the utter darkness
veiled all else.

Barely had the two adventurous youths come to a pause, than dull,
uncertain sounds came from almost directly above their heads; and, after
listening for a brief space, Ixtli disappointedly breathed a fear that
they would have to wait for the time being.

"Why? What's going on up yonder? And where are we, anyway?"

Beneath the great teocalli, Ixtli made answer in his disjointed way
of speaking. There the evil-minded paba, Tlacopa, reigned supreme. And
there, almost directly above their heads, stood the sacrificial stone,
upon whose flat surface the Sun Children would be doomed to suffer the
last penalty, provided Tlacopa won his wicked will.

Bruno thrilled to his centre with fierce indignation as he, little by
little, gathered this information. Perish by such hideous methods? Give
up her fair young life--

For, rather queerly, considering that Ixtli spoke of both Victo and
Glady, he now had thought of--could see but that one lovely face and
shrinking figure,--face and form of the daughter alone.

Discovery might have come all too soon, but for Ixtli's slipping a palm
over those indignant lips and thus smothering the outbreak which the
young man could not avoid; then, recalled to ordinary prudence, Bruno
talked and listened by turns.

Ixtli contrived to make his white brother understand just how they were
situated at the time: in a secret channel of communication with the
great war temple, through which sanctuary he had hoped to lead his
friend, thence to escape from the valley itself, if a favourable chance
should offer. Now their way was barred, and they could only wait.
Unless--would Bruno keep close guard over his tongue?

Yes. Anything, rather than remain wholly idle, like this.

Adding a few minor cautions, Ixtli took Gillespie by a wrist, and stole
noiselessly forward, climbing upward, over and into a contrivance which
Bruno vainly sought to recognise by the sense of touch, but giving a
thrill of amazement when his guide paused long enough to whisper in his
nearest ear:

"Dis war-god body. Stand up in teocalli, look on kill-stone. Wait; you
see, hear, all dat, now!"

Thanks to the close association of that night, with all its attendant
perils, Bruno was growing fairly skilful in interpreting the broken
sentences of his copper-hued chum, and he now knew they were moving
about within the hollow image of the Aztecan war-god, Huitzilopochtli,
while--

He caught sig