mass of thick
white fog which usually robes the summit of the mountain, offers to the
eye an aspect at once fantastic and melancholy.

At certain places, of which Costal had a perfect knowledge, are huge
boulders of obsidian, resting along the declivities of the Cerro, and
which, when struck by a hard substance, gives forth a sonorous ring,
having some resemblance to the sound of a bell.

After climbing some way up the steep declivity of the mountain, Costal
and his neophyte halted by one of these boulders. Now apparently
absorbed in profound meditation, now muttering in a low tone, and in the
language of his fathers, certain prayers, the Zapoteque awaited that
hour when the moon should reach its meridian, in order to come to the
grand crisis of his invocation.

It would be a tedious detail were we to describe the many absurd
ceremonials practised by Costal to induce the genius of the waters to
appear before him, and make known the means by which he might restore
the ancient splendours of his race. Certainly, if perseverance and
courage could have any influence with the Indian divinities, Costal
deserved all the favours they could lavish upon him.

Although up to this moment neither Tlaloc nor Matlacuezc had given the
least sign of having heard his prayers, his countenance exhibited such
hopeful confidence, that Clara, gazing upon it, felt fully convinced
that upon this occasion there was not the slightest chance of a failure.

Up to the time of the moon reaching her meridian--the moment so eagerly
expected--more than an hour was spent in every sort of preparation for
the grand crisis. Up to that moment, moreover, Costal had preserved a
grave and profound silence, enjoining the same upon Clara. This silence
related only to conversation between them. Otherwise Costal had from
time to time, as already stated, given utterance to prayers, spoken,
however, in a low muttered voice.

The moment had now arrived when the dialogue of the two acolytes was to
be resumed.

"Clara," said the Zapoteque, speaking in a grave tone, "when the gods of
my ancestors, invoked by a descendant of the ancient Caciques of
Tehuantepec, who has seen fifty seasons of rains--when they hear the
sounds which I am now about to make, and for which they have listened in
vain for more than three centuries, some one of them will appear beyond
any doubt."

"I hope so," responded Clara.

"Certain they will appear," said Costal; "but which of t