RUINS OF THE PALACE OF THE INDIAN KING
IN PRISON.
The guard admitted Ammon on his passport. As they passed through the corridors of the jail, he eagerly scanned every group of prisoners in anticipation of recognizing a familiar form. When they reached the large sunny courtyard in the middle of the rambling buildings his hopes ran high, for the place was crowded. Here were the prisoners accused of petty thieving. In the center, in a murky looking fountain, a bronze Hercules bathed his mighty shoulders. Others fashioned sandals, wove baskets, or arranged ingenious feather work. One clever person manufactured a tiny stringed instrument out of bits of wood that he inlaid with mother of pearl. Queer sight in a jail incarcerating thieves, wrought the jewelers, tracing filigree work out of gold. Another group cooked over clay ovens filled with glowing charcoal. The attendant explained to Ammon that the trinkets were sold to defray the expenses of board. Prisoners were dependent on their own ingenuity or the bounty of their friends for their food, a condition which explained the presence of women with baskets who hovered about the jail, waiting to send in cooked delicacies to their enchained lords and masters.
Aaron was not there. The visitor was conducted through musty chambers and oozy passages very different from the breezy courtyard vaulted by the saphire sky. So far did they go that Ammon almost began to suspect foul play. The guard threw open a door.
"The missionaries are here."
Stumbling in the dark, he stepped in. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he distinguished the forms of men almost naked.
"Is my brother Aaron, son of King Mosiah here?" he enquired.
At the sound of his voice a wretch raised himself on a pallet of straw. He staggered toward him and peered in the new-comers face.
"Ammon!" he exclaimed.
The latter had more difficulty in recognizing in this emaciated, broken form the brother from whom he had parted in the pride of his youth and strength.
Genuine grief shook his voice. "Aaron, how did you come to this?"
"It is a long story." He sat down again wearily. "How did you know I was here?"
"The Spirit of the Lord prompted me to come," he answered simply.
"You have prospered?" He contrasted the fine physique of his brother with his own gaunt frame, the other's glow of health with his parchment-like skin.
"Yes, the mission is established at Ishmael. And you?"
"Have met with little success. After I separated from you and our younger brothers I went to the city of Jerusalem. The people were hardened, and when I preached in the synagogue, they arose and disputed with me. When they saw that I had the best of the argument, they mocked me. They refused to listen. Then I heard that Muloki and Ammah here, were preaching over in the village of Ani-Anti; I went there. We could make no converts. We came to Middoni. Though we have preached the word of God to many, few believed. Then they cast us into prison."
During this recital Ammon had noted the flayed flesh, the mark of the thongs that had bound them. Ammah came up and greeted him with sunken eyes. Muloki was too ill to greet him except by a wan smile. There were two others there whom he did not know. Their plight was pitiable. Ammon's whole soul revolted against the squalor and foul air of the place.
"I tried to get word to Omner and Himni, but without avail. We would have starved to death had it not been for a poor shoemaker, one of the faith, who has deprived himself to bring us sustenance. It has not been so bad for us, but Muloki broke down with a disease."
A heavy tramp resounded through the outer corridor. Guards entered. They were followed by servants who carried clean raiment.
"King Antiomno says that the prisoners are to be released. They are to be fed and clothed and presented before him. You will step this way to the baths."
"It means—" cried Aaron.
"That you are free," finished Ammon. "Moreover, I shall give you a talisman that will assure you of future success in your labors. Take this bracelet to the emperor. You will convert him; with the head gained, you can win the nation to the faith."
"And you?"
"I return to Ishmael with my friend Lamoni. I may be called upon to perform a marriage ceremony there. Our missionary work is just begun."
THE ISLAND CHIEF
The man fought with the waves, throwing out his white arms ever more feebly. At times it seemed that he must give up, and under would go the black head, only to reappear again a little nearer the shore, with eyes bent on those smiling, white sands, that seemed to mock in derision. Hawai was half defeated by famine before he began the battle. One of the survivors in the storm-tossed bark, he had seen two of his companions drown before his eyes, when the craft was dashed to pieces on the rocks. That sight had cost what strength yet remained in his exhausted body, for, presently, where his friends had gone down, he caught a glimpse of the glittering belly of a shark.
Remembering that he had been the best swimmer of the Panama coast, he struck out with renewed courage, although his limbs were numb, his arms had lost all sense of feeling, and his face was purple. Dazzled by the sun-light, the coast seemed ever further away, so he shut his eyes and floundered blindly on. When he reached the cove, the tide pushed him gently in, and the sea-foam billowed around him like a bed of down. When he reached the beach, half senseless, he sank down like a tired child, but the greedy waves would fain suck him back, so he crawled higher up, digging his nails into the sand, and tearing his hands till the blood came, but he gave no heed to that. He could go no further, his brain reeled, he sank into the oblivion of exhaustion.
Pallid of aspect and slender of form, he lay like a withered lily on the strand. How long he was in this damp trance he knew not, for the day was as the night to his congealing blood and dim senses.
With throbbing pulse and aching limbs he came back to consciousness. As he opened his eyes, he looked into the black eyes of a girl, whose face bent so low over him that her breath fanned his cheek. As she chafed his chilled arms, he felt the warmth of life slowly returning. She raised his faint head and poured water through his blue lips. Soft hands smoothed the black curls from his death-like forehead, and wrung his damp locks. The sun came up and warmed him into feeling. Loa, the girl who had found him on the beach, did not explain that she had tried for hours to make a fire by striking a knife with flint, as she had seen the men do. Failing in this, she threw her mantle over the slender frame, pillowed his head in her lap, and waited for the day.
Straining every muscle of her lithe, young body, she dragged him to the protecting shelter of a cave. There, with the juice of shell-fish, breadfruit, and wild strawberries from the woods, she slowly nursed him back to life. She dared not leave him very long, as she, unlike the original Eve, was afraid of the snakes that haunted the jungle. The space around the cave was bare, but, in the midst of some foraying expedition, Loa would have a vision of a white body coiled around by a green snake, and, seized with terror, would race back to the cave, only to find her charge a little stronger and more roguish than ever. Gradually the color crept back into his alabaster cheek, for Hawai was young.
As soon as he was able, he took over his share of the housekeeping duties. One of the first things he did was to go to work with the flint. He made the sparks fly, and finally succeeded in getting fire. That night they had broiled fish for supper, and around the genial blaze they looked into each other's faces in the flickering light, half understandingly, half expectantly.
She approved of the poise of his head upon his bare shoulders, and he watched the firelight play on her expressive features and illumine the gold of her hair, that fell all around her like a voluminous mantle.
"Are you the princess of this island, or Mother Eve in the Garden of Eden?" he asked, quizzically.
"Neither, but a poor, ship-wrecked mariner like yourself."
He stared. "Didyoucome in one of the ships of Hagoth?"
She inclined her head.
"But the others? Where are the others from your boat?"
"The same place that your companions are, I'm afraid. There was a body washed upon the shore down there, and when I first found you, I thought you were like it,—dead!"
"Must have been Shem or Mirror. We'll go down and take a look at it."
The woman shuddered. "I believe I'd rather stay here by the fire."
"Poor little girl! So you are all alone, and have had to care for a lugger like me."
"I was alone—until I found you. That helped me; I had something to do besides think about myself."
"How long were you—alone?"
"Two days."
"And during that time you found no signs of life? There are no people living here?"
"No, I saw no evidence whatever. I was afraid to go very far inland, so stayed mostly on the beach, but I have a feeling that there is no one alive on this island except you and me."
"How do you know it is an island?" quickly.
"Because I have seen it melt into the haze of the sea on three sides, and I imagine if we climb that peak over there that we could see the blue water on the other side."
"Nonsense! There may be big cities in there. When we are better able we will reconnoiter a little. How was it that you, a girl, of all your crew was saved?" he asked curiously.
"I do not know. When the boat began to fill, and it was only a question of a few moments before it would sink, my father lashed me to a large, flat board. As an afterthought, he took out his big knife and fastened it at my waist. 'If you should be saved, you can cut yourself loose,' he explained, while his hand shook. We could see the blue outline of the land over here, and there was a chance that some of us might reach it. After that the hulk settled, and I felt a cold wave sweep over my limbs, and then I was strangling with the salt water in my nose and throat. I was churned around, and then the plank righted itself, with me on top. When the salt water got out of my smarting eyes sufficient for me to see, I noticed that the ship was gone, with most of the passengers, only a few were floundering around like me. Nowhere could I see my father, and though I called, no one answered. I could see one man clinging to a cask that bobbed around, and the black head of another would appear, only to be submerged again. That swimmer fought hard, but he stayed under longer each time, till at last he went down and did not come up again. After that the storm broke, and the rain lashed us in sheets. I could see nothing, but the cool water was grateful to my parched throat. Something was singing in my ears, and then I must have fainted, for I knew no more until I found myself lying high and dry here on the beach, scorching under a tropical sun. Its rays warmed me back to life, and then I felt for my father's knife. It was still there, and with it I cut myself free, rose to my tottering feet and looked around. The place was pretty enough, with its white sand and glittering sea. I made my way over to some cocoanut palms and found a fresh water stream, that emptied into a little cove. I drank deeply, and bathed my hot forehead in its cool depths. Then I walked along the beach to see if any others had been saved." She hesitated.
"You found—?"
"Two corpses. When I saw that they were quite dead I went up to the jungle, but a wailing cry, like a soul in purgatory, issued from the trees. I went back to the beach, but the bodies were gone."
Hawai jumped.
"I did not know what to do, so I crawled into the cave. Then I was afraid of snakes. I have since found out that the cries in the woods were made by the little monkeys. I do not know who carried off the bodies."
"Probably washed out by the tide," he reassured her.
"I think not," she continued slowly. "The next day was worse—when I realized that I was alone. I should have died if I had not found you. My only fear, when I saw you lying so white and still on the sand, was that you, like the others, were dead." She caught her breath with a little gasp.
He reached over and impulsively touched her hand.
"Poor little girl! You came up out of the sea and saved my life."
"I don't know what I should have done if you had eaten very much," she explained, half tearfully. "I could only gather the poor cocoanuts off the ground; but when you are strong you can climb the trees and get fresh ones. The bananas were hard to get, and there was strange fruit I was afraid to try, for fear it might poison you. See, we shall have eggs for breakfast. They are quite good."
She poked one out from among the ashes where they were roasting.
"Did you lose any other relatives besides your father on the boat?" he asked suddenly.
She shook her head sadly. "No."
"Then you were not married?"
"No; only betrothed."
His brow darkened. "Was he, to whom you were betrothed, drowned?"
"I think so." But the look of pain which flitted across her face when he spoke of her father did not return. "It was this way: when we embarked in one of the ships of Hagoth to seek new homes in a foreign land, my father, being old, made me promise to marry Isar, when we reached the new country. I agreed, for Isar was a good man and would take care of me, though I did not love him, or even know him very well."
Hawai looked relieved, and his eyes glowed as they rested on her.
"You have my story, but you have not told me yours," she burst out.
"Mine is similar to yours. I sailed on another ship of Hagoth's only we floundered around in the waste of waters in search of land for so long, that all the crew except three died of famine before she foundered." He dismissed the subject with a shrug of the shoulders, as if unwilling to fill the night with further horrors.
"You must sleep now, and gain some rest, for tomorrow we go on a foraging expedition," he added with gentle raillery.
Loa's eyelids were already drooping, and, soothed with the grateful warmth, she lay down and was soon fast asleep. Hawai piled dry brush on the camp fire until it roared and crackled, and then, like a sentinel on guard, he sat looking moodily into the blaze for hours.
The day dawned auspiciously, and Loa led Hawai down toward the place where she had seen his compan-ions lying. Suddenly she drew back with a little cry. At the exact spot where the mariner had lain, reclined an immense devil fish, with its tentacles wrapped around something. Hawai watched it a moment. He thought perhaps that explained the disappearance of the other two bodies. He silently led Loa away.
They went into the woods to hunt for food, and Loa in helping him soon got back her spirits. They found raspberries and a strange apple, both of which Hawai pronounced good. The man who first tasted the tomato had more courage than did Columbus. He decried the date palm afar off, and remarked that they should soon fare like princes. The man cut sugar cane, and showed Loa how to chew the pulp and extract the sweetness thereof.
That was but the beginning of their rambles. Every day they sauntered forth to gain new strength, and came home laden with their treasures. One night they dragged in armfuls of bamboo. Another time Hawai brought a mealy root which he had found by accident. It proved a novelty in their diet, for it was the sweet potato. One day they skirted the coast and found a secluded beach where the turtles had come to lay their eggs. The latter they gathered eagerly, while Hawai jocularly remarked that, when they had something to cook it in they could have turtle soup. They had gradually gone over the whole island, and on the night that completed the circuit, and proved conclusively that they were the only human beings there, despair descended on them. They had traveled far that day, and the dusk overtook them, but Hawai insisted on cutting armfuls of a tough rush that grew in a swamp.
"What do you want that for?" inquired Loa.
The man was a born woodsman, and was very clever.
"To make a net to catch shrimps with," he answered. "The little shrimp is better than the mussels we have been eating so long."
Loa acquiesced. She was tired of shell fish. So she helped carry the rushes back to the cave, in the long walk through the night.
The next day Hawai spent fashioning the shrimp net. Loa amused herself making festoons of brilliant flowers and garlanding them around his neck. That gave her an idea. She gathered a large quantity of fleshy, fibrous leaves, and began weaving them together.
"Why can't I make clothing out of these?" she queried.
Hawai glanced at her. Their clothing was rent in strips, and sadly in need of repair, and Loa had a skin averse to the sun. He watched her amusedly, until she got tired and threw them aside.
"I believe I could make better things out of feathers." She glanced at a squawking sea-bird that sailed overhead. "I could make you a headpiece that would crown a chief."
He smiled at the woman's vanity that would think first of adorning the head, but humored her by saying gently, "If you will lend me some of your tresses, I shall try and snare some birds."
She shook out her mane, for she firmly believed him capable of anything. When she went over to help him tie the net, she voiced the thought that had haunted both of them.
"If we are the only persons living on this island, how long must we stay before others come?"
"Perhaps forever." It was no use deceiving her. She might as well know. "Some of the ships may have reached one of those bodies of land over there; for owing to the warm current all of Hagoth's crafts came in the same direction. If some of our compatriots are alive, sooner or later they may visit this island."
"Or you could build a boat and go to them." Her faith in him was unlimited.
He shook his head. "I intend to keep you here, and not risk you with the treacherous sea again." Something in his tone made her drop her eyes. "Would it then be so distasteful?"
"No," she answered bravely, "I have been very happy here."
"I want you to give me the right to protect you. You must marry me."
"But there is no priest," she subterfuged.
"Kings make their own laws. You and I, by right of possession, are joint rulers of these islands. We shall effect a union of our interests. Come, we will ask the Heavenly Father, who watches over even the outcasts, to guard and protect us."
Kneeling, he invoked a blessing on the new life on which they were embarking. He prayed fervently that they should not die out, but live to perpetuate a new race in this paradise of the Pacific.
They arose with rapt faces, and in a spirit of exaltation wandered down to the beach. It was a glorious, starlit night, and the wind from the sea was tempered with a summer softness. They gazed upon the glittering sea, heard the wave's roar and the wind's low moan. They saw each other's dark eyes darting light into each other. In early days the heart is lava and the blood ablaze. They were alone, but no feeling of loneliness oppressed them. Around them lay the white expanse of the sand; beyond, they heard the drip in the damp caves. They clung to each other; for them there was no one else in the world.
The shrimp fisher flung in his net, and Loa, afraid to trust him in the water alone, went surfbathing. The catch was successful, and at last Hawai, with the consciousness of work well done, threw down his net and joined her in the sport. Loa took the flat board on which she had been rescued and rode on it on the crests of the waves, keeping well to the shallow water, for she dreaded the flitting black fins that portended the shark. It was a sunlit honeymoon, and, surrounded by gorgeous flowers and brilliant birds, they imbibed the brightness of the atmosphere. As Loa did not like the gloom of the cave, Hawai built her a summer house of bamboo, and thatched it with grass. Gradually their comforts increased. One night, after they had dined off a young roast pig, Loa remarked, "Hawai, don't you ever say that you and I are the only people on this island." She looked him straight in the eyes.
He put his arm around her tenderly, but this thing worried him more than he liked to show.
"I want you to declare war on the wild boars," she continued, "for this place must be safe for a little child to play in."
He mentally resolved to do it, although he was at a loss how to commence. After that he renewed his efforts, and toiled indefatigably to bring in every necessity his ingenuity could devise.
One night he had gone to look at some traps. One had been dragged away, and in looking for it he went farther than he intended. When he returned to the hut he was panic-stricken to find Loa gone. Wild with fear, he dashed up to the mouth of the cave whence smoke issued. Inside, guarded by the fire at the entrance, lay Loa. A thin, piping sound issued from her side.
"Come in," she said, "and see your little son."
"My little son!" he repeated in wonder.
With a mighty thankfulness, Hawai gathered up his family in his arms and carried it to the house, with a heartfelt prayer that he might not drop all that he held dear.
Thus Hawai and Loa founded their island kingdom and were progenitors of a new race in the South Seas.
THE CLIFF DWELLERS' DAUGHTER.
THE LAST OF HIS TRIBE
The thing sprawled on the white stone of the Giant's Steps, in the canyon. Closer scrutiny proved it to be a man who lay on his stomach drinking out of a blue pool of water. He stood up and showed what a miserable thing he was. He had been white, and displayed the pitiable plight of the civilized man reduced to dire extremity. His horny feet were encased in ungainly moccasins, shaggy goatskin swathed him about the middle, while his poor shoulders shivered under their covering of rabbit skins pieced together. The muscles stood out like whip cords on his emaciated limbs. The head, unkempt and shaggy, had a ferocious appearance which was enhanced by the eyes that seemed starting out of his head.
He stooped and filled a misshapen jar with water, then gathered up a leather pouch that contained wild grapes, and a haunch of venison. They were all presents for Gualzine, the woman up at the clift house in gloomy Cave Valley. The deer had cost the life of a man. When the woman sickened and could no longer munch the corn nor drink the water of the place, Ulric and his friend Izehara, had ventured forth in search of fresh meat. A rash undertaking at any time, it was particularly dangerous when the cave dwellers were expecting an attack from their inveterate enemies, the Lamanites. So the chief of the tribe told them when they left, but the remembrance of the woman moaning on her pallet lent wings to their feet.
They shot the doe on the morning of the second day out. They startled her at dawn as she grazed. Though the arrow sped true, she ran a hundred and fifty yards before she fell. They found her panting in the brush. Ulric left Izehara to carve the meat and prepare the camp while he went higher up to look at the traps.
When he found that one of them had caught an old silvertip, he wished that the other man had come along. He beat her to death with his club, and when the quivering brute lay down, the day was well advanced. "I will bring Izehara up to help me skin her. It will make a warm robe for Gualzine." Then panic seized him. What if she were already dead?
Haunted by this new fear, he hurried back to camp where new horrors awaited him. By the side of the partially dismembered deer, Izehara lay writhing in the last stages of poisoning. He had been bitten by a rattle-snake. Ulric flung himself down and applied his lips to the wound. He was too late; even as he sucked the poison out, his friend looked at him for the last time, then closed his eyes forever.
The survivor built up the fire and gnawed at the rarely, broiled meat from a sense of duty, for he knew that he must keep his strength up. He devoted what daylight remained to getting in the wood. During the everlasting hours of the night he prodded himself to keep awake to watch the precious food and the corpse. The coyotes howled in the distance, but more to be feared was the mountain lion, that sends no halloo of its coming.
Though seldom seen, wherever the prey is, there will it be. As his straining ears imagined a padded footfall, he built the fire up until the flames arose and lighted the rock walls of the canyon. Even the "cat" fears man's "red flower"—fire.
At dawn he dragged the dead body down to a gully and covered it up with leaves. He wondered how long the wolves would leave them there. He regretfully left them most of the deer, for urged on always with the thought of the woman, he must travel light. If the horrors of their surroundings palled on him, what must it be to her? A forlorn, transplanted thing she had come among these wild men and won their rude hearts.
Even Ulric, a long time before, had lived in a city. It was called Teotihuacan, which means "House of God," and was famed far and wide for its great pyramids for worship. This fair city contained many splendid houses, although Ulric did not know so much about that, as he was only one of the common people. It had been prophesied that the inhabitants would be destroyed because of their unbelief. Then the Lamanite hordes swept down upon them, and the men went out to fight them. The fields around Teotihuacan were spangled with black bits of obsidian where the opposing warriors shattered one another's spears. When the Indians began to massacre the women, they, with children clinging to their skirts, fought them back. After that Ulric didn't like to remember what happened.
He, with a few survivors had taken refuge in the subterranean city, where there were chambers just as above ground, and a black well with plenty of water. Only they had no sunlight and some of the women sickened and died. When their enemies had left, they sneaked out and made their way across the desert to the north until they reached the Sierra Madres, on the pinnacles of whose peaks they perched their eyries built of sundried mud. They carried up handfuls of soil from the valley and plastered it on the ledges, where they raised a little stunted maize. There, in deadly fear of the marauding bands of Lamanites that were wiping out their race, they eked out a miserable existence, a little lower than the beasts.
So outnumbered were they that only by the utmost caution did they manage to live. The rooms were dark as the apertures were small and had to be crawled through by means of rope ladders that they pulled in after them. They had got so used to climbing over the rocks that they sprang among them like goats.
People who exist in daily fear of their lives do not go in for art. So the cave dwellers' implements were crude, their pottery deformed, and their necessities scant. Obsessed with the idea of keeping the life in them from one day to another, they had lost their sense of feeling, when Gualzine came among them. She was sent accompanied by two attendants, from a neighboring cliff dwelling, for safe keeping during time of war. The other cliff house was demolished, so Gualzine took up her abode in the new place. She was the daughter of the High Priest and the last of her blood. A wan, washed out thing, she took little interest in her mediocre surroundings. Time was when she had been beautiful, as her portrait on the wall of the casa of the priests at Teotihuacan could prove. They called it "Queen of Hearts." But grim circumstance will leave its impress on the fairest form.
Though she toiled not, a new impetus evinced itself in the colony. Like the queen bee, others worked for her, and comforts appeared. She showed the boys how to mould their pottery better, and played with the children and hushed their wails, so that their dragged out mother might be less dispondent. She made ready threaded needles out of the thorns and fibers of the maguey that grows on the foothills, and taught the men how to make medicine from its juice. She was eyes to old Malcre when she sewed the skin garments in the poor light, and she cut out better patterns for their sandals. Because she would eat nothing but cooked food, the others gave up their way of eating it half raw. The men brought fresh pine boughs to sleep on, and they hunted up warmer covering because this frail thing had to be protected. When she fell sick it was a dire calamity. All the inmates loved her. Little wonder that Ulric showed such dog-like devotion.
Dropping with exhaustion, every step a pain, he approached Cave Valley. Finally he lost consciousness of his aching muscles; only one nagging instinct whipped him on. He must get to the house with his precious burden, fresh meat and grapes and good water from the Steps. That ought to put her on her feet again. The water was the hardest to carry. He was afraid that he might spill it. She would have liked the big thick bear robe. It would have been so soft while she was sick. Izehara had died and he couldn't bring it. Poor Izahara, up there in the cold. Then the old gnawing fear. What if she were gone and all of his torture were in vain? The thought spurred on his flagging strength, so he stumbled into the valley. Ulric looked towards the cliffs that he called home. In the evening haze he could not distinguish the familiar curl of smoke. Torn by uncertainty, he hurried up the side of the mountain. He stopped short. The growing feeling that something was wrong was realized. What was the matter with the garden? The corn, which was almost ripe, had been trampled down. At the same instant his foot touched something soft. He reached down, then drew back. The boy Kohath lay there with an arrow in his breast, stark dead. He had been shot down while he was carrying wood. Why hadn't they picked him up and carried him in? Cold chills shook him. What if they were all dead? What if the Indians were there now, waiting for him. Where was Gualzine? Cautiously, he crept along the terrace through the maize.
He waited for what to him seemed an age, while the wolves howled in the distance. No sign of life issued from the place. He could stand it no longer. He must find out what had happened to Gualzine. Careless of his own fate, he went down.
THE CORN CRIB OF THE CITY IN THE GLOOM.
The entrance showed signs of a conflict. Chunks of plaster had been dislodged. His people had put up a fight. As little things will often attract attention in dire extremities, so the first thing he noticed on entering, were the dead white ashes scattered on the hearth. Nearby was a broken pot of hominy, partly spilled.
The massacre had taken place the day before. One of the men lay dead by the fireplace, also the thirteen-year-old girl. The maurauders would have no object in slaying her. Ulric wondered if she had killed herself. The form he sought wasn't there. He passed into the next room. To do so he had to step over the body of the chief that lay through the doorway, a hatchet cleaving his skull. In her chamber he found Merari decapitated. Dear old Merari, Ulric reflected, her servant, who loved her as much as he. Parts of her pallet were scattered about the room, but Gualzine was not there.
Many of the inhabitants were missing. Old Malcre was gone. She could make good corn cakes. The Indians had a use for her. The other woman with her babe was missing. They also had a use for her. Ulric hoped the child would live. He did not think that Gualzine would be carried off without a struggle, yet, search as he would, he could find no shred's of her cotton clothing. What if she had died before the cliff dwelling was attacked? In times of siege it was the custom to bury the dead beneath the floor. He hastily searched through the house but he found no sign of a recent excavation.
The next morning he renewed the hunt. He found that a number of bodies had been thrown over the cliff. Hopeful, yet dreading, he made the precipitous descent. Her remains were not there, although he felt rewarded for the climb, for there were several bodies of the Lamanites. The Nephites had clutched their antagonists and locked in their embrace, and leaped over the cliff with them to destruction.
Alone.
At first, overwhelmed with the disaster, Ulric did not realize his condition. He spent a number of days burying the dead beneath the floor. He placed their implements of war with them, and at the head he put an olla, containing a little of the corn that was left; over all he put a layer of charcoal and covered it up with earth. Merari's head he placed upon a shelf, saying, "You stay there old fellow, and help me. You and I are great pals. You are the only friend I've got left."
In the after days he realized his utter desolation. At first he clung to life and he bounded over the rocks like a hunted thing. One night a party of Lamanite robbers passed through the valley and he watched them from the cliffs. He looked hungrily down into their camp, but dared not move, for fear that they would shoot. Later, when he got frightened of the solitude, he would have gladly given himself up. He became a perfect coward. Most scared of all was he of the stillness. The mountains made him infinitely lonely; he felt as if the peaks weighed down on his chest and he could not get his breath. He foresaw that he would go insane, which gave rise to a new fear. What would happen to him there among the hills if he lost his reason? He could not journey to his own people, for he knew not if any of them were alive.
It was not so bad when he could get out and hunt, but one day he slipped and sprained his ankle. It swelled up and pained so he could not walk. After that he crawled down to the stream to get his water. A new horror developed. The corn was almost gone. Already he could see the bottom of the big olla in which it was kept. Since he could not get out and hunt food he must surely die.
He began to prepare for the end. He would write his story on the wall in red and blue and yellow hieroglyphics. Future generations should know how he, Ulric, had outlived his compeers. He picked up a chisel. As he struck the wall with it, it resounded hollow. He remembered the limestone cave back of it. Funny he hadn't thought of it before! He grasped his bludgeon, and with what was left of his remaining strength, hit the wall. It took many of his weak blows to cave it in, but he also went down with the earth. Staring straight at him was Gualzine. She sat upon a stone dais. Her body had been preserved by the peculiar atmosphere of the cave. On her shrunken form the cotton cloth hung limp.
Slowly the realization forced itself on Ulric. The queer little men of the caves, determined that the daughter of their High Priest should not fall into the hands of the enemy, had walled her up there when threatened with attack. She was alive when they took her there; perhaps she lived when he returned. He had let her be slowly asphyxiated.
Ulric threw himself at her feet with all the grief that his warped nature would allow. That marked the beginning of the fever. Starvation had prepared him for it, for he had got down to counting the kernals of corn. Perhaps the rotting skull had been a friend indeed and lent its malignant aid.
Alone, with parched lips burning with thirst, with no human being to speed the parting soul, Ulric died.
* * * * * * * * * * *
One of an alien race, exploring the cave, found there the skeleton of a man lying along the wall, a crumbling skull on a ledge above, and a mummy seated on a dais.
He pondered, "What a tale those blackened lips might tell if they could only speak!"
STAIRS THAT LEAD TO THE SUMMIT OF THE PYRAMID
PYRAMID OF THE SUN, MEXICO
JARED WAS MURDERED AS HE DESCENDED FROM HIS THRONE
THE PLOT.
Jared, as he reclined on the roof-garden, looked out over the city basking in the afternoon light. Although it was yet warm, he had stumbled out into the open air from his siesta couch where he had smothered and tried in vain to sleep during the sultry afternoon. There was a discontented look in his eyes as his gaze wandered over the vast extent of the roofs, the palms silhouetted against a pastel sky, to the crystalline peaks in the distance crowned with eternal snow. The nearby stone mansions were resplendent in red-tiled roofs, sun-burnished walls, and purple shadows, while an occasional opening afforded a glimpse of a green courtyard or paved street. Nor could the beauty of his own aerial gardens, a riot of color, with subtile perfume of violets and verbenas, win him from his trouble. The laughter of girls floated up from the pool below, where his daughter Aida with her women, was disporting herself in the water. Unlike less active women, who let an indented pillow in a hammock tell the story of the afternoon's exertions, she preferred violent swimming in the humid plunge.
Wearily he leaned back, as if he found the cushions hard for his emaciated limbs. Jared had once been ruler over this vast domain, and he who has tasted power cannot soon forget the flavor. Lusting for the kingdom, he had dispossessed his old father, King Omer, but his younger brothers had risen up and wrested it from his greedy grasp. They defeated him in open battle, took him captive, and Jared only bought his freedom with the promise that he would never go to war again. After that he found life, shorn of its glory, but a worthless thing.
Evening is unknown in the tropics, for night descends swiftly, shrouding the earth in a black pall. Tonight, for a transitory period, a crescent moon hung in a sapphire sky, a breeze sprang up from the sea, and the city shook off its lethargy. A hum arose as its inhabitants prepared for the traffic and activity of the night. Lights sprang out. A step on the stair and a rustling of the leaves made the man turn to behold the laughing face of Aida, like a lily on its stem above a bed of narcissus.
"Come here to me, daughter," he said fondly, his face lighting up.
She shook out her mane of black hair, which was still wet, and went toward him. Her shoulders and arms emerged like snow from her loose-fitting, black gown, and the dead pallor of her face was relieved only by the scarlet streak of her lips. Her gray eyes were so heavily shrouded that they appeared black. As she knelt before him, her father leaned forward and touched her forehead with his lips.
"Father," she murmured, "it is eating my heart out to see you always so sad."
"I fear I am but a broken shell from which the life has departed," he lamented.
"Can't you shake this depression off?"
"I have tried," he sighed.
"I know it. You will never be yourself again until you are restored to your old place. The throne is yours by right. You are a younger man than Omer, and can manage the affairs of the nation better. You must be king."
"How?" he raised his eyebrows.
As she had watched her father waste away, gnawed by festering ambition, Aida had realized that something must be done or he would die. So she had evolved a plan.
"Listen," she glanced hastily around and lowered her voice. "There is only one thing between you and your lawful right to the throne."
"My father!"
"Then remove it," she hissed.
"You mean kill the king!" He started as if she had surprised his own guilty thought.
"Why not?"
"It is not for a son to spill his father's blood."
"Get someone else to do it."
"And who, in all the realm of the Jaredites would dare?"
"Only one that I know of. The dark and moody Akish could if he wanted to, for he controls the secret societies."
"True," he ruminated, "but he is a friend of Omer's."
"Every man has his price."
"What would his be?" he shrugged his shoulders. "The coffers of Akish are bursting with gold now."
"Tempt him with something else."
Jared scowled. What office in the kingdom could he offer for such a crime?
Aida broke in on his reflections. "Send for him here, and I will dance before him, and when he covets me, say, 'Bring hither the head of Omer, the king, and I will give you my daughter for wife.'"
Fond father that he was Jared never doubted but what Akish would want Aida, but the thoughts of bartering her shot a pang through his heart. He would sacrifice his aged father for his soul's desire, but to give up his daughter, that was another thing.
After a silence, he said gently, "Have you thought, my child, that after this is accomplished there must come a day of reckoning?"
"What of it?"
"You are willing to pay the price?"
"Certainly," then hurriedly as the color crept into her face, "I am sick of these effeminate nobles with their perfumed locks, and if I am to have a master it must be one worth obeying. Akish is such a man."
As he watched her with half-closed lids, her father thought that it must be a strong trainer indeed to hold such a splendid tigress in leash; but when he thought of the cruel Akish, his heart was full of misgiving.
AIDA DANCES BEFORE AKISH.
Akish stood at the gate of the gardens of Jared on the night of the banquet. In crimson tunic he leaned a vivid patch against the gray stone arch. A nearby torch illumined his figure, lean, brown and muscular. Black-eyed, hawk-beaked and cruel-lipped, he conveyed a suggestion of power that was felt in the magnetic personality of the man. A band of dull gold hung low over his brow, sheathing his glossy, black hair. Collar and sandals of the same material were the only ornaments he wore. As he surveyed the scene, a gleam came into his eyes for it was well calculated to stir a more sluggish soul than his.
Cruets of burning oil filled the gardens with soft radiance and changeful shade. Interspersed with these were braziers of incense whose aromatic smoke curved upwards in spirals. In the fountain the figure of a sea-nymph upheld a conch shell from which the water trickled. It ran into the swimming pool of blue-veined marble which in turn emptied itself into a miniature lake covered with lotus leaves and yellow water lilies. The lagoon was not entirely given over to white-necked swans and pink-legged flamingoes, for a dainty shallop lay moored to the shore as if inviting one to a trip to fairyland among the floating gardens of the lake. One tiny isle grew purple hyacinths, another yellow daffodils, a third flaunted gaudy tulips. In the somber green of the grove was caught the occasional gleam of the white magnolia and pomegranate blooms.
To one side was the aviary, filled with the strange and gorgeous-hued birds of the tropics; beyond, causing an instinctive shudder, were the many species of Central American snakes. The cages of the wild animals were still farther removed so the roars of their inmates would not disturb the ears of the diners. The banquet table was spread on the terrace which was gained by a magnificent sweep of stairs.
The stone glowed yellow, while the supporting columns were of marble, shot with amethyst. Even as Akish devoured the scene, the portals were thrown wide, and the guests thronged out upon the terrace. Throwing the loose end of his tunic across his shoulder, he strode forward.
The table groaned under its golden service, many of its dishes designed in grotesque forms of birds and animals. Overhead stretched a net from which roses fell upon the board. Akish found himself seated next to Aida whose presence he felt intuitively, before he looked at her. She wore a loose-fitting, white robe from which her bare arms emerged like alabaster. No ornament marred the purity of the throat, nor the poise of the head crowned with living night. The jade bangles which dangled from her ears only heightened the pallor of her skin.
"So I have met you at last," he murmured.
"I have known Akish long, by reputation," she flattered subtly.
"Three times have I seen you before, but ever failed to make your acquaintance."
"Three times? Twice only do I remember. Once as you rode by, leading your troops to battle, I thought that your eyes rested on me for a moment. Again in a little park in Heth you passed me with a group of gray-beards."
"But first I saw you bathing one morning in the pool at Ether's house in Heth. I noticed that you were the best swimmer among the women. I went back that afternoon and enquired of their guests only to find that you had left that day. As for the night in the park—after I went to the council with the old men, I excused myself, and hurried back to the park but you had gone."
"After you had passed I went home," she confessed.
He replied with a burning glance, and she saw her father watching them with furtive eyes from across the table.
A troupe of acrobats, assisted by deformed mountebanks, performed. A group of dancing girls, garlanded with flowers, went through a series of figures for the guests, while ever roses fell from above. Everyone did as he pleased as the banquet progressed. Some of the diners were stupid from gormandizing, others had partaken too freely of the intoxicating juice of the maguey. Aida tasted little of the rich meats before her, but Akish seemed possessed of a burning thirst which goblet after goblet of frothy mead failed to quench. His veins were on fire, and as he whispered in Aida's ear, he suddenly swooped to cool his hot lips on the clear expanse of her shoulder. But even as he clutched her she eluded his grasp and slipped away, leaving him with distended nostrils like blood-hound thwarted in pursuit.
Presently Jared, arising from his seat, announced, "My daughter has consented to dance for us." The guests crowded forward and waited expectantly, but then they were not prepared for the sight that greeted their eyes. Aida slowly made her way to the center of the terrace. As she emerged into the light, the spectators uttered an exclamation of horror, and Akish swore under his breath, for wrapped around her body were the thick coils of a snake.
A snood fastened over her brow made her head resemble that of the serpent, and her form, sheathed in green, writhed so with the monster that the watchers could scarce tell where one ended and the other began. Slowly the undulations of the snake-dance started. The onlookers watched fascinated, much as the shivering little monkeys are hypnotized by the dance of Kaa, the rock python, before they are devoured by him. Akish, with bulging eyeballs, crept nearer under the spell. The woman and the serpent swayed together; then out darted a white arm, followed by the glistening writhe of the snake. At times it seemed almost a battle between the two, and again it seemed as if the monster would hug her to death in its embrace. Finally, at a signal, two attendants rushed forward and helped disengage the python which seemed loath to leave its fair prey. As it was coaxed off, the audience heaved a sigh of relief. As the snake sheds its skin, so Aida threw off her outer robe, and emerged in roseate gauze of dawn-like hue. The music crashed into gayer strains. First the dancer depicted the awakening of love,—joy, bliss, rising to the delirium of ecstasy,—then languor, and when it seemed that she had fairly swooned away, her muscles became taut, and she arose to show the fury of love scorned. Snatching a dagger from her belt she brandished it in the air. Wildly she struck, faster and faster resounded the music, more passionate became her motion, until she was fury incarnate. She seemed a harlequin of the desert, as she struck right and left. Akish did not realize how near he was until she plunged the blade at him and he drew back with a cold sweat on his brow. Her vengeance seemed to rise to the height of black hate. Centering her strength she drove the dagger into her imaginary enemy, and the knife went clattering down on the pavement.
The dance was ended. The spectators broke into wild applause. Aida staggered toward the shade of the orange trees, and not realizing what he did, Akish plunged after her. He reached her just as she swayed and fell, with utter exhaustion, on his outstretched arm.
FRUITION.
Lured on by the bait of Aida, Akish called the secret societies together and started his diabolical machinations, but the Lord warned Omer, in a dream, of his impending danger, with the result that the old king gathered his household together and departed secretly to the land of Ablom, where he pitched his tents by the sea-shore. Jared was anointed king by the hand of wickedness, and at the same time Akish was wedded to Aida.
If Jared loved power, Akish did more so, and his vaulting ambition led to the throne itself. He fretted inwardly; and, because such a nature must be active in evil, he began to lay his subtle plans to consummate his end. He must get Jared out of the way. By reason of his control of the secret organizations, whose members were bound by dread oaths, he was already a more influential man than the king. His marriage to Jared's daughter strengthened his position. Strangely enough, the thing that should have deterred him from the murder, consideration for his wife, confirmed his dire decision. Akish loved Aida as much as a nature of his kind is capable of, but mingled with it was a desire to domineer. He derived pleasure from torturing the beloved object. During their brief married life, he had been afforded some rare flashes of her temper, and he now saw a chance to quell the rebellion in her, and crush it with one blow.
The arch conspirator sent out his band of assassins to kill King Jared as he sat upon the throne, and as they departed he called after the bullies, "That I may know that you have done your work well, bring me a token, bring me the head of the king," and he smiled grimly to think that the same fate that Jared had decreed for his father, should now be meted out to him.
Akish did not know what fear was, but he could ill brook delay. He sat in his great stone chamber and essayed a dozen tasks only to throw them aside and listen impatiently, as the afternoon lengthened into night. When the heavy tread of his accomplices resounded in the corridor, he could have shouted with relief.
"How goes it?" he questioned sharply, as the men filed into the room.
"It is done," answered Simon.
"How?"
"With twenty wounds, Chief," broke in one of the followers.
"We went in and mingled with the people as he sat high upon his throne, and when the petitioners for justice had all gone, and he started to descend, we stabbed him. Our men watched the entrances so we would not be interrupted in our work."
"And the proof?"
"Behold, my Lord," Simon threw back his cloak and held up by the hair the ghastly trophy, but it was not this gruesome spectacle that froze the look of horror on the face of Akish.
Instinctively he looked in the other direction to behold Aida, clad in her night robes, in the doorway. Whether or not she had recognized the head of her father, in the half light of the room, they could not tell, for she turned silently, and they heard the swish of her draperies down the hall.
Confusion fell upon the retainers, and Akish, shaking as if he had the ague, said, "I did not mean for her to see that. Get out of my sight."
If they had any doubts they were soon dissipated, for Aida shut herself up in her apartments, and for three days her screams resounded through the palace. On the third day Akish commanded her to appear at a banquet, for he dared not face her alone. She came and sat stony-faced at the board.
During the coronation ceremonies which followed, when Akish sat in her father's place, and she, on his right hand, was crowned queen, neither of them ever mentioned Jared's name.
Not until her son Ether was born some months later did Aida smile again, and somehow, because Akish was his father, the little newcomer renewed the bond between them.
REAPING THE WHIRLWIND.
Beyond the initial step, Aida had taken no part in Akish's crimes. When he attained the throne, she thought that his violence must cease, but his increased power only offered him more opportunities to sate his lust for wickedness. Because his honor was bound up with his queen, as well as for her innate charm, Akish had cared more for her than he did for anybody. But, steeped with satiety, he constantly sought new sensations; and, as he grew more brutish, Aida's influence with him waned. His crimes became more vicious, and he reveled in bloodshed, until the people called him monster, and prayed for a liberator.