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- 1 \ 1 > " ' * | T/ . \ < ' lewis >1. grist, i?roprietor.| |m Jndejiendcnt Jamil]} Heirapaper: Jot; the promotion of the folitiqal, gonial, ^cultural and <$ommet[ciat Interests of the ^outh. | TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE. VOL.41. ~T YOBKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, J A1STXJ ARY 3Q, 1895. IfrTO. 5. ? BY RIDER i Author of "King: Solomon's ] "Allen Quart opjrrlgbt, 1893, by the Author. w CHAPTER XXXII. THE LAST SACRIFICE OF THE WOMEN OF THE OTOMIE. Hero in the courtyard of tho teocalll, by tho light of burning houses, for as they | advanced tho Spanish fired the town, wo mustered our array to find that there were left to us in All somo 400 fighting men, together with n crowd of nearly 2,000 women and many children. Now, although < ? this teocalli was not qnito so lofty as that j of thq groat temple of Mexico, its sides aro steeper and everywhere faced with dressed i ' stone, and the open face upon its summit was almost as great, measuring indeed more than a hundred paces every way. This area was paved with blocks of marble, and in its center stood the temple of the war god, where his statue still sat, although no worship had been offered to him for many yours; the stone of sacrifice, tho altar of fire and tho storehouses of tho priests. Moreover, in front of the temple, j and between it and tho stono of sacrifice, was a deep cemented hole tho size of a large room, which once had been used as a plaoe fortho safokeeplngof grain in times of famine. This pit I had caused to be filled with water borne with great toil to the top of the pyramid, and in the temple itself I stored a grcut quantity of food, so that wo had no cause to fear present death from thirst or famino. But now we were face to face with a now trouble. Large as was tho summit of tho pyramid, it would not givo shelter to half our numbers, and if wo desired to defend it some of tho multitude herded round its base must seek refuge elsewhere. Calling tho leaders of the peoplo together, I put the matter Ixrfore them in a few words, leaving them to decide what must be done. They in turn consulted among themselves, | w and at length gavo me this answer: That it was agreed that all tho wounded and aged there, together with most of the chil- i dren, and witlrthem any others who wish. ed to go, should leave tho tcocalll that : night, to find their way out of tho city if they could, or if not to trust to the mercy i of the Spaniards. I said that it was well, for death was on | t every side, and it mattered littlo which ; way men turned to meet it. So they wcro sorted out, 1,500 or more of them, and at midnight tho gates of the courtyard were thrown open, and they left. Oh, it was dreadful to seo tho farewells that took place in that hour! Hero a daughter clung to tho neck of her aged father, hero husbands and wives bade each other a last , farewell, here mothers kissed their little > children, and on every side rose up the | sounds 01 outer agony, too agony 01 mose who parted forever. 1 buried my face in I my hands, wondering, as I had often won- . dered boforc, how a God whoso name is Mercy can bear to look upon sights that break the hearts of sinful men to witness, j Presently I raised my eyes und spoke to Otomie, who was at my side, asking her if she would not send our son awuy with the others, passing him off as the child of common people. "Nay, husband," she an swezed, "it is better for him to diowith us than to live as a slave of the Spaniards. At length it was over, and the gates had shut behind the last of them. Soon wo beard the distant challenge of the Spanish . sentries us they perceived them, and the (-?. unds of some shots, followed by cries. ."Doubtless the Tloscaiuns are massacring them,'' I said. But it was not so. When.? few had been killed, the leaders of the Spaniards found that they waged war upon an unarmed mob, made up for tho most port of aged people, women and children, and their commander, Bernal Diaz, a merciful man if a rough one, ordered that the onslaught should cease. Indeed he did more, for when all the ahlubodied men, together with such children as were sufficiently strong to bear the fatigues of travel, had been 6orted out to be sold as slaves ho suffered the rest of that melancholy company to depart whither they would. And so they went, though what became of them ; 9 I do not know. That night wo spent in the courtyard of | the tcocalli, but before it was light I caused tho women and children who remained with " perhaps some COO in all, for very few of the former who wcro un- j married, or, who, being married, were j still young and comely, had chosen to desert our refuge, to ascend tho pyramid, : guessing that the .Spaniards would attack j us at dawn. I stuid, however, with the 1 300 fighting men that were left to me, a 1 hundred or more having thrown themselves upon the mercy of the Spaniards, with the refugees, to await tho Spanish ? ~ onset under shelter of tho walls of tho courtyard. At dawn it began, and by midday, do what we could to stay it, the wall 1 was stormed, and leaving nearly a hun- j drcd dead and wounded behind me I was y- llrivcn to the winding way that led to the summit of the pyramid. Hero thoy assaulted us again, but the roud was steep and narrow, and their numbers gave them no great advantage on it, so that the end of it was that we beat them back with loss, and there was no more fighting that day. The night which followed we spent upon the summit of the pyramid, and for my part I was so weary that after I had ' eaten I never slept more soundly. Next morning the struggle began anew, and this time with better success to tho Span- ! iards. Inch by inch, under cover of the heavy fire from their arquebuses and ' pieces, they forced us upward mid back- | ward. All day long tho light continued upon the uuitow road that wound from stage to stage of the pyramid. At length, as tho sun sank, a company of our foes, their advance guard, with shouts of victory, emerged upon tho flat summit and rtishod toward tho temple in its center. All this while the women had been watch, Ing, but now one of them sprang np, cry- i ing with aloud voice: 'Seizo tbem. They ore but few." Then, with a fearful scream of rage, tho ! mob of women cast themselves upon) tho weary Spaniard-; and Tlascalnns, bearing them down by the weight of their mm- I bers. Many of them were slain lndqpd, ; * but in Jhe end women oono nerod, iduLjsatiejjfeei." ^ fastening k -' """"^tiliein with c*^ds to the 0f oopper | that were se' into the stoiv>^ ^hc pavo\ ment, to cAvhich in forn^^ days those i L u*?]?r'Vo' z^nT;} - thcy sho,ud escape tj,i A / anJ^rho soJtliera with me wateh^t iki Tim I I Wf^ ' "What, men of th0 o^.nio. . .. Bm / said that our women outdld 11 ^ > age?" and without further Jn?courby 100 or more of my com Dan Inn T,owetl UB\ and narrow I \/if^^7s^i5f?.n,;u? rUBslowlj, for now th?y werp c?ni,"g ^^B .ty, and so grout was ^ shock of V1?* I HBB V+nter toat many of^' ^ofo"r?nIB X the edge of th? patk f"' TT hur1^ >?p sides of the I'yra,nV ^1n?Mn/thc I ^B^^B '/if their comrades, those K^i!l ^ . to HP ijSted, then began 'to y weight of our rush str^k thom^d fd they In turn pushed upo* ' |j at length panic seiztyl thel J? ^ |M fereat crying the long Une^' *"j? 7h ^ 9 g found round and round the ml .i,? | * base almost to Its summitfe1, ^ 1 jdety inflight. But some of^? V f f lonq, for the rusl. of those nboif , kith ever incwoslng force^^1^ fiends below, drovo many to tlwL , ,k HH inco hciton the pyramid there ?. aea > ^^B feg to clllg to, aiul if once a lnaS^0^' ^Bl foothold <r the path his fall wnik \_ only whefl his Ixxly reached the co,^0" ^9^^B - neatii. Thus in 15 short minutes C?1 B^B tho Spanhrds had won this day wl , ? f^^BBb again, forcxcept the prisoners at Its J none 4 them remained alive upo**."' ^B^H VjfocalJJ. Indeed so great a terror u?l? ^^B ftem that)l>caring with them their dS,, RHH md wouruVd, they retreated under covl! I the niglt to their camp without til Wis of thdCourtyard. fl^^B low, we*?*, but triumphant, wo wend-' furwoy^ack towani the crest of the, Wnid, bi< '?s I turned the corner of the | Jbd ungldthat was perhaps nearly 100 | Jabovc tbilevcl of the ground a thought I ^^^^B Qk me, <td I set those with me at a foJ Looseing tho blocks of 8tone tho ot^o of tho roadway, we rolled nofown trt sides of the pyramid, and ^B^B stonT1''1 un> *movl"e la-vrr uP?n lajcr of K the' gul "f tk' earth beneath til] where j-awAh had {won was nothing hot a ^ gap Slfoefc or more in width. \ 1 ' " vl, \ i EIA-OO-ARD, Mines," "She," "He," "Jess,' termain," etc. ''Now,"" 1 tSldj surveying our iiondiwork by tho light of the rising inoon, "that Spaniard who would win our nest - < ?rw. ?.uk ii must nna wmg? "Aye, Teule,"answered one at my side; Ubut, say, whalings shall we find?" "The wings of death," I sjiid grimly and went on my upward way. It was hear midnight when I reached the temple, fof tho labor of leveling the road took many hours, and food had been sent to us from above. As I drew nigh I was amazed to hear tho sound of solemn chanting, and still more was I amazed when I saw that the doors of tho temple of Huitzcl woitiopcn, and that the sacred flro which had not shone there for many years once moro flared fiercely upon his nltar. I stood there listening. Did my ears trickf me, or did I hear the dreadful song of sacrifice! *7. again its wild refrain rang out upon the silence: * To Thee we sacrifice! Save us, 0 Huitzel, Huitzel, lord cod! I rushed forward, and turning thoanglo of tho.tamplo I found myself faco to face with thepast, for there, as in bygone years, were the pabas clad in their black robes, their long hair hanging about their shoulders, the dreadful knife of glass fixed in their girdles. There to the right of tho stono of sacriflco wcro those destined to tho god, and there being led toward it was tho first victim, a Tlascalan prisoner, his limbs held by men clad in tho dress of priesta. Near him, arrayed in tho scarlet robe ef sacrifice, stood ouo of my own captains, who I remembered had once served as a priest of Tezcat before idolatry was forbidden in tho City of Pines, and around wereawido circloof women that watched, and from whoso lips swelled tho awful chant. New I understood it all. In their last, despair, maddened by tho loss of fathers, * J -1 Albion fofn flUPWIiUO UXJU WlJliUiVU) UJ C14VXX Vi UV4 &OW) and standing faco to face with certain deftth, tho fire of tho old faith had burned up in their savago hearts. There was tho temple, there weno tho stono and implements of sacrifice, and there to their hands irero tho victims tpken in war. They would glut a last rovenge, they would sacrifice to their fathers' gods as their fathers had dono before them, and tho victims should bo taken from their own victorious foes. Aye, they must die, but at tho least they must seek tho mansions of tho sun made holy by tho blood of tho accursed Teule. I have said that it was the women who sang this chant and glurcd so fiercely upon tho victims, but I have not yet told all tho horror of what I saw, for in tho forefront of their circle, clad in white robes, the necklet of great emeralds, Guateiyoc's gift, flashing upon her breast, tho plumes of royal green set in her hair, giving tho time of tho death chant with a little wand, stood Montezuma's daughter, Otomio, my wife. Never before had I seen her look so beautiful or so dreadful. It was not Otomio whom I saw, for where was the tender smilo and where tho gentlo eyes? Hero before mo was a living vengeance wearing tho shape of woman. ; In an instant I guessed the truth, though | did not know it all. Otomic, although sho was not of it, had ever favored tho Christian fuith. Otomie, who for yeurs had never spoken of theso dreadful rites except with anger, whose every act was love, and whose every word was kindness, ! was still in her soul an idolator and a savage. Sho had hidden this side of her heart from mo well through all those years; perehanco 6he herself had scarcely known its secret, for but twice had I seen anything ol tno Duriea nerceness 01 ner Dioou. j.no i first tlmo was when Marina had brought i her a certain robe in which she might escape from the camp of Cortes, and sho had J spoken to Marina of that robe, and the j second when on tho 6amo day she had ! played her part to the Tlascalan and had ; struck him down with her own hand as ho j bent over me. | All this and much moro passed through | my mind in that brief moment, whilo ! Otomlo marked tho time of the death chant and the pabas dragged the Tlascalan to his doom. The next I was at her side. ' What passes here!'" I asked sternly. Otoinic looked on mo with a cold won- j der and with empty eyes, as though sho did not know me. ' Go hack, white man," sho answered. ''It is not lawful for strangers to minglo in our rites." I stood bewildered, not knowing what ! to do, while the ilamo burned and tho ; chant went up before the effigy of Huitzcl, j of the demon Huitzel awakened after many j years of sleep. Again and yet again the solemn chant arose, Otomio beating time with her littlo j rod of ebony, and again, yet again, the cry of triumph rose to the silent stars. Now I awoko from my dream, for as an | evil dream it seemed to me, and drawing , my sword I rushed toward the priest at i tho altar to cut him down. But though ! the men stood still the women wero too quick for me. Before I could lift the 6Word, before I could even speuk a word, : they had sprung upon me, like the jaguars of their own forests, and, like jaguars, j they hissed and growled into my ear: "Get you gone, Tcule," they said, '"lest I wo stretch you on the stono with your i brethren." And still hissing they pushed mo thence. I drew back and thought for awhilo in the shiidow of the temple. My eye fell upon tue long lino 01 victims uwaiting their turn of sacrifice. They were thirty j and-ono of them still alive, and of these flvo were Spaniards. I noted that the i Spaniards were chained the last of all the line. It seemed that tho murderers would keep them till the end of the feast; indeed I discovered that they were to be offered up at the rising of the sun. How could I j save them, I wondered. My power was gone. Tho women could not be moved ! from their work of vengeance. They were i mad with their sufferings. As well might I ji man try to snatch her prey from a puma robbed of her whelps its to turn them ftoza their purpose. With the men it was othafcrise, however. Some of them mln- j gled in the orgio indeed, but more stood aloof watching with n fearful joy the spectacle in which they did not share. Near 1110 was a limn, a noble of the Otomio, of something more than my own age. Ho had always been my friend, and after me he commanded the warriors of the tribe. I went to him and said, "Friend, for the sake of tho honor of your people, help 1110 to end this." 'I cannot, Teule," he answered, "and beware how you meddle in the play, for none will stand by you. Now the women have power, and you see they use it. They are about to die, but before they die they will do as their fathers did, for their strait is son", and though they have lieeii put aside the old customs are not forgotten." "At tho least, can we not save these Teulcs?" I answered. "Why should you wish to save the Teulos? Will they save us some few days honcc, when we are in their power?" '"Perhaps not," I said, ' but if we must die let us die clean from this shame." "What, then, do you wish me to do, Teule?" 'Tills: 1 would have you find some three or four men who are not fallen into this madness, and with them aid me to loose the Teules, for we cannot save the others. If this may be done, surely we can lower them with ropes from that point where the j ruacl is nroKen away uown 10 uiu pam ucncath, and thus they may escape to their own people." "I will try," ho answered, shrugging j his shoulders, ''not from any tenderness [ toward the accursed Teules, whom I could j well bear to sou stretched upon the stone, but because it is your wish, and for the 6ake of the friendship between us." Then he went, and presently I saw scv- j eral men place themselves, us though by chance, between the spot where the hist of the line of Indiun prisoners nnd tho first of the Spaniards wero made fast, in such fashion as to hide them from the sight of the maddened women engrossed as they were in their orgies. I Now I crept up to the Spaniards. They Were squattod upon the ground, IkjuiuI by fceir hands and feet to the copper rings in lie pavement. There they sat silently ^vuiting tho dreadful doom, their faces &ay with terror, and their eyes starting fibm their sockets. l,Hist!" I whispered in Spanish into the t | ear of the first, an old man whom l icncw | i as ono who had taken part in the war of Cortes. ''Would you be saved?" He looked up quickly and said in a hoarse voice: , ''Whoaro you that talks of saving us? Who can save us from these she devils?" "I am a Teule, a man of white blood and a Christian, and, alas that I must say I it! the captain of this savage people. With the aid of some few men who are faithful j | to mc, I purpose to cut your bonds, and i afterward you shall see. Know, Spaniard, | that I do this at great risk, for if we arc ; caught it is a chance but that I myself ! shall havo to suffer those things from I which I hope to rescue you.'' "Bo assured, Teule," answered tho i Spaniard, "that if we should get safo away j j we shall not forget this service.. Savo our j lives now, and tho time may come when ! we .Hfcall pay you back with yours. But | even if wo are loosed, how can wo cross tho open space in this moonlight and escape i tho eyes of those furies?" ''You must trust to chance for that," I | answered, and as I spoke fortune helped I us strangely, for by now tho Spaniards in I their camp below had perceived what was j i going forward on the crest of the teocalli. . A veil of horror aroso from them, and in i stantly they opened Arc upon us with their pieces and arquebuses, though, because ! of the shape of the pyramid and of their i position beneath it, the storm of shot swept over us, doing little or no hurt; also a , great company of them poured across the j ! courtyard, hoping to storm tho temple, for j they did not know that the road had been ! I broken away. j Now, though tho rites of sacrifice never l ceased, what with tho roar of cannon, tho i shouts of rage and terror from tho Span* ; lards, tho hiss of inuskct balls and tho ! crackling of flames from houses which j they had fired to give them more light, ! and tho sound of chanting, tho turmoil ; and confusion grew so great as to render i tho carrying out of my purpose easier than j I had hoped. By this time my friend, tho captain of tho Otomic, was at my side, j | and with him several men whom he could j : trust. Stooping down, with a few swift I ' blows of a knifo I cut tho ropes which ! I bound the Spaniards. Then wo gathered ! I ourselves into a knot, 12 of us or more, ! j and in tho center of tho knot wo set tho , flvo Spaniards. This done, I drew my sword and cried: "Tho Tcules storm tho temple!" which i i was true, for already their long lino was rushing up tho winding ' path. "The | Teules 6tonn tho templet I go to stop ! them," and straightway wo sped across tho open space. ; Nono saw us, or, if they saw us, none 1 hindered us, for all thq company wero in- ; I X?i a. | IUI10 UpUli UIU tUUDUilllliUHIUU VI () iiVOil i sacrifice. Moreover, the tumult was such. : as 1 afterward discovered, that wo wore ! scarcely noticed. Two minutes passed, i and our feet wero set upon the winding : way, and now I breathed again, for wo ! wero beyond the sight of the women. On : wo rushed swiftly as tho cramped limbs of ! the Spaniards would carry them till prcs- ! | ently wo reached that angle in the path I whero tho breach began. Tho attacking j i Spaniards had already come to the farther | sido of tho gap, for though wo could not j see them wc could hear their cries of rago I i and despair as they halted helplessly and j I understood that their comrades wero be- , I yond their aid. "Now wo are sped," said the Spaniard ' i with whom I had spoken. "The road is j j gone, and it must bo certain death to try ' the side of the pyramid." ! "Not so," I answered. "Somo 60 feet : i below tho path still runs, and ono by one 1 we will lower you to it with this rope." Then wo set to work. Making the cord ' fast beneath tho arms of n soldier, wo let him down gently till lie camo to the path ! and was rcccived-thcro by his comrades as a man returning from the dead. Tho last ! to be lowered was that Spaniard with whom I had spoken. "Farewell," he said, "and may tho I blessing of. God be on you for this act of mercy, rencgado though you are. Say, i now, will you not conio with me? I set I my life and honor in pledge for your safe- I ty. You tell mo that you jure still a Chris- I tiun man. Is that a place for Christians?" ; and he pointed upward. "No, indeed," I answered, "but still I cannot come, for my wife and son aro j there, and I must return to dio with them if need be. If you beur mo any gratitudo, I strivo in return to savo their lives, sinco I for my own I care but little." "That I will," ho said, and I let him j down among his friends, whom lie reached In safety. Now wo returned to the temple, giving it out that tho Spaniards were in retreat, | having failed to cross the breach in tho roadway. Here before the temple tho orgie still went on. But two Indians remained alive, and the priests of sacrifico grew weary. "Where arc tho Tculcs?" cried a voice, j ''Swift, strip them for tho altar." But tho Teules were gone, nor, search where they would, could they find them. "Their God luis taken them beneath his wing," I said, speaking from the shadow and in a feigned voice. "Huitzel cannot prevail before the God of tho Teulcs." Then I slipped aside, so that none knew that it was I who had spoken, but tho cry was caught up and echoed fur and wide. "Tho God of tho Christians has hidden them beneath his wing. Let us make merry with those whom ho rejects," said tho cry, and the last of tho captives were dragged away. Now I thought that all was finished, but this was not so. I have spoken of the secret purposo which I had read in tho 6ullcn eyes of tho Indian women as they labored at tho barricades, and I was about to sco its execution. Mildness still burned in tho hearts of these women. They htul accomplished their sacrifice, but their festival was still to come. They drew themselves away to the farther side of tho pyra- i mid, and heedless of tho shots which now and again pierced the breast of one of them?for hero they were exposed to the Spanish fire?remained awhile in preparation. With them went the priests of sacrifice, but now,, iis before, tho rest of tho men stood in sullen groups, watching what befell, but lifting no hand or voice to hinder its hcllishness. One woman did not go with them, and j that woman was Otomie, my wife. Sho stood by the stone of sacrifice, a piteous sight to see, for her frenzy, or rath- j cr her madness, had outworn itself, and sho was as she had ever been. There stood | Otomie, gazing with wide and horror j stricken eyes now at tho tokens of this un- , holy rito and now at her own hands, as ; though she thought to sec them red and shuddered at the thought. I drew near to her and touched her on tho shoulder. Sho , turned swiftly, gasping: "Husband, husband!" 111S1, 1 UUSWCrCU, Illlu villi JllCIlllS" I bund no wore." I "Oh, what have I done?" sho walled and fell senseless in my arms. w; (JIIAPTKlt XXXIII. T11K Sl.KKENDKH. Taking Otomie in my arms, I bore her to one of the storehouses attached to the temple. Here many children had been placed fur safety, among them my own j son. ' "What ails our mother, father?" said j i the boy. "And why did she shut me in * here with these children when it seems j that there is lighting without?" "Your mother has fainted." I answer cd, "'and doubtless she placed you hero to keep you safe. Now, do tend to her till 1 return." "I will do so," answered the boy, "but surely it would bo better that I, who am almost a man, should be without, lighting the Spaniards at your side, rather than within, nursing sick women." "I)o as I bid you, son," I said, "and I charge you not to leave this place until I conic for you again." Now 1 passed out of the storehouse, shutting the tloor behind inc. A minute later I wished that I had staid where I was, since on the platform my eyes were i greeted by a sight more dreadful than any i that had gone before, for there, advaneI ing toward us, were the women, divided I into four great companies, some of them i bearing infants in their arms. They came { | singing and leaping, many of them naked I to the middle. Nor was this all, for in j front of them ran the palms and such of ! the women themselves as were persons in authority. These leaders, male and female, j ran and leaped and sang, calling upon the names of their demon gods and celebrating the wickedness of their forefathers, while ' after them poured the howling troops of women. To and fro they rushed, now making obeisance to the statue of Iiuitzel, nowprostrating themselves before his hideous sister, the goddess of death, who sat beside him adorned with iter earven neck- j lace of men's skulls anil hands, now bow- ; ing around the stone of sacrifice, and nowthrusting their bare arms into the Humes of the holy fire. For an hour or more they | celebrated this ghastly carnival, of which even I, versed as I was in the Indian ens- j toms, could not fully understand the meaning, and then, as though some single impulse had possessed them, they withdrew to the center of the open space; and forming themselves into a double circle, within which stood the palms, of a sudden they burst into a chant so wild and shrill that as I listened my blood curdled in my veins. Ever as they sang, step by step they drew backward, and with them went tho leaders of each company, their eyes fixed upon the statues of their gods. Now they were but a segment of a circlo, for they did not advance toward the temple. Backward and outward they went, with a slow and solemn tramp. There was but ono lino of them now, for those in tho second ring filled the gaps in tho first as it widened. Still thoy drew on till at length thoy stood on the sheer edge of the platform. Then tho priests and tho women leaders took their placo among them, and for a moment there was silence, until at a signal one and all they bent backward. Standing thus, their long hair waving on tho wind, the light of burning houses flaring upon their breasts nnd in their maddened eyes, they burst into the cry of: "Save us, lluitzcl! Rcccivo us, lord god, our home!" Thrico they cried it, each time more shrilly than before; then suddenly they were gone?the women of the Otomio wero no more! With their own self slaughter thoy had consummated the hist celebration of the rites of sacrifice that ever shall bo held in tho City of Pines. Tho devil gods wero dead, nnd their worshipers with them. A low murmur ran round the lips of tho men who watched; then one cried, and his volco rang strangely in thosudden 6llcnco, "May our wives, the women of tho Oto 7 The women of the Otomlc were no more! mie, rest softly in the houses of the sun, for of ft surety they teach us how to die." "Aye," I answered, "but not thus. Lo, women do self murder! Our foes havo swords for the hearts of men!" I turned to go, and beforo 1110 stood Otomic. "What has befallen?" she said. "Where are my sisters? Oh, surely I havo dreamed an evil dream! I dreamed that the gods of my forefathers were strong once more, and that once more they drank the blood of men." '' Your ill dream has a worse awakening, Otomie," I answeretf. "The gods of hell are still strong indeed in this accursed land, and they have taken your sisters into their keeping." "Is it so?" she said softly. "Yet in my dream it 6cemcd to me that this was their last strength ere they sink into death unending. Look yonder!" and she pointed toward the snowy crest of the volcan Xaca. I looked, but whether I saw the sight of which I am about to tell or whether It was but an imagining born of the horrors of that most hideous night in truth I cannot say. At the least I seemed to see this, and afterward there were some among the Spaniards who swore that they had witnesswd it also. On Xaca's lofty summit now as always stood a pillar of fiery smoke, and, whilo I gazed, to my vision the smoke and the fire separated themselves. Out of the lire was fashioned n cross of flame that shone like lightning and stretched for many a rod across the heavens, its base resting on tho mountain top. At its foot rolled the clouds of smoke, and now these, too, took forms vast und terrifying, such forms indeed as those that sat in stone within the temple behind me, but magnified a hundredfold. "See," said Otomio again, "the cross of your God shines above the shapes of mine, the lost gods whom tonight I worshiped, though not of my own will." Then slio turned and went. For some few moments I stood very much afraid, gazing upon the vision on Xaca'ssnow; then suddenly the rays of tho rising sun smote It, and it was gono. Now, for three days more wo held out against the Spaniards, for they could not come at us and their shot swept over our heads harmlessly. During theso days I had no talk with Otomie, for we shrank from ono another. Hour by hour she would sit in tho storehouse of the tcmplo a very picture of desolation. Twice I tried to speak with her, my heart being moved to pity by the dumb torment in her eyes, but she turned her head from meandmado no answer. Soon it came to the knowledge of the Spaniards that we had enough food and water upon the teocalli to enable us to live there for a month or mora, and seeing that there was no hope of capturing the place by force of arms they called a parley with us. I went down to the breach in the roadway and spoke with their envoy, who stood upon the path below. At first tho terms offered were that wo should surrender at discretion. To this I answered that sooner than do?-, wo would die where wo were. Their "ij^y was that if wo would give over all w#ft had any part In tho human sacrifice the rest of us might go free. To this I said that tho sacrifice had been carrion out uy women mm some iuw men, and that nil of these were dead by their own hands. They asked if Otomio was also dead. I told them no, but thnt I would never surrender unless they sworo that neither she nor her son should be harmed, but rather that together with myself they should bo given a safe conduct to go whither wo willed. This was refused, but in the end won I the day, and n parchment was thrown up to moon the point of a lance. This parchment, which was signed by the Captain Bcrnal Diaz, set out that, in consideration of the part that I and some men of the Otomie had played in rescuing the Spanish captives from death by sacrifice, a pardon was granted to me, my wife and child and all upon the teoealli, with liberty to go whithersoever wo would unharmed, our lands and wealth lniing, however, declared forfeit to the viceroy. With these terms I was well content; indeed I had nover hoped to win any that would leavo us our lives and liberty. And yet for my part, death had been almost as welcome, for now Otomie had built .a wall between us that I could never climb, and I was bound to her, to a woman who, willingly or no, had stained her hands with sacrifice. Well, my son was left to me, and with him I must be satisfied?at tho least, he knew nothing of his mother's shame. Oh, I thought to myself, as I climbed the teoealli?oh, that I could but escape far from this accursed land and bear him with me to the Knglish shores?aye, and Otomie also, for there she might forget that once she had been a savage! Alas, it could scarcely be! Coming to the temple, I and those with 1110 told tho good tidings to our companions, who received it silently. Men of a white race would have rejoiced thus to escape, for when death is near all other loss seems as nothing. But with these Indian people it Is not so, since when fortune frowns upon them they do not cling to life. These men of the Otomie had lost their country, their wives, their wealth, their brethren and their homes. Therefore life, with freedom to wunder whither they would, seemed no great thing to them. So they met the boon that I had won from the nicrvy of our foes, as had matters gone otherwise they would have met the bane, in sullen silence. I came to Otomie, and to her I also tokl the news. "I hud hoped to die where I am," she answered. " Hut so lie it. Death is always to he found." Only my son rejoiced, hoeauso lie knew that (iod had saved us all from death by sword or hunger. ' Father," lie said, ' the Spaniards have given us life, hut they take our country and drive us out of it. Where, then, shall we go?" ' I do not know, my son," I answered. ' Father," the lad said again, "let us leave this land of Anahuac, when1 there is nothing hut Spaniards and sorrow. Let us find a ship and sail across the seas to Knglaml, our own country." The hoy spoke my very thought, and my heart leaped at his words, though I had no plan to bring the matter about. I pondered a moment, looking at Otomic. "The thought is good, Teule,V she stud, answering my unspoken question. "For you and for your son there isiio lietter, hut for myself I, will answer in the proverb of | my people, 'Tno~cartli tlmt nenrs us lies ' lightest on our bones.' " j Then slio turned, making ready to quit the storehouse of the temple, where wo lmd been lodged during tho siege, and no more | was said about the matter. Before the sun set n weary throng of men, with some few women and children, | were marching across tho courtyard that j surrounded the pyramid, for a bridge of i timbers taken from tho temple had been j made over the breach in tho roadway that ; wound about its side, j At tho gates the Spaniards were waiting to receive us. We were sorted out. Tho I men of small condition, together with tho j children, were taken from tho ruined city I by an escort and turned looso upon tho j mountains, while thoso of note were i brought to the Spanish camp, to bo quosj tioncd there before they wcro set free. I, | with my wife and-son, was led to tho palj ace, our old home, thcro to learn tho will I of tho Captain Dim:. It is but a little way to go, and yet i there was something to bo soon in tho j path, for as wo walked I "looked up, and Dciore mo, stanuing wiwi luiueu urins aim apart from all men, was Do Garcia. I had scarcely thought of him for somo clays, so full had my mind been of other matters, but at the sight of his evil face I remembered that while this man lived sorrow and ! danger must be my bedfellows. Ho watched us pass, taking note of all. ! Then ho called to me, who walked lost: ''Farewell, Cousin Wingflold. You havo 1 lived through this bout also and won a ' free pardon, you, your woman and your | brat together. If the old warhorso who is I .set over us as a captain had listened tome, i you should have burned at the stake, every ! one of you, but so it is. Farewell for i awhile, friend. I am away to Mexico to report these matters to tho viceroy, who may havo a word to say." I made no answer, but asked of our conductor?that same Spaniard whom I had saved from tho sacrifice?what tho senor meant by his words. "This, Tculc: That thcro has been a quarrel between our comrade Sarceda and our captain. The former would have granted you no terms, or fniling this would havo decoyed you from your stronghold with false promises and then havo put you to tho sword as infidels with whom no oath is binding. But tho captain would not i havo it so, for ho said that faith must be kept even with the hcathon, and we whom you hud saved cried shamo on him. And so words ran high, and in tho end tho Senor Sarceda, who is third in command among us, declared that ho would bo no party to this peacemaking, but would bo gone to Mexico with his servants, there to report to tho viceroy. Then tho Captain j Diaz bade him begone to hell if ho wished I nncl report to tho devil, saying that ho had | always believed that ho had escaped thence ! by mistake, and they parted in wrath who, since tho day of nochc tristc, never loved each other much, tho end of it being that Sarceda rides for Mexico within an hour to make what mischief lie can at tho viceroy's court, and I think that you are well 1,1 ,.t 1.1... >> 'Father," said my son to me, -'who is thnt Spaniard who looks so cruelly upon us?" "That is ho of whom I have tokl you, son, Do Garcia, who has been the curse of our race for two generations, who betrayed your grandfather to the holy office and murdered your grandmother, who put inc to torture, and whoso ill deeds are not done with yet. Beware of him, son, now and ever, I beseech you." Now we were come to the palace, ulmost the only house that was left etunding in the City of Pines. Here an apartment was given to us at the end of the long building, and presently a command was brought to us that I and my wife should wait upon the Spanish Captain Diaz. So wo went, though Otomio desired me to stay behind, leaving our son alono in the chamber where food hud been brought to him. I remember that I kissed him before I left, though I do not know what moved me to do so, unless it was because I thought that he might bo asleep when I returned. The Captain Diuz had his quarters at tho other end of tho palace, somo 200 paces away. Presently wo stood before him. Ho was a rough looking, thickset man well in years, with bright eyes and an honest fuce, like the fjieo of a peasant who has toiled a lifetlmo in ull weathers, only the ilelds that Diaz tilled wcro fields of war, and his harvest had been tho lives of men. Just then ho was joking with 8ome common soldiers in a strain scarcely suited to nice ears, but 60 soon as he saw us he ceased and came forward. I saluted him, after the Indian fashion, by touching tho earth with my hand, for what was I but an Indian captive? "Your sword," he said briefly as he scanned me with his quick eyes. I unbuckled it from my side and handed it to him, suying in Spanish: "Take it, captain, for you have conquered; also it does but como bnck to its owner." For this was tho same sword that I had captured from ono Bernal Diaz in the fray of the noche trlstc. Ho looked at it; then swore a great oath and said: "I thought thut it could bo no other man. And so wo meet again thus after so many years. Well, you gavo mo my life once, and I am glad that I have lived to pay tho debt. Had I not l>een suro it was you, you had not won such cosy terms, friend. How aro you named? Nay, L know what tho Indians call you." "I am named Wlngilold." "Friend Wingfleld, then, for I toll you that I would hnvo sat beneath yonder dovil's house," and ho nodded toward tho teocalli, "till you starved upon its top. Nay, friend Wingfleld, take back tho sword. I suited myself with another many years ago, and you liavo used this one galluntly. Never have I seen Indians make j a better light. And so that is Otomle, Montezuma's daughter and your wife? Still handsome and royal, I see. Lord, Lord, it is many years ago, and yet it seems but yesterday that I saw her father die, a Christian hearted man, though no Christian, and one whom wo dealt ill with. May God forgive us all! Well, mndam, none aui say that you have a Christian heart if a certain tale thut I have hoard of what passed yonder some three nights : since is true. Hut we will speak 110 moro ! of it, for the suvugo blood will show, und_ j you are pardoned for your husband's sake*' who saved my comrades from tho sacrifico." To all this Otomio listened, standing still like a statue, but she never answered a word. Indeed she had spoken very rarely since that dreadful night of her unspeakable shame. "And now, friend Wingfleld," went on the Captain Diaz, "what is your purpose? You are free to go where you will. Whith| er, then, will you go?" "I do not know," I answered. '"Years ago, when tho Aztec enjperor gave mc my life and this princcss,,my wife, in marriage, ^Jiworo to fnVhful to him nnd his cause ami to light- for them till I'opo i ceased to vomit smoke, till there was no j king in Tenoctitlan and tho people of i Anahuao were no more a people." "Then you are quit of your oath, friend, ! for all these tilings have come about, and I there litis been no smoke on Popo for these | two years. Now, if you will be advised by me, you will turn Christian again and enter the service of Spain. Hut come, let us to supper. We am talk of these matters afterward.'' So we sat down to eat by the light of torches in the banqueting ball with Hernul Diaz and some other of tho Spaniards. Otomio would have left us, and though tho captain bade her stay she ate nothing and ; presently slipped away from tho chamber. CHAPTER XXXIV. VKXGEAXCE. During that meal Rernal Diaz spoke of our first meeting on the causeway, and of how I had gone near to killing him in er*?/?? tliiul'liKf tluif. hn \VJL< SiJiriu'diL nnd j ?w., i,.........e ? , i then he asked me what was my quarrel ! with Sareeda. 111 as few words as possible I told him ! the story of my life, of all the evil that lie Garcia, or Sareeda, had worked upon me and mine, and of how it was through him that I was in this land that day. Ho listened amazed. "Holy Mother!" he said at length. "I always knew him for a villain, but that, if you do not lie, friend Wingfleld, ho | could lie such a man as this I did not | know. Now, by my word, had I heard j this tale an hour ago Sareeda should not ' have left this camp till he hud answered it I or cleared himself by combat with you. ' Hut I fear it is too late. He \yas to leave ; for Mexico at the rising of the moon to j stir up mischief against me liecauso I ; granted you terms?not that I fear him there, where his repute is small." ' I do not lie indeed," I answered. ''Much of this tale I can provo if need be, and I toll you that I would give half tho life that is left to me to stand face to faco in open light with him again. Ever ho litis escaped me, and the score between us is long." Now as I spoke thus it seemed to mo that a cold and dreadful air played upon 1 my hands and brow and a warning sense I o7 present evil crept Into niy soul, over- I coming nie so that I could not stir or ; I speak for awhile. "Let us go and see if lie has gone," said | | Diaz presently, and summoning a guard j ! ho was about to leave the chamber. It was j ' at this moment that I chanced to look up and see a woman standing in the doorway, j Her hand rested on the doorpost; her head, ' I from which the long hair streamed, was 1 j thrown buck, and on her face was a look ; of such anguish that at first, so much was ! she changed, I did not know her for Oto, mie. When I knew her, I knew all. One thing only could conjure up the terror and agony that shone in her deep eyes. "What has chanced toour son!"' Iaskcd. "Dead, dead!" she answered in a whisper that seemed to pierce my marrow. I said nothing, for my heart told mo j what hod happened, but I)iaz asked, "Dead ?why, what has killed him?" "Dc Gurciu! I saw him go," replied Otomie. Then she tossed her anus high, i and without another sound fell backward to the earth. In that moment I think that my heart broke?at least I know nothing has had the power to move me greatly since, though this memory moves me day by day and hour by hour, till I die and go to seek my son. "Say, Bcmal Di.iz," I cried, with a hoarse laugh, "did I lie to you concerning | this comrade of yours?" % Then, springing over Otoniic's body, I left the chamber, followed by Bcmal Diaz and the others. Without the door I turned to the left toward the camp. I had not gone 100 puces when, in the moonlight, I saw a small troop of horsemen riding toward us. It was Dc Gurcia and his servants, nnd they headed toward the mountain pass on their road to Mexico. I was not too late. "Halt!" cried Bernal Diaz. ''Who commands me to halt?" cried tho voico of Dc Garcia. "I, your captain," roared Diaz. "Halt, you devil, you murderer, or you shall bo cut down." I saw him start and turn pale. "These are strange manners, senor," ho j said. "Of your graco I ask" At this moment Do Garcia caught sight of mo for tho first time, for I had broken from the hold of Diaz, who clutched my arm, and was moving townrd him. I said nothing, but there was something in my face which told him that I know all and warned him of his doom. He looked past me, but tho narrow road was blocked with men. I drew near, but ho did not wait for me. Once he put his hand on tho hilt of his sword; then suddenly ho wheeled bis horso and fled down the street of Xaca. Do Garcia fled, and I followed after him, rilnning fast and low, liko a hound. At first he gained on mo, but soon tho road grew rough, and ho could not gallop over it. Wo wero clear of tho town now, or rather of its ruins, and traveling along a little path which the Indians used to bring ! down snow from Xaca in tho hot weather. Perhaps thero are some flvo miles of this ! path before tho snow lino is reached, beyond which no Indian dared to set his foot, for the ground above was holy. Along this path ho went, and I was content to see it, for I knew well that tho traveler cannot leave it, since on cither side lio watercourses and cliffs. Milo after milo Do Garcia followed it, looking now to tho left, now to tho right and now ahead at tho great dome of snow crowned with flro that towered abovo him. He j knew what was there?death in tho shape ! ] of a man! I camo on doggedly, saving my strength. ' ; I was suro that I must catch him at last, ; I it did not matter when. Els sword dropped frovi his hand, and he fell buckwardjnto the pit. At length ho reached the snow line where the path ended, nnd for tho first tlmo ho looked back. There I was somo 200 paces behind liiin. I, his death, was behind him, and in front of him shone tho snow. For a moment he hesitated, and I heard the heavy breathing of his horse in tho great stillness. Then lie turned nnd faced the slope, driving his spurs into tho brute's sides. Tho snow was hard, for hero the frost bit sharply, and for awhile, though it was so steep, the horse traveled over it better than he had done along the pathway. Now, as l>efore, there was only one road that he could take, for we passed up the rest of a ridge, a plait, as it were, in tho garment of a mountain, and on either side were steeps of snow on which neither horse nor man might keep his footing. For two hours or more we followed that ridge, nnd as we went through tho silence of the haunted volcano and the lonolincss of its eternal snows it seemed to me thnt my spirit entered into the spirit of my quarry, and thnt with its eyes I saw ! all that was passing in his heart. Now tho snow grew steeper, nnd tho horse was almost spent, for lie could scarcely breathe at so great a height. In vain did Dc Garcia drive his spurs into its sides; tho gallant beast could do no more. Suddenly it fell down. Surely, I thought, ho will nwnlt mc now. Hue even j. niui not fathomed the depth of his terrors, for I)o Garcia disengaged himself from the fullen horse, looked toward mc, then iled forward on his feet, casting away Ids armor as ho went that he might travel more lightly. * By this time wo had passed the snow and were come to the edge of tho ice cap that is made by the melting of tho snow with the heat of the inner fires, or perhaps by that of the sun in hot seasons, I know not, and its freezing in the winter months or in the cold of the nights. At least there is such a cap on Xaca, measuring nearly a mile in depth, which lies between tho snow and the black rim of the crater. Up this ico climbed De Garcia, and the task is not of tho easiest, even for one of untroubled { mind, for a man must step from crack to crack or needle to needle of rough ice, that stand upon smooth surfnccliko tho bristles on a hog's book, and woo to him if ono j break or lie flip, for then, as lie falls, very ; j shortly the flesh will be filed from his i i bones by the thousands of swordlike points i j over which he must pass in his descent to] ward tho snow. Indeed many times I . feared greatly lest this should chance to I Do Garcia, for I did not desire to lose my vengeance thus. Therefore twico when I saw hitu in danger I shouted to him, telling him where to put his feet, for now I was within 20 paces of him, and, strange to say, hool)cyed me without question, for- ! I getting everything in his terror of instant ' \ death. But for myself I had no fear, for j I knew that I should not fall, though tho J place was one which I had surely shrunk j j from climbing at any other time. All this while we had been traveling to- j i wurd Xaca's fiery crest by the bright moon! light, but now the dawn broke suddenly ' on the mountain top, and the flame died ! j away in the heart of the pillar of smoke. It was wonderful to see tho red glory | I that shone upon the ice cap anil on us two | men who crept like (lies across it, while i the mountain's breast and the world be | low were plunged in theshadowsof night. "Now we have a better light toelimb by, j comrade!" I called to De Garcia, and my voice rang strangely among the ice cliffs, i where never a man's voice had echoed l?e- ! i fore. Now, I thought, ho will surely make iv j staml, for could ho have found courage it had been easy for him to kill mo with his : sword, which ho still wore, as I climl>cd from the ice to the hot lava. It seemed j that ho thought of it, for ho turned and glared at mo like a devil, then went on | again, leaving me wondering where ho believed he would find refuge. Some 300 j paces from the edge of the ice the smoke j and steam of the crater rose into the air, ! and between the two w;is lava so hot that In places it was difficult to walk upon it. , Across this bed, that trembled as I passed 1 over it, went I)o (farcin somewhat slowly, j j for now lie was weary, and I followed him j at my ease, getting my breath again. I "At length, I)e Garcia!" I said. "Now I let us make an end. You have your sword. ! Use it if you can. It will be easier to die j i fighting." "I cannot," lie groaned. "My doom is | upon me." ''As you will," and I came at him, I sword up. He mil trom ticforc me, moving backward and keeping his eyes ilxed upon mine, ns I liavo seen a rat ilo when asnako is about to swallow it. Now we were upon the e<lge of the crater, and looking over I ! saw an awful sight, for there, somo 30 j feet beneath us, the mlhot lava, glowing 1 sullenly beneath a shifting pall of smoke, rolled and spouted like a thing alive. Jets of steam Hew upward from it with a ! screaming sound; lines of noxious vapors, many colored, crept and twisted on Its surface, and u hot and horrid 6tcnch pol- I soned the heated air. Here indeed was such ! a gate as I could wish for Dc Garcia to I pass through to his own abode. I looked, pointed with my sword and j laughed. He looked and shrieked aloud, M . _nil Ma J v n ' " " " lur uu? "uuiiu nau ICIt Mm, 60 | great was his terror of what lay beyond the end. Yes this proud and haughty Spaniard screamed and wept and prayed for mercy. He who had done so many vll- j lalnies beyond forgiveness prayed for mercy j that ho might find time to repent. I stood and watched him, and so dreadful was his ' aspect that horror struck mo even through tho calm of my frozen heart. Come, It Is time to finish," I said, and i again I lifted my sword, only to let it fall, for suddenly his brain-gavo way, and Do j Garcia went mad before my eyes! i Of all that followed I will not write. With his madness courage came back to j him, anil ho began to fight, but not with me. j Ho seemed to percelvo me no more, but nevertheless ho fought, and desperately, thrusting at tho empty air. It was tcrri- . ble to see him thus doing battle with his ! Invisible foes and to hear his screams and i curses as inch by inch they drove him back 1 to the edge of the crater. Here ho stood awhile, like ono who makes a last stand against overpowering strength, thrusting and striking furiously. Twice ho nearly ' fell, as though beneath a mortal wound, ! but recovering himself fought on with : nothingness. Then, with n sharp cry, sud- I denly ho threw his arms wide, as a man j docs who is pierced through tho heart. I His sword dropped from his hand, and ho ! fell backward into the pit. I turned away my eyes, for I wished to goo no more, but often I havo wondered who or what it was that dealt Do Garcia his death wound. CHAPTER XXXV. OTOMIE'S FAREWELL. Thus, then, did I accomplish the vengeance that I hod sworn to my father I would wreak upon Do Garcia, or rather thus did I witness its accomplishment, for In the end ho died, terribly enough, not by i my hand, but by thoso of his own fears. When Dc Garcia was gone Into the pit, I I turned my steps homeward, or rather toward the ruined city which I could sco beneath me, for I had no homo left. It was near sunsctwhen I came thither, for the road was long, and I grew weak. By the palace I met the Captain Diaz and somo of his company, and they lifted their bonnets to 1110 as I went by, for they had respect for my sorrows. Only Diaz spoke, saying: "Is the murderer dead?" I nodded and went on. I wont on to our chamber, for there I thought that I should find Otomic. She sat In it alone, cold and beautiful, as though sho hod been fashioned in marble. "I have buried him with tho bones of his brethren and his forefathers," sho said, answering the question that my eyes asked. "It seemed best that you should see him no more, lest your heart should break." "It is well," I answered, "but my heart is broken already." "Is the murderer dead?" she said presently in the very words of Diaz. "He is dead." "How?" I told her In few words. "You should have slain him yourself. Oor son's blood is not avenged." "I should have slain him, but in that hour I did not seek vcngcnnco. I watched it fall from heaven and was content. Perchance it is best so. The seeking of vengeance lius brought nil my sorrows upon me. Veugeanco belongs to God wih^flffiiinnn, "I do not tMl^^^^aid Otomic, and tho look upon her fucc was that look which I had seen when sho smote tho Tlascalun, >yiiuii niiu Liiunlcii *utiriim ami wuun ?uu dunccd upon the pyramid, tlic leader of tho sacrlllce. "Hud I been in your place I would have killed him by inches. When I had done with him, then the devils might begin, not before. But it is of no account. Everything is done with, all arc dead, and my heart with them. Now cat, for you aro weary." So I ate, and afterwurd I cust myself upon the bed and slept. In the darkness I heard tho voice of Otoniie that said, "Awake, I would speak with you," and there was that about her voico which stirred mo from my heavy sleep. "Speak on," I said. "Where aro you, Otomic?" "Seated at your side. I cannot rest, so I am seated here. Listen. Many, many years ago wo'met, when you were brought by Guatemoc from Tabasco. Ah, well do I remember my flrst sight of you, the Teule, in the court of my father, Montezuma, at Chapoltepcc. I loved you then as I liavo loved you ever since. At least I have never gone astray nfter strango gods,'' and she laughed bitterly. "Why do you talk of these things, Otomic?" I asked. ,lBecause it is my fancy to do so. Cannot you spare me ono hour from your sleep, who have spared you so many? You remember how you scorned me?oh! I thought I should have died of shame when after I had caused myself to be given to you as wife, the wife of Tczcat, you told 1110 of the maid across the seas, that Lily maid whose token is still set upon your finger. But I lived through it and loved you tho better for your honesty, and then you know tho rest. I won you because I was bravo and lay at your sldo upon tho stono of sacrifice, whero you kissed nic and told mo that you loved me. But you never loved 111c?not truly. All the whllo you were thinking of tho lily maid. I know it then, as I know It now, though I tried to deceive myself. I was beautiful in thoso days, and this is something with a man. I was faithful, and that is more, and onco or twico you thought that you loved me. Now I wish that thoso Teules i had como an hour later and wo bad died together there upon the stone?that is, I wish it for my own sake, not for yours. Then wo escaped, and the great strugglo came. I told you then that I understood it all. You had kissed me 011 the stono of sacrifice, but in that moment you wcro as ono dead. When you came back to life, 1 it was otherwise. But fortune took tho game out of your hands, and you married j mo and swore an oath to jne, and this oath you huvo kept f- 11 ly^Y 1 ried me, but you did not know whom^^Q married, ion tnougnc mo ^jeairrntu <U>V1 sweet and true, and all th<v6 things I wasp j but you did not understand that I "\\4ws far apart from you?that I was still a'savage as my forefathers had been. You thought that I had learned your ways; perchance oven you thought that I reverenced your God, as for your sake I have striven to do, but all the while I have followed the ways of my own people, and I could not quito forget my own gods, or at least they would not Buffer me, their servant, to escapo them. For years and years I put them from me, but at last they were avenged, and my heart mastered me, or rather they mastered me, for I knew nothing of what I did some few nights since, when I celebrated the sacrifice of Huit/el and you saw me at the ancient rites. "All these years you had been true to me, and I had borne you children, whom you loved, but you loved them for their own sake, not for mine. Indeed at heart you hated the Indian blood that was mixed In their veins with yours. Me also you loved in a certain fashion, and this half love of yours drove me well nigh mad. Such as it was, it died when you saw mo distraught and celebrating tho rites of my forefathers on tho teoealli yonder, and you knew me for what I am?a savage. And now the children who linked us together are dead. One by 0110 they died in this way and in that, for tho curse which follows my blood descended upon them, and your love for me is dead with them. I alono remain alive, a monument of past days, and I die also. "Nay, bo silent. Listen tome, for my time is short. When you bade me call you 'husband' no longer, then I know that it was finished. I obey you. I put you from ma You aro no more my husband, and soon. I shall cease to be your wife. Still, Teulo, I pray you listen to me. Now, it seems to you in your sorrow thnt your i days are done, and that there is no happiness left for you. This is not so. You aro j still but a man in the lieglnning of middlo age, and you arc yet strong. You will escai>o from this ruined land, ond when you shake the dust of it off your feet itscurso shall fall from you. You will return to your own place, and there you will find ono who has nwaited your coming for many years. Thero the savage woman whom you mated with, tho princess of a fallen house, will become but a fantastic M. memory ~lo you, nnfl all these strange, eventful years will be as a midnight dream. ' Only your love for the dead children will 1 always remain. These you must always love by day and by night, and the desire ' of them?that desire for the dead than which there is nothing more terrible?shall follow you to your grave And I am glad that it should Imj so, for I was their mother, and some thought of me must go with them. This alone the lily maid 1ms left ' to me, and there only I shall prevail against her, for, Teule, no child of hers shall livo to rob your heart of the memory of those I gave you. You swore that death alone i should sever us, and you kept your oath , in the letter and in the thought. But now | I go to the houses of the sun to seek my own people, and to you, Tcule, with whom ' I have lived many years and seen much sorrow, but whom I will no longer call husband, since you forbade me so to do, I j say, make no mock of mo to the lily i maid. Speak of 1110 to her as little as you may, bo happy and?farewell!" Now as sho spoke ever more faintly, and I listened bewildered, tho light of | dawn grew slowly in tho chamber. It ] ' gathered on the whito shape or Otoimo seated in a chair hard by the bed, and I saw that her arms hung down, and that ? ? catfs.^V?. | Otomlc was seated in a chair by the bed. her head wus resting on the back of the chair. Now I sprang up and peered into her face. It was white and cold, and I could feel no breath upon her lips. I seized her hand. That was also cold. I , spoke into her car, I kissed her brow, but sho did not move nor answer. Tho light grew quickly, and now I saw all?Otomio was dead! * * * * At last I rose with a sigh to seek help, and as I rose I felt that there was some- I thing set about my neck. It was tho collar of great emeralds which Guatcmoc had given to me ami that I had given to Otomio. She hod set it there while I slept, and with it a lock of her long hair. Both shall bo buried with moi I laid her in the ancient scpulchcr amid the bones of her forefathers and by tho bodies of her children, and two days later I rodo to Mexico in tho train of Bernal Diaz. At tho mouth of tho pass I turned and looked back upon the ruins of the City of Pines, where I had lived so many years and where all I loved were buried. Long and earnestly I gazcil, as in his hour of death a man looks back upon his pust life, till at length Diaz laid his hand upon my shoulder. ' You are a lonely man now, comrade," he said. "What plans have you for tho future?" ' None," I nnswercd, "except to die." "Never talk so," he said. ,lWhy, you arc scarcely 40, and I who am 60 and inoro do not spcuk of dying. Listen. You hnvo friends in your own country?England?" 'I had." "Folk live long in those quiet lands. Go seek them. I will find you a passage to Spain." "I will think of it," I answered. In tlmo wo came to Mexico, and Diaz found me a lodging. I ubodo in Mexico 10 days, wandering sadly about the city and up to the hill of Chapoltepcc, where Montezuma's pleasure house had been and where I had met Otomie. Nothing was left of its glories except some of tho ancient cedar' trees. On tho eighth day of my stay an Indian stopped me in tho street, saying that an old friend had charged him to say she wished to see me. - I followed the Indian, wondering who tho friend might be, for I had no friends, and ho led me to a fine stone house in a new street. Hero I was seated in a darkened chamber and waited there awhile till suddenly a sad and sweet voice that seemed familiar to mc addressed mo in tho Aztec tongue, saying, "Welcome, Tcule." I looked, and there before me, dressed in tho Spanish fashion, stood a lady, an Indian, still beautiful, but very feeble and much worn, as though with sickness and sorrow. "Do you not know Marinn, Teulo?" sho 6aid again, but befooro tho words had left her lips I knew lier. "Well, I will say this?that I should scarcely have known you, Tculo. Troublo and time have dono their work with both of us." I took her hand and kissed it. "Where, then, is Cortes?" I asked. Now a great trembling seized her. "Cortes is in Spain, pleading his suit Ho has wed a new wife there, Tcule. Many years ago ho put me away, giving mo in marriage to Don Juan Xnramillo, who took mo because of my possessions, for Cortes dealt liberally with me, his discarded mistress.'' And she began to weep. Then by degrees I learned the story, but I will not write it here, for it is known to tho world. When Marina had served his turn and her wit was of no inoro service to him, the conqueror discarded her, leaving her to wither of a broken heart. Sho told me all tho tulc of her anguish when sho learned tho truth and of how she had cried to him that thenceforth lie would Dover prosper. Nor indeed did he do so. For two hours or more we talked, and when I had heard her story I told her . mine, and Bhe wept for me, since with all' her faults Marina's heart was ever gentle. Then wo parted, never to meet again. Before I went she pressed a gift of money on me, and I was not ashamed to take it who had none. This, then, was the history of Marina, who betrayed her country for her love's sake, and this the reward of her treason and her love. But I shall always hold'her memory sacred, for she was o good friend to me, and twice sho saved my life, nor would 6he desert me, even when Otomio taunted her so cruelly. TO BK CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK. TILLMAN FOR A NEW PARTY. South Carolina's Junior Senator Thinks There Is Urgent Need of a New National Organization. For some time post, Thomas F. By| ron, editor of the Pes Moines. Iowa, I Farmers' Tribune, has been agitating i the organization of what he calls movement. He j^Ppublifjea In his paper a series ^^U,etters from many of the most pv^ninent Third party leaders, and also from a number \)f Democrats. Not long ago there appeared a letter from ex-Governor Tillman. Editor Byron calls the ex-governor the "Cromwell of the South," and he considers the letter a most powerful one. It is as follows : Trenton, S. C'., January 8. i nos. t\ uyron, r^sq.: Dear Sir?Your valuacd favor of the 3rd, with marked copy of your paper, have been received and read with interest. Thanks for the kind words about myself. I am called a "Populist" by tbe Republican papers and by tbe Cleveland Democrats?Cod save the mark. Roth of these names are beginning to stink in tbe nostrils of good men. Beginning? Alas, they arc a byword and a hissing to the Democrats who believe with Jefferson and Jackson, and the Republicans who followed Lincoln. I see no hope of relief or of saving our institutions, unless the farmers of the South quit voting the Democratic ticket and the farmers of the West quit voting the Republican ticket. We must get together, and names should not divide us. But t^he Populists have too many cranks among them and want to do too much. We cannot enlist the conservative masses unless we appeal to reason and common sense ; and the more reforms wc demand the fewer we will obtain. Plutocracy is drunk with power and the success it has had in amalgamating Republicans and so-called Democrats under the lead of Sherman and Cleveland. The tops will be screwed down tighter and after awhile something will explode. South Carolina is ready with baggage packed, to join the new army of emancipntiom?the emancipation of the masses of white men from the slavery to corporations, trusts and monopolies. The name "Democrat" no longer conjures here. The name is dear for its memories, not its present associations. A new party name seems necessary, and all we ask is an adherence to the principles of old-time Democracy : "Equal rights, equal opportunities, equal burdens. America for the Americans, an asylum for the honest, industrious homeseeker ; but a terror to anarchists and law-breakers?the rich as well as the poor. Free coinage of gold and silver, and no paper money except legal tender greenbacks. A tarill that will enable our manufacturers to supply the home market rvA UliAnnifno n f WIllJUUL UCl/UUilli^ lUililUUUilWO uv HIV expense of the farmer; a tariff that will give work to all who wish it. A financial system that will give a fair price to the farmer for every bushel of grain, and every pound of meat." This is platform enough, and any more will confuse and divide us on these essentials. If the scoundrels and traitors who now rule in Washington are to dictate the policy and name the ticket, our electoral vote will not go to a "Democrat" in '96. It cannot go to a Republican under any circumstances; and Populism, as now organized and led, cannot get it. It is the part of wisdom and patriot ism for the Third party leaders to retrace their steps and be less radical in their platform. The conditions are similar to those existing in '2(5 and '58. Jackson and Lincoln were the outcome. Let us hope the people will be again victorious. I have great faith. This country is not ready yet to sink into servitude to money. Ballots or bullets will briug relief. The Chicago strike caused a demand for an increase in the army. In 1789 the natioual guard of France fraternized with the starving massos. People "who have ballots should not require bullets. The people are now bewildered but angry. Let us pray that the mists will clear away by 1890, and that the lost sheep will have found a shepherd. Abe Lincoln said: "You can fool part of the people all the time; you can fool all of the people part of the time, but you can never fool all of the people all of the time." It is a grand truth, and while we believe it we can hope. Yours truly, B. R. Tillman. LET THEM JUMP. The movements and habits of a young baby seem so strange to us because they are so different from those made by adults, and because they are so unconsciously performed. Joy is expressed by muscular movements, by wriggling of the hands and toes, or by convulsive beatings of the arms, when it is small; by "jigging" when it is larger. These movements are expressive of joy because to any animal of highly-developed muscular energy, movement is absolutely essential, and particularly pleasing, while stillness is the reverse. It is muscular excitement, chiefly, no doubt, electrical, a heritage from ancestors who knew not what it was to he still, that gives that restlessness to children and causes them to find so much pleasure in mere motion and muscular exertion of any kind. Jumping for joy is very literally correct of a child's expression of pleasure. The prospects of a sweet will excite a series of leaps to indicate delight, and they further serve for the purpose of relieving the tedium of waiting the half-second necessary to the donation. The pleasure of finding a bird's nest with eggs in it?a' pleasure which must have been very real sometimes in the case of hungry monkeys and savage man ; but is now only a survival of the instinct thus formed?this pleasure a boy expressed by a series of convulsive leaps into the air, and during the performance not only were the arras and legs moved as much as possible, but the muscles of the stomach and vocal organs had to be utilized to cause accompanying shouts. It may be remarked that in adults, when limb movements are less active, shouts are, on account of the muscular action involved, a necessary accompaniment of joy, noticeably in 'Arry on a bank holiday; while in some cases expletives are symptomatic of joy and not of anger. All these outward signs have had their origin in that nerveexcitation inducing muscular action which is a heritage from ancestors, 1 t\?f 1\ n r\ /rnn l\t? 1 At'O Al4 ?1JU 1 UJjJlTJll-W UJ UUIIg\,i, IIJ 1UTV) VI by war, led more active lives and thereby obtained a desire for motion as a second nature. Children and young lambs are very familiar examples; and so strongly will the latter pursue their gambols and racings that a broken heart is sometimes a cause of death in the middle of a sudden gallop. If children have to be still, it is a torture to them?positive torture in some cases? and grown-up people are unaware how much, or they would not thoughtfully inflict it on young children. Muscular ache, the lidgets, growing pain in the limbs, are all the results of enforced inactivity in children. It is similar with athletes; their muscular excitement is so strong that movement is pleasure, stillness means pain, and they are noted for restlessness.? Nineteenth Century. FIRE FROM STEAM FIFES. The Southern Lumberman in a recent issue gives the following solution of fire from steam pipes: Neither ordinary live steam nor "superheated" steam will heat a pipe thick and stropg enough to convey it to a degree sufficient to produce a fire on wood, however dry. It will not even set charcoal aglow or in a blaze. But dry charcoal, when the heat is removed from it, being nearly pure carbon, will absorb oxygen from the air under favorable conditions, so rapidly as to produce active combustion?that is, a glow or blaze. ? n.,? IUC process ui inu uu^iit \ji u nit from ft steam pipe is : The heat from a steam pipe will, in the course of time char, or, as the chemists say, carbonize, wood in contact or close to it. When this charring process extends to any depth in the wood, it presents a surface full of fissures and cracks, thus exposing a large section to the action of the air. This process of charring drives the oxygen out of the charred portion, and keeps it out while the heat is kept up. When the heat is removed the charcoal reabsorbs oxygen from the air, and if this action is rapid enough in a dry atmosphere, combustion is the result. This explains why fires in steam plants and buildings heated by steam, that originate from steam pipes, always occur after the pipes have cooled?generally during the night. The idea ot "superneaieu steam in a cold pipe is the most absurd one we ever encountered. Not long ago, a London preacher indulged in a little hit of sarcasm over a small collection. lie did it very neatly in a preface to his sermon on the following Sunday. "Bretheren," lie said, "our collection last Sunday was a very small one. When I look at this congregation, I say to myself, 'Where are the the poor?' But as I looked at the collection when we counted it, I exclaimed, 'Where are the rich ?'" flfctT The Shah of Persia is the owner of a Shetland pony which is I) years old and but 12.1 inches in height.