o forth to--"

A mother's kiss closed those quivering lips, and then, with far more
assurance than she really could find in her heart, Victoria bade her
child fear nothing; that all would come aright in a brief while.

Little by little, the maiden's terrors were calmed, and then she took
position by her parent's side with a greater display of nerve than might
have been anticipated.

Through all, Aztotl waited, fiercely silent, held from open rebellion
only by the influence of the woman whose very life was now menaced. And
as the Sun Children stood before him, in readiness to comply with the
commands issued by those in high authority, the Red Heron broke bonds.

"Say but one word, Daughter of Quetzal', and all this shall never come
to pass! Give me but permission to--"

"What wouldst thou do, good Aztotl?"

"Surround the Sun Children with their loyal body-guard and defend them,
while one brave might strike blow, or hold shield in front of their
sacred charge," slowly yet fiercely declared the captain, eyes telling
how dearly he longed to receive that permission.

But Victo shook her head in slow negation. She was still cool of brain
enough to realise how fatal such course would be in the end. If one
deadly blow should be dealt, the end could be but one,--annihilation to
both defended and defenders.

Then, too, she recalled the wondrous tidings brought the evening before
by Ixtli and his comrade. Friends were seeking to rescue them, and if
only time might be won--it must be played for, then!

And so, his petition finally denied, with no other course left open to
take, the Red Heron summoned his picked band and, with the Sun Children
in their midst, left the temple, crossed the plain, and slowly marched
into the War God's teocalli.

In awed silence a vast number of Aztecs followed that little procession,
silent as they, yet clearly anticipating events of far more than
ordinary importance. And thus the foredoomed women were taken before the
great stone of sacrifice, whereupon lay a snow-white lamb, bound past
the possibility of struggling.

Close beside the prepared sacrifice stood the head priest, Tlacopa,
robed for the awesome ceremony, sacrificial knife in hand, temples
crowned as customs dictated, eyes blazing as vividly as they might if
backed by living fire.

Not far distant stood Huatzin, head bandaged and face none the better
looking for his floundering fall when his sash gave way the evening
before.