n us that I could never climb, and I was bound
to her, to a woman who, willingly or no, had stained her hands with
sacrifice. Well, my son was left to me and with him I must be satisfied;
at the least he knew nothing of his mother's shame. Oh! I thought to
myself as I climbed the teocalli, oh! that I could but escape far from
this accursed land and bear him with me to the English shores, ay, and
Otomie also, for there she might forget that once she had been a savage.
Alas! it could scarcely be!

Coming to the temple, I and those with me told the good tidings to our
companions, who received it silently. Men of a white race would have
rejoiced thus to escape, for when death is near all other loss seems as
nothing. But with these Indian people it is not so, since when fortune
frowns upon them they do not cling to life. These men of the Otomie had
lost their country, their wives, their wealth, their brethren, and their
homes; therefore life, with freedom to wander whither they would, seemed
no great thing to them. So they met the boon that I had won from the
mercy of our foes, as had matters gone otherwise they would have met the
bane, in sullen silence.

I came to Otomie, and to her also I told the news.

'I had hoped to die here where I am,' she answered. 'But so be it; death
is always to be found.'

Only my son rejoiced, because he knew that God had saved us all from
death by sword or hunger.

'Father,' he said, 'the Spaniards have given us life, but they take our
country and drive us out of it. Where then shall we go?'

'I do not know, my son,' I answered.

'Father,' the lad said again, 'let us leave this land of Anahuac where
there is nothing but Spaniards and sorrow. Let us find a ship and sail
across the seas to England, our own country.'

The boy spoke my very thought and my heart leapt at his words, though I
had no plan to bring the matter about. I pondered a moment, looking at
Otomie.

'The thought is good, Teule,' she said, answering my unspoken question;
'for you and for our son there is no better, but for myself I will
answer in the proverb of my people, "The earth that bears us lies
lightest on our bones."'

Then she turned, making ready to quit the storehouse of the temple where
we had been lodged during the siege, and no more was said about the
matter.

Before the sun set a weary throng of men, with some few women and
children, were marching across the courtyard that surrounded the
pyramid, fo