The names of men were called as scouts, and the response was quick, as one after another ran to the kiva for orders, and then started on the run towards mesa and forest.

Don Ruy looked after them with eyes perplexed.

"Does the Cacique regard the mirage with earnestness?" he said to the padre who also watched and listened. "The man has a quick, good brain and marvellous understandings,—but to prepare for battle because of a sun picture in the sand is scarce what I looked for in him."

Padre Vicente smiled with his lips, and stroked his beard.

"You have yet to learn that the Indian magic workers let no tricks go by to prove their greatness,"—he said. "That wench and Jose were witness to the thing—thus he must claim it as his own! When the scouts find no Navahu warriors, be sure it will be for the reason that the magic of the sorcerer caused them to turn back in weakness on the trail!"

"That will but strengthen his power, if it be so," agreed the younger man,—"and how will you surmount that fear of him, and win the renegade of Ni-am-be to give the word we need?"

"Protection and a life of ease away from the Indian magicians is a good bribe for an outcast,—and it may be that fortune plays into our hands. I could wish that the Cacique would follow the scouts with his mummeries and incantations. You see how they have taught even Jose the fear of him!"

"Yes—I do see, and but for the story that in this one village is held the gold secret, I should say to move camp to some province where bookish caciques hold no sway. How account you for the keen brain of this wonder-worker? We have pampered and tutored numbskulls in Seville who know not even their own creed so well as it is known by this heretic barbarian."

"Without doubt it is the power of the Prince of Darkness," and Padre Vicente gave the opinion with all due force—having in remembrance that scene of the gift of the rosary in the kiva, and seeing clearly that the Spanish adventurer had more than a little of admiration for the unexpected daring of the pagan.—"Witchcraft and sorcery are of the Devil, and both white men and savages do trade their souls for evil knowledge. To strip him of his ill-gotten power would be a work of grace for the Faith—and it is a thing for which each Christian should gladly say many prayers!"

Don Ruy well knew that these ardent words were directed at his own luke-warmness in regard to the young Ruler. Maestro Diego and Juan Gonzalvo had distanced him in setting a good example to the men of the guard!

A messenger from the kiva approached and spoke to Yahn, and she came to the Spaniards with a message.

A council was in the kiva. It was about war if war came. The Po-Ahtun-ho thought it was good that one of the white visitors be asked to sit and listen; Don Ruy was invited to be that one. The man Jose was to interpret.

Don Ruy speculated as to the cause of this courtesy. The Ruler certainly did not desire the help of the white men—the message did not even say as much. But it was plain that there were two parties on that question, and Tahn-te meant to show no fear of his opponents. They would see he gave them fair chances.

So he went, and Jose followed, and Yahn watched them—to her great, yet silent rage.

Ka-yemo only reached the village as the last scout was started for the trail of the Po-et-se canyon. Ka-yemo was the official for the war orders, yet the orders had been given without speech with him! Over his head had it been done, and his protest to the governor, and to the old men in council brought him little of pride or of comfort.

"On the trail to see your wife you might have died," said one of the old men,—"or on the way coming home. How could we know? If you die and we have to fight—we have to fight without you. Before you were born we fought without you."

"I was not to see a wife!" protested Ka-yemo. "I can stay away like other men. Some one has talked crooked! I was on the mesa talking with the guardians who make the arrow heads. To the far away ones I talked. The women send word to them that they are afraid. A ghost is at Pu-ye. All the women but the Twilight Woman are much frightened. They want men."

"Good!" said the governor. "The scouts are already on the trail. If men are needed, each man is ready and each spear is waiting. To the Po-Ahtun-ho has been shown a vision of the enemy—it was not a time to wait for council."

Ka-yemo's handsome face was still sulky. The vision of Tahn-te might have waited. He had come down with a fine new story of a ghost seen in the ruins of Pu-ye, and it was ignored because Tahn-te the Po-Athun-ho had found a vision!

Tahn-te entered not at all into the discussion of the confiscated rights of Ka-yemo. Even of the ghost frightening the women he asked no question. Many things of war were talked of if the Navahu should come to steal women or corn, and the dusk of the twilight crept after the vanished sun when Tahn-te turned at last to the war chief.

"Ka-yemo, with the men of iron you have spoken much and often," he said quietly. "Do you know who told them first that in Povi-whah was held the secret of the yellow metal for which they search?"

The tongue of Ka-yemo became stiff as all sat silent waiting for his answer.

"The padre asked me,"—he said at last,—"the padre always makes people speak—I told the padre that which I had heard."

There was a slight stir among the men, but Tahn-te quieted them with a glance.

"The priest of the iron men has also been told one other thing," he continued—"and it is well for you all, brothers, that you hear this thing. Oh-we-tahnh, the outcast of Ni-am-be, was a strong medicine man. He used magic in a dark way for evil. His power was taken from him. He was told by the council to forget the secret of the sun symbol. Brothers, he has not forgotten! He has come to the camp of the men of iron. He eats their food:—last night he slept by their walls."

"Our brothers of Ni-am-be will not be glad with us if we let this be," stated one man. "The evil magic must be outcast always."

"Send some one and find the man," said Tahn-te. "When the sun of to-morrow comes, all who listen here may be on the war trail. It is not good to leave a coyote loose to do harm when no one watches."

In a little while the outcast was brought into the circle. He cringed with fear, and his eyes were restless as those of a trapped wolf. The governor questioned him as to his presence there, reminding him that the council of Ni-am-be had granted him life only if he take that life out of sight of his kind. Why then did he come to Povi-whah and stay in the camp of the strangers?

His only reply was that he would go now, and he would go quickly.

"No—not quickly," said Tahn-te. "You will not go quickly any where ever again. I am looking at you! I say so!"

The man stared at Tahn-te like a bird that was under a charm. All the others saw the steady gaze of Tahn-te, and saw also that the outcast began to tremble.

"Hold out your hand," said Tahn-te, and when it was done, Tahn-te took from his medicine pouch some pieces of yellow gold. They were heavy, he passed them around until all might see, then he put the gold in the hand of the outcast.

"Your clan was a proud clan and good, and you made them ashamed," said Tahn-te. "You had strong medicine and you used it for evil until your name must not be spoken by your brothers. To these men of iron you would trade that which is not yours: Without speech of council you would do this—and to do it would be traitor! Because your heart wishes to give the sun symbol to these strangers, I send you to them with what your hand can hold. To the priest of the white god give it! Tell him I, the Po-Ahtun-ho, send it, and no more than that will he ever see here in Povi-whah. Tell him that the weight of it makes your hand shake and your body shake. Tell him that the sickness is now in your blood, and when the day comes again your tongue cannot make words to tell him things. Tell him if his men put you in the saddle, or carry you to the hidden place of the Sun Father, that the light of your eyes will go out on the trail! I am looking at you!—and you, who once had a name, and were a worker of magic, know that I look on you with Power, and that it will be as I say."

He stooped and drew in the ashes of the place of fire, the figure of a man with hand stretched out, then, with a breath, he sent the ashes in a little cloud and each line was obliterated.

"To destroy you would not be good,"—he continued. "It is better that the boys and the young men see the fate given to a traitor. My brothers,—is this well?"

"It is well!" said the men, but the voice of the war chief was not loud, and his hands shook until he clasped them together and held them steady.

Tahn-te looked around the circle as though undecided, and then rested on Ka-yemo.

"You speak the words of the Castilian man, and like to speak them," he said quietly, "so it will be well for you to make the words for this man who carries to their priest the gift of the sun symbol. Forget no thought of it—for all the words have meaning."

And this speech to Ka-yemo was in Castilian, and was plainly said, and Ruy Sandoval knew then why the courtesy of the council had been extended to him.

And the outcast, holding the nuggets in his trembling outstretched hand shook so that he could not go alone up the ladder to the world above.

Ka-yemo, with a still, strange face of fear, put out his hand to help the outcast, who looked as if Great King Death had called his name.

No more words were spoken, and the men in silence followed after. They had seen a thing of strong medicine, and the Great Mystery had sent power quickly. That palsy by which the man had been touched had come with the swiftness of the wind when it whirls the leaves of the cottonwood. They all knew that the tongue would be dumb, and the eyes would be blind in the given time if need be.

And Don Ruy like the others, was touched with awe of the man who had wrought the thing. As he went up the ladder he looked back at the Ruler who sat still—gazing into the ashes of the place of sacred fire.



CHAPTER XIV

THE TRUE VISION

The sentinels on the terrace who watched the night in Povi-whah knew these were nights when they did not watch alone. The Po-Ahtun-ho was abroad in the night for prayer, and when they made reports in the morning, they knew that he had not waited for such reports ere being wise as to each shining path of a bright spirit sent earthward by the Great Mystery,—or each shadow passing over the Mother of the Starry Skirt, or the nearness of the visiting Ancient Star to the constellations on its trail to the twilight land of many days.

They knew he was watching the world overhead. With the Pin-pe-ye, that mystic compass of the Milky Way, was he balancing the fate of things as written in the light of the Sky Mother whose starry skirt was a garment to which departed souls cling. So many are the souls of earth people that their trail makes luminous the white way of the sky, and all the world, and all the people, can of course be seen from that height of the sky, and when a dart of heat lightning sped earthward to the west, the sentinels cast prayer meals and knew that Those Above were sending messages to Tahn-te who prayed as no other prayed.

And on the heights were his prayers, for ever it was to the mesa and beyond that his trail led since the mighty wrath of the wind by which the corn was broken to earth. The darkness was often running from the dawn ere he came downward from the hills into the valley.

A scout, speeding eastward from the mountains in the dawn saw him coming down from the ancient place of the Reader of the Stars in Pu-ye—the sacred place where no other reader of the Sky Things goes in the night. The Lost Others are known to abide there, and mourn the barren field of the older day.

At times strange magic circles the ancient dwellings of the cliff. Before a storm, light flickers like fiery butterflies above the fallen walls on the summit.

For this reason was it deemed holy, and for this reason were the women of Shufinne much afraid when the ghost of a woman was seen plainly there between the edge of the cliff, and the silver disk of the moon.

The scout carried this word, and Tahn-te who had been seen coming from prayers there, listened, but gave little heed;—the women had seen shadows, and the older men said they were only weary that the men were so far across the mesas. Fire out of the sky, or out of the earth, had often danced on those heights, but no woman had been there in a ghost form ever in the memory of men.

Much more were they intent to know of any trace of warriors on the hills, but only smoke had been seen far beyond the place of the boiling water of the hill springs, and the smoke could easily be of Ua-lano hunters. Other scouts were yet to come. They had made longer runs. This man had been told to return at dawn of the day.



So the word went abroad, and in the Castilian camp, Don Diego gave fervent thanks. He was none too well pleased that to secure records for the "Relaciones" it might be necessary to carry a spear against the heathen. It had been plainly understood in far off Mexico that the people to be visited were not a hostile people. They were to be found waiting for salvation, and with good gold to pay for it!

The offer of the padre to give aid in battle to their Indian brethren, had been but a courteous pleasantry when uttered. It was a different matter when scouts were sent abroad by the pagan Ruler to seek trouble and bring it home to all of them!

Trouble enough was he brewing by that gift to the padre of the sacred sun symbol. The pariah who brought it was under the curse medicine of Tahn-te. Before their eyes he sat dumb, and the Castilians crossed themselves with dread as they looked on him. He was the visible warning of a doom awaiting any other who dared speak!

Not alone could he lift water to his own lips. The trembling of his hand was now the trembling of his entire body. By order of Tahn-te he was to be taken to one of the little cliff dwellings at the foot of the mesa. Each seven suns, an old man and a group of boys were to have the task of carrying to him food and water, and each visit the boys were to be told by the Ancient why the medicine had been put upon the outcast. Thus all youth would know that the Great Mystery sent power against traitors.

In vain Padre Vicente tried to scoff at the reality of it, or the continuance of it. The men pointed to the palsied man, and prayers were remembered by many who were not pious. Indian witchcraft was not to their liking!

"Paracelsus with his necromancy has done nothing worse!" declared Don Diego. "This barbarian priest lacks bowels in his devilish art! Had he not sent the gift of gold, the aggravation would have been less pointed. That insult from the heretic is not to be endured."

"Yet the saints do give us strength for the endurance, Senor," replied the secretary, "and Don Ruy paces apart, and keeps key on his thoughts since that council. Think you he fears magic of the Po-Ahtun-ho?"

"A good thing were it true!" decided Don Diego—"overmuch is he inclined to countenance their pagan practices, and find likeness in their mummeries to the mysteries of the Greek—and even the Egyptian of ancient days! The sorcerer has snared him with that ungodly learning of books. But while we see it, and know it, Chico my son, it is as well that the thought enters not into the 'Relaciones.' Don Ruy in the desert is a good comrade, but his Excellency in Madrid could nip any book in the bud—even the most stupendous."

"He is so great in power?"

"He is—but it is enough to know that he is the darling of princes, and has not yet been ignored by their sisters! That which he wants in Madrid comes easily to his hand,—and this wild adventuring is unprofitable madness."

"Not unprofitable shall it remain," decided Padre Vicente, who had walked near enough to hear their converse, and whose interest was ever alert to further knowledge of their patron.—"Let the heathen sorcerer send what insolent message he will, it does not change the fact the gold has been put into our hands. It is clear proof that the story of the Indian mine was a story of truth."

"Strange it is that the abhorred Teo the Greek should have been the one to carry word of it out to the world"—mused Don Diego. "Write down in the 'Relaciones,' Chico, that the ways of the saints are often wondrous peculiar in the selection of evil instruments for pious works."

"Yes, Senor, and shall I write down also that the piety has not, up to this date, made so much progress as devout minds could have hoped?"

"You may do so," conceded Don Diego—"but fail not to give the true reason. Had these poor stubborn barbarians not sent their women away, the padre would have won many souls for the faith ere this. Women are the instruments through which religion reaches men. Not until the women have been frightened back to their homes can we hope for a comforting harvest of souls."

"There is one soul waiting to be gathered with the harvest," said the lad, pointing to the outcast. "If Christian prayers could lift from his shaking hands the pagan doom, it would not do more to make converts here than wordy argument."

"The governor and the head men approve of his sentence because the man made camp here without the word of council," stated Padre Vicente. "It is not well to meddle with their Pueblo laws."

Yahn, who listened, saw the smile on Chico's face, and wondered why the lad should be humorous because the priest did not venture to measure saintly prayers with heathen medicine!

Glad enough she was that it was so, and eager she was that some one should tell to Ka-yemo that his new friends had a weaker god than the god of the Te-hua people,—even the medicine of Tahn-te—the medicine of one man—made them respectful!

But her own lips were sealed between anger and jealousy. Like a sullen figure of fate she had brooded during the days of strange changes. Sullen also she listened to speech of sorcery, and speech of war if war came.

To go to battle was the one way by which Ka-yemo could dominate and make the men of iron see there was another than Tahn-te in Povi-whah. This thing she thought of by day, and dreamed of in the night.

She heard his name on the lips of the old women and of Saeh-pah, again they talked of the day when the father had been left behind by the warriors to pull weeds in the corn!

Like a chained tigress she walked the terraces and heard their laughter, but no word did she say. If once their laughing words had been said to her, she felt she would kill Saeh-pah!

And Ka-yemo gazed at her with burning eyes afar off—yet looked the other way if by chance they passed each other in the court of the village. It was true he started over the mesa to Shufinne where the new wife waited with the other young women and the girl children, but midway on the trail the thought of Yahn and Juan Gonzalvo had come to him—and he had turned in his tracks, and the new wife of the many robes, and wealth of shell beads, was not seen by him.

Phen-tza the governor said hard words to him that his actions made laughter,—and that he went about as in an angry dream, and that the warriors asked who was to lead if the day vision of Tahn-te proved a true vision!

"I did not see the vision of Tahn-te," retorted Ka-yemo—"the people to whom he made it clear of sight, say it was across the river to the sunrise—why then does Tahn-te ask for scouts running to the sunset hills? That is new medicine."

"The council asked that thing while you were yet on the mesa," said the governor patiently. "The people who saw the vision of Tahn-te saw only the spirit form of Navahu warriors," and the governor puffed smoke from his pipe to the four ways to propitiate the gods for the mention of those who belonged in the spirit land. "But before the vision was carried away by magic of the wind, Tahn-te saw more than the others, he saw a dream mountain behind them—and cliffs and a mountain pass that is known to his eyes. Through that pass they were coming, and the pass is beyond the sacred mountain to the land of the hunting ground of the sunset. By that trail he knows they come—or they will come!"

"You think the vision of Tahn-te is clear, and his medicine good!" said Ka-yemo—"But the men of iron are wise also. They call him—sorcerer."

"It is not yet the time to say it aloud," warned the governor. "This is a time of strange things, and our eyes saw that which came to the outcast who carried the sun symbol to the men of iron. The medicine of the white men is strong, and they could be good brothers in battle,—but not yet has their man of sacred medicine shown magic like that," and he pointed to the outcast waiting and shaking in the sunshine against the wall of the village.

Ka-yemo knew by these words that even his own clan watched him closely—Tahn-te had made the jealous hearts afraid.

Yahn saw him go alone to the river's edge, and sit long alone; his handsome head was bent in thought and to no one could the thought be told. From the terrace Yahn watched. It was a time when the war chief should call men and see that bows were strong, and lances ready. It was not a time to walk apart and be unseen of the warriors. One man, who fastened a scalp to his lance for good medicine, talked with Saeh-pah, and the woman laughed and asked who would pull weeds in the corn if all men went seeking the Navahu!

When Yahn Tysn-deh heard that, she went down from the terrace into her own dwelling, and made prayers to her own gods of her Apache people. With a blade of obsidian she made scars until the blood dripped from her braceletted arms. To the divinely created Woman Without Parents, she chanted a song of prayer, and to the Twin Gods who slew enemies, she let her blood drop by drop fall on the sacred meal of the medicine bowl:—all this that one man be given power—and all this that a Te-hua clan be not ashamed in the sight of gods!

Through the words of her prayer she heard the hurry of feet, and the shrill of voices, and past her dwelling tramped men of iron clanging the metal of their arms, and the voice of Chico was heard calling her name at the door, telling her the scouts had found the Navahu camp:—to come quickly to Don Diego. Tahn-te had read aright the magic of the vision of the sand and the sun!

And Yahn Tsyn-deh slipped shell ornaments over the wounds on her arms, and went out to make words for the Christians.



CHAPTER XVII

THINGS REVEALED ON THE HEIGHTS

All the Castilians but Padre Vicente and Don Diego went with the warriors to the western heights. For reasons of his own, the padre preferred the pueblo when freed of the influence of Tahn-te, and Don Diego preferred to bear him company,—a secretary could well look after the records of warfare, if it came to warfare, though for his own part he believed not any of the heathen prophecy of the coming of warriors, and wondered much that his eminence, the padre, showed patience with their pagan mummeries. He assured the padre that it would be a wrong against Holy Church to grant the sacraments to the pagan Cacique until that doom of the outcast had been revoked;—To take the power of high God for the managing of pueblo matters was not a thing to grant absolution for! And Padre Vicente, to quiet his anxiety on that score, agreed that when the pagan Cacique came for absolution, he should be reminded of his iniquity.

And while they settled this weighty matter, the young Ruler who had prophesied, moved contrary to custom, with the leaders across the high mesa, and was followed by the Castilian horsemen, in their shining coats of mail, and on a mule led by Gonzalvo rode Yahn, unafraid, and with proud looks.

And ever her eyes rested on Ka-yemo who held his place of chief, and chanted a war song, and was so handsome a barbarian that Don Ruy made mention of it, and told the secretary that he was worth an entire page of the "Relaciones," even though not a thing of war came in their trail.

The great white cliff of a thousand homes of the past, filled the Castilian mind with wonder. Generations had lived and died since the ghost city of the other days had throbbed with life, still the stucco of the walls was yet ivory white, and creamy yellow, and it looked from the pine woods like a far reaching castle of dreams.

It was nearing the sunset, and a windless heat brooded over the heights where usually the pines made whisperings, clouds of flame color hung above the dark summits of the mountain, and the reflected light turned the ghostly dwellings to a place of blood-tinged mystery. More than one of the adventurers crossed themselves. Don Ruy said it looked, in the lurid glow, like a place of enchantment.

"But there are beautiful enchantments," said Chico—"and this may be one of them! Think you we might find walls pictured by Merlin the magian if we but climb the steep? Magic that is beautiful should not be hedged around by a mere ocean or two!"

"This is the place of the ghost woman," stated Yahn,—"and Shufinne, where the women are afraid, is beyond."

Within sight was Shufinne, and there the Castilians had expected to camp. But among the older Indians there had been talk—and who can gauge the heathen mind?

"Two camps will we make," they decided. "Here is most water for the animals and here our white brothers can wait; at Shufinne will the Te-hua guard be awake all the night, and give warning if the enemy comes,—other guards will watch the trail of the canyon. Thus we cover much ground,—no one can pass to the villages of the river;—and quickly can all camps help the one where the enemy comes."

"Not so bad is the generalship in spreading their net," said Don Ruy.

"Nor in excluding the stranger from the hiding place of their pretty maids," added Chico with amusement. "Ysobel—ride you close to me. This is the place where they herd their women, and guard them,—and you are not so ill favored in many ways as some I have seen."

Ysobel whimpered that it was not to follow war she had left Mexico and her own people, and like Don Diego she could see no good reason to search for trouble in the hills.

"Then why not stay behind safe walls with the padre?" asked Don Ruy, and Ysobel went dumb and looked at Chico—and the lad shrugged and smiled.

"Has she not married a man?" he queried, "and does not the boy Cupid make women do things most wondrous strange in every land? Jose would fare as well without her watchful eye, but no power could make her think it,—so come she would on a lop-eared mule despite all my fine logic!"

"You—yourself—would come!" retorted Ysobel, "so what—"

But Chico prodded the mule so that it went frisky and sent its heels in the air, and but for Don Ruy the beast might have left the woman on the ground.

"What imp possesses you to do mischief to the dame?" he demanded—"and why laugh that she follows her husband? When you have more years you may perhaps learn what devotion may mean!"

"Never do I intend to strive for more knowledge of it than I possess at this moment!" declared Chico—"see to what straits it has led that poor girl, who, but for this matter of a man, would have been good and safe working in a convent garden. Small profit this marriage business is!"

"A selfish Jack-a-napes might you be called," remarked Don Ruy, "and much I wonder that the woman bears patiently your quips. Give us ten more years, and we'll see you mated and well paid for them!"

"Ten years!"—and the lad whistled,—"let me wait ten of my years and I can wait the rest of them!"

"Name of the devil!" laughed Don Ruy—"if you grow impatient for a mate, we'll charge yon citadel and capture one for you!"

"Oh, my patience can keep step with your own will, Excellency," retorted the lad. "I've no fancy for halting the expedition, or of making a winning through another man's arms."

"Your conceit of yourself is quite up to your inches," observed his patron. "When you've had a few floutings you'll be glad to send signals for help."

"One flouting would be enough to my fancy—I'd straightway borrow myself a monk's robe."

"We all think that with the first love affair—or even the second—" volunteered Don Ruy—"but after that, philosophy grows apace, and we are willing to eat, drink—and remain mortal."

Ysobel giggled most unseemly, and Chico stared disapproval at her.

"Why laugh since you know not anything of such philosophy, Dame Ysobel?" he asked. "It is not given many to gather experience, and philosophies such as come easily to the call of his Excellency."

The woman hung her head at the reproof, and his Excellency lifted brows and smiled.

"You have betimes a fine lordling's air with you," he observed. "Why chide a woman for a smile when women are none too plentiful?"

But they had reached the place of the camp, and the secretary swung from the saddle in silence. Don Ruy watching him, decided that the Castilian grandfather must have been of rank, and the Indian grandmother at least a princess. Even in a servant who was a friend would the lad brook nothing of the familiar.

Tahn-te stood apart from the Spanish troop while camp was being made, and a well dug deeper in a ravine where once the water had rippled clear above the sand. The choice of camp had not been his. The old men and the warriors had held up hands, and the men of iron were not to see the women at Shufinne,—so it had been voted.

The lurid glow of the sky was overcast and haste was needed ere the night and perhaps the storm, came. Since it was voted that Pu-ye be the shelter, Tahn-te exacted that only the north dwellings be used—the more sacred places were not to be peered into by strange eyes!

A Te-hua guard was stationed at the ancient dwelling of the Po-Ahtun. Near there alien feet must not pass. Where the ruins of ancient walls reached from edge to edge of the mesa's summit, there Te-hua guards would watch through the night, and signal fires on Shufinne mesa would carry the word quickly if help was needed.

A Navahu captive from Kah-po came with men of Kah-po, and was left at Pu-ye. Juan Gonzalvo stationed his own guards, having no fancy for sleep with only painted savages between his troop and danger. Ka-yemo for no stated reason lingered near, and watched the Castilians, and watched Yahn Tsyn-deh;—so sullen and strong had grown his jealousy that here in the hills—apart from the padre, he dared think what could be made happen to the little cluster of white men if the Kah-po men would join Povi-whah for battle,—and if—

Under the eyes of Padre Vicente no such thought would have dared come to him,—but he had brief wild desires to win by some stroke, a power such as Tahn-te held without question. Let the Castilian whisper "sorcerer" ever so loudly, yet the old men of Te-hua would give no heed without proofs—and who could make proofs against Tahn-te?

The words of the governor had cut deep—and Yahn who was of the Tain-tsain clan, would rage if the clan gained not credit by the war chief,—and Gonzalvo the man of iron,—would then take her to himself—and—He walked apart in rage. From the ancient dwelling of the Po-Ahtun he could hear the chanting of a war song. Tahn-te was invoking the spirits of battle—Tahn-te it was who had seen the vision of warriors and started scouts to the hills;—on every side was he reminded that Tahn-te the priest—was looked upon as Tahn-te the warrior heart!

The Castilians would go back to their own land with that word to their people, and to their king;—and he, Ka-yemo,—would have no mention unless it should be of the weeds pulled in the corn!

His heart was so sick and so angry that he could almost hear the laughter if he returned without honors:—but one man should not laugh!—He did not know how it would happen that he could have the Capitan Gonzalvo killed—but that man should not laugh with Yahn Tsyn-deh!



In his sick rage he had brooded and walked far. Along the summit of the mesa among the ruins had he walked to the east. The weird dead city of the Ancient Days was made more weird by the strange brooding heat of the dusk. No cool air of the twilight followed the setting sun this night. Sounds carried far. No fires were lit in the camp below—yet movements of the animals told him where the Castilians tethered their wonderful comrades of the trail.

At any other time he would not have walked alone on the heights where mystery touched each broken wall, and wrapped the mesa as in a strange medicine blanket. But in his impotent rage he felt spirit forces of destruction working against him, and the dread of them dulled his senses as to the place where he wandered.

And then his heart jumped with a new fear as the form of a woman arose from a crevice in the stone wall—did the ghost of the ruin wait for him there?

The figure halted uncertainly and then ran toward him with outreaching hand.

It was Yahn Tsyn-deh, and she was half laughing and half sobbing, and the barrier of anger was brushed aside as if it had never been.

"Ka-yemo!—Ka-yemo!" she whispered—"You dare be highest now;—and Tahn-te will be under your feet, Ka-yemo!"

She clasped her arms about him as she stumbled, breathless, at his feet, and his hands clutched her in fierceness.

"Is this a trick?"—he asked. "Have I trapped you with a lover, and you run to me with a new game?"

"Oh—fool, you!" she breathed—"There was but one lover, and he went blind, and walked away from me at a daybreak!"

She would have said more, but he caught her up and held her too close for speech, and she felt in triumph the trembling of his body.

"The man Gonzalvo,"—he muttered—"I was walking to find the way I could kill him alone because you wear his gifts."

"Fool!" she whispered again. "Shall I then go to a woman at Shufinne and kill her because her gifts are with you? I let her live to see that the gifts she brings are little beside my own! I bring you victory over Tahn-te the sorcerer of Povi-whah! I bring you the trail to his witch maid of the hills. With her he comes to make prayers in the night time! For this he guards the dwellings of the star where she is hidden. Tahn-te the sorcerer shall be under your feet! Ka-yemo—I bring this to you!"

And while they clung to each other, scarce daring to think that union and triumph was again their own, Tahn-te the Ruler of magic sat within the ancient dwelling where the symbols of the Po-Ahtun are marked on the walls even in this day.

In a shadowed corner a tiny fire glimmered, and by its light he studied the clear crystal of the sacred fire-stone. With prayer he studied it long, and the things speaking in the milky depths held him close, and the breath stopped in his body many times while he looked, and the prayers said through the Flute of the Gods were prayers to the Trues to which he sent all his spirit.

Then from his medicine pouch he took the seeds of the sacred by-otle into which the dreams of the gods have ever grown as the blossom grows.

Darklings were these, gathered when the moon was at rest, and no wandering stars swam high in the night sky. The dreams in these shut out day knowledge, and the knowledge of earth life. For medicine dreams they shut out all of a man but that which is Spirit, and the body becomes as a dead body knowing not anything but dreams—feeling neither heat nor cold.

Of all medicine left on earth by the gods who once walked here, not any medicine is so strong to lift the soul to the Giver of Life even while the feet walk here over trails of thorns, or the whipping thongs cut bare to the bone the dancing flesh of penitents.

When Tahn-te had listened to Padre Luis, and had read of the grievous pain of that one Roman crucifixion of the founder of the church of Padre Luis, the boy had not been impressed as the good priest had hoped. Even then he had heard of the medicine drugs of different tribes, and the Medicine Spirit granted to some, and as a man he knew that the man to whom the gods give medicine gifts can make for himself joy out of that which looks like pain. He knew well that the earth born who drew to themselves God-power, do not die, and the man on the Roman cross could not die if his medicine Power of the Spirit was strong. He knew that he had only gone away as all the god-men and god-women have gone away at times from earth places.

He knew that strong magic of the spirit could always do this for a man if his heart was pure and steady, but not to another could he give the spirit power, or the heart of knowledge.

He counted over the seeds of the By-otle and knew that there were enough to make even a strong man dream of joy while under torture.

After that he dared look more closely into the shifting lights of the sacred fire stone, and the Castilians in the camp below, and the guards on the level above, and the plotting woman, and her regained slave and master heard the call of the Flute, and intonings of sacred songs from the century old dwelling of the Po-Ahtun.

"The battle is here! The battle of gods is here! The flowers of shields have bloom, The death flowers grow! Among that bloom shall homes be made, Among the bloom shall we build fair homes. Brothers:—drink deep of warrior wine, For our enemies we build homes! Eat:—eat while there is bread. Drink—drink while there is water. A day comes when the air darkens, When a cloud shall darken the air, When a mountain shall be lifted up, When eyes shall be closed in death, Eat—eat while there is bread, Drink—drink of warrior wine!"[A]

[A] Book of Chilan Balam.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE BATTLE ON THE MESA

The stars had marked the middle of the night, and the Castilian camp slept, save for the guards who paced quietly through the pine groves, and the Te-hua sentinels on the summit above, who rested in silence at the places where footholds carved by pre-historic Lost Others in the face of the rock wall, afforded a trail for the enemy if the enemy could find it.

Between the Castilians in the pine below, and the Te-hua sentinels on the rock mesa of the ruins above, there stretched the line of cave dwellings high in the rock wall. These needed no guard—for there the Te-hua warriors slept, and Tahn-te read the fate of things in the crystal, and made prayers.

But to the east where he had forbidden wandering feet, a man and woman did crouch in a crevice, and watch while the shining ones overhead travelled to the center of the sky and then towards the mountains in the trail of the sun.

For Tahn-te they watched—and the watching was so long that the man slept at intervals in the arms of the woman—but the woman did not sleep! Victory was too near—and triumph beat in her blood, and like a panther of the hills waiting for prey did she listen for the steps of the man who had known her humiliation.

But when the steps did come, they came not from the Po-Ahtun-ho, nor were they the steps of a man.

A woman crept lightly as a mountain squirrel from one to another of the boulders on the eastern hill, and at last climbed to the dwellings of the Ancient Ones, and reached the portal of the sacred place of the star.

This was the place where the wise men of old watched the coming of the gods as they gazed upon earth through the mask of the glimmering stars. It was not a place for women, for no woman had been Reader of the Stars within known records of the Te-hua people. Yet it surely was a woman who crept upwards in the night to the place where women feared to go.

Yahn Tsyn-deh slipped like a snake from the crevice and watched from the shadow of a rock, and was richly repaid. It was the Woman of the Twilight who came to the place where Tahn-te had forbidden the Castilians and warriors to walk, and against the sky Yahn could see the outline of a water jar borne on her back by the head-band of woven hemp. She halted for breath, and leaned, a frail, breathless ghost of a woman, against the wall.

Then with a pebble she tapped on the portal of the star, four times she made the signal ere another met her in the dusk, and took from her the burden, and clung to her hand in dread.

In the dusk of the starlight they sat and whispered, for no fire dare be lit within, and the girl of the bluebird wing ate the bread and drank water, and breathed her gratitude while she strove to understand the words of the mother of Tahn-te.

That there was danger she knew for she had seen the many men. Like things enchanted had she seen them—the men who looked like part of the animals they rode! In dread and fear had she waited for Tahn-te while she watched the Ancient Star glowing like an eye of wrath in the western heavens. It was looking back with an evil look because no gift had been made to it on the altars of the valley people. Tahn-te had told her that so long as it shone must she remain hidden. She did not need to ask why. When with the Navahu savages she had been taunted at times because the altars of her people knew well the blood of human sacrifice which they offered with elaborate ceremony to propitiate the gods of the stars in the sky.

"Tahn-te?" she whispered to the mother, but the mother shook her head. Apart from all woman-kind must a priest live when times of stress come. Tahn-te was fasting and making prayers. A girl hidden in the caves must not go hungry, but the thought of her must not mingle with thoughts of penance for the tribe. All heads of the spiritual orders do penance and make prayers for clear vision when the evil days come.

"And they are here?" questioned the girl.

"They are here. The land was smiling, the corn was good, all was good. Then the Great Star came—and the men of iron came—the corn was laid low by the God of the Winds. The Most Mysterious has sent signs to his people, and the signs are evil and come quickly. My son, the Po-Ahtun-ho, has seen these signs, and the gods have talked with him."

The maid knew that a mere stray creature could not find room in the thoughts of so great a man—at so great a time; and she sat silent, but she reached out and held the hand of his mother. Since he could not speak with her he had sent to her the woman most high and most dear. He could not come, but he had not forgotten!

"He will come again?" she murmured, and some memory in the heart of the Twilight Woman made her speech very gentle.

"He will come again when the battle is over, and the days of the purification are over. It is the work of the Po-Ahtun-ho to see that the stranger is ever fed and covered with a shelter. So has he brought you here, and so has he brought the lion skin robe to you here. When the young moon has grown to the great circle, and the strangers have gone again to the camp by the river, then will the Po-Ahtun-ho come to you here in this place. He will come as the circle moon rises over Na-im-be hills. Many prayers will be made ere that night time, and he will come with wisdom to say the thing to be done. Until then the strangers must not see you, and the young foolish men of our tribe must not see you."

Not much of this was understood by the bewildered maid who must be kept hidden in secret even in the land of her own people.

But Yahn Tsyn-deh, crouching in the sand outside the portal, heard and understood, and her heart was glad with happiness, for a vengeance would fall double strong on Tahn-te if it touched also the medicine god woman, his mother!

From the broken, whispered sentences—half Navahu—half Te-hua—did Yahn know that the hidden woman was indeed the Navahu witch maid by whom evil spirits had been led from the west into the great valley.

It had been a wonder night in the life of Yahn Tsyn-deh. The love of her wild heart had been given back to her—and vengeance against his rival had been put within reach of her hands! The heights of Pu-ye were enchanted—and the Ancient Star had shone on her with kindness. It was a good time in her life and she must work in quickness ere the change came, for the watchful gods of the sky do not stand still when the signs are good signs.

And she crept back to the arms of her lover, and they watched together the medicine shadow woman creep downward until the dark hid her.

Yahn counseled that at once they go to the governor and tell that which they heard, but Ka-yema said "no," for if the Navahu enemy did come, the power of Tahn-te was needed by the Te-hua warriors—it was not the time to kill the witch woman or kill the prayer thoughts.

"You are strong to fight without Tahn-te," whispered the girl who made herself as a vine in her clinging clasp of him.

"But not to fight against Tahn-te and his secret powers of the sky," answered Ka-yemo. "The old men know he is strong in visions. When the time comes that he fall low in their sight, there will be many days that their hearts will be sick. We must not make these days come when we have enemies to fight."

"Do you fear?" demanded the temptress petulantly. It irked her that his first thought was of caution—while hers was of annihilation for the man who loomed so large that no other man could be seen in the land.

"If you think I fear would you find me here in this witch place with you?" he asked. "It has been forbidden that any one comes here—yet have I come!"

Plainly he felt brave that he had defied the Po-Ahtun-ho in so much as he had walked to the forbidden sacred places, and Yahn felt a storm of rage sweep over her at the knowledge. But it had been a storm of rage like that by which he had once been driven away from her! And she smothered all the words she would have spoken, and clung to him, and whispered of his greatness,—and the pride he could bring to the clan when Tahn-te, the lover of witches, no longer made laws in the land.

In her own heart she was making prayers that the alarm of the Navahu warriors prove a false thing, and the vision of Tahn-te be laughed at by the clans. To hear him laughed at would help much!

But that was not to be, for ere the dawn broke, came shouts from Shufinne—and signal fires, and the Te-hua men of Pu-ye ran swiftly to guide their Castilian brothers in arms, and the savages who had hoped to steal women in the darkness, found that thunder and lightning and death fought for the Te-hua people—and the men of iron rode them down with the charmed animals and strange battle cries.

When the daylight came there were dead Navahu on the field south of Shufinne—the flower of the shields had bloom! Two dead Te-hua men were also there, and a wounded Navahu had been taken captive by Juan Gonzalvo. Ka-yemo carried two fresh scalps, and Don Ruy lay huddled in a little arroyo, where a lance thrust had struck him reeling from the saddle, and Tahn-te had leaped forward to grapple with the Navahu who, hidden on the edge of the steep bank, waited the coming of the horseman and lunged at him as head and shoulders came above the level.

Where the breastplate ends at the throat he struck, and the blade of volcanic glass cut through the flesh. At the savage yell of triumph the horse swerved—stumbled, and with a clatter of metals rolled down the embankment.

As the Navahu rushed downward with lifted axe and eager scalping knife, an arrow from the bow of Tahn-te pierced the temple of the savage, and with a grunt he whirled and fell dead beside the Castilian.

The horse had quickly regained his feet, but the rider lay still, the blood pulsing from his throat and staining the yellow sand. With dextrous fingers Tahn-te removed the helmet and breastplate that the position of the body might be eased. With sinew of deer from his pouch, and a bone awl of needle-like sharpness, he drew together the edges of the wound, then turning to where the Navahu lay prone on his face in the sand, he deftly cut a strip of the brown skin a finger's width across, and in length from shoulder to girdle; this he took from the yet warm body as he would take the bark from a willow tree, and bound it about the throat with the flesh side to the wound.

"Take my horse and follow," whispered Don Ruy, who had recovered breath and speech,—"I am not yet so dead that I need the grave digger—you can ride—take my horse and follow."

Tahn-te had leaped to the saddle, when a cry at the edge of the arroyo caused him to halt, it was so pitiful a cry, and tumbling down through the sand and gravel came Master Chico with staring eyes of fear, and lips that were pale and quivering. The flayed back of the savage had he caught sight of, and the white face of Don Ruy who looked dead enough for masses despite his own assertion to the contrary, and the lad flung himself on his excellency with a wail that was far from that of a warrior, and then slipped silently into unconsciousness.

With the thought that a death wound had struck the lad who had come to die with his master, Tahn-te turned the face back until the head rested on the arm of the Castilian, lightly he ran his hands over the body, and then halted, his eyes on the face of Don Ruy, who gazed strangely at the white face on his arm. The cap was gone, the eyes were closed, and the open lips showed the white teeth. In every way the face was more childish than it had ever appeared to him—childish and something more—something—

Then Tahn-te, who held the wrist of Chico, laid it gently on the hand of Don Ruy.

"Only into the twilight land has she gone, Senor," he said softly—"even now the heart beats on the trail to come back—to you!"

Don Ruy stared incredulously into the eyes of the Indian, and a flush crept over his own pale face as he remembered many things.

"Dona Bradamante!" he murmured, and nodded to Tahn-te, who leaped on the horse and rode where the yells of the victors sounded in the pinyons towards the hills. Beyond all the other horsemen he rode, and saw far above in the scrubby growth, the enemy seeking footholds where the four-footed animals could not follow. Then, when Ka-yemo had called the names of the trailers who were to follow the enemy beyond the summit, Tahn-te the Po-Athun-ho turned back and chanted the prayer of a prophet to whom the god had sent true dreams.

The Castilians watched him as he came; so proudly did he carry himself that the men swore an army of such horsemen would win half the battle by merely showing themselves, and the old men of Te-hua knew as they looked on him, and as they counted the slain and wounded, that Tahn-te had indeed been given the gift of the god-sight to save the women of the valley.

Juan Gonzalvo swore ugly oaths at sight of the horse of Don Ruy. Since the pagan had taken it as his own, it was plain to be seen that some woeful thing had chanced to his excellency.

But to their many questions Tahn-te led them to the arroyo where Don Ruy was indeed wounded, and where a pale secretary was carrying water in his hat to bathe his excellency's head, and his excellency let it be done, and exchanged a long look of silence with Tahn-te, who understood.

The ankle of Don Ruy had a twist making it of no use to stand upon. The Po-Ahtun-ho made a gesture to Chico to hold the horse while he, with a soldier to help, put it straight with a dextrous wrench, and the secretary several paces away, turned white at the pain of it.

Then was his excellency helped again to his saddle, and the men from Mexico marvelled at the surgery of the pagan priest who killed and flayed one man to mend another with.



CHAPTER XIX

THE APACHE DEATH TRAP

When the runners carried the word to the river that the vision of Tahn-te had been a true vision, the padre and Don Diego stared at each other incredulous. It was a thing not to be believed by a Christian. Yet the runners said that many Navahu scalps and two dead Te-hua men witnessed the truth of it, and the men of iron had proven indeed brothers in the time of battle. The governor made thanks to Don Ruy, who was wounded, and his Excellency had sent the secretary back to camp with Ysobel since there was not anything new to record. The Te-hua men would dance the scalp dance when they came to the village, and two clans mourned for men left dead on the mesa meadows.

The padre regretted that he had not gone with the troop. Since they had won honor and thanks, it was the good time to work for the one favor of the gold in return.

And Don Diego regretted the Te-hua men who had died without absolution.

The secretary stated that the clans of the dead men were clamoring for the Navahu captive taken by Gonzalvo, and there was much talk about it. Also that the Navahu said it was one maid they came searching for—a Navahu maid who wore bluebird wings—they had not thought to harm Te-hua women! Of course the Te-hua men thought that was a lie, for the Navahu always wanted more women.

But the old men of the village to whom it was told looked at each other with meaning.

It was a strange thing that the men of Te-gat-ha to the north, and the men of Navahu from the west, took the trail to search for that one maid of mystery. The ground over which she passed had reached far, and the evil wrought by her had been great. The wise men of Te-gat-ha knew that the tornado followed her trail, and the Navahu men who searched for her, had found death and defeat. Prayers must be made against the evil of her if her feet should cross the land of the Te-hua people.

And all through the long beautiful twilight the tombe sounded from the terraces, and the mourners for the dead on the high mesas knew that prayers were being made against new evil—and that the medicine men would in an early day demand penance and sacrifice of many if the cloud of dread was not lifted from their hearts.

Four days of purification must be observed by the warriors ere entering again their home village after a battle to the death. And Yahn could not by any means approach Ka-yemo during that time, which did not prevent her speech with other men. To Juan Gonzalvo she talked, and Gonzalvo chafed under the restrictions of Don Ruy. Steadily in his mind had grown that thought of the parentage of Tahn-te. He was unwilling to think that the native mind could have the keenness and the logic of this barbarian whose eyes were the color of the darkest blue violets, and whose diabolic power made even the Castilians awe-struck, and sent them to prayers more swiftly than did the sermons of the padre. If he only dared hint it to the padre—if by some god-given power he, the insolent Cacique, could be delivered into their hands—if as the son of Teo the Greek, he could come within the law of the Inquisition for his devilish heresies—the all too lenient Inquisition demanded white blood in its victims—what a triumph it would be for the Faith to add the sorcerer to the list! For such a triumph would Gonzalvo have been willing to tread with bared feet all the sands of the trail to Mexico.

With such pious intent did he question much of Yahn, who knew little—and was indeed afraid when the medicine god woman was asked of. She had seen that which had come to the outcast of Na-im-be who would have told tribal things, and she had no wish to grow dumb, or blind, or a trembling wreck in the time of one sun across the sky.

But she did go with him to the place of the well in the sand at Shufinne at the time when the Twilight Woman went for water. He waited there and drew for her the water, and watched closely her face as he spoke a Castilian word of greeting. If he had hope that she had ever before heard such words his hopes were fruitless. She was so indifferent to his presence that not even once did she lift her eyes from the water jar or look in his face, and the fragile figure turned from him and walked away as if Castilian warriors were seen daily on the path to that well.

Yahn knew that all the other women wished greatly to be let go down to the village that they might see and be spoken to by the great strangers, and she hid in the brush to watch the medicine god woman and even won courage to ask of her who had filled the water jar so quickly.

"Was it not then the stranger who is your lover, Yahn Tsyn-deh?" asked the other, not as one who cares, but as one who states a fact—"the man whom you give love to in these new days."

"Who says I give love?" demanded Yahn. "Saeh-pah the liar, or Koh-pe, who knows not anything!"

"You walk together alone as lovers walk. The other women do not think they lie."

"They are fools—the other women!" stated Yahn—"also they are liars. They are glad if a man of the beard looks the way they are,—they would make a trail to follow if the men of iron whistled them,—they would be proud to make their own men ashamed—they!"

For the first time the older woman looked in the face of the girl with intentness, as though suddenly aroused to interest in the human drama about her, and the actors in it.

"Then you would not follow, Yahn Tsyn-deh?" she asked. "The others say you laugh at the men of the tribe and give love to the strangers—they say you pass Ka-yemo on the trail and your eyes never see him any more because of the men of iron who give you gifts!"

"A jealous woman says that!" stormed Yahn Tsyn-deh,—"a woman who maybe lies to him when he will listen! You see this:"—and she picked up a black water worn pebble with a vein of white through the heart of it—"Sometime when the Earth Mother was beginning with the work, these two were maybe not together like this. They were apart—maybe it was before the ice went from around our world and the mountains sent fire to split the rocks. Look you now—you are wise, but maybe you do not know how this is, for you go into shadow lands, and men and women, and the stones over which your feet walk, are all the same to you—also the love of a man and a woman are not anything to your thoughts!"

The other looked at her, and beyond her, and said nothing. The words of Yahn were words of angry insistence on the thought she had never yet been able to express—and to say it to even the god medicine woman who sheltered a witch, was to speak it aloud, and have it forgotten!

"You are wise in medicine craft but do you know how this grew?"—she demanded—"I know—I feel that I know!—the mountain fire or the sky fire broke it that the white stone of fire could be shot like an arrow into the heart of it. To keep some count it was made like that by the Most Mysterious;—and in the hand of the Mystery it was held—and the hand was closed over it while the mountains came down to the rivers, and the rivers made trails through rock walls. When the hand was opened and the sun looked on it, it was grown into one;—can you with all high medicine put them apart?—can you break the black and leave the white not broke? Can you make two colors of the powder you would grind from it between grinding stones?—Yet the two colors are there! Like the two colors are Ka-yemo and Yahn Tsyn-deh. One they were made by some magic of the Great Mystery, and no woman and no man, and no lies of women, can break them apart! When you hear them lie another time, you can look at this stone, and know that I said it!"

She had worked herself into such a passion that the long smothered rage against the women who spoke her name lightly in the village spent itself on the one woman of all who lived most apart from such speech. But aloud had Yahn Tsyn-deh said once for all that her life was as the life of Ka-yemo, and that no earth creature could make that different, and for the saying of it aloud she was a happier woman.

And Gonzalvo who listened to her defiance, fancied that the silent woman of mystery had given her chiding, and that Yahn was doing wordy battle for the new Castilian friends.

All the more could he think so when Yahn joined him with her great eyes shining like stars, and braided in her hair some flowers he had plucked for her—and walked back to the camp with him openly before all men!

And she said to him;—"I like only men who fight,—men who are not afraid. Tell your priest who does not like me that now is the time to speak again to the council of the sun symbol and of brothers. The old men have seen that your fighting was good, and that it saved them their women. This will be the time to speak."

"But their proud Cacique—"

"It is a good time to speak—" she insisted—"else will Tahn-te grow so tall with prophecies that his shadow will cover the land, and the men in the land,—tell your priest that the shadow has grown too tall now for one man. Other men have fought well and taken scalps—yet only one name is heard in your camp—the name of Tahn-te who sees visions in the hills!"

He wondered at her mocking tone of the visions in the hills, for no other Indian mocked at the visions of the sorcerer.

Don Ruy was well agreed to get back to the fair camp by the river, and so pleased with them were their new comrades in arms, that he was amused to see more than one dame of the village trudging homewards across the mesa:—they forgot to doubt the new allies who had helped send the Navahu running to the hills. When he reached Povi-whah he rallied Chico that he kept close to the camp and found so many remembered records to put safely down the "Relaciones," when there were more than a few pairs of strange dark eyes peeping from the terraces.

But Chico had quite lost the swagger of the adventurous youth since he tumbled down the arroyo bank almost on top of the flayed savage. The fainting fit need not have caused him so much of shyness, since his Excellency had also apparently indulged in the same weakness;—for Chico on awaking had carried two hats full of water and drenched his highness completely ere he had opened his eyes and again looked on the world. However, without doubt that fainting fit of Master Chico's had taken away a fine lot of self confidence, for ink-horn and paper gave all the excitement he craved. His audacity was gone, and so meek and lowly was his spirit, that Don Diego had much pleasure in the thought that the vocation of the lad was plainly the church, and that sight of the dead, unconfessed barbarians, had awakened his conscience as to human duties for the Faith.

This interesting fact he made mention of to Don Ruy, who bade him god speed in making missionaries out of unexpected material,—and got more amusement out of the idea than one would expect, and Don Diego hinted that it was unseemly to jest at serious matters of the saving of souls when his own had stood so good a chance at escape through the hole in his neck.

"It may be that I found a soul through that same wound," said Don Ruy, "at least I gained enough to make amends for the scar to be left by the wicked lance."

"It is true that the knowledge gained of their savage surgery is a thing of import for the 'Relaciones,'" agreed Don Diego,—"but only the infidel Cacique made practice of it, and his acts are scarcely the kind to bring a blessing on any work—I have been put to it to decide how little space to give his name in these pages. It is not a seemly thing that the most wicked should be the most exalted in the chronicles of our travels."

"Whether exalted or not he must be again considered in this quest of the gold," stated Padre Vicente, "Gonzalvo brings me word that more than one of the tribe would have joy in his downfall, and that it is the good time to talk with the head men openly on this question. Our men have helped fight their battles:—thus matters have changed for us. Many of the women are allowed to come home—they perceive we are as brothers and are not afraid."

"They also perceive that we have a Navahu war captive whom they desire exceedingly for use on the altar of the Mesa of the Hearts,"—observed Don Ruy. "They are much disturbed for lack of a sacrifice these days. They say the Ancient Star will send earth troubles until such sacrifice is made, some of the clans must donate a member unless the gods send a substitute—their preference is for a young and comely youth or maiden. They plainly hinted to Gonzalvo that the Navahu has been given into our hands by the gods for that purpose."

Don Diego was emphatic in his horror, but the padre explained that from the heathen point of view it was not so cruel as might be thought. When the savages went to war they prepared themselves for such fate if captured. More:—the death was not torture. The ceremonies were religious according to the pagan idea—chants and prayers and garlands of flowers and sacred pine were a part of the ritual. The blade of sacrifice must be sharp, and the heart removed from the victim quickly and held to the sun or the star behind which the angry god waited. When it was a sacrifice of much high import, it was made on the Mesa of the Hearts, and in remembrance a heart shaped stone was always left near the shrine by one of the secondary priests:—for that reason one could find many heart shaped stones, large and small on that mesa. When a medicine man found one, even in a far hunting ground, he brought it home for that purpose.

"And the body of the victim?" asked Don Ruy—"I have been on that mesa and seen no bones—what becomes of it?"

"If it is trouble of floods or storm or drouth, the victim is thrown to the god of the river below. On the mesa to the west is an ancient circle of stones with the entrance to the east. The ordinary sacrifice is made there for good crops, and the body is divided until each clan may have at least a portion which he consumes with many prayers."

Don Diego confessed that such ritual sat ill upon even a healthy stomach, for his own part the open air seemed good and desirable, and he was of a mind to return whence they had come, rather than risk longer unauthorized visits among such smiling soft voiced savages. Since his eminence had learned thus much of their horrors, who was to know how many might be left untold?—or how soon the tribes might have a mind to circle the camp and offer every mother's son of the Christians on some such devilish altar?

Even while he spoke a curious shock ran through the men, and they stared at each other in amaze and question. Plainly the floor had lifted under their feet as though some demon of the Underworld had heaved himself upward in turning over in his sleep.

Screams and loud cries were heard from the terraces, men came tumbling up the ladders from the kivas, and Master Chico let fall a slender treasured volume of Senor Ariosto's romances and ran, white faced and breathless to Don Ruy, who caught and held him while the world swayed about them.

In truth he did not even release him so quickly as might be after the tremor had passed, but no man had time or humor to note the care with which he held the secretary, or that it was the lad himself who drew, flushing red, from the embrace of very strong arms.

"I—I feared you might not know—I came to tell you—" was the lame explanation to which Don Ruy listened, and smiled while he listened.

"I wonder what 'Dona Bradamante' would have done in all her bravery of white armor if such an earth wave had shaken her tilting court?" he asked, but the secretary did not know, and with face still flushed, and eyes on the ground, went to seek Yahn Tsyn-deh to hear if this was a usual thing that walls lifted in wavy lines—and that chimneys toppled from Te-hua dwellings.

The old people said it was long since the earth had shaken itself, and they watched closely the Mesa of the Hearts, and the mesa of the god-maid face, and a mountain over towards Te-gat-ha. If the anger of the earth was great against earth people, then smoke would come from certain earth breathing places,—and the sentinels kept watch—and the old men watched also.

And around the village went a murmur of dire import—for it was plain that the Great Mystery was sending many signs to the Te-hua people;—the altars had been too long empty!

A strange foreboding filled the air, and the Castilians gathered in little groups and talked. To send the Navahu captive to his death at the hands of the tribe was not to their fancy, but if a member of a Te-hua clan must be offered up, who could tell what vengeance that clan might not take on the strangers?

Padre Vicente looked over all, and listened to much, and then talked to the governor:—was it not the time to take strong brothers that they share both the evil and the good together?

"The gods are certainly not well pleased with us, we make offerings and we make prayers—and the only good they let come to us has been our brothers of the iron and thunder and the fire sticks," said Phen-tzah. "Yes, I think it is the time to take brothers of a strong god."

This was the word of the governor and it was the strongest word yet given for union. But the governor made it plain that he did not belong to the order holding secret of the sun symbol. The Po-Athun were the people who must decide these spirit things. He thought the hearts of the old men of that order were kind and soft for the strangers, but—the head of that order was Tahn-te, the Po-Athun-ho!

This gave pause for thought, every man who chose to go contrary to the will of Tahn-te, found himself well nigh helpless in the Indian land, his infernal gods were so strong that the Castilians were none too eager to flout them, only Yahn Tsyn-deh seeing the crisis of things, crept to Juan Gonzalvo and whispered,

"You hate the Po-Athun-ho—and you say love words to me. You think you want me?"

Juan Gonzalvo was a blunt soldier who had never before been kept at the distance of Tantalus by an Indian girl who took his gifts. On her brown neck a silver necklace of his shone richly, and in her braided hair corals of the sea gleamed red. While others had fled to the altars for prayers,—and sprinkled sacred pollen to the Go-he-yahs—the mediators between earth and spirit world—Yahn had bathed in the river and made herself beautiful with Castilian gifts and barbaric trinketry.

To the man who measured her with eager eyes, she looked beautiful as the Te-hua goddess of whom she had told him—Ta-ah-quea who brings the Spring.

He told her so while he devoured her with his glances.

"Good!" she said. "You give me love, and you hate the Po-Athun-ho. You can have us both if your heart is brave this night."

His arms would have clasped her for that promise, but she eluded him and laughed.

"Your Don Ruy tells you the Po-Athun-ho must have no harm," she whispered, "but is there not among your men, one, maybe even three soldiers who are master of the bow,—and can destroy in silence?"

Gonzalvo was himself a master bowman—and had some pride in knowing it, also he could if need be, pick men of his company who had skill, and could be trusted.

"Could you send these men as if to hunt or to fish,—could you have them find the way past the Te-hua sentinels to the place where they camped in the pines?" and she made a gesture towards Pu-ye. "Could you secretly find your way there in the dark before the Mother Moon looks full on the face of the earth?"

"I can do this—and I can do more than this."

"Can you win for your people the good heart of the council that they show you the sun symbol?" she asked. "Only Tahn-te closes the door to you, and they fear Tahn-te. Tell me why your hate of him is strong."

"His father was the Devil. Through the devil soul he learns magic things."

"Good! You hear the wise men tell of a maid of evil who brought the tornado and the battle—and now brings this shake of the world?"

"The witch maid," and Gonzalvo crossed himself—"Yes—the men speak of her in whispers—and the Indians say a sacrifice must be made."

"It must be made," said Yahn Tsyn-deh, and her white teeth shut tight in decision. "Maybe it happens that you can make it, and win the council—how then?"

"I—make the sacrifice—I?"

"Not where the altar is," soothed Yahn as he recoiled from the thought. "But listen you!—maybe I dream—but listen!—maybe the witch maid is a human thing with the heart of magic like Tahn-te,—maybe I can find them together for you in the sacred place of the stars in Pu-ye. Maybe the spirit of Tahn-te has been traded into her keeping, and with the double strength of evil she will destroy the earth in this place. The stars say so;—a great evil is coming! The medicine men see it in the sacred vessels of water and in the clear stone of the ancient prophets—they say so! You are a brave heart—you can save these people and win the gold secret from the council. If you want Yahn Tsyn-deh for love you will do this thing!"



Gonzalvo stared at her incredulous, she was crediting him with a power that would place him high in the Castilian camp—if he could win! And more—she was to give him her own intense, glowing, restless self!

"I also hate Tahn-te,—that is why!" she said frankly, "and I love only men who are brave above all other men. Your fire sticks of thunder must not be heard on the heights of Pu-ye, but when Tahn-te and the witch meet there in the night, your arrows must send them together to the Afterworld—not one alone—but together! When the men of Te-hua find the dead witch (for the men of Te-gat-ha and the Navahu can witness that it is the one!) and when they find the lion robe of Tahn-te on her body,—and other gifts of Tahn-te—and find them dead the one beside the other, then the man who has made this happen will be a great man! Even the men of Te-gat-ha will come with gifts, and the men of Te-hua will give you honor, and will open the trail for you to the sun symbol. There will be no Tahn-te to put evil magic on them for doing so! When he is found dead with the witch maid they will see clearly that his magic was evil magic, and they will have breath that is deep and free again. Also I—Yahn Tsyn-deh—will walk beside you where you choose."

Low and rapid was her speech there in the shadow of the adobe wall—and so fair was the dream she made clear for him, that he felt himself grow dazed with the glory of it—yet he was a strong man!

If it was true that Tahn-te and the witch nested together in the ruins of Pu-ye, he knew well that the day of the young Ruler was ended in Povi-whah, or in any Te-hua council where it was known. But the strange mental or spiritual power of Tahn-te made it a thing of danger to let him live after accusal had been made. The way of Yahn seemed the best of all ways. If he was found dead beside the maid accursed, the evidence would be clear against him—and the True Faith would have the credit for such extermination!

He knew this was not a thing to speak of to Don Ruy—and though the padre was enemy to every thought of Tahn-te—he feared even the padre—that strange man who knew so much that was hidden in Indian life, would so clearly see that Yahn Tsyn-deh was as much the motive as gain of the gold, or glory for Mother Church.

No,—it was a thing to think out alone.

Yahn pressed his hand furtively and smiled on him as he left her, and then entered her own dwelling and sprinkled prayer meal to the spirits who carry messages to the gods.

Then she sent a child for Ka-yemo and gave the child some dried peaches that he be content to stay with his fellows in the sunshine and eat them.

Ka-yemo entered her dwelling for the first time in many moons and clasped her close, and then seated himself in the farthest corner from the Apache god pictures while Yahn Tsyn-deh talked.

Her voice was low, and often she went to the opening to see that no one listened, and Ka-yemo was wonder-struck at the greatness of the thing she whispered.

"You have won scalps in this battle—you have led the men in the scalp dance, and the people know you are strong. If Tahn-te went out of the world now, at this time, you would be strongest. This is the time he must go!"

"But if the vengeance of the Castilians came heavy?"

"It will not come heavy. Don Ruy has forbidden Gonzalvo even to speak words against Tahn-te to the padre. So it is that he would be angry if Gonzalvo sent arrows into the Po-Ahtun-ho. You must not do it, for his magic power might come heavy on your head. If you fear to destroy the Castilian capitan you are foolish in your thought—for it need never be known. Look!—here are arrows of the Navahu, from the place of battle I gathered many, these are the arrows for the work. Let Gonzalvo risk the magic of Tahn-te, and the magic of the witch maid, and destroy them, then you must alone, trail the Castilian, that he comes not back alive to tell how it was done! The Navahu arrows will take the blame from your head—it will be plain that some Navahu men stayed to take pay for their dead! So it will be, and you, Ka-yemo, will stand high, and your clan will be proud that no man stands more high. And I—Yahn—will be with you each step of the life trail—and each step we dare look down on all others and be proud. The songs you sing can be proud songs!"

The blood of Ka-yemo jumped in his veins at that picture of victory as drawn by Yahn Tsyn-deh. Now, since she had asked him to destroy Juan Gonzalvo was he at last content in the thought that her love had not wandered from him, Ka-yemo! Even in the days of silence and anger had he held her spirit;—and to do that with a woman is proof that a man is strong! It made him feel there in the dwelling of Yahn the Apache, that he could do battle in the open for her with the Castilian capitan if need be and have no fear;—how much more then would he dare do the work to be done in secret on the heights!

Thus did Yahn Tsyn-deh spin her web that Tahn-te and the maid of the forest be caught in its meshes, and it seemed good to her that the men of iron be killed when chance offered;—especially must the Castilian capitan not be let live to tell the clan of Tahn-te aught of how the plan was made;—and above all had she spoken truth to the Woman of the Twilight by the path to the well:—her life was as the life of Ka-yemo;—if the Castilian escaped and dared claim the price she offered—!

At that thought Yahn felt for the knife in her girdle, and had joy that the edge of it was keen as the steel of the Castilians, and her smile was a threat as she almost felt her hand thrust and twist it in the flesh of the man of iron who had dared think himself the equal of Ka-yemo!

Some savage creatures of the wilderness there are who choose their mates, and stand, to live or to die, against all foes who would break the bond. The tigress will watch her mate do battle for her and then follow his conqueror,—but Yahn Tsyn-deh had not even so much as that meekness of the tiger in her;—her own share of the battle would she fight that the mate she chose should remain unconquered. Proud she was of his beauty and of his grace in the scalp dance,—but more proud would she be when no serene young Po-Athun-ho looked at her lover as if from a high place of thought. It was, strangely enough, the unspoken in Tahn-te against which she rebelled in bitterness. No word that was not gentle had he ever spoken to her—and to Ka-yemo no word that lacked dignity. It was as if the man in his thoughts was enthroned on the clouds:—and at last she had found the way for that cloud to be dragged low in the dust!



CHAPTER XX

THE CHOICE OF YAHN TSYN-DEH

And while Yahn Tsyn-deh laid the trap, and the medicine drums sounded, and the women gathered the children close because of the trembling earth, one girl robed in the skin of a mountain lion waited alone at the portal of the star, and knelt in the shadow, and looked with eyes of fear at the great pieces of severed cliff, or ancient wall sent crashing downwards by the force of the earth shock.

Past her portal they had crashed until it seemed the roof must fall also, and she gathered the robe of Tahn-te about her, and came as far as might be into the open—and watched with longing eyes the trail across the mesa to the great river!—for that trail was as the path of the sun to her,—or the rainbow in the sky!

The feet of Tahn-te had touched that trail, and when the night came, and the moon rose in the great circle over the eastern hills—over that trail would he come, and though the mountains themselves crashed downwards to the mesa, he would hold her close, and the very spirits of darkness could send no more fear!

She kept very still there waiting at the portal, for strange noises were heard on the mesa, a dislodged stone rumbling down the long slope—or a bit of loose clay falling from the ancient walls. At times the smaller sounds suggested passing feet—and above all things must she remain hidden from people until he came for her—he—the god-like one who had brought her to this dwelling so akin to the dwellings of the Divine Ones of the Navahu land in the place called Tse-ye. The difference was that the Tse-ye dwellings were deep in the heart of the world—while these dwellings were lifted high above the world.

But she knew without words that he indeed belonged to the Divine Ones ere he brought her to the ancient dwellings. That her name had been in his heart, and on his lips before she herself had told him, was but a part of the strange sweet magic of the new life into which he had led her.

Through the storms—and the dark nights—and the long days of loneliness had she lived since he had hidden her first from the scouts of Te-gat-ha—but they had passed over her as dreams of sweetness pass.—That the groves of pine, or the mesa of the river, hid him from her sight, did not mean to her that he had quite gone away, the wonderful magic wrought by him made it possible for her to feel his arms about her even when she lay alone in the darkness of the dwelling of the star. To be hidden like that, and to watch for his coming, was to be granted much joy by the gods. That the gods exact payment for all joys more than mortal, was one secret Tahn-te did not whisper to her, though the thought had clouded his own eyes more than once as he clasped her close to him.

What the gods would exact he did not know, but daily and nightly he made prayers to the mediators of the spirit land, and hoped in his heart that the god of his people prove not akin to the jealous god of the men of iron;—for a jealous god would, without doubt, take her from him! Against men he could protect her—but if the gods awoke—and were jealous—

And he remembered the fastings, and the penance, and the prayers by which he had, unknown to all others, dedicated his life to the gods alone!

But of this he said no word—only held her more close in his thoughts—but ever a gray shadow moved beside him—the shadow of an unknown fear—and it was the same shadow by which he had been led to count over the seeds of the sacred growth—that he be sure it was in his power to make the death sleep beautiful to her, if the death sleep should shorten their trail together in the Earth Life.

She knew nothing of his fear, and watched each lengthening shadow with delight—since the growing shadows were heralds of his coming! Even the trembling of the earth was forgotten in that joy—and she scarcely noted that the air had grown strangely sultry—almost a thing of weight it seemed;—a brooding, waiting spirit, silencing even the whisper of the pines—and the whisper of the pine was sacred music to the Te-hua people;—through all the ages it had whispered, until in a good hour it had given voice to their earth-born god!

She knew not anything of the gods of her own people, and the ominous silence of the pines meant not to her what they would mean to a girl of the river villages. But the magic of the place did make itself felt to her when her robe, as she touched it, sent out little snappings as of fireflies' wings, and far across the land tiny flashes flamed from earth to sky as the dusk grew. When she shook loose her hair that she might arrange it more pleasing for his sight, she was startled by the tiny crackling, like finest of twigs in a blaze—and to smooth it into braids silenced none of the strange magic;—each time her hand touched it, the little sparks flashed—under the heavy brooding atmosphere, electric forces were at work in strange ways—and on the heights of Pu-ye they have for ages been proof of the magic in those mountains.

Therefore is it a place for prayer.

Startled by the strange earth breathings, the girl crept within the portal for her waiting—and the dusk was too deep for sight across the rolling land of ancient field, and pinyon wood far below.

Had she kept the watch she might have seen more than one figure approach the heights from different ways—only a glimpse could be had, but through the dusk of pinyon groves certainly two figures moved together, a man and a woman, and even before them one man stole alone from the south, and halted often as if to plan the better way of approach.

The man and woman skirted the foot of the mesa, and crept upward on the side to the north.

"It is the hard way to climb you have come," said the man, and the strange heavy air caused them to stop for breath, and as she reached to cling to the hand of the man, he drew back with a gasp of terror. As their hands touched, a little electric shock ran through each,—it was plain they had reached the domain where the witch of evil powers held sway.

"It is not I whom you need fear," said Yahn Tsyn-deh,—"it is the witch maid of Tahn-te, and we have come to see the killing."

"And if—if Gonzalvo grows weak on the trail—or if his men take fear from this evil magic of the mesa of Pu-ye?"

"No other men come with him—we talked—we two! Alone he will do it:—for me!" she said proudly. "He knows the strong bow, with it he will send the arrow first to the man,—that will be when they stand clear in the moonlight. Then to the witch:—that all people may see they were near to each other. The arrows are good and the bow is good. I saw that it was so;—also I saw that no man of our people can use it better than can Gonzalvo. By the river I watched him. He needs no fire sticks to find the heart of an enemy—alone he can do it with an arrow."

Ka-yemo looked at her sullenly,—she was giving much of praise to the man she would have him destroy!

"How are you sure that he does not bring the thunder and lightning stick also?" he demanded,—"and how are you sure that it is not used for me?"

"Oh—fool you!—who make fears out of shadows—yet are so big to fight!" she breathed softly. "Why is it that the Navahu or the other wild people do not make you fear—yet the Castilians—"

"They are truly men of iron. As a boy I saw the things they could do," he answered.—"Not as men do I fear them, but it is their strong god who tames their beasts."

"Your arrows are good," said Yahn Tsyn-deh with conviction,—"when you see him dead as other men die, you will know that our own gods are also strong."

The dark had fallen heavily, and only the Ancient Star gleamed threatening as it waited for the moon. The smaller stars were not seen and the shadows were very dense.

Because of this a strange thing came to them as they reached the summit. Strong as was the heart of Yahn the Apache, she was struck by terror, and Ka-yemo knew that the great god of the men of iron had sent a threat for his eyes to see.

For, still and erect against a dark wall of the Lost Others, stood a man outlined in fire. In Castilian war dress he stood, and little flickering lines of fire ran along helmet and breastplate and lance. No face could they see of the horror, which added to, rather than lessened the terror of Ka-yemo. A living face he could meet and fight—but this burning ghost of a man not yet dead—!

He turned and stumbled downward blindly, and Yahn Tsyn-deh clung to him and gripped his hand cruelly for silence, and when they sank at last beside a great boulder, her arms were around him, as though that clasp kept the solid world from crumbling beneath her feet.

"No—no—no!" muttered Ka-yemo as though she had actually uttered words of persuasion,—"it is what their padre said long ago. Their strong god has an army of saints, and of angels,—they stand guard;—all who go against them are swept into the flames of their Underworld! It is what the Padre Luis said—and now it has been seen by my eyes! Their altars are the stronger altars,—we will go there—we will both go;—the fire of their hell will not reach us at their altar—the medicine prayers of their padre are strong prayers—we will go to him—"

The old fear of his boyhood had enveloped him as the unchained electric force had enveloped the heights. Yahn Tsyn-deh put up her hand to her throat;—she felt herself strangle for breath as she listened.

"It was some trick!" she insisted—though she also had trembled with awe—"Listen to me!—they have many tricks—these white men! Because of a trick will you go to their altars, and be shamed in your clan? Their priest is the head of all things—will you follow the steps of another when you can wear the feathers of a leader? Will you be laughed at by the tribe? Hear—oh hear!—and let your heart listen! Never again will the gods send you this chance to be great—this is your day and your night!"

"Their devils keep guard—the flames of their hell no man can fight!"

"Ka-yemo!—I am holding you close—I give myself to you!—one arrow only must you send when the witch maid is killed, and Tahn-te is killed,—one arrow, and forever you are the highest, and I am your slave to give you love! Ka-yemo!"

The light of the moon was sending a glow above Na-im-be mountains. The moon itself was not yet seen, but enough light was on the mesa for the pleading girl to see the face of the man she adored.

The face was averted and turned from her. In terror he bent the arrow shafts across his knee, and flung the bow far down into the shadows.

"Ka-yemo!"—she moaned as the last vestige of her idol was destroyed by his own hand;—"do you give me then to the Castilian? Must I pay the debt?"

"Against the gods of their hell I will not send arrows," he muttered—"He may not claim you—the sign sent to me here is a strong sign—a god of fire is a strong god—and I am only a man! It may be that if we go to their padre—and if we confess—"

She could see that he was blindly groping in his mind for some chance—some little chance, to be forgiven—to be forgiven by the Castilians whose feet would be on his neck—and on hers!

It was his day and his night, and he had thrown it away! Never again could the day dawn in joy for those two.

She drew him to her as the light grew, and looked in the face she had loved from babyhood. It was a long look, and a strange one. She was thinking of the archer above them who waited to send death to a man and a maid!

"What is it?" he asked as her fingers slipped from his shoulder along his arm and clasped his hand with the closeness, the firmness of settled resolve.