language as he walked the Aztecs yelling and singing round im : “ They never saw me, but en to the valley 1 had seen, when I nh eee them, as if compelled by a horrible fascination. They went on, and I watched them in the dark night, like a trail of fire, for they all carried torches, going along the side of the nieh - | mic¢poo