Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, January 16, 1895, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

Lewis mgbist" ProJietor. [ Independent Jamil's Jarapper: Jt* the jromotion of fhi} folitiqat, ?oqial, gfjipculturat and (jjommepit Interests of the ?outh. . J TERMS?.$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE. VOL. 41. I ~ YOBKVILLE, S. O., WEDNESDAY, JAJN"UABY 16, 1895. NO 3. mmm JB-Y RIDER Author of "King Solomon's "Allen Quai opyrlght, 1893, by the Author. CHAPTER XXVI. DE GARCIA SPEAKS HIS MIND. At first I was taken Into tho chamber that I had left, but placed in a little room opening out of it where tho guard slept Here I waited awhilo, bound hand and foot and watched by two soldiers with drawn swords. As I waited, torn by rage and fear, I heard tho noiso of hammering through tho wall, followed by a sound of groans. At length the suspenso camo to an end. A door was opened, and two fierce TlascalAn Indians came throuorh it and seized ino by the hair and cars, dragging mo thus into my own chamber. "Poor devil!" I heard one of tho Spanish soldiers say as I went. -''Apostate or no, I am sorry for him. This is bloody work." Then the door closed, and I was in the > place of torment. Tho room was darkened, for a cloth had been hung in front of the j window bars, but its gloom was relieved J by certain fires that burned in braziers. Itl was by tho light of these fires chiefly thaw I saw the sight On the floor of tho cham? ber were placed three solid chairs, one of them empty. Tho other two were filled bp none other than Guatemoc, emperor of tbf Aztecs, and by his friend and mine, tii cazlque of Tacuba. They were bound a the chairs, the burning braziers wai placed at their feet behind them stood> clerk with paper and inkhorn, and arou^ them Indians were busy at some dreudfll. task, directed to it by two Spanish soldi*Near the third chair stood another SpfJiard, who as yet took no part in tho plffIt was Do Garcia As I looked an Irdin lifted ono of tho braziers, and seizing fce naked foot of tho Tacuban prince thyst it down upon the glowing coals, jfor | awhile there was silence; then the Taco^an * broke into groans. Guatemoo turnedfhis head toward him and spoke, and J he spoke I saw that his foot also was raifcihg . in the flames of a brazier. "Why do you ; complain, friend," ho said in a #eady j? voioe, "when I keep silence? Am If then taking my pleasure in a bed? Follqtv me now as always, friend, and bo sllfit be- jj 1 ncath your sufferings." Tho clerk wrote down his word! for I beard tho quill scratching on the|>aper, and as he wrote Guatemoc turned hte head and saw me. His face was gray wlA pain. Still he spoke as a hundred tlam I had heard him speak at oouncil?slowly and clearly. "Alas, arc you also hfe, my friend Teule?" he said. "Ihoped tfat they had spared you. See how those Spaniards keep faith. Malinche swore to feat me with all honor. Behold how he hoeors me, with hot ooals for my feet and pinihers for my flesh. They think that we haio burled : treasure, Tcule, and would wring its secret from us. You know that it is a lie. If wo had treasure, woul^ we no* give it gladly to our conqueror, the god born sons of Quetzal ? You kiow that .there is nothing left except the BMns of oar cities and the bones of our dep." Here ho ccoscd suddqply, for t?e demon who tormented him stjnck him across tho mouth, soying, "Silente, dogi"; But I undcrstoodjind I swore in my heart that I would Jo ere I revealed my | brother's secret. Th^as the last triumph that Guatcmoc reul/win, to keep his gold from the grasp offthc greedy Spaniard, and that victory atJeast he should not lose -? through rue S^^_f.WoTipr-i?fHT vefysoon my oath must bo ?nt to the'1Wst, for at a motion from DofGarcia the Tlascalans seized me and bo^nd mctothe third chair. Then ho spokanto my car in Castilian: "Strange are me> ways at Providence, Cousi^Wingflojt You have hunted me acr^^^^vorld and several times we have tq^our sorrow. I thought I FlaveshlR I thought that the sharks hdKfou in thewater, but somebow you cscttd mo whom you came to hunt. When I knew It, I grieved, but now I grievoio more, for I see that you were reservdf for this moment Cousin I Wlngfleld, if shall go kard if you escape mo this timfand yet I^think that wo shall spend somoiays together before we part. Now I will||c couriers with you. You may have |ehoice of fvils. How shall wo i begin? Theresouroaf at my command are not all thrfwo could wish, alas; the holy office is jo0 yet hofl with its unholy ur- I mory, buHtill I hare donemy best. These fellows do not umUrscund their art. Hot coals ar^th?lr ody inspiration. I, you | I6oe, hav0>evfral, 'jfand he pointed to varl- i ous insflromints qf torture "Which will you sel?t?'r f I male nfi nnspor, for I had determined that I ^juftl spaik no word and utter no cry, dqwlpt they might with me. "Lefny think, let me think," went on Do Garcia smoothing his beard. "Ah, I . have ft! /Hor^ slaves." Nop /will not renew my own agonies k or airajie the horror of any who may J r chanccio read what I have written by do- | scriblr* what befell me after this. Suffice it tow that for two hours and more this devil^ielpod In his task by the Tlascalans, worMd his tricked will upon me. One by one lonnents were administered to me witty* skill.and ingenuity that cannot often iavo been surpassed, and when at tiiiwl frfnted I was recovered by cold ! water being dashed upon mo and spirits poorcd dopn my throat. And yet, I say j itflrlth -|bmo pride, during those two I (Ujadful hours 1 uttered no groan, however great my sufferings, and spoke no ' |Nor tpis it only bodily pain that I must i tear, fa all this while my enemy mocked loo wifti bitter words, which tormented tny sod as his instruments and hot coals tormented my body. At length ho paused exhausted and cursed me for an obstinate pig o| an Englishman, and at that momeneCortes entered tho shambles, and / ']fcw goes it?" he said lightly, though his ioe turned pale at the sight of horror. J i i "the caziquo of Tacuba has confessed ^^Mk^^^^thwgold is buried in his garden. Tho oth- ! have said nothing, general," the ^^^^^^^^^^B^wcred, glancing down his paper. Cortes the BfFTgtden ot which be ^ ytfit out the gold. ^BM i ?*> tormenting then- ?Mc' Pcr* BBS hajl they may find u^BTc^^BamfikBtoia^, fl B! tonorrow. Itnyfso?fur thoWovm snkes H 'itrrstBol" V I k Then bejltew to the corner of^ho room HD^HC VJ anj eonsulted vrith Sarccda and the other ) torturer^'oaring Marina face to face with HB and me. For awhile she stared V rtthejrin ce as though in horror; then a I | > gtrongelight came into her beautiful eyes, B^B' \ and ihcfcpoko to him in a low voice, say\ j ing ia the Aztec tongue: B^B V *l)o' yo? remember how onco yon reject- j K^B ji. ed/Bf "'own yonder in Tabasco, Guatemoc, ! B Bandfhut.rtold you then?that I should j B gp>* "r,'lkl ^spite of you? You soc, It has BfiHL ^nc true, and more than true, and you j5e*?u? Are you not sorry, Qycmoc? I ain'v>rry, though wore I as women are perchance I might rc7jt to see you thus.\ HB1 *5vomau," the princo answered fn a j ^BBj j[k. voice, ''youhave i^tray^lymircuunB^^^Bj & and you have hrougfet me tu shame y torment. Yes; had it not Kim for you tfe things had never been. I am sorry, j|t"cd I am sum-?that Vlld "Ot kill you. t the rest, may your nsr?c t>e shameful , ^-F*gjevor in the cars of hoit,^ men and your be everlastingly'accused, and may ? .u yourself, even l>efote jou die, know BBL I L bitterness of dishonor |?d betrayal! Mm f four words were fulfilled, md so shall nine be also." ^a Sbe heard and turned awayttrombling, md for awhile was silent When her uP?n 1UC' ihtwegan to poor man!" she said. '\las, iny , Men<\ B .'NV^Dot over me, Marina, V an2 B|B ^crcdVaklng^ yoin tears UB ^Ahi\Vcould!" she sbbMAnd B tuTnU^g Trom the place, followed jb B n enSo^ ^Sbiards came In again n L%?veu ,V)t' <??'" ui XI ^ iv. oaTtyn^in in their arms, f\ 0S?covfldtIV. aml indecd the ciA o v?a3 ^<lp^?Yatc^? li5L ?iid fiua*cnx>c as ho asacd mc- , ? gkJndecdw ^ son ol ^twvl ani ?o\ia11- May th? gods Q?ntA ?ottil!iAcoin? fo? ?vh that * ^uh^?f,U \and "Prince ssV?ot' \ Mine*" "She," "He," "Jess,' gf j 2H|B bo was borne out, and tneso wcro tho words that I ever heard him utter, i jj<nr I was left alone with the Tlascalans ajJjfi Garda, who mocked me as before. I ??A little tired, eh, friend Winfjfleld?" hggcid, sneering. "Well, the play is rough J tUl you get used to it. A night's sleep ^rfffiefresh you, and tomorrow you will bo a neV man. Perhnps you believe that I bai^dono my worst. Fool, this is but a fastening. Also you think doubtless that j y^obstinncy angers me. Wrong again, 1 myfriend. I only pray that you may keep yoqr Hps sealed to the last. Gladly would ! I me my sharo of this hidden gold in pay1 rip* 'or two more soch days with you. I hare still much to pay you back, and, look ! jpa, I havo found a way to do it There j are more ways of hurting a man than i Sough his own flesh?for instance, when jH wished to be revenged upon your father, lit struck him through her whom he loved, rafow I have touched you, and you wonder \ jar hat I mean. Well, I will tell you. Per- , [ haps you may know an Aztec lady of royal ("blood who is named Otomie?" f "Otomie, what of her?" I cried, speaking for the first time, sinco fear for her 'stirred mo more than all the torments I hod borne. "A triumph indeed! I have found a ! way to mako you speak at last Why, then, tomorrow you will be full of words. Only this, Cousin Wingfleld. Otomie, Montcznma's daughter, a very lovely woman, by the way, is your wife according to the Indian customs. Well, I know all the story, and?sho is in my power. I will prove it to you, for sho will be brought here presently, and then you can console each other, j For listen, dog; tomorrrow sho will sit I where you are sitting, and before your eyes ! sho shall be dealt with as you havo been \ dealt with. Ah, then you will talk fast ' enough, but perhaps it will be too late." And now for the first time I broke down . and prayed for mercy even of my foe. "Sparo her," I groaned. ' Do what you will with me, but sparo her! Surely you must havo a heart, even you, for you are human. You can never do this thing, and Cortes would not suffer it." "As for Cortes," he answered, "ho will | know nothing of it?till it is done. I have my warrant that charges 1110 to use every ( means in my power to force the truth from , you. Torture has failed; this alone is left. And for the rest you must read mo ill. 1 You know what it is to hate, for you hate me. Multiply your hato by 10, and you may find the sum of mine for you. You came to tako vengeance on me, and soon or later by you or through you it will bo 4-511 fKan T urn nimn UUl lUt lillVXI JLUiuuipi UJV) V?VM I when I must sink to this butcher's work : to do It," and suddenly ho turned and left : the placo. Then weakness and suffering overcame ; me, and I swooned away. When I awoke, j it was to find that my bonds had been j loosed, and that I lay on somo sort of bed, ; while a woman bent over me, tending me I with murmured words of pity and love. j The night had fallen, but there was light 1 in the chamber, and by it I saw that tho ! woman was none other than Otomle, no ; longer starved and wretched, but almost as lovely as beforo tho days of siege and hunger. "Otomic, you here!" I gasped through my wounded lips, for with my senses come tho memory of De Garcia's threats. "Yes, beloved, it is I," she muttered. "They havo suffered that I nurso you, ITcViis tnougn tircy arc!?enrrtbat I most 6co you thus and yet bo helpless to avenge you!" and she burst into weeping. "Hush," I said, "hush! Have wo food?" "In plenty. A woman brought it from Marina " "Give mo to eat, Otomic." Now for awhilo she fed me, and tho deadly sickness passed from me, though my poor flesh burned with a hundred ago- J nics. "Listen, Otomle. Havo you seen De i Garcia?" "No, husband. Two days since I was separated from my sister Tecuichpo and the other ladies, but I havo been well treated find have seen no Spaniard except tho 6oldicrs who led mo here, telling mo that you were sick. Alas, I knew not from what cause!" and again she began to weep. "Still some havo seen you, and it is ro- j ported that you are my wife." "It Is likely enough," she answered, ! "for it wus known throughout the Aztec hosts, and such secrets cannot bo kept. But why have they treated you thus? Because you fought against them?" "Aro we alone?" I asked. "The guard is without, but there is none elso in tho chamber." "Then bend down your head, and I will tell you," and I told her all. When I had done so, she sprang up with ' dashing eyes, and her hand pressed upon her breast and said: "Oh, if I loved you before, now I love you more if that is possible, who could I suffer thus horribly and yet be faithful to the fallen and your oath! Blessed bo the , day when first I looked upon your face, O my husband, most true of men! But j thoy who could do this?what of them? Still it is done with, and I will nurso you back to health. Surely it is done with, ; or they had not suffered mo to come to you." "Alas, Otomie, I must tell all?it is not donowith," and with faltering voice I went on with tho tale?yes, and since I must I told her for what purposo sho had been brought here. Sho listened without a word, though her lips turned pale. "Truly," sho suid when I had done, | "these Teules far surpass tho pabas of our people, for if tho priests torture and sacrifiee it is to the gods and not for gold and secret hate. Now, husband, what is your counsel? Surely you have some counsel." j "I have none that I dare offer, wife," I ; groaned. "You are timid as a girl who will not utter tho love she burns to tell," Otomie t answered, with a proud anil bitter laugh. "Well, I will speak it for you. It is in i your mind that we must die tonight." "It is," I said. "Death now, or shame : and agony tomorrow, and then death at last, that is our choice. Since God will not protect us, we must protect ourselves if wo can find the means." "God! There is no God. At times I have doubted the gods of my people and j turned to yours. Now I renounce and re- j ject him. If thero were a God of mercy J such as you cling to, could he suffer that such tilings Ik.'? You are my god, litisKotwl Ta van nhfl fur vnu T mill vnll alone. Let us have done now with pleading to those who arc not, or who, if they live, are deaf to our cries and Mlml to our misery, and befriend ourselves. Yonder j lies rope; that window has bars; very soon 1 wo can be beyond the sun and the cruelty ol Teules or sound tislecp. But there is ! thpe yet. Lot us talk awhile. They will scarcely l>egin their torments before tho ; dawn, and ere dawn wo shall l>e far." So \\V tulked as well as my sufferings would alV^W. We talked of how we llrst j had met; oC hbw Otomio had been vowed < to mo as th?Wifo of Tezcat, soul of the ! world; of that\|ay when we had lain side j by side upon thoctonc of sacrillee; of our 1 true marriage th^eafter; of the siege of Tenoctitlan and the tyath of our firstl)orn. Thus wo talked till midnight was two hours gone; then there came a silence. ' Husband," said Otomle at last in a hushed and solemn voice, ''you arc worn with suffering, and I am weary. It is time to do that which must be done. Sad is our fate, but at least rest is before us. I j thank you, husband, for your gentleness. I thank you more for your faithfulness to my house and people. Shall I make ready for our last journey?" "Make ready!" I answered. Then she rose and soon was busy with the ropes. At length all was prepared, and the moment of death was at hand. "You must aid me, Otomic," I said. "I ; cannot walk by myself." She came and lifted me with her strong and tender arms till I stood upon a stool beneath the window bars. There sho placed the ropo alsmt my throat: then taking her stand by me she fitted the second rope upon her own. Now we kissed in solemn silence, for there was nothing more to say. Yet Otomic said something, ' asking: i "Of whom do you think in this moment, k husband? Of me and of my dead child, ,V>r of that lady who lives far across the sea? ; Vay, I will not ask. I have been happy in i fty love; it is enough. Now love and life |\ist end together, and it is welf for me, ( t for you I grieve. Say, shall I thrust ' 4y tho stool?" "Yes, Otomic, since there is no hope but I death. I cannot break my faith with I Guatemoc, nor can I live to see you shamed 1 and tortured." "Then kiss mo first and for the last | time." Wo kissed again, and then, as she was in j tho very act of pushing the stool from beneath us, the door opened and shut, and a ! veiled woman stood before us, bearing a torch in one hand and a bundle in tho oth- ' er. Sho looked, and seeing us and our j dreadful purpose ran to us. "What do you?" she cried, and I knew J tho voice for that of Marina "Aro you I then mad, Teulo?" "Who is this who knows you so well, husband, and will not even suffer that wo dio in peace?" asked Otomic. "I am Marina," answered tho veiled woman, "and I come to savo you if I can." | CHAPTER XXVIL THE ESCAPE. Now Otomio put the ropo off her neck, and descending from tho 6tool stood bofore Marina "You aro Marina," sho said coldly and i proudly, "and you come to save us, you , who have brought ruin on tho land that boro you and have given thousands of her children to death and shame and torment? , Now, if I had my way, I would have none of your salvation?nay, I would rather J save myself as I was about to do." Thus Otomio spoke, and never had she looked more royal than in this moment i cYir* vlcbwl bnr last, elinnen nf llfn that sho might pour out her scorn upon ono whom she deemed a traitress?no, ono who vras a traitress, for had it not been ' for Marina's wit and aid Cortes would never have conauercd Anahuac. I trem- | bled as I heard her angry words, for, all I j suffered notwithstanding, lifo still seemed Bweet to mo, who, 10 seconds ago, had stood upon the verge of death. Surely Merina would depart and leavo ! us to our doom. But it was not so. In- ' deed sho shrank and trembled before Otomie's coi tempt. They were a strango contrast in their different loveliness as thoy , 6tood face to face in the torture den, and it i was strango also to see the spirit of the lady ' of royal blood, threatened as sho was with a shameful death or still more shameful life, triumph over the Indian girl whom today 1 fortune had set far above her as tho stars, j ''Say, royal lady," asked Marina in her | gentlo voice, ''for what cause did you, if tales arc true, lio by tho side of yonder ; whito man upon the stono of sacrifice t" "Becauso I love him, Marina." ''And for this same cause have I, Marina, laid my honor upon a different altar, for this same cause I have striven against ' the children of my people, because I love another such as he. It is for love of Cortes that I have aided Cortes; therefore despiso mo not, but let your love plead for mino, seeing that, to us women, love is all. I have sinned, I know, but doubtless in its season my 6in shall find a fitting punishment." "It had need bo 6harp," answered | Otoinlc. "My love has harmed none. See j before you but ono grain of the countless ( harvest of your own. In yonder chair i Guatemoc, your king, was this duv tortured by your master, Cortes, who swore to treat him with nil honor. By his sido sat ! Teule, my husband and your friend. Him ! Cortes gavo over to his private enemy, Do ' Garcia, whom you name Snrccda. Seo how he has left him. Nay, do not shudder, | gentle lady. Look now at his wounds! j Consider to what a pass wo are driven I when you find us about to dio thus liko i dogs, he, my husband, that ho may not ! live to 6ee mo handled a ho has been, nnd j I with him becauso a princess of the ! Otonilo and of Montezuma's blood cannot j submit to such a shame whilo death has ! one door through which to crocp. It is but ; ft single grain of your harvest, outcast and traitoress, the harvest of misery and death that is stored yonder in tho ruins of Tonoctitlan. Had I my will I tell you that I had sooner die a score of times than tako help from ft hand so 6taincd with tho blood of my people und of yours?I" "Oh, cease, lady, cease," groaned Marina, covering her eyes witli her hand, as though.the night) of Otomio were dreadful to her. " What is done is done. Do not add to my remorse. What did you say? that you, the Lady Otomio, wcro brought hero to be tortured?" ''Even so, and beforo my husband's eyes. Why should Montezuma's daughter and tho princess of the Otomio escape the fato of the emperor of tho Aztecs? If her womanhood does not protect her, lias she anything to hopo of her lost rank?" "Cortes knows nothing of this; I swear it," said Marina. "To tho rest ho husbeci driven by the clamor of tho soldiers, who taunt him with stealing treasure that ho ; has never found. But of this last wicked- ! ness ho is innocent." "Then let him ask his tool Sarceda of it." "As for Sarceda, I promise you, prin- i cess, that if I can I will avenge this threat upon him. But time is short. I am come here with tho knowledge of Cortes to see if I can win the secret of the treasure from Teule, your husband, and for my friendship's sake I am about to betray my trust and help him and you to fly. Do you refuse my aid?" Otomio said nothing, but I spoke for tho first time. "V-.. T fl.lu : 4.11XJ } iUaitlKI) & liutu I1U AU1U V14 40 thief's fato if I can escape it, hut how is it to be done}1" "The chance is poor enough, Tculc, but 1 bethought me that once out of this i prison you might slip away disguised. I Few will l>e stirring at dawn, and.of them I the most will not be keen to notice men I or things. See, I have brought you the | dress of a Spanish soldier. Your skin is I dark, and in the half light you might pass as one, and for the princess your wife I have brought another dress. Indeed I am ashamed to offer it, but it is the only one that will not be noted at this hour; also, Tculc, I bring you a sword, that which j was taken from you, though I think that , once it had another owner." Now while she spoko Marina undid her bundle, and there in it were the dresses and the sword, the same that I had taken from the Spaniard Diaz in the nmssacre of the noche triste. First she drew out the 1 woman's robe and handed it to Otomie, i and I saw that it was such a robe jis among the Indians is worn by the women I who follow camps, a robe with red ami yellow in it. Otomie saw it also and drew j biick. "Surely, girl, you have brought a gar- j mcnt of your own in error," she said quietly, but in such a fashion as showed more of the savage heart that is native to her ; race than she often suffered to be seen. ! "At the least I cannot wear such rol>cs." "It seems that I must Ix-ar too much," answered Marina, growing wroth at last and striving to keep back the tears that started to her oyes. "I will away and leave ! you," and she began to roll up her bundle. ' "Forgive her, Marina," I said hastily, for the desiro to escape grew on me every minute. "Sorrow lias set an edge upon her tongue." Then, turning to Otomie, I added: "I pray ytiu be mom gentle, wife, for my sake if not for yivflr own. Mnripa^ | is our only hope." , "Would that she had left us to die in peace, husband. Well, so lx> it, for your sake I will put on these garments of a j drab. liut. how shall we escape out of this place and the camp? Will the door Ik: opened to us and the guards removed, and if we pass them 3an you walk, husband?" "The doors will not be opened, huly," said Marina, "for those wait without who will see that they tire locked when I have passed them. Hut there will lie nothing to fear from the guard?trust to me for it. See, the bars of this window are but of j wood. That sword will soon sever them, and if you are seen you must plav the part j of a drunken soldier being guided to his quarters by a woman. For the rest I know I nothing, save that I run great risk for your | sakes, since, if it is discovered that I had j aided you, then I shall find it hard to soften the rage of Cortes, who, the war l>eing won," and she sighed, "does not need me j now so much as once he did." "I can make shift to hop on my right foot," I said, "and for the rest we must trust to fortune. It can give us no worse gifts than those we have already." "So lie it, Teule, and now farewell, for I dare stay no longer. I can do nothing more. May your good star shine on you ! and lend you hence in safety, and, Teule, j if we never meet again, I pray you think j of me kindly, for there are many in the ; world who will do otherwise in the days to come." "Farewell, Marina," I said, and sho J was gone. We heard tho doors close behind her and the distant voices of those who bore her ! litter; then all was silence. Otomic listen- ! I ed at the window for awhile, but tho guards seemed to be gone, where or why I do not know to this hour, and the only sound was that of distant revelry from tho camp. "And now to the work," I said to Oto- j uilc. "As you wish, husband, but I fear it j will be profitless. I do not trust that wo- i ! man. Faithless in all, without doubt sho I | betrays us. Still at the worst you havo | tho sword and can use it." "It matters little," I answered. "Our ! plight cannot be worse than it is now. Life has no greater evils than torment and death, and they aro with us already." Thfcn I sat upon tlio stool, and my arms being left sound and strong I hacked with 1 the sharp sword at the wooden bars of tho window, severing them one by one till : there was a spaco big enough for us to j creep through. This being done and no! | one having appeared to disturb us, Otomie1 I clad me in the clothes of a Spanish sol- | dicr which Marina had brought, for I' | could not dress myself. What I suffered in tho donning of those garments and ! inoro especially in pulling of tho long boot' I on to my burned foot can never bo told, but more than once I stopped, pondering whether it would not bo better todio rath-i ! er than to enduro such agonies. At last it was done, and Otomio must put on tho red and yellow robe, a garb of shamo such as many an honest Indian woman would dlo sooner than bo seen in, and I think + ixa eKft ilM flilc lior nrrnnv U'flQ Uiau M DMW Viiu VU*W #*v?. >QV.V ' o " than mine, though of another sort, for to her proud heart that dress was a very shirt of Nessus. Presently she was chid and minced before mo with a savage mockery, saying: ' Prithee, soldier, do I look my parti" "A peace to such fooling," I answered. ! "Our lives are at stake. How does it mat- ! tcr how wo disguise ourselves?" "It mutters., much, husljand, but how i can you understand, who are a man and a i foreigner? Now I will clamber tlirough the window, and you must follow mo if you can. If not, I will return to you, and wo will end this masquerade." Then sho passed through tj|p hole swiftly, for Otomio was agilo and strong as an ocelot, and mounting tho stool J made | shift to follow her as well as my hurts would allow. In tho end I was ablo tc j throw myself upon ?ho sill of tho window, j and there I was stretched out liko a dead j cat till sho drew me across it, and I fell i with her to the ground on the farther side and lay groaning. Sho lifted me to my I feet, or rather to my foot, for I could use i but ono of them, and wo stared round us. ; No ono was to bo seen, and the sound of j revelry had died away, for the crest of Popo was already red with the sunlight, and tho dawn grew in tho valley. "Where to?" I said. Now, Otomio had been allowed to walk I in tho camp with her sister, tho wlfo of j Guatemoc, and other Aztec ladies, and | sho had this gift in common with most . Indians?that wlicro alio had onco passed j there sho could pass again, even in tho darkest night. 'To the south gate," sho whispered. ! "Perhaps it is unguarded now that tho j war is done. At the least, I know tho road thither." So we sturted, I leaning 011 her shoulder ! and hopping 011 my right foot, and thus ; very painfully we traversed sonic iSOO yards, j meeting nobody. Hut now our good luck 1 failed us, for passing round the corner of : some buildings we came face fo face wjth three soldiers returning to their huts from i a midnight revel and with them soipo native servants. "Whom lmvg wo lien;?" said the ur?t OJ these. "Your name, comrmlo," "Good night, brother, good niglit," J answered in Spanish, speaking with the thick voice of drunkenness. "Good morning, you mean," ho said, for the dawn was breaking. "Yourname? I don't know your face, though it seems j that you have been in the wars." And he j laughed. 'You mustn't ask a comrade his name," I said solemnly and swinging to and fro. "The captain might send for me, and lie's a temperate man. Your arm, girl. It is time to go to sleep. The sun sets." They laughed, but one of them addressed Otomio, saying: "Leave the sot, my pretty, and come | and walk with us." And ho caught her by tho arm. But she turned on ]iim with so flerco a look that ho let her go again, astonished, and wo staggered on till tho i corner of another house hid us from their j view. Hero I sank to tho ground over- i coino with pain, for while the soldiers were in sight I was obliged to use my wounded foot lest they should suspect. But Oto- I mlo pulled mo up, saying: 'Alas, beloved, wo must pass 011 or perish." I rose, groaning, and by what efforts I reached tho south guto I cannot describe, though I thought that I must dio before I camo there. At last it was before us, and, as chance would liuvo it, the Spanish guard were asleep in the guardhouse. Three Tlasculans only were crouched over | a little Arc:, their scrapes or blankets about j their heads, for the dawn was chilly. 'Open tho gates, dogs!" I said in a ' proud voice. Seeing a Spanish soldier, one of thom i roso to obey, then paused and said: 'Why and by whoso orders?" I could not seo tho man's face bccauso of tho blanket, but his voice sounded fa- j miliar to me. and I irrcw afraid. Still I i must speak. "Why? Because I am drunk and wish to lie without till I grow sober. By whoso orders? By mine. I am an officer of tho day, and if you disobey I'll have you flogged till you never ask another question." ' Shall I call the Teules within?" said the man sulkily to his companion. "Xo," he answered. "The Lord Sarceda is weary and gavo orders that he should not be awakened without good cause. Keep them in or let them through, as you will, but do not wake him." I trembled in every limb. Do Garcia was in the guardhouse! What if he awoke? What if lie came out and saw me? More, now I guessed whose voice it was that I knew again. It was that of one of those Tlascolans who hud aided in tormenting mo. What if he should sec my face? Ho could scarcely fail to know that on which he had left his mark so recently. I was dumb with fear and could say nothing, | and had it not been for the wit of Otomie there my story would have ended. But ; now she played her part and played it well, plying the man with tho coarse raillery of ! tho cam]) till at length sho put him in a j good humor, and he opened tho gate, bid- ; ding her begone and me with her. Already we had passed the gate when a sudden ! faintness seized me, and I stumbled and fell, rolling over on my back as I touched j the earth. "Up, friend, up," said Otomie, with u harsh laugh. "If you must sleep, wait till you And some friendly bush," and she 1 dragged at me to lift me. Tho Tlascalan, still laughing, came forward to help her, and between them I gained my feet again, but as I rose my cap, which lltted me but ill, fell off. He picked it up and gave it j to me, and our eyes met, my face being somewhat in the shadow. Next instant I was hobbling on, but looking back I saw j the Tlascalan staring after us with a puz- : idled air, like that of a man who is not ' sure of tho witness of his senses. "lie knows me," I said to Otomie, "and ' presently, when he has found his wits, he will follow us." "On, on!" answered Otomie. "Round yonder corner are aloe bushes whero wo may hide " "lam spent. I can do no more," and again I began to*fall. Then Otomie caught mo us I fell, and ' of a sudden she put out her strength, and lifting me from the ground as a mother lifts her child staggered forward, holding mo to her breast. For 50 paces or more j she carried me thus, love and despair giv- | ing her strength, till at last we reached j the edge of the aloe plants, and there we i sank together to the earth. I cast my eyes i buck over tin: path which we had traveled. ! Round the corner came the Tlascalan, a I spiked club in his band, seeking us to ! solve his doubts. 'It. is finished," I gasped. "The man , comes.'' For answer Otomio drew my sword from i its scabbard and hid it in the grass. '"Now i feign sleep," she said. 4 * It is our last ; chance." I cast my arm over my face and pretended to bo asleep. Presently I heard the sound of a man passing through the bushes, and the Tlascalan stood over me. ''What would you*" asked Otomic. ''Can you not see that he sleeps? Let him sleep.'' "I must look on his face first, woman," ho answered, dragging aside my arm. "By the gods, I thought so! This is that Teule whom we dealt with yesterday and who escapes.'' "You are mad," she said, laughing, "lie has escaped from nowhere, save from a brawl and a drinking bout." 'You lie, woman, or if you do not lie I you know nothing. This man has the so- | crct of Montezuma's treasure and is worth j a king's ransom." And he lifted his club, j 'And yet you wish to slay him! Well, I .know nothing of him. Take him back ' whence lie came. He is but a drunken j sot, and I shall be well rid of him." "Well said. It would lie foolish to kill j him, but by bearing him alive to the Lord j Sarceda I shall win honor and reward. I Come, help me." "Help yourself," she answered sullenly. 'But first search his pouch. There may bo some tritle there which we can divide." "Well said again," he answered, and kneeling down he bent over nie and began I to lumblo at tho fastenings of the pouch. Otomic was behind him. I saw her foco change, and a terrible light camo into her eyes?such a light as shines In tho eyes of tho priest at sacrifice. Quick as thought sho drew tho sword from the grass and smote with Jill her strength upon tho man's bent neck. Down lie fell, making no sound, and sho also fell beside him. In a moment sho was on her feet again, staring at him wildly, tho naked sword in her linnd. '"Up," sho said, "beforo others como to 6oek him! Nay, you must!" Now again wo were struggling forward through the bushes, my mind llllcd with a great wonder that grew slowly to a whirling nothingness. For awhile it seemed to mo as though I wore lost in an evil dream and walking on redhot irons in my dream. Then camo a vision of armed men with lifted spears and of Otoinlo running toward them with outstretched arms, 1 know no more. CHAPTER XXVIII. OTOMIE I'LEADS WITH HER rEOrLE. When I nuokcjdt was to find myself in a cave, where thollght 6lionc very dimly. Ptomlc leaned over me, and not fur away a man was cooking a pot over a fire made ui ury inuu iuituo. "Whcro am I, op4 what has happened?" I asked. " You am 6afe, ^eJovcd," alio answered, "at least for awhile. When you have eaten, I will tell you more." She brought mo broth and food, and I ato eagerly, and when J was satisfied sho ppoke; "You remember how tho Tlascalan followed us and how?I was rid of him?" "J remember, Qtomie, though how you found strength to kill him J do pot understand," "Love and despair gavo It to me, and I pray that I may never have 6uch another need. Do not 6peak of It, husband, for this Is more terrible to mo than all that has been before. Uno thing comforts me, however. I did not kill him; tho sword twisted In my hand, and I bclicvo that ho was but 6tunncd. Then we fled a llttlo way, and looking back I saw that two other Tlascalans. companions of tho senseless mpn, were following us and him. Presently they pamo up to whero he }ay and Stared at him. Then they started on our tracks, running hard, and very soon they must hayo caught us, for now you pquld scarcely stir. Your mind was gone, and J had no moro strength to carry you, "Still wo stumbled on till presently, when tho pursuers wcro within 60 paces of us, I saw armed men?eight of thenir?rushing at us from tho bushes, They were of -my own people, tho Otomles, soldiers that had served under you, who watched tho Spanish camp, and seeing a Spaniard alono they came to 6lay him. They very nearly did so indeed, for at first I was so breathless I could scarcely speak, but at lost in a few words I made shift to declare my namo and rank and your sad plight. But now tho two Tlascalans wcro upon ps, ami ? palled to tho men of the Otomio to protect us, and falling pn the Tlascalans bofpro they jincw that enemies worn thoro they klllod ono of them and took thp Afbnw ni^cAnor fPVinr* fKnv mn/ln n. 1 \ VWiivf rr t?r?"t| and placing you on It boro you without rest SO leagues into the mountains till they reached this secret hiding place, and hero you havo lain thrco days and nights. Tho Teules havo searched for you far and wldo, but they have searched in vain. Only yesterday two of them, with 10 Tlascalans, passed within 100 paces of this cave, and I hod much ado to prevent our pcoplo from attacking them. Now they aro gone whence they came, and I think that wo aro safo for a time. Scon you will bo better, and wo can go henco." "Where can we go to, Otomiof We aro birds without a nest." "Wo must scok sholtcr in tho City of Pines or fly across tho water, There is no Other choice, husband," "Wo cannot try the sea, Otomic, for all the ships that couio hero aro Spanish, and I do not know how they will groct us in tho City of Pines now that our cause is lost, and with it so mnny thousands of their wurriors." "Wo mnst tttke&ierisk, husband. There are still true hearts In Annhuoc who will stand by us in our sorrow and their own. At tho least wo havo escaped from greater dangers. Now let mo dress your wounds and rest awhile." So for threo more days I lay in tho cave of tho mountains, and Otomio tended me, and at the end of that time my state was such thut I could travel in a litter, though for some weeks I was unable to set foot to tho ground. On the fourth day wo started by night, and I was carried on men's shouldors till at length wo passed up tho gorgo that leads to tho City of Pines. Hero wo wero stopped by scntrios, to whom Otomio told our talo, bidding some of theni go forward and repeat it to tho captains of tho city. Wo followed tho messengers slowly, for my bearers wero weary, and came to tho gates of tho beautiful town just as tho red rays of sunset struck upon tho snowy pinnacle of Xoca thut towers behind it, turning her cap of smoke to a sullen red, liko that of molten iron. Tho news of our coming had spread about, and hero and there knots of peoplo were gathered to watch us pass. For tho most part they stood silent, but now and again some woman whoso husband or son had Derished in tho sieco would hiss a curso at us. ^ Alas, how different was our stato this day to what it had been when not a year before we entered the City of Pines for the first time! Then wo were escorted by an army 10,000 strong; then musicians had sung before us, and our path was strewn with flowers. And now! Now we came two fugitives from the vengeance of tho Teules?I borne in a litter by four tired soldiers, while Otomle, the princess of this people, still clad in her wanton's robo, at which tho women mocked, for sho had been able to come by no other, tramped at my side, slnco there was nono to carry her, and the inhabitants of the place cursed us as the authors of their woes. Nor did wo know if they would stop at words. At length we crossed the squnre beneath tho shadow of the teoenlli and reached tho ancient and sculptured palace as the light failed and tho smoke on Xaca, tho holy hill, began to glow with the fire in its heart. Here small preparation had been made to receive us, and that night wo supped by the light of a torch upon tortillas, or meal cukes, and water, like the humblest in tho land. Then we crept to our rest, and as I lay awake because of the pain of my hurts I heard Otomie, who thought that I slept, break into low sobbing at my side. Her proud spirit was humbled at last, and she, whom I had never known to weep except once, when our firstborn died in the siege, wept bitterly. "Why do you sorrow thus, Otomie?" I asked at length. "I did not know that you were awake, husband," sho sobbed In answer, "or 1 would havo checked my grief. Huslmnd, I sorrow over all that has befallen us and our people; also, though these are but little things, because you are brought low and treated^as a man of no estate, and of tho cold comfort that wo find here." 'Ythi have enuV wifr," T answered. ''Say, what will th*& Otomies do with us ?kill us or give us up to the Teules!'" "I do not know: tomorrow wo shall learn. Hut for my part I will not be surrendered living." "Nor I, wife. Death is better than the tender mend, s of Cortes and his minister, De Garcia. Is there any hope!"" "Yes, then- is hope, lieloved. Now the Otomies are east down, and they remember that we led the (lower of their land to death. Hut they are brave and generous at heart, and if I can touch them there all may yet Ik; well. Weariness, pain nnd memory make us weak, who should be full of courage, having escaped so many ills. Sleep, my husband, and leavo mo to think. All shall yet go well, for even misfortune lias an end." So I slept and woke in the morning somewhat refreshed and with a happier fnr K tlmro tlmf ?%,?f lutlflnr when the light shines on liiin nncl lie is renewed by rest? When I opened my eyes, the sun was already high, but Otoinie had risen with the dawn, and she had not been idle during those three hours. For one thing she hud contrived to obtain food and ralntent more befitting to our rank than the rags in which we were clothed; also she had brought together certain men of condition who were friendly and loyal to her in misfortune, and these she sent about the city, letting it be known that she would address the people at midday from the steps of the palace, for, as Otoinie well knew, the heartstrings of a crowd are touched more easily than those of cold and ancient counselors. ' Will they come to listen?" I usked. "Have no fear," she answered. "The desire to look upon us who have survived the siego and to know the truth of what hies happened will bring them. Moreover, some will bo there seeking vengeanco on us." Otoinie was right, for as the morning drew on toward midday I saw the dwellers in the City of Pines gathering ln thousands till the space between the steps of the palaee and tho face of the pyramid was I black with them. Now Otonno comoeti } her curling hair and placed flowers in it i and set a gleaming feather cloak about ; her shoulders, so that it hung down over i her white robes, and on her breast that J splendid necklace of emeralds, which Gua| tcnioc had given to mo in tho treasure ! chamber and'which she had preserved safely through all our evil fortune, and a goldon girdle about her waist. In her hand | also Bho took a little scepter of ebony tip> ped with gold that was in the palace, with I other ornaments and emblems of rank, and thus attired, though she was worn with traveling and suffering and grief had dimmed her beauty for awhile, sho seemed the I queenliest woman that my eyes havo seen. I Next sho caused mo to bo laid upon my ; rudo litter, and when tho hour of noon J was come she commanded thoso soldiers who had borno mo across tho mountains to carry mo by her side. Thus wo issued from tho wide doorway of tho palaco and took our stand upon tho platform at tho head of tho stops. As wo camo a great cry roso from tho thousands of tho people, a flnroA rrv Ulrn t.hfif. nf wllrl Knncf.a hnwll V cr I for their prey. Higher and higher it rose, a Eound to strlko terror Into the bravest heart, and by degrees I caught its purport. "Kill them!" said the cry. "Givo tho : liar to tho Teulcs!" Otomio stepped forward to tho edge of tho platform, and lifting tho ebony scepter sho stood silent, the sunlight beating on h-jr lovely face and form. But tho multitude screamed a thousand tnuntsand threats at us, and still the tumult grew. Onco they rushed toward her, as though to tear her tq ! pieces, but fcl} back at tho last stuir, as a wavo falli from a Tool, and once a spear was thrown that passed between her neck and shoulder. Now tho soldiers who lmd carried mo, making pertain that our death was at hand, and having no wish to share it, set my litter down upon tho stones and slipped hack into tho palace, but all this whllo , Otomio never so much as moved?no, not I even when tho spear hissed past her. Sho j stood before them stately and scornful, a I very queen among women, and littlo by ! littlo tho majesty of licr presence and thp ; greatness of her courage hushed them to silence. \Vhen there was quiet at length, she spoko in a clear voioo that carried far. "Am I among my own pcoplo of tho Otomio," sho asked bitterly, "or have wo ' lost our path and wandered pcrchapco : gmong some savage Tlnscalan tribof jjisj t?P| people of the Otomio. I have but ono ! yoico, and nono can reason with a multl| tude. Chooso you a tonguo tQ speak fur j you and let him set put tho desi.ro pf ypur ! hearts," Now tho tumult began again, for somo ! shouted ono namo and somo another, but j in tho oud a priest and noblo named Maxj tla stepped forward, a man of great power j among tho Otomic, who, abovo all, had favored an alliance with tho Spaniards and opposed tho sending of an army to aid Guatcmoc in tho defense of Tcnoctitlnn. Nor did ho come alone, for with him were j four chiefs, whom by their dress I knpw to i bo Tlascalans and envoys from Cortes, j Then my hcurc sank, for it wns pot difhI cult to guess tho object of their coming. "gpeak on, Mnxtla," said otomio, "for I wo must hear what thcro is for us to answer, and you, people of tho Otomio, I pray you keep silence, that you may judgo between us when there is an end of talking." Now a great silenco fell upon tho multitude,. who pressed together liko sheep in a pen and strained their cars to catch tho words of Maxtla. "My speech with you, princess, and the Teule, your outlawed husband, shall bo short and sharp," ho began roughly. "A while licnco you capio hither to seek an army to aid Cuitlahua, emperor of the Aztecs, In his strugglo with tho Teulcs, tho | sons of Quetzal. That army was given | you against tho wishes of many of us, for I ?ai? **?/??? fl?n /inunriil 1 iv fVto hnn^v r*f j J UU n UU VJIV VUUI4V?? Vt^V 4<Vt?v^ Vf your words, and wo who urged caution or oven nn ailianco with tho wlilto men, tho children of God, were overruled, You went honcc, and 20,000 men, tho llower of our people, followed you to Tenoctltlan. Wlicro ore they now? I will tell you. Some 200 of them hnvo crept back homo, the rest fly to and fro through the air In the gizzards of the znphilotes or crouch on tho earth in tho bellies of jackals. Death has them all, and you led them to their deaths. Is it, then, much that we should seek the lives of you two in payment for those 20,000 of our sons, our husbands and our fathers? But we do even ask this. Hero lieside me stand embassadors from Malinche, tho captain of tho Teules, who reached our city but an hour ago. This is the demand that they bring from Malinche, and in his own words: 44 'Deliver back to me Otomio, tho daughter of Montezuma, and tho renegade of her paramour, who is known as Teule, and who has fled from tho justico duo to his orimes, and it shall lie well with you, peoplo of theOtomie. Hide them or refuso to deliver them, and the fate of the City of I Pines shall be as the fate of Tenoctitlan, | queen of tho valley. Choose, then, between I my lovo and my wrath, people of tho Oto| mie. If you obey, the past shall be forgiven, I and my yoke will be light upon you. If you refuse, your city shftll bo stamped flat and your very namo wiped out of tho records of the world.'. "Say, messengers of tho Malinche, are not these tho words of Malinche?" ''Theyaro his very words, Maxtla," said tho spokesman of tho embassy. Now again there was a tumult among tho people, and voices cried, "Give them up; give them to Malinche as a peace offering." Otomie stood forward to speak, and J it died away, for all desired to hear her | words. Then she spoke: "It seems, people of the Otomie, that I j am on trial before my own vassals, and I my husband with me. Well, I will plead | our causo as well as a woman may, and 1 having tho power you shall judgo between j \is and Maxtla and his allies, Malinche and | tho Tlascalans. What is our offense? It ; is that wo camo hither by the command of Cultlahua to scfck your aid in his war with the Teules. What did I tell you then? I told you that if tho people of Anahuac would not stand together against tho white men they must be broken ono by one, liko the sticks of an unbound fagot, and cast into tho flames. Did I Bpcak lies? Nay, j I spoke tho truth, for through tho treason I of her tribes, and chiefly through tho trcaj son of the Tlascalans, Anahuac is fallen i and Tcnoctitlun is a ruin sown with dead I like a field with corn." "It is true," cried u voice, j "Yes, people of the Otomio, it is true, but I say that had all the warriors of tho j nations of Anahuac played the part that | your sons played tho talo had run other| wise. They nro dead, and because of their I death you would deliver us to our foes and | yours, but I, for one, do not mourn them, though among their numl>cr are many of | my kin. Nay, bo not wroth, but listen. It is better that they should lio dead in honor, having earned for themselves a wreath of fame nnd an immortal dwelling in tho houses of tho sun, than that they should livo to bo slaves, which, it seems, is your desire, people of tho Otomio. There to no falsa word in what I said to von. | Now tho sticks that Mallnche has used to I beat out the brains of Guatemoc shall bo broken and burned to cook tho pot of tho Tonics. Already those false children aro his slaves. Have you not heard his command, that the tribes, his allies, shall labor in tho quarries and the streets till tho glorious city ho has burned rises afresh upon the face of tho waters? Will you not hasten to take your share in the work, peoplo of thoOtomie, the work that knows no rest and no reward except tho lush of the overseer and the curse of tho Teule? Surely you will hasten, people of tho mountains! Your hands arc shaped to the spado and the trowel, not to the bow and tho spear, and it will lie sweeter to toil to do the will and swell the wealth of Malinche in tho sun of tho valley or the shadow of tho mino than to bide here free upon your hills, where as yet no foe has set his foot!" Agnln she paused, and a murmur of doubt and unrest went through the thousands who listened. Maxtla stopped forwnrd and would have spoken, but tho peoplo shouted him down, crying: "Otoniie, Otomio! Let us hear tho words of Otomio." "I thank you, my people," she said, "for I have still much to tell you. Our crime is, then, that we drew an army after us to light against the Teules. And how did we draw this army? I)ld I command you to muster your array? Nay, I set out i my case, and I said 'Now choose.' You chose, and of your own free will you dis| patched those glorious companies that now j are dead. My crime is, therefore, that you I chose wrongly, ns you say; but, as I still I hold, most rightly, and because of this | crime I and my husband nro to iw given as ; a peace offering to the Tcules. Listen. Let me tell you something of those wars in which wo have fought in-fore you give us to the Teulcs and our mouths art- silent forever. Where shall I ln-gin? I know not. Stay; I bore a child?had he lived he would have been your prince today. That child I saw starve to death before my eyes; inch by inch and day by day I saw him starve. But it is nothing. Who am I that I should complain because 1 have lost my son, when so many of 3'our .sons are dead and their blood Is required at my hands? Listen again," and sho went on to tell in burning words of tlio horrors of tho siege, of the cruelties of tho Spaniards and of tho bravery of tho men of tho Otomle whom I hod commanded. For a full sho spoko thus, while all that vast audience hung upon her words; also sho told of the part that I pluycd in tho strugglo and of the deeds which I had done, and now and again some soldier In tho crowd who served under me, and who had escaped tho famine and tho massacre, scried out: "It is .true. Wo saw It with our eyes." "And so," sho said, "at last it was finished, at last Tenoctitlan was a ruin, and my cousin and my king, tho glorious Guatemoc, lay a prisoner In tho hands of Mallnchc, and with my husband J'eulo, my ! sister, I myself and many another. Ma; llncho swore that ho would treat Guate - - ? 11.V -II 1 moo and Ms iouowingwim mi uouor. do you know how ho treated him? Within a few days Guntemoc, our king, was seated in the chair of torment while slaves burned him with hot irons tocauso him to declare tho hiding place of tlio treasure of Monto' zumu! Aye, you may well cry 'Shamo upon him!' You 6haU cry It yet more loudly before J have dono, for know that | Guatcmoo did not suffer alone. One ljes (here who suffered with him and spoke no word, and I also, your princess, was doomed to torment. Wo escaped when death j was at our door, for I told my husband that the people of tho Otornlo had true hearts and would shelter us In our sorrow, ! and for his sake I, Otoroic, disguised myself In the robo of a wanton and-fled with ; him hither. Could I havo known what I : should livo to seo and hear, could I have dreamed that you would receivo us thus, J had died a hundred deaths before I came to stand and plead for pity at your hands. "Oh, my pcoplo, I beseech of you, make I no terms with tho falso Teule, but remain : bold and free. Your necks are not fitted ' to the yoke of tho slave; your eona and daughters are of too high a blood to servo 1 tho foreigner in hia needs and pleasures. ; Defy Malincho, 8umo of our race are dead, hut many thousands remain. Hero In your mountain nest you can beat back every Teulo In Anahuac, as In bygono years the : false Tlascalans beat hack the Asteca, j Then tho Tlascalans were free; now they are a raco of serfs, Say, will you share j their serfdom? My people, my people, ; think not that I plead for myself or even ; for tho husband who la more dear to mo than aught savo honor, Do you Indeed ; dream that wo will suffer you to hand us I living to theso dogs of Tlascalans, whom Malincho insults you by sending as his messengers?" "Look," and she walked to where the spear that had been hurled at her lay upon the pavement and lifted it, "hero is a means 1 of death that some friend has sent us, and if you will not listen to my pleading you i shall seo it used before your eyes. Then, if you will, you may send our bodies to Maliuchc as a pence offering. But for your own sakes J plead with you. Defy Malincho, and if you must die at last die as freemen and not as slavea of tho Teule. Behold now his tender mercies and seethe lot that shall bo yours if you tnkftjinother counsel, tho counsel of MaxtlaT^umrawnIng to tho litter on which I lay she rent my robes from me, leaving mo almost naked to tho waist, and unwound the bandages from my wounded limb, then lifted me up so that I rested upon my sound foot, i "Look!" she cried in a piercing voioe, and pointing to the scars and unhealed wounds upon my face and leg. "Look on the work of Teulo and tho Tlascalan; seo how the foo la dealt with who surrenders to them. Yield if you will, desert us if you will, but I say that then your own bodies i shall be marked in a liko fashion till not an ounce of gold is left that can minister to tho greed of tho Tcule, or a man or a maiden who can labor to satisfy his indolence." Then sho.ceased, and letting mo sink gently to tho ground, for I could not stand alone, 6ho stood over me, tho spear in her hund, us though waiting to plunge It to my heart should tho people still demand our surrender to the messengers of Cortes. For ono instant thcro was silence; then of a suddon tho clamor and tho tumult broke out again ten llini'y luuie luiiefSf/ than at first. But it was no longer aimed at us. Otomio had conquered. Her nobjo words, her beauty, tho tale of our sorrows and tho sight of my tormcnterTnaHfiSR their work, and tho heart of tho people was filled with fury against tho Teules who had destroyed their army and the Tlascalans that had aided them. Novel did tho wit and eloquence of a woman causo a 6wiftcr change. They screamed and tore their robes and shook their weapons in tho air. Maxtla Btrove to speak, but they pulled him down, and presently ho was flying for his life. Then they turned upon tho Tlnscalan envoys and beat them with sticks, crying: "This is our nnswer to Malinche. Run, you dogs, and tako it!" till they wcro driven from the town. Now at length tho turmoil ceased, and some of tho great chiefs came forward, and kissing tho hand of Otomio said: "Princess, we, your children, will guard you to the deuth, for you havoput another heart into us. You aro right. It is better | to uio ireo man to live as slaves." ''See, my husband," said Otomle, "I was not mistaken when I told you that my i peoplo were loyal and true. But now we must mako ready for war, for they have gone too far to turn back, and when this tiding comes to tho ears of Mallnche he ' will be like a puma robbed of her young. Now let us rest. I am very weary." "Otomle," I answered, "thcro has lived no greater woman than you upon this earth." "Icannot toll, husband," she said, smili lng. ''If I have won your praise and safe1 ty, It Is enough for me." * TO RE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK. THE MISSING CHECK. Here is a story, told by the New j York Herald, that illustrates two factsfirst, the foolishness of making bogus j wedding presents, or if not bogus pres j ents, pretentious gifts; and second l that no matter how carefully you maj ! invite your guests to your marriage, i : is well to watch them, for people ir good society will steal. As far back as 1855, in a small Hud son river town, a young woman wai ! married to her father's confidentia j clerk. In' addition to winning his I bride, the young man secured a part | nership in his father-in-law's concern and on the day of the wedding then , were displayed, as was the custom ii j those days, the presents. Among then was a check for $10,000 from the bride's ! father. The couple lived happily togethei ; for nearly 30 yearsj the husbanc ' died. At intervals ttfe wife visited he: j old home, met and conversed with hei , old friends, reared her children in fh< i fear of the Lord, and was in everj j way a good member of society I years after the death of hcr--jp|iw|| ] her father, then a venerable oW maiy I died. When his estafirwas settled,^ daughter and widow Jbund liQMW charged in the will with $10,000, t?'ollr ! deducted from her portion of the'. jt i tate. "But," she said to the executors, "I never received this money. And it is not fair to deduct it from from my portion of the estate. I don't care to contest the will, but I think there must be some mistake about it. I recollect the check among my wedding presents, but I never saw it afterward. I I suppose my husband took it, and if lie did it was al! right, but I have no proof of it either way." The executors were in a quandary, and in some way the story of the missing check became known in the village. Then a surprising thing happened. One of the most respectable citizens of the town, a prominent member of the church, came forward, and, after a good deal of hesitation, drew from his pocket a faded slip of paper. "See what my wife found in an old suit of clothes,"said he. "I?I?don't know how it came there, but I thought it might be of some service to you." It was the $10,000 check. Whether in jest or with the intention of stealing it, the respectable citizen had put it iu his pocket. Having it once in his possession, he found it an awkward instrument. He was equally afraid to use it or mention the fact of his having i it, until 30 years later, when the discussion regarding the will made it possible. Truth always in a house that is built on a rock. PisKfUanfous parting. BIRDS TO BE SPARED. The Harm They I)o Small Compared to the flood They Ilrintf About. "No decent person who knows the value of birds that sing, whether their notes be harsh or sweet-voiced, will ever kill a singing-bird," said a naturalist. "Thousands of birds that are i of inestimable value, to the farmer, : as well as to the town dweller who grows fruit or keeps a garden, are slaughtered ruthlessly every year. "The farmer, the gardener, and the fruit grower should know more about the birds that nest and sing about their premises, for then they would defend and protect them, and in time have them back in something like their oldtime numbers and variety. How often nowadays does one see the saucy, richvoiced, nervous little wren'? A few years ago it was seen and heard every wnere, but it must be a favored locality that it visits now. Yet the little wren was a most ravenous devourer of the pestiferous aud destructive cutworm of the gardens, and did great work toward lessening the damage done by the pest of the soil. The bright little bluebird clears the air and the ground of thousands of codlin moths and canker worms during a season. "The crow blackbird has no peace ut the hands of man, yet a flock of them in a short time will clear a newly planted field of all its hosts of destructive larvai that the plough turns up. The great American crow itself would do the same thing if it wasn't for the inevitable man with the gun that just wants the crow to try it once. Neither the blackbird nor the crow cares as much for corn as it does for grubs, and if farmers would scatter corn about their fields instead of putting up scarecrows and the like, those misunderstood birds would never pull i up a hill of his planting. The chances are, anyhow, that if the agriculturist will take the trouble to examine a hill of young corn that he charges the crow with pulling up, he will find that it was cut off by a grub of some kind, and that the crow was simply mining for the grub, not the corn. "The robin, it cannot be denied, is a sore trial to the man who has fruit trees and bushes, but if he could only bring himself to stop and think how many thousands of ravaging insects that are the especial enemies of his trees and bushes that the robin destroys, both before the fruit has ripened aud for weeks after it is gone, he would not begrudge the bird the few quarts of cherries or berries that it levies on as partial satisfaction of the debt the grower owes him. The same may be said of the other thrushes?for the robin is a thrush?the cherry birds, orioles, bluejays, and many other birds of that class. These birds never lew tribute on grain or seed, but they do the farmer untold benefit. "The climbing birds are the different varieties of woodpeckers, ami they are constantly befriending growing things. Whenever a woodpecker is heard tapping on a tree it is the death knell of the larva} of some destructive insect. Yet it is not an uncommon thing to see the very person for whom this bird is industriously at work following with his gun the bird's red head from tree to tree until the opportunity ' to send a load of shot into the unsuspecting feathered philanthropist. It is a pet belief among . tempers that the woodpecker kills the CTEE it works on, aud that he is working for that very purpose. It is a | fact that the common little sapsucker does injure trees, but the woodpecker never does. Quite the contrary. The white-breasted nuthatch and the little gray creeper?so generally confounded with the sapsucker?live exclusively on tree insects, yet the nuthatch is in bad repute among many farmers, because they believe it kills their trees. "The meadow lark is another bird that has little peace on any one's land, for there is a mistaken notion abroad that he is a game bird. He is game in the quality of being alert and hard to get a shot at, but is no more entitled ! to be so classified than the flicker, or highholder, is. The meadow lark is a constant feeder on underground larva}, and whenever he is disturbed he is simply driven away from active work 1 in ridding the ground of the worst kind of farm pests. The bluejay may be said to be indirectly an enemy to the farmer as well as a friend, for it has the bad habit of destroying the eggs of other birds that do only good. "If there is one bird that the farmer loves to do all in his power to exterminate more than he does the crow, unless it may he the hawk, that bird is the owl. He can't be brought to the belief that if it were not for the owls and the hawks his fields would be overrun and burrowed by field mice r to such an extent that his crops would - be in perpetual danger; that owls, i while out mousing, feed on myriads of - night-flying moths and beetles, thus i preventing the laying of millions upon J millions of the eggs of these insects, t and that they not only keep the field i mice down, but lessen the number of domestic mice and rats about barns - and outhouses to an extent that a 3 small army of the most vigilunt cats 1 could not surpass. As to the hawk, 3 the farmer remembers that on some - occasion one carried oflT a chicken for , him, and therefore the fact that the J big soaring bird daily kills many field 1 mice, grasshoppers, snakes, lizzards, i beetles and other vermin cannot be 3 setup in its defence. The proportion of hawks or owls that kill chickens is r small, compared with those who keep 1 dowu the deadly enemies of the farr mere' crops." :q Land of Contraries.?In ABRalia the north wind is the hot and the south the cool, the Bfl^Berly the most unhealthy, and the most salubrious. It is sum^^^^ there when it is winter iu this and the barometer is consid|e^^^rto>ise before $ul weather and 'NjHPbefore good ; thcswans are black ^rod the eagles are white; the mole lays eggs and has a duck's bill; the the kangaroo, (an animal beween the deer and the squirrel) has five claws on , 'ts fore paws, three talons on its hind legs, like a bird, and yet hops on its tail. There is a bird (mellipbaga) which has a broom instead of a tongue ; a fish one-half belonging to the genus raia, and the other half to that of squat us. The cod is found in the rivers, and the perch in sea; the valleys are cold, and ine mountain tops warm ; tne neiue is a lofty tree and the poplar a dwarfy shrub; The pears are of wood with the stalks at the broad end ; the cherry grows with the stone outside; the fields are fenced with mahogany ; the humblest homes are fitted up with cedar, and the myrtle plants are burnt for fuel; the trees are without fruit, the flowers without scent, and the birds without song. Such is the land of Australia. ? - "Sit" and "Skt."?How many persons are troubled and nervous as to the right use of these little verbs. Perhaps the following examples of their use may he helpful. A man or woman either, can set a hen, although they cannot sit her; neither can they set on her, although the hen might sit on them by the hour if they would allow it. A man cannot set on the washbench ; but he could set the basin on it, and neither the basin nor the grami marians would object. He could sit on the dog's tail if the I dog were willing or he might set his : foot on it. But if he should set on the I aforesaid tail, or sit his foot there, the I grammarians, as well as the dog, would I howl, metaphorically at least. And yet the man might set the tail aside and sit down, and be assailed : neither by the dog nor the gramma! rians. WHAT NAMES MEAN. Chandler was once a candlemaker. Pointer and Poyntcr had fathers who j made lace. Skinner's great-great grandfather i dealt in hides. Tanner comes from the name of a ; leather dresser. Puyne, Paine and the like are conj tractions of Pagan. i Inman and Traveler formerly entertained travelers. , Seamer and Seymour are the decendants of toilers. Croker and Crocker had fathers who ; made earthenware. Stammer and Stuttard are relics of physical infirmity. Yiner, Vinter and Winter were once keepers of a vineyard. Plumer and Plummer prepared featli[ ers for ornamenting hats. Pear, Pearman, Perrer and Perryman j once kept pear orchards. Free and Freeman were once the names of manumitted slaves. Stot was formerly a herd, hence the Stottards and Stoddards. Block, Blocker and Blockman are the sons of men who fashioned hats. Reynolds Raynardson and Rankin are decendants of Reynard, the fox. Simon gave us Sims, Simpson, Simpkins, Simcox, Simmons, and Simonds. Spicer is a descendant of the espicer, or dealer who handled foreigu spices. . Hooper, Hopper and Barreller came from families supported by caskmaking. Calvert was once a calf herd; so were Calverds, Coverts and Calvards. Miller, Millman, Mills, Milner, Milward all have the same derivation. Armstrong was once a complimentary name given to a soldier of unusual prowess. Wakeman is a descendant of the old village watchmaker; so are Wake and Wakeson. I 11- l A 1 1 ll.? x uncus were oversnues, ueuue uie I Pattons, Patons, Patteners, Putney ] and Putnams. | Taborer was a drummer, and his sons arc the Tabrars, Tabors and Tubers of today. I Dawber is a descendant of him who chinked or daubed the cottage walls with clay. Johnson, Jones, Jenkins, Jennings, Jacks, Jackson, Littlejohn, Micklejohn, Jaynes aud many others are the sons of plain John. Strong, Long, Short, Bigge, Little, Lowe, Small, Slight, Fatt, Stout, [ Young, Light and Heavy, were all j given as nicknames. Huggins, Hutchins, Hutchison, Hugginson, Howlett, Hewlet, Hewet, Howitt, Howson, Hughes and Hewson are all sons of plain Hugh. LAST OF THE MOHEOANS. The name Mohegan (Mohican) has been made classic, if not immortal, by the glowing pen of James Fenimore Cooper. There yet lingers in Connecticut a remnant of this historic tribe, whose great sachem, Uncas, figures so prominently in the colonial auuals of that State. The writer received a most interesting letter, dated October 17, from Mr. Henry C. Baker, of Montville, Conn. For more than 60 years Mr. Baker has lived in the neighborhood of the Mohegans, during which time be has known most of them. For several years he has made the tribe a study, and has gathered much of interest relating to its early history, which history he has followed to the present time. In his letter he gives an account of the | remnunt which may indeed be called l "the last of the Mohegans." As this account may be of interest to many of your readers, I copy it below : "The Mohegan Indians were made citizens by an act the of legislature of this State in 1873, and have since availed themselves of the elective franchise. There are now living only about 20 or 25 claiming Indiun blood in the original reservation, all of them owning and occupying their own parcels of land. Most of the original reservation has been sold, aud is now occupied by the white population. What few Indians are living still keep up their religious services in the church which was built for them about GO years ago. They hold an annual festival in a wigwam made of. white birch twigs near their church. Here they collect a fee of 10 cents each for entering, and sell to the visitors various trinkets of needle work, baskets and other articles of Indian work. They also furnish oyster stew, ground, parched corn and milk, etc. With the | money raised they pay the salary 01 j a minister for the year. In 1790 the tribe held about 2,700 acres, and now j there are not 500 acres owned by the j whole tribe."?McDonald Furman in | the Boston Herald. Randolph's Indian Bi.ood.?It is j an interesting historical fact that only i one white man distinguished as hav| ing Indian blood, has made any imj pression on the political history of the | United States. That man was the ! famous and eccentric Virginia statesi man, John Randolph, of Roanoke. Prodably not one person in a thou| sand knows what per cent, of Indian j blood ilowed in his veins. It was i slight. Mr. James Parton, in a long J sketch of Randolph, says: "He was j weak enough, indeed, to be extremely I vain of the fact that a grand-father of i his had married one of the greatgrand-daughters of Pocahoutas." According to this genealogy, he was the great-great-great-grand-sou of the Indian princess, which would make him not more than a thirty-secondth part? Indian. ?S. G. Goodrich ("Peter I Parley,") in his Recollections," gives I us this description of Randolph's appearance during one of the Missouri debates in 1820: "His hair was jet-black, and clubbed in'a queue; his eyes were black, small and painfully penetrating. His complexion was a yellowish brown, bespeaking Indian blood." ? It was doubtless from his Indian ancestors that this extraordinary man i inherited his wonderful powers of oratory.?McDonald Furman in the i Boston Education Magazine. Profaxitv.?Cowper wrote some lines about swearing, which it would he worth while for every one to learn : "It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme | Kudely appealed to 011 every thrilling theme; .Maintain your rank, vulgarity despise? | To swear is neither brave nor wise.' Some who would not swear by the j name of (Jod, think nothing of swear| ing "By George," or "By jingo," or by something else ; others cry out, "Good I Gracious !" or "Mercy 011 me !" and the like. These are the beginning of j swearing. They are to profane sweari ing what acorns are to the oak. Our Saviour said when on earth ; "Let your yea be yea, and your nay, nay ; for whosoever is more than this, cometh of evil." This means that we should use plain, simple language. David had a short prayer to this point: I "Set a watch, O, Lord ! before my mouth ; and keep the door of my lips." - ?? BSaBt" The Japanese, up to 40 years ago, had a very silly custom. They vaccinated 011 the tip of the nose.