the land lies. In any case, we
ought to have a squint at this Sacred Town, before trusting ourselves
within its walls--if walls it have. From the look of things here, I
fancy it lies on the other side of this hill. By climbing the hill now,
and staying on its top till daybreak, we'll get a god view of the town,
which will, no doubt, be right under us. We can see all through the
streets, and what's going on in them. That will give us a hint of how
to act afterwards, and if things look favourable, we might then ride
boldly in; which, after all, may be the best way of introducing
ourselves--only it should be done in the daylight."

Cypriano sees that the gaucho's reasoning is correct; and Ludwig also
acknowledging it to be so, it is finally decided that they ascend the
hill, and remain upon its summit for the rest of that night.

But now comes a question not hitherto asked, or thought of. How is the
ascent to be made, and where is there a path practicable for making it?
Not only is it steep, but its sides are thickly overgrown with trees,
and between their trunks a dense tangle of underwood.

"It must be on its summit, they have their burying-ground," observes
Gaspar, gazing upward. "Yes; Naraguana spoke of its being on the top of
a hill, and there's no other hill near. If that be the case, and they
carry their dead up, there'll sure be some sort of a road for their
funeral processions. That would likely be on the other side, straight
up from the town. But I warrant there's a trail starts from this side
too, and runs right over the hill. Let's ride along a bit, and see if
there be."

The gaucho's conjecture is correct, as they soon discover. Before they
have ridden three score lengths of their horses, keeping close along the
base of the hill, they perceive an opening in the timber which skirts
it, marked by certain insignia denoting the entrance to a
much-frequented path. For though narrow, it shows well trampled and
trodden. Diverging abruptly from the broad road running on round the
hill, it strikes in under a tall cotton tree, a _ceiba_, this
conspicuous from being bent over, as if half-blown down. The path
enters between its trunk and a gigantic _pita_ plant (_agave_), whose
stiff spinous leaves almost bar up the entrance as with an iron gate.

"That's the way we've got to go," says Gaspar, pointing to it, at the
same time setting his horse's head in the direction of the _ceiba_; then
adding, as he