Yermah the Dorado: The story of a lost race

by Frona Eunice Wait

CHAPTER ONE

Yermah, the Dorado, was refreshed and invigorated by his early morning ride. It had been a voluntary gallop, and it would have been hard to say which found the keenest enjoyment in it; he, his horse Cibolo, or Oghi the ocelot, which ran beside them in long, slow leaps, covering much ground yet always alighting noiselessly and as softly as a cat.

It was a beautiful morning, one that would correspond to the first of June now—but this was in the long ago, when days and months were reckoned differently.

The tall grass and wild oats left ample proof of close proximity along the roadside by the fragments secreted in the clothing of Yermah and in the trappings of Cibolo. Oghi, too, could have been convicted on the evidence his formidable toes presented. Added to this was the indescribable scent of dew, of the first hours of day and the springtime of nature.

It was the first time since his arrival from Atlantis that Yermah had ventured alone outside the city limits. When once the temples, and marketplaces of Tlamco were left behind him, he had given Cibolo the rein and abandoned himself to the exhilaration of going like the wind.

Tlamco, the Llama city, the name of which was unknown to the men who sought the mythical Kingdom of Quivera—that will-o’-the wisp land—supposed to be the center of the Amazon inhabited island of California of the very remote past. Tlamco vanished so completely that there were no traces perceptible to the men who founded Yerba Buena on the same peninsula ages after. Its existence would be laughed at by present day inhabitants of San Francisco were it not true that the hills in and around Golden Gate Park are living witnesses of great mathematical skill.

The first denizens built some of these hills and shaped others to give the diameters and distances of all the planets. Who of to-day will believe that Las Papas, or Twin Peaks, show the eccentricities of the earth’s orbit to one fifty-millionths of its full size?

At present early morning milk-trains, and trucks loaded with vegetables from the outlying gardens intercept and mingle with the heavy wagons laden with meat from South City. In short, the modern city’s food supply comes from the same direction in which Yermah rode. Conditions and people have changed since then, and so have many of the features of the locality itself.

South of what is known as the Potrero was a bay. Now it is a swamp, and the north and south points there are the remains of forts, although they appear to be nothing more than hillocks blown into shape by merest chance. To the west is a hill on which dwelt Hanabusa, the captain of the three-decked war-galleys, or balsas. Nearby was the signal tower which could be seen from every eminence in the city. It guarded the western side of the sanded causeway leading from the marketplace in the center of Tlamco to the water’s edge. Hanabusa’s house afforded protection to the north side.

Yermah skirted the range of hills on the land side, where the granaries of his people were located and which accounted for the presence of the war-galleys and the defenses in that neighborhood. He rode down what is known as the old San Bruno Road, where he was kept busy returning the salutes of the workmen whose duty it was to produce, conserve and prepare food for their fellows.

Meeting Hanabusa near his house, Yermah dismounted to consult with him. While the men talked, Oghi lay in wait for a flock of birds, which had been frightened into rising from the ground. Oghi was more like the South American jaguar than any of the ocelots of Central America. In olden times these animals were plentiful on the Rio Grande, and were used by the sportsmen of the day for hunting, much as dogs are now employed.

This morning once fairly in the country, the quick eye of Oghi detected a fine buck deer surreptitiously grazing in a field of oats by the roadside. Instantly the ocelot crouched low and hugging the ground crept stealthily forward. The black-tail, soon conscious of danger, elevated its head adorned with a splendid set of antlers still in the velvet. Its nostrils were distended, and it sniffed the air suspiciously. Like a bolt from a gun the deer made a tremendous leap, and was off at top speed. Oghi continued to trail in a crouching position, which made him look like a long, black streak against the horizon. He gained on the deer from the first, and when near enough made a furious spring.

The leap fell short, but Oghi lighted on the rump of the buck and nearly bore it to its haunches. The wounded animal shook off its assailant and plunged ahead desperately, but it was plain to be seen that it was badly hurt where Oghi’s claws had torn out great pieces of flesh and hide.

The ocelot now changed tactics. All his cruel leonine nature was aroused by the exertion and the taste of warm blood. Instead of hugging the heels of his victim, he endeavored to run alongside near the shoulder where he could fix his sharp teeth in the throbbing throat. For a few moments they ran side by side, straight and even as a pair of coach horses.

Then, with a mighty cat-like spring, Oghi’s long, slender body stretched out and up into the air. When he descended, his claws had closed on the jugular vein of the deer. For an instant there was no break in speed. The deer made two more leaps, then staggered, whirled once around, and victor and vanquished went heels over head together in the long grass.

Yermah kept close behind, putting Cibolo to his best paces in an endeavor to save the life of the deer. He called repeatedly to Oghi to let go his hold. Finally the creature reluctantly obeyed with a sullen growl. Not only were the main arteries and veins in the deer’s throat severed, but the heavy blows had broken the shoulder-blade.

Yermah hastily fastened the chain he carried to the bull’s-hide band on Oghi’s foreleg, which was held in place by two smaller chains fastened to the animal’s collar. As the captor licked the blood off his chops, the death-struggles of his prey grew fainter, and finally ceased altogether.

Oghi was quite a character in his way, and enjoyed an unique reputation among the inhabitants of Tlamco. He came as a gift to Yermah from the Atlantian colonists of the Rio Grande. He seemed so disconsolate and lonely when first brought to his new home, that Yermah sent to his former region to secure the ocelot a mate. In the meantime, the young man told all his friends about it and promised his favorites the first litters which should follow this happy venture. Oghi’s reputation for intelligence, docility and courage made every one feel fortunate in the prospect of owning some of the stock.

Pika, the mate, was an ocelot beauty and carried herself with all the haughty disdain a full knowledge of that fact might have inspired. When turned loose in the yard with Oghi, she flew at him instantly and whipped him unmercifully. In no circumstance would she allow him near her. Oghi submitted like a sheep. He even crawled flat on his belly and howled for mercy. In these encounters he kept close to the wall on the opposite side, and whenever possible scaled it with remarkable agility.

This unexpected outcome gave rise to great hilarity, although the consensus of opinion was that Oghi had behaved like a gentleman. There were men in those days capable of facing a hostile regiment, single-handed, but who capitulated unconditionally at sight of an irate female—so this idea is not entirely modern.

It may have been that an easy victory over Oghi caused Pika to over-estimate her fighting abilities, for she did not hesitate to attack a grizzly bear and in so doing came to an untimely end. It was a rough-and-tumble fight, but a duel to the death from the beginning.

Had Pika been more wary, she would have kept well to the rear; but she foolishly got in the way of Bruin’s right paw and the result was a skull split from nose to ear.

When Yermah’s irreverent friends came to condole with him, he invited them to witness his endowment of Oghi with a badge of mourning. This was the bull’s-hide band, worn on the left foreleg by means of which Oghi was always manageable. Suspended from the hook which fastened the leading chain was a leaden heart with the inscription—

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF PIKA

which was indeed a sign manual of submission and servitude. If at any time during the rest of his life, Oghi showed signs of rebellion, Yermah had but to pull the chain and the left foreleg was doubled up close to the body, while the collar around the neck became uncomfortably tight.

Iaqua, Yermah’s official residence, was surrounded by an immense octagonal enclosure, and was approached by two beautiful gates. The one due north closed a roadway composed of tiny sea-shells, extending to the bay and overlooking the Golden Gate. The other was a terminus of a foot-path of flagging which led to the Observatory. Here the adobe was laid in irregular forms and covered with stucco.

Iaqua’s eight towers were circular in form and had battlements and winding stairways. Each was furnished with deep-set octagon loopholes for observation, and comfortably accommodated twenty men. The entrance was a door opening into the courtyard and connecting with a passageway under the terrace. It was this opening fitted with loopholes which really made the building a fortification.

The whole structure was flat-roofed, having battlements of hard wood plated with lead. The lower floor of each tower was used as a guardroom, being furnished with huge tables and benches which followed the outline of the room. There were stools of terra-cotta, porcelain and hard woods elaborately carved where the body-guard suite of the Dorado lived. In each tower, one above the other, were two sleeping apartments of equal size with mess-rooms attached.

As Yermah galloped up through the wide southern gate, the courtyard filled with members of his staff. As he swung lightly from the saddle, it was noticed that Cibolo showed signs of the morning work. Yermah led his charger to the stable door, and, as he was being rubbed down, gave him some salt and patted him affectionately.

Oghi took offense at this show of partiality, and leaping over the back of the horse, stood uncomfortably near Yermah, the hair along his spinal column on end and his tail straight and threatening. Yermah spoke sharply to the ocelot.

Disturbed by the commotion, a flock of parrots having the freedom of Cibolo’s crib began to screech and to chatter, as if they not only comprehended but sympathized with Oghi’s jealousy. In less than a minute they were vigorously fighting among themselves, and Yermah, unable to make himself heard above the noise and din, fled incontinently.

Cibolo came from Poseidon’s stud, whence his ancestry was traced back many generations. He had all the qualities which conduced to endurance and speed. Cibolo’s bright eyes gave evidence of energy and splendid nerve, and he carried himself like a king. His straight neck and perfect joints were connecting links of a muscular system of great power. In the center of a wide, flat forehead was a star, and the glossy coat of hair distinctly outlined a delicate tracery of veins. The nostrils were wide and open, while the mobile ears, set well apart were small and straight. Never in his life had the horse been struck a blow. He was docile, obedient, affectionate and intelligent.

With fine-cut horn brushes, the groom set to work removing every particle of dust and sweat from his skin, smoothing every hair into its proper place, until it shone like fine satin. The mane and tail were combed like human hair and plaited into tight strands, which would be loosened only when he was harnessed to the chariot, later in the day. As became the station of his master, the head ornaments, saddles, coronas and trappings worn when hitched to the chariot were masses of jewels, feathers, silver bells and embroidery.

Yermah went directly to his private apartments in the eastern quadrangle of Iaqua. The approaches to this part of the house were screened by trellises covered with flowering creepers. After a plunge and a shower of both salt and fresh water, followed by a liberal use of lavender spray, of which the Dorado was extremely fond, he emerged from the hands of his dresser with a glow of health and happiness on his face. He lingered but a moment in the hallway, then crossed over to the extreme eastern triangle, which was a private sanctuary where he often went to consult the oracle Orion on personal matters.

The statue was of carved alabaster exquisitely proportioned. It represented the figure of a man, with diamond eyes, whose head supported a jeweled miter terminating in a point. The belt which confined the loose robe at the waist line had three solitaires of purest water which were supposed to grow dim if the petitioner were not in good health or was in danger. If these stones became opaque or colorless, the phenomenon gave rise to most dismal forebodings.

Orion was placed in a square niche exactly facing the rising sun, holding a fan and a sickle in the hand. A window of jeweled glass let in the first rays of the morning, lighting up the gold and silver ornamentation back of the figure. The right side was of gold, the left of silver—one typifying the sun, the other the moon. Back of the head, suspended from the ceiling, was a splendid panache of green feathers dusted with jewels, and above this was a crystal ball, whose knobby surface reflected rainbow colors in circles and zones. At the feet was a bas-relief representing a golden humming bird flying over water which was a symbol of Atlantis.

The prayer-rug in front of the statue was of ivory, woven in strips. It was as flexible as cloth and beautifully fine. The double-key pattern, characteristic of pre-historic America, formed the border; but this was much broken and most effective with its shadings of black, skillfully intermingled with filigree carvings. Pastils of incense burned on the altar—peace and quiet reigned supreme.

The Dorado was a child of promise; that is to say, he had been set apart as the future ruler of the island of Atlantis and her outlying colonies. By the Brotherhood of the White Star he had been consecrated, before he was born, to a life of service. Yermah was a veritable sun-god, and as the subdued light fell over his long, wavy blond hair and beard, while kneeling before the oracle, he was a specimen of manhood fair to look upon.

Tall, broad-shouldered and athletic, with not a pound of flesh too much, his countenance was as open and frank as that of a child. His large, round, clear-seeing blue eyes were placed exactly on a normal line—eyes whose truthfulness could not be questioned; and the slightly arched heavy brows indicated physical strength and mental power. Yermah had a large hand evenly balanced and well formed. The joints of the fingers were of equal length, ending in round pink nails, denoting liberal sentiments as well as love of detail. The small, clean-cut ear helped to bear out other testimony of his having been born during the morning hours. Ever mindful of the little courtesies of life, both in bestowing and receiving, he was a model of propriety and dignity even as a youth.

Yermah possessed a nature which aroused others to the highest degree of activity. Unfortunately this activity was as liable to be against as for his interests. He was high-spirited and resolute, but generous and sympathetic. As a friend he was considerate and faithful. As an orator he was magnetic, and irresistible; and as the shoulders are the thermometer of feeling he made many gestures with them.

On the spur of the moment, under the dominating influence of emotion, the Dorado sometimes acted without thinking, but he was incapable of harboring malice. In later life this qualified him for arbitration, when the necessities of the people demanded its exercise.

“The peace of a perfect day be with thee, Yermah,” said Akaza, the hierophant.

He kissed the Dorado on the right cheek, the forehead, and then on the left cheek, as he stood clasping the young man’s arms, murmuring the names of the three attributes of Divinity. Only an initiate of the highest order ever gripped an arm in precisely the same manner as Akaza had done, and Yermah was gratified by the distinction and favor shown.

“The same sweet grace be with thee now and always,” was Yermah’s greeting in return as he carried the long, thin, white beard of the old man to his lips.

Then adroitly drawing Akaza’s arm through his own, he led the way to a nook in the private sitting-room facing the sanctuary, on the threshold of which he had encountered his visitor.

“Forgive my keeping thee waiting,” he continued. “I yielded to the seductions of the balmy air and Cibolo’s easy gait, riding farther out than I at first intended.”

“It were easier to make excuse hadst thou not unnecessarily cast insinuations on Cibolo,” answered Akaza, smiling. “It is not fair to the horse, since he is not here to make known how he was encouraged and abetted in his labor of love. I have but arrived from Ingharep, having completed calculations of the planets concerning our journey to Yo-Semite.[^[1]] Walking in slowly, I was glad of the few moments’ breathing time.”

He helped himself to some salted melon and dried anise seeds on the platter which his host pushed toward him, but he refused the cigarette the latter had rolled of corn-husks and filled with fine tobacco. Yermah picked at the anise seeds after ordering a pot of chocolate and some corn wafers.

“Wouldst thou advise me to go at once, to offer this young priestess asylum here while negotiations are pending between Eko Tanga, the emissary of the land of the Ian of which she is a native, and the Monbas, holding her as hostage?”

The hierophant hesitated and looked sharply at his auditor before replying.

“Thou hast still to overcome that which bars the entrance before thou hast completed the labors of initiation, and I am not unmindful of thy real destiny. Yes,” he continued deliberately, and as if the fate of an immortal soul hung on his words, “yes. I am prepared to go with thee into the Yo-Semite. Whatever the result of the expedition, I will help thee to endure.”

As he ceased speaking Yermah noticed that he held both thumbs tightly and sat motionless, save that his lips moved silently. His piercing dark eyes focused in empty space, and he seemed for a moment far away from his surroundings.

“And the gold which I came here to find—does it lie in that direction? Will my initiation into the Sacred Mysteries be completed upon its discovery?”

Yermah was carefully noting Akaza’s abstraction.

“The gold thou art to find lies in that direction, and when found the Brotherhood of the White Star will welcome thee.”

“Then thy long journey from Atlantis will be crowned with success, and we can return like a pair of conquerors—thou to preside over the temple whose foundations were laid the day I was born, I to tip its spires with virgin gold. Then the initiation, and I am ready to assume my duties as Grand Servitor. There is but one short year in which to accomplish this.”

“True child of the sun, full of hope and impatient of delay! Youth is thy eternal heritage.”

“Youth, indeed!” said Yermah, with mock severity. “Thirty times will the earth have encircled the sun when the next day of my nativity arrives. I hope soon after that to be a family man, staid and sober.”

“What is this about a family?” queried a newcomer, a swarthy son of Mars, who stood in the doorway. His head was without covering other than a band of red leather, having a bull’s head and horns of agate, and a solitaire for Aldebaran in the center with a gold boss on each side. He wore the quilted cotton tunic of a soldier and his feet were protected by leather sandals tipped with gold.

On the lower arm near the elbow, were several long strips of leather, cut like a fringe, with different devices at the ends to show his occupation as well as his prowess at arms and in games; also, the temple or priesthood to which he belonged. Those on the right arm indicated strength and skill; those on the left his aspirations, social and spiritual.

Over this arm was thrown a cloak of perfumed leather, ornamented with lustrous dyes in soft colors, which found a congenial background in the pliant, velvety surface of the ooze finish. Around his neck was a gorget, from which depended seven rows of beads each of a different color.

He was a younger man than Yermah, and quite as handsome, but in a different way. He came in with a brisk step, without hesitation, and it was evident from his manner that he belonged to the place. He greeted Akaza as Yermah had done, and stood waiting to be asked to join the conclave.

Yermah handed him a curiously wrought gold cup filled with chocolate, made as only the Aztecs, of all later races, knew how to do. It was thick like custard, with a layer of whipped cream on top, served ice cold and eaten with a spoon. Its nutritive qualities made it a household confection, and it was used much as bouillon is to-day. With it was eaten thin corn-meal wafers, rolled into fanciful shapes and browned until crisp and dry.

“Thou art come in time to add thy counsel to mine, Orondo,” said Akaza, kindly. “Yermah stands in need of thy assistance in a state matter of importance, one which is certain to be fraught with momentous consequences to all concerned.”

“I thank thee for thy courtesy. But I thought thou wert discussing marriage when I came in. That, I believe, is my next duty, and I have unwonted interest. As Yermah is vowed to celibacy, I fail to comprehend the import of his words.”

Again Akaza fortified himself against conflicting emotions, and was silent.

“Our spiritual leader bids us offer aid to the high priestess, Kerœcia, at present with her followers worshiping in the Yo-Semite. I am expected to visit her there and thou must bear me company.”

“Thou hast but to command me. It were best to go in state, as this may incline them to peaceful disposition toward our future. In the valley of the Mississippi[^[2]] they already have strong position, and could harm me infinitely when once I begin operations there. It were impolitic to expose the copper deposits in that region as the metal is growing scarce in the land of Mexi, and we would perish without it.”

“Thou wilt not see me again until we are ready for our journey; I have need to be alone,” said Akaza, as he held up his hands in benediction, forming an outline of the sacred fire on the altar.

Both men arose and saluted respectfully, and, without further words, Akaza passed from the room.

CHAPTER TWO
THE CITY OF TLAMCO—ITS TEMPLES AND MARKETPLACES

The favorite breathing-place of the San Francisco of to-day is the site of what was once the Llama city, Tlamco, stretching from the Panhandle entrance at Golden Gate Park to the beach at the Cliff House rocks. It was a city of seven hills, marking the orbits and the diameters of the planets, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune, as well as forming a map of the Pleiades.

This ancient abode of the Atlantian colonists in California was laid out in circles, with a large temple in the center, near the east end of Golden Gate Park at the inter-section of Haight and Shrader Streets. From this point were twelve radiating streets, intersected by four principal avenues, constructed on the cardinal points of the compass.

The one to the east led to Park Hill, which was terraced up to Mount Olympus on the south, and continued on to the East Temple fortress.

The western avenue led through the center of the park proper to Round Top, or Strawberry Hill, now ornamented with an artificial waterfall and an encircling lake. This hill is a natural rock, upon which was constructed the Temple of Neptune.

The corresponding thoroughfare on the north led to the Observatory and main fortress on Lone Mountain. These roadways were crowned with fine sand, still found in abundance in the dunes in the immediate vicinity.

There were tall three-faced obelisks of dark-red sandstone at the outside limits of the streets, while the inner terminals were marked by corresponding pillars of marble, similarly decorated. Single and double cross-bars at the top of each of these were hung with huge beaten-brass lanterns.

It was these statue obelisks, twelve in number, representing Mercury in the twelve hours, which gave the name of Tlamco to the city. The cognomen signified Wisdom.

These columns had three faces which literally pointed the way. The countenance on the right was that of a bearded old man; the middle face a laughing, sinister one, while that on the left was of a youth looking dreamily out into the distance. The shafts were placed so that the young sun-god faced the orb rising in the east, symbolical of the future; the center denoted the present, and reflected the sun at mid-day, while the old man fronted the west. Sunset typified Saturn, the Father Time of to-day.

The figures were armless, and their legs and feet were incased in iron coffins set on square bases of black basalt. The obelisks proper were tapering, and at the points were covered with white enamel. The lamps hanging from the cross-bars were furnished with opalescent glass globes, and on the apex of the obelisks were balls of the same material radiating the light in myriad rainbow colorings. Cut deep in the basaltic base was the inscription:—

I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE

which is a Gnostic interpretation of redemption, and at that time had reference to the course of the sun. The Way was Horus, the ray of wisdom shining through the darkness; the old man was Truth, or experience; while the center was Life, or the Light-Giver. The iron coffin was the belt of Orion and had reference to the death of the material world.

Esoterically, the belt of Orion is the band of causation, to loosen which, and to free ourselves from its influence, solves the riddle of life itself.

In the center of the city was the Temple of the Sun with twelve sides and four main entrances which overlooked the avenues. Its minarets and domes were tipped with gold. There was a dome over each doorway, and a larger one in the center, which terminated in a truncated spire. Under this was a circular hall surmounting twelve arches, resting on an equal number of pillars which represented the astral giants holding up and guarding the Cosmos.

The capital of each pillar was carved into the semblance of the face of a young virgin with an inscrutably mystic expression. On her head was a monster serpent biting the tail of another on the right. The bodies of the serpents ran in wavy lines around the recesses at the back of the arches, where the head in turn held in its mouth the tail of the preceding one, forming a long meander around the hall. On them, and commencing at the northeast corner, was inscribed a hymn to the Cosmic Virgin:—

EAST.

O thou who in thine incomparable beauty risest from the deep!

Thou who dwellest in all form, and givest life to all emanations!

Thou, Everta, who ridest on the whirlwind!

Gird thy children with the armor of justice.

SOUTH.

Thou who at thy rising doth manifest the splendor of truth,

And at thy meridian causest the fruit of the earth to ripen in its season,

Give, O Horo! at thy setting, peace to all thy children.

WEST.

Thou who dwellest in the manifest and the invisible,

And makest one the astral deep and the mountain of substance,

Grant, O Dama! union to the souls of thy people.

NORTH.

Thou whose sandals crush the head of malice and discord

And who dost establish on the rock of eternity thy seal of power,

Make, O Gharep! on thy right hand a dwelling for the brethren of Tlamco.

The recesses facing the cardinal points led to the four entrances; the remaining eight were curtained off, and used as civil courts. In each corner was a pair of winged mastodons, facing each other. Their outstretched wings touched and formed a sharp angle. On the breast of each mastodon was a jeweled lamp of sacred fire.

Directly under the central dome was a concave counterpart, brilliant with jeweled crystals, from the pinnacle of which was suspended a gilt ball held in place by four golden chains. The globe was a sunburst with horizontal rays. The serpent meander on the outer wall back of the recesses gave the orbit of the inter-mercurial planet Vulcan, to the same scale as the gilt ball did of the sun. Underneath the radiating globe was a porphyry disk of equal diameter, symbolic of the fire on the altar.

This central temple, typical of active life, was the scene of great public ceremonies, such as the reception of ambassadors, and there the awards for all civic honors were bestowed. The floor was a circle of radiating tiles, twelve red, alternating with an equal number of yellow. Around the center palladium were twenty-four seats for the Council of State, with the one at the south raised for the Chief.

The populace were allowed access to the building and to assent to or to disagree with the proceedings of the Council. These men, in a material sense, represented the twelve labors of Hercules. They pictured this personality of the sun as old and eloquent; and a councilor failing in proper persuasion and ability to reason was driven out. It was necessary for him to be an experienced and ready debater, because his colleagues, in groups of six, challenged his statements—one set pathetically, one in ridicule, one in denunciation and another in denial.

If the members of the Council quarreled, the sitting was adjourned at once, and no further meeting was lawful until the disputants took a solemn oath that they were reconciled. News of such an occurrence spread over the city like a flash. It was considered a great breach of decorum for a man to speak without consideration for another’s feelings, or in a loud, angry voice while in the Council Chambers.

Yermah had four advisers, who in turn sat as Chief Councilors. These were Akaza, Orondo, Setos and Alcamayn.

There were also one hundred and sixty warrior priests in his personal suite, quartered in the fortifications around Iaqua. Some of these were descendants of the pioneers who founded the city; others were there by honorable promotion for service rendered the state.

Yermah, alone, was accountable to the Grand Council of Atlantis, while Akaza was the only representative of the hierarchy. He led the white magicians out of Atlantis when black magic gained supremacy, twenty years prior, and had only returned in time to accompany Yermah on his tour of inspection through the outlying colonies.

Conforming to the general outline of the temple enclosure, but on a lower eminence, was a twelve-sided plaza which was the marketplace of Tlamco. Every street and avenue converged upon it, and it was always alive with men, women and children on traffic bent. In deep porticos facing the outer circle, were booths and bazaars where everything required by the population was for barter and exchange. Like the Temple of the Sun in the center, this beehive of industry had an outside circle describing the orbit of Mars, typical of the curious warfare which trade was to wage in later times, between man’s temporal and spiritual welfare.

Long lines of white and black horsehair reatas were carried to the top of the truncated spire on the temple, and made fast to the base of a colossal figure of Hercules, which was of madrono wood—indigenous to this locality. The wood is as hard as metal, and the statue was completely covered with fish-scales and feathered plates of solid silver so neatly put together as to appear like a casting. The face and other fleshy parts were treated to a liberal coating of oil and copal, giving them a smooth and metallic appearance.

The other end of the hair rope was fastened to one of the inner obelisks. These were novel bulletin boards; for each day’s transaction in the market was heralded by the appearance of many small colored flags flying above the particular section in active trade, or to announce the arrival of fresh supplies.

Akaza lived on Round Top, in the Temple of Neptune. The monastery, which was occupied by the highest order of initiates, was surrounded by high white walls. The temple itself was square, four stories high, and had entrances facing the cardinal points. Here were tall trees and deep solitude, away from the bustle and turmoil of traffic.

Akaza stepped into the Council Chamber on his way to the monastery after his visit to Yermah. Alcamayn, the jeweler, was presiding, and Setos, the heap of flesh, was urging the necessity for sending a deputation of merchants into the territory of the Mazamas, which extends from the Sierra Nevada and Coast Ranges of mountains on the southeast, to the confines of Behring Sea on the north and west. Mazamas signified mountain climbers and was not the name of a nation, race or tribe.

Traveling merchants in those days were not a set of pack-saddle peddlers, as they became in later times. They were a distinct guild and were allowed to carry manufactured articles which they were free to exchange for anything made or grown by another people. They went about with many attendants and were always treated with consideration, sometimes performing diplomatic service connected with trade relations and in exceptional cases acting as spies.

“The Mazamas are not of our faith. They are nature-worshipers, and must fail to achieve a high place in the affairs of this continent. They have been in rebellion against our cousins of Ian, and it is the part of prudence to look upon them with suspicion.”

“Will Setos be kind enough to state definitely what he expects to accomplish by dispatching a delegation from the guilds in his group to a friendly territory?” asked Alcamayn. “If war is the purpose, Orondo must decide; if for religious propaganda, then the hierophant, Akaza, should be here to speak.”

“I am here to speak,” declared Akaza, coming forward. “My voice is for a visit to the Mazamas, but not in the manner proposed by Setos.”

Setos flushed—hot and uncomfortable. He was not intentionally untruthful, but he could not let an opportunity pass unimproved when a keen, sharp transaction would materially benefit his section of the industrial guild.

Akaza looked straight at him and said quietly, “I will not have spies sent into the house of a friend.”

“Will the hierophant enlighten us as to his wishes?” asked Alcamayn, respectfully.

“Yermah, Orondo, Setos, Rahula, and Ildiko, with proper following, will accompany me on a friendly mission to the high-priestess, Kerœcia.”

“Are we to know the nature of this mission?” queried Setos.

“It is my wish that the high-priestess visit Tlamco. We offer our services as arbiters between her tribesmen and the government of Ian.”

“Has the time for this undertaking been decided?”

“The hour of departure has not been named, but it will be accomplished while the guild of arts is in the seat of judgment. The Dorado desires that Alcamayn serve in his stead. He will not be long absent.”

Alcamayn arose, folded his hands across his breast with the open palm turned inward, and inclined his head profoundly. There was a burst of applause, and an expression of acquiescence from the audience, which pleased Alcamayn mightily. He was a young Atlantian, not quite acclimated to Tlamco, and just beginning to exercise his prerogative as a favorite of Yermah’s foster-father, Poseidon.

Noting that it was near the noon hour, Akaza said, making the hierarchal sign of benediction:

“Have done! If Alcamayn will go with me to the Observatory, I will fix the time of our journey, also its duration, that he may be better able to devote his energy to the cause of his fellow-servants. May the sun preserve and keep us free from malice and disease—two mortal enemies of the soul.”

As one man they responded: “Haille, Akaza! Haille!”

Setos was primarily a man of stomach. With his reddish-brown cloak of coarse cloth swinging loosely from his shoulders, and shining neck-ornaments aggressively in evidence, he elbowed his way out of the building, hastening into the stalls where fresh vegetables and fruits were laid out in tempting array. Setos’s barter was for cucumbers and squashes, giving in exchange taos of tin, which he redeemed later, with bags of chalk, kalsomine and staff. He was careful to see that the custom of pelon was strictly enforced.

For each regular customer a tiny tin cylinder was hung up in the stalls, in full view, marked with the name and number. For every purchase made a bean was dropped into the cylinder, and at stated times these were removed and counted. Sixteen beans entitled the customers to a rebate in commodities.

Setos’s square jaws relaxed and his thin lips smacked with satisfaction on seeing some luscious melons. He had already selected one, bespeaking his good digestion and critical eye, when his daughter, Ildiko, the Albino, called to him:

“Thou by whom I live, Setos, the wise father, come with me to Rahula in the bazaar of sweet odors. She awaits us there.”

“What mischief hast thou been planning this fair day? Is it new raiment or a bit of candied sweets?” questioned Setos, as he followed Ildiko from the food section past piles of cotton in bales, wool, flax, and silk in the raw state, to where the manufactured articles were displayed.

She did not pause in the section devoted to dress or ornament, giving only a passing glance to the tapestries, pottery, enameled and jeweled vessels, baskets and rugs lying about in confused heaps.

“It is neither of these,” she explained as they went along. “I crave thy judgment on a new sweet coffer fashioned by Alcamayn. He ornamented it according to my direction.”

“Because that foolish man has humored an idle whim of thine, must I come to barter? Out upon both of ye!”

“Rahula is already bargaining for one of the leather pockets held in a filigree of gold. Even widows may carry these. Thou knowest that she is very strict in decorum and temple service. She says that perfumes are acceptable to the Brotherhood, and even a vestal may use them in her hair.”

Ildiko, daughter of the moon, knew how to play upon the weakness of her fellows and was well aware of her father’s predilections. “Thou hast no words of condemnation for Rahula,” she pouted.

They turned into the portico where the perfumers’ bazaars were located before Setos could answer. The young woman waited for the effect of mingled odors on a nature whose whole bent and inclinations were toward the appetites. By the time his senses were fully alive to the seductive fragrance, Rahula was speaking to him. She was past-mistress of the art of flattery.

“There is no need to commend thee to the keeping of the gods of magic, Setos. Every lineament of thy noble face bespeaks exalted favor.”

Setos was fatally weak with women. He knew it, and alternately made love to, or abused, them.

“The finger of Time has failed to touch thee,” he replied, removing his conical hat, and holding it across his stomach with both hands, “nor hast thou forgotten the offices of speech.”

Rahula, who had risen, made the usual sign of submission with her long, thin fingers. As she looked intently from father to child, she quickly discerned that Ildiko’s pink countenance was puckered into a frown.

“Has the little weaver, Ildiko, told thee of her latest success at the loom?” she asked with fine tact.

Ildiko made a motion of dissent, and laid her forefinger across her upper lip. None knew better than she that silence was impossible. It suited her evasive disposition to make mystery of the most trivial circumstance; she was in reality delighted with the sensation she was making. Many of the shop-keepers and some of the passers-by gathered to examine the roll of fine, gossamer-silk tissue, which Rahula adroitly drew out of the perfumed pocket held in her hand. Setos may be forgiven the glow of pride and satisfaction with which he surveyed the product.

At this moment Ildiko reached over and picked up the identical jeweled coffer which she had in mind when she went in search of her father. To the feminine eye her coveting was entirely justified, and when she managed to bring the dainty bauble between the silken veil and Setos’s focus of vision, he was still smiling in a pleased manner. She leaned on him affectionately, and said in a coaxing tone:

“The water-lily design set with brilliants was my idea. I got the suggestion from the pond in our garden, when the fountain left a fine spray like dewdrops in the heart of the lilies growing there. Dost thou see thy favorite rushes in the twisted lines on the mouth and handles?”

Setos could hold out no longer.

“Must I find thee a golden chain for support?” he queried, half petulantly.

History fails to record why a certain type of man always finds fault with what he knows in his soul he must do for his women-folk. Setos was troubled with that “little nearness” which has rendered the Scotch of later times famous.

“If the chief of the merchants’ guild will send some of his excellent wine of maguey in exchange, we vendors of sweet odors will be content. A chain, which we can procure from our neighbors, the artificers in gold, will be included in the purchase price.”

Setos was about to conclude the transaction, when Rahula said:

“Alcamayn has confided to me his intention of making a chain of special design, which he will present to Ildiko, with consent of Setos.”

Without further parley Setos led the way out of the stalls. When he halted, it was in front of a booth where his beloved wine of maguey was kept in abundance. There was a private entrance to the enclosure through which Setos passed, followed by the two women.

With a show of special interest, accompanied by an insinuating smile, Rahula said: “Hast thou a secret in the fabrication of this drink unknown to other makers?”

Setos shook his head in vigorous negation and continued giving his order for refreshing drinks. Ildiko preferred pulque. Rahula ordered metheglin, a spiced drink made by boiling fragments of beeswax and honey together, allowing it to ferment after it has been skimmed and clarified.

“Wilt thou hold it impertinent in me to ask thee,” continued Rahula, as soon as she could attract the attention of Setos, “to what process thou art indebted for the superior quality of thy wine of maguey?”

“It is made from the guava plant cut in the dark of the moon, but roasted and matured in the light of that orb. Care in manipulation does the rest.” Then lowering his voice and making a grimace as he winked, knowingly, he continued:

“No one suspects that my bottles are made of pliant glass and that only the covering is of goats’ skin.”

Standing with faces toward the east, they bowed their heads reverently; without a word they drank, not heartily, but in moderate sips. When they had swallowed the third mouthful, they resumed their seats. The women nibbled at honey-cakes and salted nuts, while Setos rolled a cigarette. Before lighting it, he said:

“Akaza, the hierophant, announced in the Council Chamber at meridian that a visit of state is soon to be made to the high-priestess, Kerœcia. Thou art to be my companions to the Yo-Semite, where the Monbas tribes are at the festival of renewal.”

“Must we countenance the rites of these childish worshipers of the four elements?” demanded Rahula. Intolerance was one of the bonds of sympathy between them.

“I raised that question in Council, but Akaza vouchsafed no decided answer.”

Both were silent for a moment, busy with the same train of thought.

“Oh, that we had some of the flying vehicles of thy invention in Atlantis! We could then make the journey without hardship or fatigue,” said Ildiko. Setos and Rahula quickly exchanged a meaning look, then cast furtive glances about to see if Ildiko had been overheard.

“Let us go hence,” said Setos, irritably. “Speech is the pale, silvery reflection of the moon, my daughter, while silence is the golden rays of the sun and the wisdom of the gods. I charge thee keep a closer watch over thy tongue. It is an unruly member and performs the same office as a two-edged sword.”

When it came time to separate, Setos said: “Akaza leads us. Yermah and Orondo go also; while Alcamayn remains and serves in our stead. I do not doubt the loyalty of our new subjects; but Yermah seems to find it prudent to leave some of his own countrymen at the helm.”

He spoke in a dissatisfied way—the reflex of his own mind. It is impossible for the best of us to see beyond the reflection of ourselves; so, Setos attributed to Yermah motives which would have actuated himself in a similar situation.

Rahula, the fish-goddess, speculated on her way home as to how much Ildiko really knew of the reasons which impelled her father to leave Atlantis. She shrewdly guessed that his presence in the camp of the white magicians was a matter of expediency rather than conviction, but valued her position as companion and confidante of Ildiko too highly to jeopardize it by an injudicious question.

Rahula was content to let matters shape themselves. Her ambitions found satisfaction in the encouragement Ildiko gave Alcamayn. She was a born matchmaker and intrigante and knew that Ildiko was the apple of her father’s eye despite his petulancy and parsimony. Setos was a man of ardent love-nature whose affections had not all been buried with his wife. Rahula’s gray hair and parchment skin did not let all hope die within her.

CHAPTER THREE
THE VIRGINS OF THE SUN AND THE VOICE OF TLAMCO

Alcamayn, the fop, and Akaza, “the old man of the band,” as he was familiarly spoken of by all classes, presented a striking contrast as they walked toward the Observatory, which was enclosed in a circular wall and dedicated to Jupiter.

Akaza, tall, spare and sinewy wore a cloak of brocade in varying shades of green shot with silver discs. It was fastened to a shoulder collarette, set with pearls imbedded in hollow glass beads containing mercury. His breastplate of bronze had a gold and silver inlay, while his long, thin white hair fell over his shoulders and the crown of his head was tonsured in honor of the sun. Fastened by the cord at his waist was a cluster of narcissus and lilies. He carried a green jade tao, surmounted by an eagle, in his right hand, showing that he commanded in the name of science instead of war.

Alcamayn was small, round-shouldered, hooknosed and bushy of eye-brow. His small beady eyes had a shifty downward glance as if he were intent on examining the ground at his companion’s side. He had been a sufferer from small-pox and he was extremely sensitive concerning his facial disfigurement.

Unable to submit to the control of others, he was a swaggerer, a braggart, and very resentful. Every little slight irritated him and he was given to brooding over his wrongs. When he had magnified the promptings of wounded vanity and selfishness into a veritable mountain, he struck back and at the most unexpected time.

As an off-set to these disabilities, he had sterling honesty, unswerving loyalty to Akaza and Yermah, and he was the most skillful artificer in metals and precious stones in all Tlamco. He was inventive and original, having added many fine pieces to the collection of beautiful vessels in the temples and at Iaqua. He had all the instincts of a gambler and on more than one occasion came dangerously near indulging in the forbidden prank of drinking too much.

His expert knowledge of precious stones enabled him to display magnificent jewels and he often discoursed learnedly on their speed, refraction and temper, much as lovers of gems have done in every age since.

Alcamayn wore amethysts for luck, and usually a tunic of ochre yellow richly trimmed with peacock feathers and silk fringes. His head-piece was a high cap of white lambskin. On his feet were jeweled sandals and chamois leggins were met at the knee by a full short cotton skirt, having the figures of the zodiac embroidered around the hem in a bewildering mixture of brilliant hues.

On the sides of Lone Mountain, which the men were rapidly approaching, were several small mounds, still plainly indicated. Deep tanks were hollowed out on the top of each of these, having the circular bottom and sides lined with cement and filled with filtered water. In addition to serving as observation pools for the sidereal system, these tanks furnished drinking water for the cavalry and infantry camps situated on the right and left hand side of the main buildings.

A circular tower of red sandstone and brick rose in the center of the mountain itself. On the inside was a stone stairway, having landings at the various windows, where there was room enough for such lenses and apparatus as was necessary to fully observe the moon and stars imaged in the pools below.

The reflection of the sun in these pools marked the hours of the day and time was very sensibly measured by studying the sidereal system. By a nice adjustment, the lenses revolved with the earth’s real motion. The Atlantians and all of their descendants studied the reflection of the planets and stars in a pool of filtered water sunk below the earth’s surface.

The tower tapered toward the top, and under an eight-sided pyramidal roof hung a massive copper bell, which was struck to proclaim the hours. Around the circle were chime bells, one for each of the five-note scale; and these were so grouped that by hearing them one knew which temple service was indicated. When it was time to go to a temple, these bells were rung continuously twelve strokes; then a full interval of rest when the process was repeated three times.

The “Voice of Tlamco” as the huge central bell was called, rang at dusk, warning all pedestrians to go to their dwellings. Licensed healers of the priestcraft and patrols were the only persons allowed on the street at night, except on extraordinary occasions, and then, the “Voice of Tlamco” tolled with wonderful effect.

Lower down, covering much of the ground now occupied by San Francisco proper were the ambulance sheds, battering-rams and other paraphernalia used in warfare. These were enclosed by a wall which skirted the water’s edge, not where the sea-wall now is, but as the water-front was known to the founders of Yerba Buena.

As Akaza and Alcamayn neared the entrance of the Observatory they met a procession of Virgins of the Sun, coming from the Temple of Venus. It was the duty of these virgins to replenish the sacred fires kept burning continuously on the towers and in the temples throughout the city. A crystal lens and a bit of cotton was used to focus the sun’s direct rays and imprison its fires. Once ignited the flame was held sacred and constantly fed, lest disaster should befall the entire tribe. On the apex of the octagonal belfry was a twelve-sided urn filled with charcoal, upon which, with proper ceremonies, four times in twenty-four hours were placed sticks of copal and cedar. At midnight and at sunrise this function was performed by a selected order of priesthood. At mid-day and at sunset it was done by the vestals.

As the women advanced, Akaza and Alcamayn saluted—Akaza, by carrying his open palms even with his forehead on each side; Alcamayn, by the sign of submission. To emphasize his symbol of equality Akaza said:

“Thou shalt make me thy servant.”

“Thou shalt make us to go through fire and water for thee,” they responded in unison, making the same obeisance as Alcamayn had done, bending the knee and with a downward gesture of the right hand.

The jeweler was included in the comprehensive bow given in passing but no further words were spoken. He did not attempt to conceal his respect and admiration; the vestals were equally frank in their curiosity. They had seen but few men so fastidious in dress, and there was a difference between his general appearance and that of the men of Tlamco.

Passing through the gateway a confusing scene greeted the visitors. Here two bands of warriors had been going through a quaint manual of arms in a competitive drill and were about returning to quarters. Carrying snake-headed batons, at the head of the column were the superior officers who acted as judges. Behind them came the two ensign bearers, one flaunting a triangular-shaped banner of embroidered satin, depicting a white heron on a rock. It was suspended from a gold bar, supported by a burnished bronze standard, finished with a cluster of brilliant-colored plumes.

The other emblem was a white satin square, showing a golden eagle with outstretched wings ornamented with silver-set emeralds. The pole was gilded, and tufted at the top with curled white horsehair, out of which protruded a flaring crest of peacock feathers.

Back of each standard bearer marched the trumpeter and drummer of the regiment. A blast from the trumpet, and a movement of the banners guided the companies, while general orders were signaled by the gold-knobbed baton.

The modern drum-major is not the only man knowing how to twirl an ornamental baton, as he casts side-long glances at his own moving shadow, nor is his high-stepping more admired to-day than it was of old. Vanity often changes the details, but seldom the actual methods of self-gratification.

The leaders wore quilted cotton tunics fitted closely to the body. Over this was a cuirass of thin gold and silver plates, in imitation of feathers. Leggins of ooze leather were attached to breech-clouts of dark blue cotton, while the feet were covered with sandals or bull’s-hide moccasins ornamented with bead-work. Wound around the shoulders was a gayly striped mantle of fine wool, so light and soft in texture that in actual combat it served as a sash for the waist.

The helmets were of wood fiber, light but durable, from the crests of which floated a panache of feathers. The form of head covering, the color and arrangement of the plumes, indicated the family and rank of the wearer. Every warrior carried a shield, either of metal, or leather, or a light frame of reeds covered with quilted cotton.

A perfect sea of spears and darts tipped with transparent obsidian or fiery copper, sparkled in the noonday sun. The gay head coverings, the ribbons floating in the air, and the ornate shields wove in and out in serpentine undulations, finally disappearing in one of the Long Houses used for mess.

There was a clash and a rattle of arms as a company of expert archers of the White Heron drew bow and discharged three arrows at a time. But there was quite as much spirit and dash in the hurling of javelins by the men fighting under the eagle blazonry. To this weapon, thongs were attached, by means of which the knife was shot through the air revolving so rapidly that it seemed like a ball of glittering steel. Presently, the blade returned and fell near the hand that gave it its forward impulse. Seldom, if ever, was there an accident in the performance of this extremely difficult feat, despite the anxiety and solicitude the undertaking always inspired.

On constant duty was a group of fighting men who served as lookouts at the various points of vantage in the tower. It was from this source that the men on parade learned that Akaza, the spiritual head, and Alcamayn, the representative of civil government, were inside the fortification. The intelligence was flashed from a set of mirrors and the impromptu display of prowess followed.

That there was keen rivalry in the competition, not unmixed with envy was shown very quickly, when a partisan of the White Heron, threw dirt into the face of an adherent of the Eagle Banner.

The parade ground was cleared at the time, but it was only a moment before a crowd collected around the angry disputants. They were dragged apart and hurried in opposite directions by friendly hands, whose good offices did not cease until the men were brought back and made to sing the national chant. First one man sang, then the other, while their auditors clapped their hands in accompaniment, and passed judgment on their efforts.

The insulted man took the initiative. While singing, he offered his hand to the offender. The face of the latter clouded, but the eyes of the camp were upon him. He sullenly took the outstretched hand, and finally the two voices blended in unison. Their comrades swelled the chorus to a mighty shout and the whole difficulty was over.

This was in the Golden Age, in Pre-historic America, when the man who served was a great soul, and he who refused to resent an insult, the brave one.

Blood surged through the veins of Alcamayn, caused by accelerated heart-action as he kept a firm hold of Akaza’s waist, to assist the hierophant in following the sinuosities of the winding stairway in the tower. Finally they stood alone on the roof, and as soon as the elder man’s breathing became normal, he faced the east, and, with outstretched arms, cried:

“I adore Him who enables me to endure.”

Alcamayn bowed his head, and, making the same genuflection, murmured:

“I give thanks to Him whose strength hath supported me thus far.”

Slowly and impressively the twain faced the other cardinal points and repeated the same words. Then Alcamayn gave hand, and Akaza soon retraced his steps to where the mechanical apparatus for astronomical calculations and observations were in position. While thus occupied, Alcamayn surveyed the whole city, going from one lookout to another.

It was a perfect day, and his surroundings resembled an enormous ant-hill, with throngs of workers going in and coming out of the houses, or hastening along the thoroughfares. He turned to the bay, where a vision of surpassing beauty rewarded him.

Not a wisp of fleecy cloud dimmed the blue vault overhead; the only flecks of color being the pinks and lavenders blended into the sky-line above the horizon.

The soft, limpid atmosphere revealed the outlines of the shore indentations, whose lights and shadows added their quota to the indescribable charm. The water was smooth and clear as a sheet of crystal, with big and little crafts moving here and there instinct with life and industry.

Off what is now Black Point, Alcamayn saw a party of fishermen with their dogs and skiffs making for the shore. There were two groups of men and dogs already on the beach at stations about two hundred yards apart.

At a given signal the dogs started from their given points and swam straight out seaward, single file in two columns. At a sharp cry from one of the men on the beach, the right column wheeled to the left, and the left column wheeled to the right, until the head of each line met.

Then another signal was given, at which they all turned and swam abreast to the shore. As the dogs neared the beach, increasing numbers of fish appeared in the shallow water. When their feet touched bottom, the animals pounced upon their finny captives and carried them to their masters. Each dog was given the head of the fish he had secured, as his share of the catch. The dog who caught nothing received nothing.

For a long time Alcamayn was unable to distinguish any member of the party now coming cityward, but he could see that it was of unusual importance. Soon he caught sight of Yermah seated in a palanquin, which was borne on the shoulders of four black men, and then he saw Oghi streaking along ahead of the pack of dogs which were in full cry at his heels. The ocelot often sprang to one side and played with his canine pursuers, while anon he scaled a wall for their special delection. He was a magnificent swimmer, and a good fisher, despite the fact that he occasionally put his sharp teeth through the fish, rendering it unfit for other than his own use.

“It is near the third marking past meridian-time,” said Akaza; “and when the circle is once more completed there will be but ten days remaining before we shall begin our mission of amity.”

“Have fitting preparations been made?” asked Alcamayn.

“Hanabusa must take cognizance that a compliment of balsas do escort duty at commencement. A signal from Iaqua will apprise him.”

“Yermah is but returning from a fishing expedition beachward. I have visioned him from an upper lookout.”

“Then let him have speech with thee at once. Take freely the counsel he imparts, and let me have assurance of his assent when the windows of thy soul greet and speed our parting hence. Peace abide with thee.”

He lightly kissed the forehead bared and inclined toward him.

Alcamayn paused a moment on the threshold and gazed lingeringly into a kindly countenance flushed by close mental application.

“May the preservative principle of the Trinity have thee entirely in its keeping,” he responded, as he passed from view down the same spiral which had given him so much labor to ascend earlier in the day.

CHAPTER FOUR
DISPATCHING RUNNERS TO THE YO-SEMITE

The Servitors of Tlamco were held strictly responsible for the conduct of their respective offices. Promotion and preference did not depend upon birth but on deeds.

“What has he done?” was the question propounded when a candidate presented himself for an office of public trust, and the same query met his lifeless body when it was offered for burial. Socially, and in the temples the same rule followed; so that distinctive service was the mainspring of their civilization.

Next to the priestly office, agriculture ranked highest in the choice of occupations. Men profoundly learned in every branch of it were continually in attendance at Iaqua. There were stations devoted to observation of climatic conditions; to the reclamation of wild fruits and cereals, or the propagation of new ones for food; to the surveying and proper distribution of lands; to the building of aqueducts, canals, bridges, granaries and public highways—to say nothing of the research in the extraction of dye stuffs from both vegetable and mineral substances.

Nearly all of the cereals and fruits known to man were reclaimed from a wild state by the contemporaneous inspiration of these times.

The surrounding country was divided into four sections or provinces, while the populace was grouped into tens, having an official who attended to minor details. Every thousand of the population had a magistrate. Each ten thousand, or fraction thereof, had a governor, who was one of the Counselors of State.

Orondo was at the head of the Civil Counselors, and it was to him, as first judge, that all questions of moment were submitted. Monthly reports were made to him by inspectors sent out for this purpose—men who served a lifetime without any other remuneration than the medals and prestige their positions insured. The priests owned nothing for themselves or their temples, nor did the advocates or healers receive recompense for service.

The community was superior to the individual, and the government provided for the needs of all its people. The land was divided into three parts; that belonging to the sun supported the priesthood, and built and maintained its temples.

Education was in the hands of the warrior-priests and the Virgins of the Sun; so the universities and schools drew their support from the same source. The next third belonged to the government and was cultivated for its benefit.

The unit of value was a day’s labor, and all the taxes were paid in this way. When the people had planted the remaining third of the land for their own use, they worked alternately for the government (constructing public roads) and on the sun lands.

Hospitals for the aged, for orphans, and for the sick were a part of the government expense, institutions universally copied from, but seldom accredited to the Aztecs and Peruvians by modern civilization.

No man was allowed to take advantage in a barter. Disputes arose every day among the guilds in the bazaars, but there was the same clannish feeling among them that has since made and maintained the family. Each trade was loyal to its own. They were ashamed to have a neighboring guild know that they quarreled, and it was a very aggravated case which invoked the law.

When planting-time came, Orondo turned the first furrow of sod, and the Virgins of the Sun dropped the seeds, while Akaza commended the undertaking to the four elements.

There were songs of rejoicing, and much exhibition of skill in cultivation, which at the close of the season, was rewarded by prizes and medals from Yermah’s own hand. There were no idle men and women, and no paupers in these communities, while to be accused of laziness was a great disgrace.

The private houses in Tlamco were of sun-dried bricks, covered with stucco, elaborately ornamented and delicately tinted. They were seldom more than one story high, with ceilings of ornamental woods, while the walls were tinted or hung with simple cotton tapestries. The flat-roofs were often bright with potted plants, and these dwellings were invariably surrounded by flowers and a stretch of greensward.

The hospitals, the barracks, the Brotherhood houses and those occupied by the priestesses faced the cardinal points and were the squares within the circular streets. They were uniformly four stories high, with truncated sloping roofs, and terraced grounds, forming ornamental bits of landscape among the trees, and commanding a fine view of bay and harbor.

Clusters of sunflowers grew here and there in out-of-the-way places. Free use was made of cherry, laurel, clove and lavender plants along the highways, because they were known to produce ozone; and the gardens contained their favorite flowers—narcissus, hyacinth and mignonette in abundance.

Orondo was giving an audience to the mathematicians who were employed in the Hall of Quippos, at Iaqua, where the government accounts were kept. And when it was known that Alcamayn had arrived Orondo sent and begged his presence. When the jeweler stepped into the hall, he found the place littered with quippos of all kinds. They were scattered about on chairs, on the tables, and some were hanging upon the walls, while clerks called the numbers and tallied the curiously knotted cords in a monotonous drone.

There were intricate estimates for the warriors shown by the red cords and fringes; yellow denoted the gold used in the mechanical arts and industries and in the temples; but these were few and simple in combination compared with the white ones, indicating the enormous amount of civil transactions for the current month.

Silver was used for state accounts, and its knots were curious little buttons, full of meaning for the men who mastered the art of the quippos. The largest bundle of all was the green, which, by its varying shades and fanciful combinations recorded the amount of wheat, corn and all agricultural produce owned or used by the pueblo city of Tlamco.

“One knot! Red signal corps,” called the teller.

“Signal corps, ten,” answered the tally.

“Two single knots, and one knot doubly intertwined, silver, Alcamayn.”

“Two knots, twenty; one doubly intertwined, one hundred,” repeated the tally.

“One knot, triply intertwined, yellow, Alcamayn.”

“Hold!” cried Orondo. “Alcamayn, hast thou made requisition for a thousand grains of gold? Thy parchment is not properly stamped, and we cannot give thee so much treasure on irregular demand.”

“Wilt thou grant me to see it?” said Alcamayn, reaching out for the document. “I must have both gold and silver quickly. There will scarce be time enough to prepare the gifts needed because of thy going to the Monbas.”

“It grieves me that I cannot aid thee; but thou must have recourse to the Dorado.”

“A foolish blunder leaves it without number, also,” said Alcamayn, with a frown, handing the order to a tamane. “Yermah is engrossed with the priestesses caring for the fatherless. Dost thou know that he has issued an edict that all guilds and communes must sup together once in each lunation?”

“The Azes are grown lax in hospitality, and we must give them an example,” responded Orondo.

The tamane returned with the parchment properly numbered and viséed.

“He whom we delight to serve bids thee follow me. He would fain have counsel with thee.”

In obedience to the message, Orondo crossed the hall, and passed to the right, avoiding the audience chambers.

Yermah had risen and was dismissing the priestesses, after issuing orders on the state granaries for their requirements.

“Spare no efforts to make these flowers of humanity happy as birds of air,” he said. “I charge thee to give them plenty of sweets, music and games for their amusement.”

“Wilt thou not lend us thy presence?”

“Affairs of urgency prevent indulgence of personal desires, but I shall not forget to send best thoughts.”

“May Jupiter the beneficent be in the ascendant throughout thy journey.”

He made the sign of submission and bent the knee in courtly fashion.

“May his jovial and benign rays descend on all thy efforts. Success be with thee and thy wards,” was Yermah’s reply.

“The secret of happiness,” said Setos, sententiously, “is in having constant employment for both body and mind. I shall advise—”

“What wilt thou advise, Setos?” asked Yermah, as he seated himself at the council table in his private office, where Alcamayn and Orondo had been waiting for him.

“Duty compels me to suggest severe measures for women neglecting their households and allowing their children to be seen in filthy rags. Near the Temple of Neptune I complain of three houses unlawfully dirty. It surprised me that Akaza made no mention of this in conference to-day.”

“It were possible that he saw them not. He would be for mercy; and so am I.”

Yermah was in a genial mood as his voice and manner indicated.

“What hast thou done with the offenders?” asked Orondo, quietly.

“The first family was warned; the second are now being paraded up and down the street. They have been admonished once before, and if it were in my discretion, they would be soundly whipped. Humiliation may serve with some natures, but corporal punishment is better for others.”

“Thou sayest they. Whom dost thou mean?”

“The father and mother, and two young girls. The law is no respecter of persons.”

“And, in addition, thou wouldst have me order them whipped?”

“N-o-o; I only wish thy consent to propose the measure at the next council meeting.”

Yermah made a gesture of dissent, and asked pointedly:

“What punishment hast thou meted out to the third offense?”

“I have application here, awaiting thy signet, that I may take the children away from the shiftless sloven who gave them ingress to light.”

“Is she widowed?”

“Yes; but she has been found guilty the third time.”

“The application is denied for the present. Alcamayn will be guardian of streets in our absence. Upon returning, I shall lend mine ear to domestic affairs. Of late disturbances and complaints have been frequent from that quarter.”

Touchy, vain-glorious Setos nettled at this.

“Do my fellows think me unmindful of duty?”

“No; only over-zealous. It is not in the province of good government to meddle with private affairs. The best interests of posterity and the economic use of sustenance, with care of the person, are all that can be demanded.”

“Akaza is competent to advise thee,” interposed Orondo. “These matters properly come under his dominion.”

“Akaza will undoubtedly agree with me,” said Setos, catching at a straw for justification. “The first evidence of initiation is a sensitive condition of the organs of smell. The novitiate is required to discover the deadly effects of putrescent gases, and even children are taught that whatever offends the nostrils injures the body.”

They rose simultaneously, and Orondo opened the door leading into the public reception hall.

“The runners are here, waiting to carry our greetings to the Monbas and their high priestess.”

“Go and dispatch them, Orondo. I trust thee to lay the lash on them lightly. Go, thou, also, Setos, to see that they get the regulation stripes before setting forth.”

The Dorado picked up the parchments signed and sealed earlier in the day, and locking them in a strong box of curious design, dismissed the two courtiers with a nod and a smile.

“I pray thee return quickly. Alcamayn needs advice from thee respecting thy special departments of service.”

CHAPTER FIVE
THE TEMPLE OF LOVE IN THE LAND OF FIRE

The watchers on the top of Mount Diablo looked anxiously for sunrise the morning Yermah and his followers rowed slowly across San Francisco Bay, hugging the shorelines until the mouth of the Sacramento River was reached.

Four times in the year the early visitor to Mount Diablo sees the “Shadow of the Devil” cast a triangular outline against its grizzled peak. The contacts last but a second and fade like a breath of mist from a looking-glass.

All of the cluster of piny hills which surrounds Diablo like brilliants around a stone of the first water are still in darkness, and the two large valleys at either side seem an indistinct blur, when the heavy, phantom-like shadow is thrown on the scene, slantingly, clear, and sudden.

On the right side of the mountain, the light nearest the black line that accentuates the shadow is palest yellow, shading gradually into green, until it is lost in the yellow-brown of the hills. To the left the line is reddish, and the shadow blue-black.

That the triangle shaped itself perfectly, and gave good omen of the enterprise in hand, was evident from the excitement among the men whose duty it was to signal the good news to the Observatory tower in Tlamco, and also to the fleet in the bay and river.

Without mishap or deterrent incident the expedition found its way up the river past the bog-rushes, or tules, which gossip among themselves throughout the year. Occasionally the cry of a lone bittern or loon warned the invaders of a priority of claim upon the sustenance hidden by the murky waters or along the grassy banks.

The wild things were startled and much distressed by such unaccustomed tumult, but their feeble protests failed to disturb the serenity of the human contingent secure in a might-made right to be the over-lords of all less gifted creatures. When they arrived at the point which is now occupied by the city of Stockton, the entire party disembarked, and, taking to the saddle, pushed on with as little delay as possible.

Who can describe springtime in California? From Yuma to the Klamath what waving of leafy banners, what marvelous music of bird-song, what conquest of grass-blades, what routing of first usurpers!

Mystical California! Where the Ice Age never came, and where the magnetism of pre-historic times still lingers to attract race skandhas which shall begin the upward spiral of a new sub-race great in psychological possibilities!

The days of peonage have passed forever. The cavaliers and the padres were oppressed by the Aztec; he, in turn, suffered at the hands of the Argonaut.

Over the surface of placer and quartz mines, vines, fig-trees and olives hide the scars made by sturdy miners, and dispute prestige with the golden grains which have been the staff of life to many alien born, and the end is not yet.

The California of Cabrillo’s day was a continuous flower-garden from north to south. It must have been fair to view before mission sheep and horses tramped down the hills, where once only the grizzly bear and deer roamed unafraid long after the memory of Atlantis itself had been lost in accumulating centuries.

The early mariners of our dispensation called the southern hills the “Land of Fire,” because of the blaze at poppy-time—the copo del oro of the padre and cavalier, the Yankee gold-cup, the Russian eschscholtzia. Then as now the yellow lupines, loved by the rag-tag-and-bobtail of the insect world, flourished beside the blue and purple blossoms of more pretentious claims, flirting with daintier bees and butterflies.

The mints are a family of pedigree, and with all their kith and kindred they camped in clans about field and wood. Sage, thyme, and savory have always been well spoken of for yeoman service, while rosemary and lavender are beloved of the poets.

California has both white and purple sweet wild mint, and her sage-bushes yield to the bees honey next to that made from clover for richness and whiteness. Everywhere on the trail Yermah’s companions found the Yerba Buena, which name in later years was applied to their beloved Tlamco.

There were no quartz or gravel mines in those days. The battea of the Mexican and the horn-spoon of the “forty-niner” had no place in the pack-train—for the auriferous gravel had not been thrown to the surface in great ridges, and the blue veins which are the natural beds for gold were in some instances thousands of feet below the surface.

The combined action of air, water, sunshine, frost and earthquake were yet to disintegrate the matrix of quartz and set the precious metals free, or else to ingulf them in tons of molten lava after vaporizing them in the bowels of the earth.

Time has wrought many of these changes since, and the heavy rains have washed the light silica into the water courses, and thence to the valleys, thus forming the soil and gravel which has yielded gold in this sun-down land.

It was here that the early prospector found his reward, and it is here also that the battle over the disposal of the débris left by hydraulic process has been fought out by miner and husbandman.

Then the cactus family, those outcasts of the desert which are said to have survived the last glacial period, flourished in all their quaint ugliness. By long centuries of adaptation of scanty means to the ends of growth, the cactus has discarded its leaves and developed a fleshy stem, cylindrical, rectangular, triangular, flat, or round, but always armed with long needles. As a compensation, it bears exquisite blossoms of dainty tissue pistils and yellow ravelings of stamens, while its fruits might have been the golden apples of Hesperides.

Akaza directed his party to take a trail leading to the south side of the Merced River, nearly two thousand feet lower than the route followed by tourists of later times. Suddenly from out one of the gray-green clusters of cacti darted a coarse-plumaged bird, marked with brown and white specks on the upper part, while the lower portion of its body was a dingy white.

Oghi gave chase immediately, but it distanced him, with insolent flinging of sand and dust which quite surprised this intrepid hunter. He did not know whether to be frightened or ashamed of himself. At an encouraging word from Yermah, he laid his ears back close to his head and again tried the chase. The bird manifested no disposition to fly or to leave the trail.

The trumpeter blared a command to halt, and the entire expedition came to a standstill.

“Dismount for refreshment and rest, first giving attention to the horses,” was the word passed along the line.

Soon the tamanes were bustling about and making necessary arrangements for Yermah’s comfort, while he and Akaza were intent upon examining the covert from which the road-runner started. A shout brought Setos and Orondo to his side, and after them, one by one, the whole party.

“I am of opinion,” said Setos, “that this strange bird, or beast, intended to eat the rattlesnake it had killed.”

“Not so,” returned Akaza. “The body has been pecked full of holes and the bird was evidently about to abandon it when disturbed by Oghi.”

“See how well the creature has outlined a circle in laying these pieces of cactus leaves around the snake,” remarked Orondo, intently examining the crude architectural plan.

“Dost thou know anything about its habits?” inquired Yermah, turning to one of the piloting tamanes.

“Yes, my master. This bird is the natural enemy of rattlesnakes. It remains concealed until the reptile is fast asleep in the warm sand. With its sharp bill it is easy to take off part of a cactus leaf, as thou seest. Instinct teaches how to place them in a circle. This done, it throws caution to the wind and rouses the snake. Then there is a battle royal. The snake can not crawl over the cactus needles and finally dies of its own bite.”

“Does the bird eat any portion of its victim?” asked Setos.

“Nothing except the eyes. The remainder of the body is scattered about in the sand, as thou seest.”

“Oghi will bring him back captive, but, I fear me, badly mutilated.”

“The ocelot will never catch him. These birds outfoot a thoroughbred. They are quicker, shyer, more alert even than Oghi. Besides, the smell of them is quite enough for a fastidious animal.”

It was long after, and when the column was once more on the move, that Oghi came back—with his tongue hanging out; his tail between his legs; evidently disgusted and thoroughly fagged.

Arriving at what is now called Cold Springs, the party began the ascent of the Chowchilla Mountains. Trees begin here—Sequoia gigantea,—of world-wide fame, but their habits were not new to the men of this expedition.

Long before there were written words to express the ideas of man, the forest has furnished symbols of the various stages of human existence. The pliancy of youth, the exuberant strength of maturity, the decay of age, have suggested eloquent parallels between man and the tree.

In contemplating the monarchs of the woods the greatest poets and the denizens of the untracked forests have risen together to the same heights of imagery and the same tokens of emotion and sentiment.

Who can resist the silence, the whispering, the soughing, the writhing, the twisting and groaning of a pine tree, from the first flicker of a needle until the whole growth is in a Titanic struggle with the vagrant wind. The onset tests the strength of root, bole, branch and tendril to their utmost, then suddenly departs, leaving each needle erect and still as if listening to the music of the stars.

In all ages, and among all people, certain groves have been held sacred. The tree-alphabet of the Chinese, the curling roofs of the truncated pagodas, the numerous legends of the tree and vine, symbolizing life, are universal testimonials of this ancient veneration.

The trees giving shelter to Yermah defied the Ice Age and escaped destruction in the flood. There are giants in Mariposa Grove to-day contemporaneous with the Star of Bethlehem and the departing grandeur of Egypt. The green spires of this living forest, three hundred feet high, filter the air through innumerable branches, making one shiver at their mysterious whistle, like the rustling silk robes of an unseen company.

The mystic and appalling are there as well. How often in active life the specter stands among men and trees!

The very strength gained by such close lifting of fibers during decades of existence will not permit these giants to seek rest prone upon the welcoming breast of Mother Earth. Still must they stand, bleached by sun, beaten by rain, and buffeted by winds, leading a spectral existence when remains of other members of the forest have silently sunk to rest, and are no longer distinguishable in substance from the very soil from which they sprung.

For a century or so there is a struggle among the children of the fallen monarch. At last but few remain, to become giants in their turn—set on the rim of the pit formed by the decaying roots of their ancient ancestor. Rings of this kind can still be found, showing the broken roots projecting like the staves of a barrel, overgrown with ferns and wild oxalis, or filled to the brim with fresh spicy redwood sprouts.

No one who visits the Yo-Semite to-day, can imagine the abundance in early times of wild flowers and luxuriant grasses reaching up to the saddle-girths, or the almost total absence of undergrowth and brush in the groves, thus affording clear, open views from either side. The valley lies nearly in the center of the State, north and south, midway between the east and west bases of the Sierras.

---

Not a sound broke the impressive stillness as Yermah caught his first grand view from Inspiration Point, save occasional chirps and songs of birds, or the low, distant sigh of waterfalls in the vertical-walled chasm below. Here and there was a dark yellow pine rooted in the crevice, and clinging tenaciously to its dizzy elevation. The wind swept these trees to and fro, and there was a faint, plaintive murmur in their leaves as of pain.

Yermah did not notice that coveys of grouse beat the air with their wings in clumsy and obstinate flight, nor did he see that deer sprang up here and there, making for the undergrowth, lying in an opposite direction. He reined his horse sharply out of the green forest and stood upon a high jutting rock overlooking a rolling, uplifting sea of granite mountains of a beautiful pearl-gray. The colors were cold in effect—all the character being given by the vertical parallel lines of gray, brown, and black which stripe a portion of the walls.

The sun winked at them from behind the pine-trees on the top of the hills, and threw shimmering lances among the cliffs and crags, burnishing up their edges. Its rosy tints etched furrows on the mountain’s face, seeming to take pride in bringing out strongly the wrinkles which the master of the hourglass and scythe had been busily engaged upon for so many thousand years.[^[3]]

The first impressive thought was that the granite ledges were standing pale and dumb before their Creator! The towers, the domes, the spires, the battlements, the arches, the white columns of solid granite surging up into the air came to everlasting anchor! The silence seemed to quiver with sound, just as the warm air shimmered without stir all along the rocky outlines. The scene conveys to the soul of man through the eye what might the orchestra of heaven through the ear, were peals of thunder compassed into harmonious notes of music. As the king of day rode farther out, he gently touched the falls of Upper Yo-Semite, transforming a downpour of crystals into tears of liquid silver, which the winds whirled into fantastic wraiths against the frowning cliffs.

All that was mortal in the visitor swept back; all that was immortal surged to the front, and bowed down in awe.

“Here speaks the voice of God; and here His power is manifest.”

It was Akaza’s voice that broke the silence.

“Hail! smiling morn that tips these hilltops with alchemic gold! Teach us the secret of thy magic.”

Again it was Akaza’s words.

“Here we have visual evidence of the power and glory of the Supreme Ruler. The majesty of His handiwork is in that testimony of rocks.”

A softening haze hung over the valley, and the clouds partly dimmed the higher cliffs and mountains. Obscurity of vision increased the reverential mood of the party. A peculiarly exalted sensation seemed to fill their minds, and their eyes swam with fellowly drops of emotion, though their tongues refused their office. By common impulse they pushed forward, and coming down back of Cathedral Rocks, found themselves at nightfall near the valley’s mouth, with El Capitan on the left and Bridal Veil Falls on the right.

On the plains of the San Joaquin, sixty miles below, El Capitan had been first sighted, and now they gazed curiously at its bare, smooth sides, entirely destitute of vegetation, towering above their heads fully three thousand feet—a solid mass of granite, set squarely out into the valley, as if meaning to bar their passage.

Here they were met by a delegation of Monbas accompanied by their own runners. After listening to an address of welcome, they were invited to meet the high-priestess, Kerœcia, at Mirror Lake, higher up the valley.

“This glorious sun gives light to the ceremony of purification by fire, demanding the presence of all our people, else had they been here to give welcome to our friends. We are bidden to serve thee in the name of the high-priestess, and make familiar the grandeur of this noble temple,” said Ben Hu Barabe, the Civil Chief.

“Accept our humble thanks and faithful obedience,” responded Yermah.

“May the warmth and light flooding us genially be an augury of felicitous days to come,” said Orondo.

“May our inmost thoughts be in harmony with Divine Will,” added Akaza, while Setos called attention to a chucah, a curious basket-like structure, suspended from a tree near where he stood. Upon examination, it was found to contain a parchment scroll filled with a detailed report of the runners’ journey and reception.

“The Monbas will remain only long enough to ascertain and comply with the wishes of the Azes, after the ceremonies now in progress cease,” continued Ben Hu Barabe. “The emissary, Eko Tanga, comes on mischief bent, and we must be ready to meet him.”

The determined tone and angry scowl indicated the sentiments of the speaker.

“When once outside these sacred precincts, we have matters of moment to discuss with thy leaders,” said Yermah.

“We are pledged to the leadership of the high-priestess, and humbly await her pleasure. She will hear thee fully,” was the response made by the young warrior.

There was something in his loyal speech which impressed Yermah greatly. He looked at him with an eye of favor, and asked him to show the way up the valley.

Rahula and Ildiko, refreshed by a night’s rest, accompanied by Orondo and Setos, recrossed the valley to view Bridal Veil Falls. The women were in raptures at the sight of the great falls, and insisted that their palanquins should be lowered frequently, to enable them to examine the graceful undulating sheets of spray. It fell in gauze-like folds, expanding, contracting and glittering in the sunlight like a veil of diamonds. Then changing into one vast and many-colored cloud, it threw its mystic drapery over the falling torrent, as if to shroud its unspeakable beauty.

Down the water leaps in one unbroken chain to an immense bowlder-formed cauldron below, where it boils and surges furiously, throwing up volumes of spray, while the sun haloes the abyss with two or more gorgeous rainbows. The swaying from side to side under the varying pressure of the wind, and the jarring roar of the water, thrilled and hushed the beholders into silent, spellbound admiration.

Yermah followed the north wall on past the Three Brothers which rise in steps, one behind the other, with their heads turned in the same direction.

The lofty columnar rock called Washington Tower has diamond-like cascades, which tumble down the sides of the Royal Arches more than two thousand feet. These wing-like spans form a sort of lion’s head, not unlike the winged lions of Nineveh.

With the column which forms an angle to Teneya Cañon, they seem intended for a base of adequate magnitude to support the North Dome.

The mighty powers of Nature, which have wrought such wonders in this region, cleft this tower in twain, and disposed of the fragments in a manner as mysterious as it must have been awful.

On the opposite side of Teneya Cañon is Half Dome—a perfectly inaccessible crest. From a distance one might fancy that the stone-cutter’s art had been brought to bear upon its perfectly rounded summit. Upon closer inspection it is found that Time has been the sculptor. The ages have cut out huge concentric layers of granite, and scattered them about in picturesque confusion.

Yermah rode on up the cañon until his ears caught the notes of a folk-song; then he dismounted and, fastening Cibolo to a live-oak, made his way toward the music. Astonishment and delight transfixed his gaze.

At his feet lay the “Sleeping Waters,”[^[4]] embowered by trees, and environed on high by the dome already described. This water course leaps from crag to pool, until it reaches equilibrium, and the surface of the lake is as motionless and smooth as a mirror. The reflected domes, peaks and trees are seen on its glassy bosom in perfect outline, seemingly five hundred fathoms down, in exact representation of the beauties that reach one mile into the air!

Yermah stood spellbound, not so much by this stupendous grandeur as by the scene being enacted before him. He was so intently regarding it that he scarcely saw or felt the shower of flint-headed arrows which fell in profusion and ruffled the surface of the lake.

His eyes were riveted on a young woman who was in the act of speeding a golden arrow over the heads of three other girls of nearly her own age, and who were putting off from shore in a crescent-shaped boat, which they propelled with long silvery oars. They were chanting softly, and the air was redolent with the perfume of flowers, which completely filled the boat, hanging in graceful profusion from prow and stern, in wreaths of all sizes and colors.

The boat moved like a thing instinct with life, and as it disappeared on the opposite side, Yermah’s tense gaze made itself felt on its object. Kerœcia moved uneasily, and then looked fixedly into the water stretched out before her. She first saw her own image, then beside it the ideal of her dreams—a helmeted figure, reflected full-length in the limpid stream.

His tunic was of purple cloth, confined at the waist by a wide striped silk sash, which tied over the left hip and hung in long, heavy, fringed ends. The short, full skirt was of orange silk, with a wide band of embroidery around the bottom, and underneath were long, closely-woven woolen leggins of purple. The feet were protected by sandals with jeweled sides and straps across the instep. From his shoulders hung a leopard-skin cloak, double-faced, so that it was alike on both sides.

He wore a square breastplate of stones, containing twelve jewels, proclaiming that he was Master of the twelve councilmen, and ruled continuously while the sun traveled through the twelve signs of the zodiac. At his side hung a burnished bronze sword, with a beautifully engraved scabbard, delineating a lion hunt from meet to finish.

At first Kerœcia was fascinated, then a feeling of fear stole over her. She made a movement as if to fly, but in turning stood face to face with Yermah. An inarticulate sound died on her lips as she started back amazed and fearful. Her wide-eyed vision and strained attention searched the countenance of the pale and agitated man, who stood so near her that she felt the radiating warmth of his body. He remained motionless, but she shrank back, and was momentarily rooted to the spot.

With a regal sweep of the arm, he bared his head, and with his right hand made the hierophant sign of command. He opened the hand, palm outward, the first two fingers pointing upward. He bowed profoundly, and carried the helmet hand to his heart lightly.

Kerœcia quickly comprehending his intent as well as his rank and station, courteously made the Atlantian sign of submission.

Yermah recognized it by a downward movement of his open right hand.

“Pleasing in my sight, and welcome to all the Monbas, is the Servitor of Aztlan,” she said. “He who created the four elements forbid that fatigue or discomfort should be thy portion.”

“It were an earthy spirit which could be mindful of the physical in this magnificent temple,” replied Yermah.

His calm, even tones quieted and reassured her completely.

“Have none of my fellows shown thee courtesy? Thy exalted station and goodness of heart demand much.”

“Ample consideration met us at the newel-post of this wondrous structure. It were a puny effort indeed that would fail to convey such welcome as the season and occasion warrant. In harmony with this spirit, I have stolen away from my companions and have sought audience direct with thee. If ill-considered abruptness gives rise to inharmonious thought, forgive me. The head, and not the heart, is at fault.”

“Offense were not possible with this intent. And I were an unworthy handmaiden should I harbor ill will on this day, holiest of all the year to the Monbas.”

“I stand athirst for knowledge of the sacred rite already partially witnessed. Is it lawful for an alien to know its import?”

“We who find divinity in the flowers, the birds, the sunshine, the trees, the rocks, the streams, and the hills, have no secrets apart from any living thing. But before thy special question, tell me of thy comrades. Shall I face them here?”

“In this place, and soon. They skirted the southern wall. The women came in chairs, lest fatigue should render them unfit to give heed to thy many accomplishments. Tell me the office of the three graces in the flower-laden boat.”

“All the ills of my people are consigned to those flowers. The ark in the center contains a symbol of the all-pervading essence of creation, and when the sun comes high enough to send a vertical ray into this ark, the flowers which have been collected for the past three days will be sacrificed by fire; and then we can go hence happy and content, free from evil tendency within and without. Our faith is simple. We try to live in harmony with the laws of Life and Love.”

“An artist who revels in the beauties of creation receives direct the thoughts of the Eternal Father,” returned Yermah, reverently.

“A child inhaling the fragrance of a flower receives in the process of transmutation the thoughts of the Creator.”

“Without the intervention of planetary influence?”

“The open flower, with its sun-rayed form, is to vegetation what the sun is to the planets, and as man is to animal life. Flowers crown Nature’s dominions.”

“The soul of man crowns all animate things,” persisted Yermah.

“When he crushes a beetle he destroys the life of what may some day be his brother,” she answered, with a smile.

“Dost thou believe in transmigration? I am agreed with thee that life is a vibration of Divine Will, moving in a spiral, but physical man is the lowest rung contacted by the ego.”

“Oh, say not so! Is not the ego a ray of the creative energy itself? Thinkest thou the human family the only emanation of Divinity worthy to contact its Creator?”

“Yes,” he answered; “and only then by aspiring to a spiritual plane.”

“How many planes dost thou allot to man?”

“Three—the physical, the mental and the spiritual. A novice must perform the nine labors in order to achieve perfection. Each plane is threefold, like the alchemical sun, whose prototype blesses us with its preserving rays. Unfold to me the principles of thy system.”

“The first degree is that of the crystallized mineral, typifying death. The rocks and stones are of both sexes. Their sympathies and antipathies constitute their laws of natural selection determined by the vegetation produced from their soil. The second degree pertains to the subjective spaces of the mineral world—the tiny races within the higher round of that zone. Each life-atom is busy at its own appointed task, happy beyond conception in its lowly spiritual state. The third degree is the vegetable kingdom. The leaves are so placed that a line wound around the stem of a plant, and touching the petiole of each leaf would be a spiral. Where the leaves are in two rows, it is one-third the circumference, and so on in successive trines.”

“No one could be more loyal than I to the great family of endogens,” said Yermah. “They all go by threes, and are correlated to the Trinity. We make the lily the type of purity; the palm, the type of perfect life, which is service. The grains give the staff of life; the grasses cover the earth, and feed our animals. The onion not only contains the immortal elixir, but in its circles represents the growth of the universe, and the orbits of the planetary system.”

“The exogens,” said Kerœcia, “are closer to our own lives. The rose gains in beauty as it loses its power of reproduction, and the flower which carpets our hillsides with patches of gold drops the calyx when it arrives at perfection. It lives with the sun—opening and closing with his coming and going, and is so delicate that we make it the symbol of the soul.

“In the fourth degree are the flower nymphs, disporting themselves like butterflies in the luminous ether of their round. Some bear resemblance to beautiful girls, but are bright green, with large heads and small bodies. In the full scale they show all the colors of the rainbow. The fifth degree is the animal kingdom; the sixth is semi-human; the seventh is man. Love is the only condition of creation—that love which is perfect equilibrium between thyself and the universe.”

Neither spoke for several moments; then Yermah said, with a sigh of contentment: “This is a veritable Temple of Love.”

“In very truth it is,” she returned; “and this is the season of renewal. It is the breeding-time of flowers and of the feathered tribes. Look here!”

She drew back a branch of eglantine, heavy with bloom, and nestled cozily in the fork of the parent stem was a tiny grayish-white mass of hair, fashioned into a nest by a gold-throated humming-bird. The mate industriously sipped honey from blossom to blossom, while the watcher on the nest put up its long, tube-like bill, waiting to be fed.

The birds twittered conjugal confidences unmindful of prying eyes. Disturbed at last by the voices, both balanced in air, leaving exposed to view two little spotted eggs, not larger than fine shot. They darted about in evident distress, keeping up a constant humming with their gauzy wings.

The man and woman paused but a second, and then passed on.

The Monbas believed in five sub-human kingdoms, peopled by entities. The mineral kingdom was represented by gnomes; the vegetable kingdom, by sylphs; the reptile, by fire or salamanders; water, by undines and fishes. Kerœcia’s followers were the forerunners of the ancient Druids and the modern gypsies.

The aim of all religions is to harmonize man with the laws which govern the universe. The Monbas did this by metempsychosis of the sub-human elements. They solved the great problem of absorbing into the astral system the pure psychic elements about them, and reached divinity by this process. It is for this reason that the gypsies never mingle with other civilizations. They go to nature direct for their wisdom, and keep away from cities for fear of losing their psychic powers.

On Good Friday, the gypsies still have their patriarch carry an ark or basket, in the bottom of which has been placed a Saint Andrews cross. Each member of the tribe lays a flower on the cross to abjure and protect him against evil influences—thus perpetuating the idea of the immaculate conception. The gypsies believe that the flowers give off metempsychosis and absorb disease.

Orondo, Setos, Rahula and Ildiko with a retinue of tamanes, a Monbas escort, and some burros laden with stout willow baskets and bags, skirted the southern side of the valley in passing Cathedral Rock and Spires.

There were splendid pitch-pine trees massed in the foreground, which being duplicated on the top of the cliffs, looked like a mere fringe of green thrown into relief against fleecy white clouds hurrying across the turquoise sky in pursuit of some fleeting phantom of that eerie region.

The travelers found it warm work to cross the Merced River, near by; but the cool sea-breezes began to blow up from the Golden Gate—for they were almost opposite, in a direct line from Tlamco. In pushing on to Mirror Lake, they followed the same path taken by Yermah. As they passed Indian Cañon, they looked up the deep gorge to the eastward and saw that here was the entrance and exit used by the Monbas.

As they neared the lake, they looked off in the distance to where Cloud’s Rest connects with the High Sierra this chain of matchless pearls from the mouth of Nature. Around the top of this extremely elevated, steep, barren ridge hover continuously a bevy of cottony clouds, while a lace-like scarf of fog softens the hard, unyielding lines, and makes them tempt the soul of man to feats of the greatest daring.

Presently was seen a thin, vapory line of smoke issuing from the direction in which the boat had disappeared. Instantly the roads seemed alive with people, coming from all directions, and making the welkin ring with melodious sound. There were men, women and children, gay in holiday attire, singing and gesticulating in the very ecstasy of joy. They crowded the banks of the lake and waited expectantly.

At length a slender silver arrow flew up from the smoke clouds; then, another; and again, a third. This was followed by a deafening blast of trumpets, drums, cymbals, tambourines, pipes, and ear-splitting whistles, as the priestesses re-embarked and slowly approached. The first splash of the silvery oars was answered by a shout of triumph from the opposite shore, followed by a song, in which three voices joined with equal zest.

Then the crowd fell back, making room for Kerœcia and the tall, fair stranger. He was intent and alert; she, smilingly gracious. As the boat anchored, she raised her hand in blessing, for which Yermah reverently uncovered.

The priestess stepped forward to receive an urn delicate and fragile as the ashes of roses it contained, when a treacherous pebble turned her ankle, and she would have fallen had not Yermah caught her by the arm in time to prevent a painful strain upon the supporting muscles and tendons. It was the unstudied act of a man of ready tact and faultless breeding.

The hillsides and rock walls rumbled and echoed the burst of cheering which greeted this feat. Again he uncovered and stood in a respectful attitude until the three nimble-footed young women were on shore. They, catching the infection, shared in the general excitement. By a common impulse they arranged themselves in line, and stood with Yermah and Kerœcia, bowing acknowledgments and participating in dumb show with the spontaneous outpouring of good will.

“Alcyesta, Suravia, Mineola, accept the homage offered by Yermah, the Dorado, of Aztlan, lately arrived from Tlamco,” said Kerœcia. “These are my trusted hand-maidens. Receive service from them as from mine own hands.”

“Such grace and fair fellowship bankrupts the offices of speech. Alone, I am powerless to make adequate return; but here I have allies who will amply requite thee,” saying which he turned to make room for his companions, who had approached in the general confusion unobserved by the company. Setos and Orondo uncovered and waited back of their countrymen.

The gnomes, salamanders, sylphs, and undines of fairyland, peeping out from each leaf and fragrant bloom, never beheld a lovelier vision than that of Kerœcia and Ildiko, as they stood facing each other.

Kerœcia’s long, wavy bronze-red hair was confined by a jeweled band, with three white ostrich tips in the center. She was gowned in simple white, long and flowing. Around her neck were seven strands of pearls fastened to a medallion composed of ruby, topaz, emerald, sapphire, amber, amethyst and turquoise. Encircling her slender waist was an enameled and jeweled girdle. The loose sleeves fell back from exquisitely shaped arms, ornamented with bracelets, while numerous rings adorned her taper fingers.

In her big Oriental eyes, shaded with long lashes, was a glint of the bronze which the sun brought out in her hair. A ripened peach is the only fitting comparison for her cheeks, and her tiny, even teeth glistened white between the perfectly formed and curved lips which in parting revealed them.

Ildiko, taller, and more slight, was a sharp contrast, her fuzzy white hair, eye-brows, and lashes contrasting with her shell-pink skin. The pale blue of her dress strengthened the color of her eyes, which were so well set back that a full interpretation of their language baffled the observer. There were embroideries and jeweled passementeries, the rich arrangement of which showed the detail of her toilet. A gauze head-dress supporting a thin veil, which fell well down over her back, helped the illusion. She skillfully tried to get full benefit of the roseate rays reflected by an umbrella held over her head by an attendant.

Yermah took her hand and placed it in Kerœcia’s outstretched palm, and then put both his own over them protectingly.

“May such love as sisters bear each other bind thee.”

Then bringing Rahula forward, he presented her. A dark-red head-band, glistening with jetted embroidery and drooping ear ornaments enhanced the luster of her iron-gray hair, and somewhat softened the expression of her wrinkled face. Not a facet of the jet sparkled brighter than her beady, black eyes, which were never quite in accord with her thin smiling lips.

Simple gold bands without ornament confined the locks of Alcyesta, Suravia, and Mineola, that of the first and last being dark and abundant, while Suravia’s hair was like spun gold in texture and color. These bands did not go all the way around the head, but terminated over each ear in medallions, jeweled and enameled in quaint design. Alcyesta wore pale yellow; Suravia, lavender; and Mineola, pink. A bright plaid sash was tied about each waist, and fell to the hem in the back. Sandals with pointed toes, reaching well over the instep, protected the feet.

The other women wore dresses of cotton cloth made like chemises. These were of four colors, and worn one over the other. The edges were variously ornamented, some with figures, others again with embroidery or saw-teeth appliqués of a different shade. Necklaces of beads, jeweled belts, earrings, bracelets and sandals were common to them all. Some wore crowns or other fanciful head-covering with bright feather ornaments, while others braided their hair in two loose plaits, and covered their heads with an indescribably fine-woven basket, highly ornate, which came to a point at the top.

The Highlander of to-day would appreciate and admire the markings of the cloth worn by these sturdy mountaineers. For the leaders, there were plaids of seven colors; for the next in rank, five colors; for governors of fortresses, four colors; for captains, three colors; for warriors, two colors; for the common people, one color.

The warriors carried shields of flexible bamboo canes bound firmly together, and covered with rawhide. These were ornamented with porcupine quills, tortoise-shell, mother-of-pearl, and ivory, inlaid and skillfully etched with mineral dyes, the rank of the wearer being cleverly revealed in this manner. The shields were invariably circular and convex in form. Worn next to the body, were plain white garments of coarse texture, and on their heads were high conical hats, very like the Astrakhan caps of to-day. Leggins much wrinkled and heavy sole-leather sandals completed their costume.

In the solemn hush, four stalwart warriors of the Monbas stepped forward and knelt upon the shore, grasping each other by the inner fore-arm, near the elbow. Kerœcia and the three priestesses carefully lifted the ark from the boat and placed it in the receptacle made by the interlocked arms.

Taking a few of the ashes left in the urn, Kerœcia mixed them with salt, which she stirred with an aspergillus made of medical herbs tied to a hazel stick on which the four spirits were carved. The salt and incense ashes were consecrated separately before using. She then took the four alchemical elements, salt, mercury, sulphur and nitrogen, and sprinkled them over the man holding a chalice representing water; an eagle, with a nimbus around its head representing air; a tree of life, representing fire; and the sword of Mithra, who annually immolates the sacred bull. These correspond to mind, matter, motion and rest.

The special kingdom of the gnomes is in the north; that of the salamanders, in the south; that of the sylphs, in the east; and that of the undines, in the west. They influence the four temperaments of man. The gnomes, the melancholic; the salamanders, the sanguine; the undines, the phlegmatic; the sylphs, the bilious. The Monbas abjured them by breathing, sprinkling, burning of perfumes, and by tracing a pentagram on the ground.

Kerœcia holding a pentacle in one hand, and taking in turn a sword, a rod, and a cup, faced the lake and said:

“Angel with the blind eyes, obey me, or pass away from the holy water! Work, winged bull, or return to earth, if thou wouldst not be pricked by this sword! Fettered eagle, obey this sign, or retire before my wrath! Writhing serpent, crawl at my feet, or be tortured by the sacred fire, and evaporate with the perfumes I am burning! Water, return to water; fire, burn; air, circulate; earth, return to earth—by the power of the pentagram, which is the morning star, and in the name of the tetragram, which is written in the center of the cross of light. Auma!”

In the Egyptian and Jewish religions, three vestal virgins guard the ark, typical of the Immaculate conception—in that the ark contains an aerolite, or Heaven-born stone. In Greek mythology, the three graces guard the sacred urn. The name Suravia signified the sun-way, or river of light; Alcyesta, the ark, chest, or urn floating on the celestial river; while Mineola, personated the divine soul-mind liberated in the ark.

The flint-headed arrow is a phallic symbol of thought, and when the Monbas shot arrows over water it was to destroy their unseen enemies; the lake, to them, representing mind. The passage of the sun out of the watery sign in the Spring equinox was the festival Kerœcia and her people were celebrating.

CHAPTER SIX
THE AGREEMENT TO ARBITRATE THEIR SEVERAL DIFFERENCES

It was Jupiter’s Day (Thursday), and Akaza wore a scarlet robe of silk, with embroidered bands, having the twelve signs of the zodiac worked out in neutral tones of brown and green. On his head was a scarlet liberty-cap with the sign of Jupiter on the forehead and his long hair and beard had been curled into nine parts, typical of the nine phases of initiation which he had passed. He wore a sapphire ring on the middle finger of his right hand, and his breastplate was of emeralds, set in silver.

With a single tamane and a guide, Akaza followed the course of the Merced River and reveled in the luxuriant vegetation which changes in character and development according to locality.

Near the falls were dense growths of alder, willow and spruce, and in the upper valley were sugar-pine and yellow and bastard cedar in abundance.

The Balm of Gilead, poplar and black oak haunted the swampy places where snowy pond-lilies rode in imperious fashion over the moisture. There was a wilderness of sparkling mosses thriving in the spray of waterfall and cascade.

Back in cool, shady greeneries, were an infinite variety of ferns, ranging from tall bracken to feathery maidenhair clinging to the eerie crevices high up on the sky line.

Maple, laurel, and manzanita with dainty bell-shaped blossoms colored like a baby’s palm, had as companion another member of the buck-thorn family, the white lilac. And these seemed intent upon concealing the basis of the different falls. Here, also, was the madrono, “the harlequin of the woods,” in buff and red bark, in a chronic state of dishabille. But who would find fault with the toilet process which changes the older, darker bark for the delicate cream-colored covering which lies underneath?

A noisy, chattering bluejay, the scandal-monger of the bird family, protested vigorously against the incursion of this venerable old man. Vociferous and argumentative, the feathered opponent grew tired of useless opposition, and, as a practical joke, concealed itself in the clump of leaves and screamed like a hawk near where a flock of small birds were enjoying themselves in their own fashion.

The songsters recovered from their fright while the rascal was giving vent to a cackle which sounded like a derisive laugh, and then they combined forces to drive the intruder out of the neighborhood. The bluejay proved to be as full of fight as of mischief, but a severe conflict produced an appreciable amendment of manners.

Even the red-headed wood-pecker ceased hammering holes in the trees and stopped long enough to inspect the stranger. It may have been only a trick of the bluejay’s to entice the worker away from the tree to allow a raid on the store-house of acorns. It did the pilferer no good, however; for the carpenter-bird never makes a mistake in selecting acorns to fit the holes made for them. From the beginning of time the bluejay has never been able to appreciate this fact.

The chip-munks, the grasshoppers and the squirrels peeped and wondered from different points of vantage, while a mother partridge by fluttering and scurrying along the ground, sought to divert attention from her tiny striped-back brood huddled up on one foot under a friendly bunch of wild-strawberry leaves.

A pair of quail established themselves in the screen of a honey-suckle vine, and the little crested head of the family was feeding his small mate a dainty tidbit, having coaxed her up into that leafy retreat to discuss the viand. Ring-doves cooed lovingly to each other, while the now extinct wild turkey sunned itself and preened its bronze feathers, perched high on the top of the bare rock above.

Up near the snow-line were red patches of snow-plants, looking like huge semi-transparent globules of crystallized sugar, having stem, bells and leaves all of one color, curiously mingled and intertwined.

Every inch of Akaza’s advance was contested by some flowering plant. Sometimes it was the drooping boughs of the white blossoming dog-wood. Again, it was a rhododendron bush stubbornly blocking the way. Or, perhaps, it was a shower of azalea blooms that fairly smothered him. The spice-bush, with its long, slender green leaves, and odd-shape wine-colored flowers, locked horns with the tall shapely Shasta Lily.

The gossamer, glass-like mountain mahogany disputed honors with a flaring brown-and-orange tiger-lily, while the pentstemon, distinctly blue at the base and pink at the rim of its cup, coquetted with a dainty butterfly-lily. “Like a bubble borne on air, floats the shy Mariposa Bell,” with its purplish white, its faint tint of pink or pale gold, each petal brocaded in soft shades of bronze-brown or patched with plush, as if fairy finger-tips had smutched them before the paints were dry.

Who does not know the yellow buttercup which faces the world everywhere, the red columbine, whose chandelier of scarlet tongues makes light in dark places, or the well-beloved larkspur?

Then purple thistle, goldenrods and dandelions shook their heads vigorously in the refreshing breeze, and argued it out with the grasses and ice-plants lying flat on the ground, where only a muchly debased cactus bristled and threatened everything that ventured even to look at its forbidden fruit.

The day was well nigh spent when Akaza approached the camp near the mouth of the Indian Canyon. Yermah and Kerœcia advanced to meet him, hand in hand, like happy children. Kerœcia did not wait for a formal presentation but came forward graciously.

“Patriarch and hierophant,” she said, “this temple awaits thy ministration. The love and obedience of my people and myself are thine to command.”

“Fair daughter of the gods, thou hast already a place in my heart, as I perceive thou hast in the affections of my comrades. Mayst thou ever be surrounded by a nimbus of joy and gladness.”

As Akaza’s lips lightly brushed her glowing cheek, Yermah perceived that his vision was turned inward and that he prayed silently.

Kerœcia turned toward her attendants, but with her own hands served Akaza curds and a gourd of goat’s milk. She also broke the thin corn cakes and arranged some fruit temptingly near him. Akaza opened an oblong comb of wild honey and laid the ripe figs around it. As he poured thick, yellow cream over them, he murmured:

“As it was written! As it was written!”

Concerned for him, Yermah touched him on the shoulder.

“Is it not well?” he asked eagerly.

When the elder man saw the glow of happiness on the questioning face, he involuntarily groaned; but he answered steadily:

“From the beginning all things are ordered well.”

---

The evening shadows grew apace; but before darkness came on, Kerœcia prepared the pipes, which were to be lighted as an offering to fire.

Igniting the first one, a fragile porcelain bowl with an amber mouthpiece, she first drew three puffs out of the pipe, and then emptied the ashes on a platter of beaten silver. Dexterously replenishing the tobacco and substituting an ivory mouthpiece, she passed it to Yermah. He followed her example, and replacing the ivory with tortoise-shell, handed the pipe to Akaza.

The priestesses and the remainder of the company did likewise, always substituting one stick for another until all had smoked and each had a souvenir which was believed to bring good luck. The ashes were placed in the urn with the rose ashes collected from the ark—and the great Monbas festival was over.

Kerœcia was not a Monbas. Her people were known to the Atlantians as Ians; to the Persians, they were Scythians; to the Medes, they were known as Suani; to the early Europeans, they were Visigoths, alternately feared and admired; while by later generations, they were called Circassians.

Theirs was the Vinland of the Norsemen and their empire extended over a large part of ancient Persia. They were old in civilization, before Nineveh and Babylon. Theirs was the land of Phrasus, where the Argonauts sailed after the siege of Troy. At that time, they had outlying colonies along the Siberian and extreme northwestern coast of America. The Aleutian group of islands was then an unbroken chain, with a climate as mild as any portion of the temperate zone.

Kerœcia, a pure-blooded Aryan, was the crown princess of the reigning house of Ian, and it was after her abduction that the famous fortification named by the Greeks, “Gates of Caucasus,” was built in the Darien Pass of the Caucasus Mountains leading out from Tiflis.

From the beginning of history, patriotism and beauty have been accredited these people. Mithridates and Schamyl are the heroes of later times. There is a tragic pathos in the self-immolation this remnant of half a million souls voluntarily underwent when they were conquered by Russia. After this event, they emigrated in a body and became Turkish exiles.

“Speak freely, as thou wouldst to a father,” said Akaza to Kerœcia, privately, the next morning, while the whole company were on their way to Bridal Veil Falls. “If our offer to arbitrate between thy people and Eko Tanga is displeasing to thee, consider all things unsaid.”

“It is a question my followers must decide for themselves. They need have no fear. I will never leave them. They stole me away when a child but I love them as my own.”

“Rumor has it that thy visit was compulsory—that the Monbas brought thee here intending to fortify the place and then refuse to receive Eko Tanga.”

“This is not true. I came to perform the rite of renewal and purification, and shall tell the representatives from my father that I do not desire my so-called freedom. He should long ago have given the Monbas all that he has promised them in hope of having me returned to him.”

“Then thou art not retained against thy wish?” asked Yermah, who in company with Orondo joined them in time to hear the last remark.

“No, truly. The Monbas are as dependent as children and in no circumstances will I fail in my duty to them.”

“Wilt thou visit Tlamco while Eko Tanga is here?”

It would have been hard to determine which of the men felt the greatest interest in her answer. Yermah, Akaza and Orondo were each a study at this moment.

“My followers shall answer thy question. If consistent with their wishes, it will greatly please me to go.”

“Then we shall be honored with thy presence soon,” said Orondo. “A feeling of delicacy represses an expression of opinion. But I have knowledge that they will feel more secure if thou wilt accept our protection.”

“And the same feeling would prompt me to ask their permission,” she answered with a smile.

“So be it. To serve loyally is the office we desire.”

---

“This bright reflected glory pictures life,” exclaimed Yermah, as the warm afternoon sun spanned the long flowing veil of the falls with a succession of rainbows.

“Tell us why,” asked Kerœcia, and with a gesture of silence awaited an answer.

The pink and pride of Tlamco was before them, but he was still too young a man to teach philosophy. He looked appealingly at Akaza.

“Tell them why this rainbow is like the upward spiral compared with humanity,” directed Akaza. Then he turned to the multitude and said:

“Hear my pupil with patience. It is not lawful for youth to speak esoterically.”

Yermah flushed with pleasure and answered readily:

“Love, as the negative, or feminine, ray of Biune Deity is content and ever seeks to enfold. Wisdom, as the positive, or masculine, ray, is restless, and always in pursuit. The feminine forces in nature strive to encircle the atom, while the masculine attempt to propel it in a straight line. From this dual action of spiritual potentialities is born the spiral—the symbol of eternal progression. Man’s will is electric, penetrating and disruptive. The will of woman is magnetic, attractive and formative. The two express the polar opposites of nature’s creative powers.”

“The sun is the center,” continued the speaker, “and around him, like a group of obedient children, are the seven planets of the mystical chain. Each orb produces innumerable types of fauna and flora, corresponding to the action of its own peculiar grades of spiritual force. Each comprises a miniature world of its own. But each planet contains all the attributes of the other six.”

“We will engrave these sayings on plates of copper, write them on skins of animals, mold them on cylinders of clay, that they may instruct our tribesmen,” said the Monbas to each other in undertones.

“From the spinal column and the base of the brain issue streams of vitalizing power, causing individuals to attract or repel one another. These radiating magnets finally assume the form of spirals, which encircle the earth and penetrate to its very center, and then expand themselves, mist-like, into beautiful rainbows, such as we see here.”

“In which direction do they go?” asked Kerœcia.

“They flow backward in their orbit, and gradually ascend spirally. The first round corresponds to the earth’s annual orbit around the sun, and is red. Each convolution doubles in size as it ascends. The second round is orange; the third, yellow; the fourth, green; the fifth, blue; the sixth, indigo; and the last is violet.”

“Haille! Haille!” they cried. And the outburst was as spontaneous from one side as from the other.

---

Kerœcia held up her hand to command attention.

“Comrades, thou knowest the mission of our brothers from Tlamco. What are thy wishes?”

“We desire the little mother to follow her own inclination. We feel that she would be safe and free from annoyance in Tlamco,” they answered.

Kerœcia smiled broadly. Turning to Yermah, she asked:

“When will thy city receive me?”

“Whenever it pleases thee to come. We will gladly do escort duty now.”

“That were not possible. But in a fortnight expect me.”

“Haille! Haille!” echoed again and again.

It was fully an hour before the presents were all exchanged. There were exquisite articles of ivory, carved and chased in colors, and inlaid with metals and stones. Baskets of incredible fineness and blankets such as the Navajo Indians used to make were given by the Monbas.

Cunningly wrought cups of pottery were offered to Kerœcia by Ildiko, one being of her own make. It was round, and had for a handle a female head, which was an excellent likeness of herself. Taking a finely woven horsehair rope, which terminated in oblong onyx balls—Kerœcia swung one end high over her head, while retaining the other in her left hand. Facing Yermah, she entangled him completely by a dexterous turn of her wrists, despite his playful protest. The two balls swinging in opposite directions rapidly encircled and held him as if in a grip of steel.

“That, also, is a spiral movement,” she exclaimed, mischievously.

“And one which I have neither the desire nor the power to control or escape,” he replied, meaningly.

“The laws of hospitality declare the property confiscate to thee. The cord should be condemned to a life of hard service.”

“On the contrary, it shall have a high place in my affections, and shall receive state honors.”

There was that in his look and voice which sent the warm blood mantling to her cheek and brow.

Akaza came forward and with a blessing slipped a ring on her little finger. It was set with a garnet, having a lion intaglio.

“This will guard thee on thy journey, and prevent evil machinations from having control over the matters in hand.”

What she said in return was drowned in the blare of trumpets and the general preparations for departure.

“May Ambra plant flowers and make thy life a garden spot. May the Good Spirit protect and bless thee and thine,” was shouted after the moving column.

“May the spirits of darkness never cast a shadow on thy pathway,” came in answering echoes, as the trees and rocks finally hid the departing embassy.

CHAPTER SEVEN
KEŒCIA VISITS THE ENCHANTED GARDENS

It was called the “Lifting of Banners” the day that the high-priestess, Kerœcia, arrived in Tlamco and the anniversary was for centuries after, celebrated with much pomp and ceremony.

Stout ropes of similar fiber to that in use to-day were stretched from the inner to the outer circle of obelisks. At regular intervals along these lines were strung bits of cotton cloth in octavos of coloring, alternating square and triangular shapes with innumerable devices painted upon them.

Pennants of the priesthood, of the civic federation, and of the innumerable clans, were everywhere afloat on the breeze, while Iaqua was a mass of Monbas streamers, banners and flags. All of the balsas flew the colors of the high-priestess, and there was a splendid escort pageant along the canal.

When Kerœcia approached the landing, long lines of citizens extended from Iaqua to the water’s edge. As Yermah led the way in a state chariot, a deafening shout arose. The wheels fairly flew over the causeway as the thoroughbred horses galloped in even step under Yermah’s steady hand. Kerœcia stood beside him happy and smiling graciously.

The chariot was of ivory and gold, resplendent with jewels. The hub of each wheel was a golden sunburst, while the twelve spokes representing the signs of the zodiac, were outlined with appropriate gems and colors. This gorgeous state vehicle was drawn by three white horses caparisoned in creamy white and gold with rows of jewels and crests of tropic plumage held in place with long twisted ropes of yellow silk. A canopy of the same flaming yellow fabric intricately brocaded, protected the occupants from the sun.

Yermah wore a white chamois tunic, rich with gold embroideries, his head being covered with a helmet of the same metal. His mantle was a gorgeous feather mosaic of bronze green. In addition to a sword, he carried a circular shield of bronze, in the center of which was a dragon and in the outer edge were seven rings. The four seasons were also shown. The scenes represented plowing, seed-time, harvest, and winter surrounded by a meander symbolizing the ocean.

Kerœcia was enveloped in a mantle of ermine, lined with the soft gray breast of sea-gulls. On her head was a rainbow band of silk fastened in front by a jeweled aigrette. Both Kerœcia and Yermah wore the full decoration and insignia of their rank. The out-riders and attendants were mounted and equipped as befitted their station. Even Oghi, chained to the back of the chariot, seemed to enjoy the pageant.

The main entrance to Iaqua was on the south side, where the massive double-doors of the vestibule led to a terrace which was approached by broad, low steps. There were eight of these flights, and it required three more steps to reach the threshold which was of pink-veined marble. On each side of the rows of steps were slightly raised flat pedestals surmounted by groups of statuary of well-known Atlantian heroes. These burnished figures were made of that peculiar bronze amalgam, known only to the ancients, which never lost its original brilliancy, and being exceptionally hard was also of fine color.

There was a colonnade of massive marble pillars supporting a frieze and entablature. Above this was a flat roof surrounded by a parapet breast-high. The outside walls were of marble veneer unpolished and laid like rubble over the thick adobe bricks.

Once inside the vestibule, a scene of splendor greeted the eye. On the right, or eastern side of the entrance, was the rising sun-god driving his four horses out of the sea, the group being of flawless marble and of heroic size. The sunburst around the head of the figure, the trappings of the horses, and the trimmings of the chariot were of virgin gold.

On the left, or western side, the moon-goddess was represented as driving her horses into the sea. She was seated on the back of one and guiding the other six. This group was cut in black marble and profusely ornamented with silver.

The square vestibule was finished in hard woods, richly carved and polished. Rare and choice skins were stretched upon the inlaid floor, and there was a rose-jar of fine pottery at each side of the door. Richly carved chairs outlined the walls, while perfumed lamps hung above the mantel, beneath which glowed a bed of live coals. Placed over the blaze, on a thin glass rod, was a small ball of spongy platinum. The lamp was lighted and allowed to burn until the ball became a lurid red, after which the flame was extinguished, leaving the ball incandescent for a long time, gently heating the perfumed oil and sending a delicious fragrance throughout the room.

The vestibule opened into an interior court where a fountain played and birds of gay plumage kept up an incessant noise. Pet animals roamed at will. Seats were provided in the shady nooks and cushions for the tessellated floors. There was a colonnade in the inner court, similar in style to the outer one. The balcony overhead was of carved onyx surmounted by a veritable garden of rare plants in handsome pots, trellised and interlaced across the open space. A pyramidal fountain in an octagonal basin, placed in the center, was supported by eight huge bronze lions.

On the north, adjoining Yermah’s private apartments, were the reception rooms and banquet-halls. It was into the former that Kerœcia and her women were conducted while the men were made comfortable in the Hall of Ambassadors, to the west.

Here was a wainscoting of odoriferous cedar, carved as intricately as a sandal-wood fan, above which hung richly dyed tapestries of historical import, strips of silk embroidery and feather-work of indescribable beauty.

On the floor of pine, scrubbed to immaculate whiteness, lay a wonderful white carpet, bordered with gold and silver, in which were incrusted precious stones, representing many kinds of choice flowers. The leaves were formed of emerald, jade, aqua marine, and Amazon stones, while the buds and blossoms were composed of pearls, rubies and sapphires in the rough. The only cut and polished stones in the entire carpet were the diamonds, sparkling in the center of the blossoms, like dewdrops.

Curtains as fine as cobwebs hung over the tiny square-paned windows, and there were many terra cotta stools, ornamented in low-tone outline work, detailing the mythology and folk-lore of Atlantis.

Exquisite screens closed all entrances except the outside, where thick bronze slabs were fastened by heavy bolts and chains. Admission was sought by striking these plates with a mallet of inlaid bronze.

A cloudless, moonlight sky added much to the fairy-like effect of the night scene. Between the banners were silken lanterns gay in coloring, shade and decoration, and these twinkled like spheres of many-colored fire. The brilliant blaze of light on the signal-towers, the innumerable rockets, showering gold, silver or rainbow balls in profusion, or long, forked arrows, made the night a memorable one.

Setos, the inventor of pyrotechnics, outdid himself, and the whole population were in attendance to witness and enjoy the display. Not a housetop in Tlamco but answered the pretty code of greetings arranged from the battlements of Iaqua. By these means Kerœcia was enabled to thank each regiment, guild, clan and family taking part in her triumphant entry early in the day.

When the high-priestess opened her door the next morning, she found the passage barred by big-faced velvet pansies, crisp, fresh and still moist with dew.

“To whose thoughtfulness am I debtor?” she asked of one of the armed guardians pacing the hallway before the door.

“To Orondo. And he begs that thou wilt accept his escort for a visit to the gardens, at such hour as best suits thy pleasure and comfort.”

“It will please me to see him at once,” she answered.

Alcyesta, Suravia and Mineola were examining the rare basket filled with flowers which Yermah had sent with a kindly message.

“The daffodils show his regard; the ferns, his sincerity; and the violets, his extreme modesty,” they said, with giggling laughter, betraying the tension of nerves still animating them. They were agog with expectation, and when told of the projected visit to the peerless gardens they entered into the arrangement with all the zest and abandon of curious girlhood.

“From the roses on thy cheeks, I am justified in the inference that troops of good entities have guarded thy slumbers,” said Orondo, when the women came into the vestibule where he was awaiting them.

“I can only hope that the same blessed oblivion has been thy portion,” responded Kerœcia.

“Rahula, Ildiko and Alcamayn join us at the sun-dial, presently. They are intent upon a natal observance which, by thy leave we shall witness.”

Palanquins were their mode of conveyance.

“Alcyesta, Suravia and Mineola, look at the answer to our signals of last night,” exclaimed Kerœcia. “Oh! see the rose garlands on the obelisks, and the beautiful flowers everywhere!”

As she said this, a delegation of school children strewed her pathway with wall-flowers.

“Fidelity in adversity! How considerate and kind thou art!”

She begged to be set down and stood with her hands full of the blossoms, which she repeatedly carried to her lips, tossing them to the children about her. It was an indiscriminate mass of little ones, augmented by a bevy of older girls, laden with myrrh, wheat, oats and sprigs of heliotrope. Before Kerœcia realized it, her vacant chair was filled with flowering sage and Sweet William in bloom.

This language of esteem and gallantry was a tribute from some warrior priests sent to keep order and to assist in escort duty. Kerœcia and her companions wound the flower-wreaths in their hair, placed clusters of the same at their throats, and in their girdles, and carried as many more as their hands could hold.

“Haille! Haille!” spearsmen and school children shouted in chorus, only desisting when the garden gates were reached, and the party halted for a final exchange of courtesies. Kerœcia turned to Orondo.

“I love these kind, good-hearted people,” she said.

“Small wonder that they should love thee in return. The Monbas are not the only men willing to die for thee.” The flush on his face, his earnestness of manner and speech, should have warned Kerœcia; but at that moment, she was intently examining the sculpture on the stone aqueduct, here emptying into an artificial lake. Realizing the situation, Orondo was quick to turn it to advantage.

“I have a feeling of kinship with this body of water, since it is mine by right of plan and construction. The gardens are my special charge. We of Aztlan have choice of occupation, and I have sole command over this spot.”

“Thou art generously endowed with the sense of the beautiful,” she returned, in appreciation. “I am curious to know why this curbing is not in straight, but in wavy lines.”

“Because it is a meander imitating a river of spiritual force. The carving, also, conveys the same idea.”

---

The party had crossed the avenue leading from the market walls to the Temple of Neptune. The aqueduct surrounded the outside enclosure, and was built of solid sandstone and masonry, supported by arches of the same. The water in the canal came from Lake La Honda and skirted Blue Mountain. Where it emptied into Ohaba Lake, in the gardens, it made a pretty cascade over a profusion of rocks and water-plants.

To the right of the market was a sun-dial, which was a colossal bronze figure of a full-armored warrior thrusting furiously at his own shadow. This statue, of perfect model and workmanship, was placed on a pivot which revolved once in every twenty-four hours. At the feet was a glass dial, whose grains of gold slipped out at stated intervals, one at a time, sticking fast on the quicksilver bed prepared for them. The warrior could only scowl at, and threaten the shining hours.

When the sun at rising darted a direct shadow by the gnomon, or machete, in the hand of a soldier, and at its height, or mid-day, the figure made no shade, the populace adorned it with leaves and odoriferous herbs. Then they placed a chair made of choice cut-flowers on top of the helmet, saying that the sun appeared on his most glittering throne. After this, with great ostentation and rejoicings, they made offerings of gold, silver and precious stones.

Among the spectators of the ceremony, were Kerœcia and Orondo. His interest centered wholly in her—hers, in the novel rites and the people, who seemed to feel honored by her presence.

On an eminence beyond the sun-dial was the House of Piety, a structure having many apartments, filled with priests devoted to the healing art. The grounds between were laid out in regular squares and the intersecting paths were bordered with trellises supporting creepers and aromatic shrubs. These swayed in the breeze, partially screening the view by a quaint tracery of floral net-work.

Setos had been paying a visit to the House of Piety. On his way to the salt-water fish-ponds, located near Temple Avenue, but further up, he was startled by a low, sullen growl, and a quick leap into a clump of bushes near him. He was unarmed, save for a serpentine knife in his leather belt, and this he instantly unsheathed and was prepared for attack. He had not long to wait before the blood-shot eyes of Oghi peered through the greenery, and he could hear its tail lashing on the ground as the animal prepared for a spring.

At this juncture, there was an ominous rattle of the chain, and, in an instant, Oghi had turned a complete somersault in the air. Akaza jerked the chain hard enough to snap the self-clasping catch planned for such an emergency, and the ocelot came down on three legs.

“Down, Oghi! Down, sir!” sternly commanded Akaza. This was answered by a howl of mingled rage and surprise, as Oghi crouched with each hair on back and tail erect with hostility.

“Remain motionless, Setos! Shouldst thou move I would not be responsible for the consequences,” commanded Akaza, as he hastily twisted the chain around a good-sized flowering shrub. He managed to get the eye of the infuriated animal, and in a few moments the danger was over. None but a man absolutely master of self and conditions, could have quelled this beast as Akaza did.

“Oghi, lie down! Lie down, sir!”

Without the least show of resistance, the ocelot obeyed him.

“What thievish mischief has that brute been doing?” asked Setos, allowing anger to supplant a sickening sense of fear.

“Let us ascertain. He has broken away from his keeper, else he would not be here,” replied Akaza.

“Dost thou see footprints in the soft mud at the bottom of the tank? I am persuaded that Oghi made a meal of the rarest fish in the pond.” Setos was at his favorite occupation—he did so dearly love to exaggerate misdeeds of any kind.

“There are feathers, too, all about here,” he called as he ran from one rookery to another. “There are but four of the quetzal left in the silver fir. Yermah cannot be permitted to give away any of them. All he can do is to present these feathers to the high-priestess.”

Setos came back with a handful of brilliant green plumes, about three feet long showing rainbow tints in their metallic luster. There was also a portion of scarlet breast still dripping with blood, but that was all.

“I find this luminous tree badly broken,” said Akaza. “Oghi must have attempted to jump over it. He has broken the whole top off, and split the bole down to the roots. Disappointment awaits Orondo because he planned to bring our visitors here and show them how this tree lights up its surroundings at night. It were best to find out whether the torch-fish has been injured.”

Setos poked and raked among the pools and eddies of the pond, but reported the torch-fish uninjured. This member of the finny tribe does not use the torch for purposes of illumination. When mealtime comes, it lights up to attract smaller fish. They, mistaking the lantern for a phosphorescent insect, dart at it only to find their way into a pair of capacious jaws.

The evidence was wholly circumstantial; but, it was decided to make an example of Oghi, so the ocelot was led up the main thoroughfare hobbling on three legs.

As a matter of fact, Oghi had spent the entire morning chasing his own shadow, going into a veritable spasm of excitement when he saw his image reflected in the water. It took him long to decide that it was not some other animal when the image moved. Oghi tired himself out trying to discover the reason why the reflection undulated and rippled, when he, himself, was motionless. He flounced in and out of the pond so often, that he could not possibly have caught a fish. They were securely hidden through it all, and a huge rat did the damage found in the aviary.

Poor Oghi! His greatest fault was an abiding dislike to Setos, and his antipathies seemed to center around that one idea. This was why he snarled and snapped every time he came near the sun-dial. By some process of reasoning, the ocelot decided that the sun-dial was modeled after Setos.

These repeated plunges disturbed the glass-bottomed wooden box, used to produce a beautiful optical illusion in the salt water. The box was without cover, and so placed that the glass bottom was slightly below the surface. This arrangement enabled the observer to look steadily downward to the sea-floor itself. The first impression was that the glass possessed magical powers. Not a tree, nor a flower actually on the land above, but was here reflected in colors and forms of airiest grace.

Orondo piloted his party to where there was a sheltered cocoa-palm tree. This was a very unusual tree, for on more than one occasion a vegetable pearl had been found among its branches. Such an one was given to Kerœcia, and she was also allowed the choice of opals taken from the joints of bamboo reeds.

“If thou art willing,” said Alcamayn, “I will cut the seven pointed star of Jupiter in this gem at the polishing, and then thou wilt have an amulet against disease.”

“By so doing, thou wilt give great pleasure, and, if agreeable I desire a bracelet made of this vegetable ivory,” she answered.

“Why not put the pearl in the center and an opal on each side?” suggested Ildiko. “Here is a perfect match for the one thou hast chosen. Why not have the sign of Jupiter cut on one and his star on the other? This will surely bring good fortune.”

While they were selecting the ivory and discussing the details of ornament, Orondo busied himself with a tiny filigree silver cage containing a couple of giant fire-flies.

“Am I in an enchanted garden?” laughingly inquired Kerœcia when she was tolled off to a shady nook to inspect these wonderful insects. Orondo covered the cage with a black cloth, and instantly a ruddy glow proceeded from two glandular spots between the eyes and under each wing of the fire-flies. Soon the rays changed to a golden yellow, equal to a candle in brightness.

“To protect thee from genii,” said Orondo, “are a pair of racket-tailed humming-birds. These little fellows are booted and spurred like regular warriors, and are competent to fight any size or condition of feather-wearer.”

The cage, rich in carving, was made of sandal-wood. From the pagoda-like roof hung four small triangular-shaped banners.

“It were a gentle soul which planned these kind remembrances,” murmured Kerœcia, softly.

“These come from one who has been deeply moved by the simplicity of thy ministrations,” gallantly responded Orondo.

Kerœcia unwittingly led the way toward a swampy-looking inclosure fenced by poison-ivy and climbing sumac which she did not dare touch.

“Thou art wandering into forbidden domains,” remonstrated Orondo, hastening to her side. “Nature broods her deadliest poisons in this company. Here the carrot, parsnip, and celery families are undergoing regeneration. In time, I shall have them suitable for food. That pretty lily thou art admiring is the deadly hemlock; and here are the foxglove, the henbane, and the jimson-weed——”

“Surely I need no reminder of murderous quality here,” rejoined Kerœcia. She was gazing at a cluster of aconite. “My people have used this with terrible effect on themselves and on their enemies.”

She had reference to the poisoned arrows employed by the Monbas in their expeditions against the Ians.

A swift-footed runner, wearing state livery, approached, and prostrating himself before Kerœcia, said:

“Yermah, the Dorado, presents his compliments, and begs that the high-priestess, Kerœcia, will grace the Hall of Embassadors with her presence. Ben Hu Barabe, Eko Tanga, and the Dorado await her there.”

“Immediate compliance is the only form grateful obedience takes,” she answered, while a swift pallor overspread her countenance. “Let us go at once!”

A shade of disappointment came over Orondo’s face. He had hoped to show Kerœcia more of the beauties of this royal garden. There was something of the impatience of the lover and the selfishness of a rival in his feeling. They were passing through the landscape set with night-blooming plants.

As they neared Lake Ohaba, a long, narrow body of water, formed artificially, there were masses of water-lilies anchored on the surface. Tiny air-bubbles and tinier mouths indicated the presence of gold and silver fish, darting about unmindful of the waterfowl feeding on the banks, or sunning themselves on the floating gardens which dotted the miniature lake.

Bridges, ponds, waterfalls and temples covered the landscape of the floating gardens, but everything was constructed on the smallest scale possible. The trees were old and gnarled, and the moss-covered masonry was no larger than a doll’s house and grounds. Even the dahlias and the chrysanthemums were dwarfed into pigmy sizes.

Kerœcia must have felt something of Orondo’s disappointment; for, she halted in front of the fanciful pavilion facing these movable wonders and ordered the palanquin which was to convey her back to Iaqua.

“I am loathe to leave the spot where Nature and man have wrought so well together,” she said, with simplicity and appreciation.

“Such pretty reluctance reconciles one to that obedience which sometimes tries the souls of men,” responded Orondo, satisfied with the admiration so plainly reflected in her open countenance.

As the tamanes knelt to receive their human freight, one of them presented Kerœcia with a basket ornamented with beads and feathers in quaint combination, and filled with ripe pomelos. The fruit was partially concealed by grape leaves, and was a simple offering to quench thirst.

---

In laying out the city of Tlamco, the four points of the compass were designated by different colors. The east, from whence come revivified nature and springtime, was marked by green. This symbolizes fulfillment and perfection. It holds out the hope of immortality and victory, in the laurel and in the palm. For this reason was the emerald considered the happiness-bringing stone. The Aztecs, Chinese, and Persians attach great significance to green as all their uniforms and ceremonies demonstrate.

The west was designated by white, the emblem indicating integrity in the judge, humility in the sick, and chastity in women. In a spiritual sense it is the acme of all—divinity. When worn as mourning white expresses negation of self.

The south was red, signifying fire, and all phases of life on the physical plane. The red color of the blood has its origin in the action of the heart, which from time immemorial has been associated with love.

The north was black, ever the symbol of death and despair. These people knew of the recurring Ice Age, and to them the north was typical of death, since all former civilization had perished from extreme cold.

The center of the city was marked yellow, in honor of the sun, the symbol of light and wisdom.

The Grand Servitor was expected to wear a yellow or red head-covering with gold ornaments, and he must at all times use yellow for a parasol or canopy. The highest dignitaries carried green umbrellas and there was always a bit of green showing in the head-coverings. The lower officials carried red parasols or wore red; while the citizens wore black, or carried black overhead.

Akaza was always provided with a white umbrella.

CHAPTER EIGHT
A COVETED SPOT AND A PRICELESS TREASURE

The Hall of Ambassadors at Iaqua was still the scene of an animated discussion.

There were groups of scribes, runners and astrologers excitedly examining maps and charts, while knots of citizens gathered around the old men and heard from their lips the particulars. Some were priests, others were treasure keepers, judges and councilors; but one and all were disposed to stand by the records.

Patient, respectful tamanes glided noiselessly here and there, opening and placing some of the books on the tables ready for inspection, while they closed and carried others back to the vaulted recesses where they had been under lock and key since the foundation of Tlamco. Some of the manuscripts were on cotton cloth, others were of carefully prepared skins, tanned and dressed until soft as silk.

For ages the Indians have known how to prepare superior chamois. When they tan a skin it looks like soft, pliant yellow velvet and has an odor peculiar to itself. These qualities are imparted by smoking it thoroughly over a fire composed of certain herbs. Rain has no effect upon well-tanned Indian buckskin. This is why an Indian moccasin is always as yielding as cloth, while as thick and soft as felt.

A composition of gum and silk tissue made by a process known to-day by the Japanese and Chinese was invariably used by the Monbas for the transcription of public documents. Their books were bound with blocks of polished wood, and folded together, like a fan. These surfaces were inscribed on both sides so that the writing was continuous, ending where it began, but on the opposite side of the same square.

Around Ben Hu Barabe, the Civil Chief of the Monbas, were a number of Monbas warriors in full coats of mail and side arms. Setos mingled freely with them and appeared to espouse their side of the controversy, while Akaza conversed in subdued tones with Eko Tanga, the tall, fierce-looking, but well-mannered emissary from the Ians. Yermah had that freedom and grace of movement born in natural leaders, and there was an unconscious recognition of this quality wherever he went among the disputants.

A young Monbas warrior stood near him and leaned intently over the neatly inscribed parchment rolls bearing the official seal of Atlantis. The leaves of maguey and agave had been used in the fabrication of this beautiful paper.

“These measurements and observations were taken shortly after the shaping of Hotara (Lone Mountain), and before the surrounding tumuli had been finished,” said Yermah.

He was seated at a round table in the center of the room in an entirely characteristic pose. One foot was drawn well back and poised on the toes, while the other was thrust forward but little in advance of the knee and leg. On his head a single band of filigree gold was relieved by a carbuncle of rare brilliancy which sparkled warm and glowing in the medallion center.

The Dorado’s cloth-of-gold cloak, lined with scarlet and black brocade, was thrown carelessly back from his shoulders, and his thumb, which grasped the edge of the table to balance his body, as he leaned forward eagerly, was banded by a curiously wrought signet ring. There was masculinity and strength in the jewel which was the only ornament on the virile hand.

“Our ancestors knew these things well,” answered the warrior after a minute examination.

“The city was young then. But I see no reason why the accuracy of this work should be questioned. I hope that Ben Hu Barabe may be induced to see it so.”

“The scale is one one-hundred-millionths, and shows the diameter of all the planets from Hotara. There has been but little variation in eccentricity of orbits since,” declared Yermah, now busy with computations, which he made by using an abacus, as the Chinese have always done.

Ben Hu Barabe still studied his maps and charts. He was industriously making deductions from the highly colored picture-writing, though the cloth on which they were painted was yellow and musty with age. His calculations were from Las Papas as a center. In present day reckoning the radius extended from Clarendon Heights along the coast to Pescadero Point; then to Santa Cruz and Point Reyes. From these observations the first surveys were made, and it was from these markings that the treaties had been negotiated between the Monbas and the Atlantians when the latter colonists first came.

“It is not easy to ascertain the date of our computations and measurements,” said Ben Hu Barabe. “But the land in dispute is not much, at any rate. If Eko Tanga insists that his government has some unsettled claim against the Monbas, I am willing that thou shouldst decide it,” he said to Yermah.

“The difference is considerable between the calculation of one one-hundred millionths and one of one-fifty millionths. And there is a variance between The Twins and Hotara as central points,” Yermah replied. “In my time the place of the sun in the center of Tlamco has been the point of vantage. Computations of the diameters of the heavenly hosts are here accurately given.”

“From the beginning until now, the Monbas have reckoned all their happenings by this picture,” said Ben Hu Barabe, his voice again showing signs of irritation. “It is held in our inner hearts with profound reverence, and it is a vexation of spirit to have it questioned. Eko Tanga has little respect for the traditions and pride of the mountain people.”

“The high-priestess Kerœcia, will then lend us her counsel,” said Yermah, soothingly. “She is of the blood of Ian, but she loves the Monbas well. Her serene countenance confronts us,” he added hastily, as the crowd separated to make room for the high-priestess and the entire party from the gardens.

Every woman knows that it was not the fresh air, only, which gave the color to Kerœcia’s cheek, and made her eyes sparkle like tiny stars as she permitted Yermah to conduct her to a seat beside him under the grand canopy. All Tlamco had a feeling of satisfaction in the manner and the method of his escort. Some time elapsed before either could sufficiently acknowledge the applause spontaneously given; but when the Dorado held up his hand commanding silence, the stillness was absolute.

“Comrades and friends, a difference of opinion exists between the emissary of Ian, Eko Tanga, and Ben Hu Barabe, Chief of the Monbas, as to the hereditary rights of each to the lands now held by the Azes. Before our beloved Tlamco rested among the seven hills, there were wise men who noted the ways of the sun, and his attendants, and decreed that thus far, and no farther should the limits extend. No one disputed the rights of the Monbas. They made The Twins their own, and no one murmured. Then appeared the hordes of Ian. They came through the trackless forest of the Aleuts, following the warm tide southward. The snow-peaks of Elias, Tacoma, and Shasta[^[5]] pointed the way and after many days they came to the end of the Monbas possessions.”

Among the Monbas there was a tempestuous wave of displeasure against the revival of old scores and the ill-will was as heartily returned by Eko Tanga’s attendants. As for principles, their faces effectually masked the feelings while they gave Yermah their undivided attention.

“Here they found an amicable agreement between these brave men and the children of Atlantis,” continued Yermah, conscious of the under-current of feeling. “It makes my heart glad to tell how the Azes and the Monbas have always been friends.”

“Haille! Haille!” shouted his hearers, with one voice. “Haille! Haille!”

Satisfied that the ebullition of temper had safely spent itself, the Dorado boldly stated the point in dispute.

“It pleased the leaders of the Azes to erect a new city on the ruins of an old abandoned temple site, and they re-surveyed the vicinity from Mount Hotara. Like the Monbas sages, they had counsel of the heavenly bodies, and found the degree of prophecy fulfilled in the markings. It were a wearisome task to hear all of the things done at that time, but the Monbas and the Azes feel that they were well done.”

Again the unspoken words reached his ears and the upturned faces before him beamed with satisfaction.

“The Monbas reckoned from The Twins to a smaller scale, but they took cognizance of the stars. Time has altered the bearings; but truth was in the beginning and must prevail in the end. Due allowance was then made for the failure of agreement between the new and the old reckonings, and for the difference in the point of view. The treaty following, whereby the Monbas gave eternal consent to the designs of the Azes, has been a source of joy to the Azes always.”

“And to us,” assented the Monbas, with a clamorous noise.

“Our friend and brother, Eko Tanga,” continued Yermah, bowing to the Ians as he spoke, “comes with a claim against the decision of our ancestors. He denies the right of the Monbas to cede land to the Azes, since the Monbas came under allegiance to Ian, after the treaty was promulgated, and before the solemn covenant had record. The patient skill and industry of Atlantis has made this a garden spot, and the Ians desire recognition of their pretentions.

“The murmurings of the Monbas have softened the hearts of the Ians, and their king decrees that the Monbas shall be free from tribute and have dominion over the land claimed by them, provided they will release the princess and the high-priestess Kerœcia from bondage.”

Here the Monbas laughed derisively. Even Kerœcia smiled.

“It were unseemly of the Azes to interrupt their Servitor,” said Orondo, sternly, as he sprang to his feet and faced his people determinedly. The rebuke did not fail of effect.

The undulating walls in different portions of Tlamco represented the gyrations of the cosmic serpent, which is matter, and quaintly sets forth man’s incomings to, and out-goings from, material life. On a grand scale, the three points symbolized man’s redemption by harmonizing the three planes of existence. Religious sentiment, as well as race prejudice, had something to do with the hostile feeling prevalent in the factions.

“Sufficient purses have been exchanged to make trade even, but the boundaries still lie in dispute,” continued Yermah.

“Will the Dorado and these people hear me?” asked Eko Tanga, moved to speech.

“The safeguards of courtesy may be trusted thus far,” quickly responded Yermah. “Apply thine ear faithfully that thou mayst comprehend the truth,” he added, as he sat on a level with Kerœcia.

“A matter deserving close attention is the correction of the hazy, indistinct records by which certain lands are ceded,” declared Eko Tanga. “The increase in learning makes the measurements legitimately subject to inquiry, and I crave assistance from the wise men here assembled. All Tlamco reckons from its center, and observes the present houses of the firmament for confirmation. By careful estimate, there is yet some favor due my master from the Monbas. A covenant to remain south of Elias’s cone is all that the king desires. He is content to forego tribute or war service below this mountain.”

It was plain that there were voices in the multitude which favored the Ians. It was known that the Monbas originally came from Ian, and loyalty to fatherland was a sterling virtue of the Azes.

Setos, quick to turn an advantage to himself, came forward and claimed a hearing.

“The sacred traditions of past times,” he said, “lie deep in the hearts of the faithful, but justice demands much for posterity. The future is best served by full recognition of Monbas independence; they, in turn, must acquit themselves with honor. No man among the Azes desires to keep that which is not fairly won.”

“Dost thou dare to accuse us of unfairness?” cried Ben Hu Barabe, rising hastily.

“The Ians have long discoursed against the award of land made by us to the Azes. Much travail of spirit has befallen us because of our pledges to thy ancestry. Fie upon thee, for an ingrate!” he continued, hotly.

Yermah and Akaza were on their feet in an instant.

“Setos had spoken without consideration,” said Akaza, mildly. “No possible import of unfairness is due to either party here. The measurements are the only questions to consider. Now, as of old, the digit, the palm of the hand, the face, and the cubit are the only means of reckoning. The first joint of the finger is no longer; the middle of the palm no wider; the cubit from finger to elbow is the same. But the stars have changed their courses; even the zodiac has slipped its leashes. Man may profit by such example. Have done with this useless turmoil. Let the Ian have his due, and let the high-priestess Kerœcia, loose her own bonds.”

When he ceased speaking, the silence was intense.

“For this did I beseech thy presence,” said Yermah, aside to the agitated princess.

“We love the priestess Kerœcia, and we will obey her,” said Ben Hu Barabe, simply.

“The royal father and mother of the princess mourn continually. They beg and implore that she may be the light of their declining years. All Ian awaits an answer; and for that country I agree to abide by thy decision.” Eko Tanga bowed toward Kerœcia, appealingly.

Striving to govern her emotion, Kerœcia put out a trembling hand to Yermah, and suffered herself to be led forward where she could be both seen and heard. She buried her face in her hands for a moment, then lifted it pale and stricken, but resolute.

“My comrades and my countrymen, duty oppresses my heart profoundly. That I do love and honor these who gave me life need not be affirmed. All that my father demands, I hereby pledge the Monbas to render. For myself there is no peace apart from the duty I owe these children of the forest. They look to me for spiritual guidance, and I will not leave them.” Her voice faltered, and she seemed ready to faint.

In the interim of silence, Eko Tanga said: “So be it! So be it!”

“Tell my beloved father that I can best serve him here; and that as proof of my devotion, I pledge my people to lasting peace. Hast thou the treaty in readiness?”

She made no pretense of reading its provisions, but turned to Ben Hu Barabe, and said authoritatively: “Sign!”

He readily affixed his signature. Eko Tanga followed, and then Yermah made use of the high-set signet on his thumb.

And this was the beginning of the end.

CHAPTER NINE
THE WOMEN’S DAY IN BOOTH AND BAZAAR

It was fully ten o’clock before Kerœcia, attended entirely by women, finally made her appearance. She drove a splendid team of woodland caribou, harnessed to her traveling cart now made gay with bunting and flowers. There were tiny nosegays tied to the palmated antlers sweeping back over the long, shaggy bodies. The ribbons were threaded from one wide expanse to its fellow on the opposite side, and even to the bez-tynes coming down between the eyes and spreading protectingly over the elongated beak-like nose.

The snap and click of the spreading false hoofs of the caribou announced the advent of the party. Rahula and Ildiko stood on each side of Kerœcia, while Alcyesta, Suravia and Mineola balanced themselves by placing their hands on the shoulders in front of them.

Matu, Saphis and Phoda, the three caribou, were a perfect match in color, size and gait. The animals stood over three feet high with very wide and many tyned, spreading antlers. Matu, who was driven in the lead had a short shaggy mane of grayish white which lightened his reddish-brown coat, his four feet being evenly marked by the same white band. The strong necks, knee-joints and short muscular legs were built for strength and these roadsters handily trotted past the barking dogs in the streets and on the highways. Their big eyes had nothing of the gazelle quality in them, but were alert, and the short lily-cup ear heard acutely, while the sense of smell was their finest quality.

If it were possible to imagine hilarity in a countenance so long drawn out and preternaturally grave, it may be said that these sagacious animals enjoyed showing their heels too, and dusting everything encountered on the road. Or, it may have been that they were envious of the burros with their bulging sides, dodging out of their way as they flew by.

A word and a sudden checking of the reins fastened to the nose, brought the team to a standstill in front of a basketry. Here the party alighted and Kerœcia caressed her roadsters, giving each one a cake of salt, and scratching its nose affectionately. They manifested pleasure in their own special fashion, and suffered themselves to be coaxed away by a bundle of dry moss.

Inside the building were girls assorting thick packages of willow wands, and long stemmed, wiry grasses as well as splits of palms.

Kerœcia’s eyes lit up as she recognized some of her favorite weaves. Bending over a young girl she took the work from her hands and began explaining an intricate decoration.

“Fifteen stitches to the digit is not fine enough for this acorn pattern, twenty-eight will serve thee better. Where the point of the acorn cuts off here, a bottom must be put in to give it standing power.”

When the coil was properly started in stitch and pattern, she picked up a handful of grass soaking in a shallow basket basin near by, and dexterously fashioned a tiny acorn, perfect in color and shape.

“Use this for a handle on the acorn cup suitable to cover this basket,” she said.

To the delighted exclamations of thanks, she replied:

“May a good husband and sweet children grace thy home and bless thee with loving kindness.”

The shamaness of the basket guild withdrew from a coil she had been weaving a priceless heirloom, inherited from her great-great-grandmother. This proved to be a long needle made from the wing-bone of a hawk and was believed to be an amulet of good luck.

“Will the high-priestess honor and make me happy by accepting this little token? She who uses it will have the blessing of the whole guild.”

Kerœcia took the polished implement, and motioned one of her tamanes to approach. From his hands she received a parcel so delicate and precious that it was protected by a basket-covering of unique design. When she disclosed the contents there was an involuntary exclamation of “A—h—!” from all the curious weavers cognizant of it.

“Will the shamaness make me happy by accepting this example of my handicraft? I have worked on it three years,” she said.

The gift was a fancy basket covered entirely with red-headed woodpeckers’ scalps, among which were placed at intervals many hanging loops of tiny iridescent shells. Around the rim was an upright row of black quails’ top-knots, nodding gayly.

Presently, a representative of the guild brought forward a dice-table top made in anticipation of this visit. It was a round, flat tray, ornamented with dark-brown water lines on a cream-white ground. With it were eight acorn-shaped dice, inlaid with abalone shell and some richly carved ivory sticks with which to keep tally. The acorn shells had first been filled with pitch, and when hardened cleverly inlaid with abalone. Cradle and burden baskets used for storing grain differed in no wise from the weaves of the Monbas.

Row after row of every imaginable stitch and material filled the roomy building. Kerœcia was respectful in her attention to the workers but she forbore a longer interruption of the general trend of the work.

Into the pueblo, set apart for the pottery, one might with profit follow, or linger over the looms of the rug and blanket weavers, as Kerœcia did. But it is fair to suppose that modern eyes are familiar with the striking peculiarities of the Daghestan rugs and Navajo blankets, the stitches of one being familiar to the descendants of Kerœcia’s forebears, while the Navajo Indians have preserved the secret of the other. One is characteristic of native Oriental invention, the other of native American.

“There is need of haste in returning,” admonished Rahula, as the women climbed back into the car and started cityward. “We are due at the marketplace now.”

“Content thyself. The caribou is an excellent traveler,” was Kerœcia’s assurance, as she gathered up the reins and shook the many stranded whip over the horns of her team. They started forward with the easy stride common to the elk family, and were not long in clearing a passage way through the tamanes, trotting along the road carrying huge, well-filled baskets, one on each end of a pole slung across the shoulder. Mingling with them were burros so well burdened that nothing but their noses, tails and forefeet were visible.

The social corner-stone of Tlamco was not the family but the clan. Husband and wife must belong to different gentes, and the children claimed descent from the mother. The spheres of the sexes were clearly defined but manfully, the wife being the complete owner of the house and all it contained. If a mother, she was not required to perform other than household duties. Slovenliness was severely punished in both sexes, and so was idleness.

At no time was the life of the ordinary woman of greater hardship than is that of the wife of a poor man in any enlightened or so-called Christian country to-day. Should her husband ill-treat her, a woman of this civilization could permanently evict him from the home. The husband owned the crops until they were housed, and then the wife had an equal voice in their distribution. The live stock was his; but there was an unwritten code which forbade his disposing of it without consulting his wife.

For these reasons, certain of the afternoon hours of each day were set apart, in the market, by the guilds, for the reception of the women. They came in two sections, and took turns, so that each guild received a weekly visit. It was to head a procession of this kind, visiting the bazaars devoted to Monbas handiwork, that Kerœcia and her attendants hurried through the streets.

“See the crowds of children, the priestesses and the women,” said Kerœcia, as they whirled through a circular gateway leading to the bazaar.

“They are waiting for us,” exclaimed Ildiko, with a glow of satisfaction and self-importance. “Setos, the wise and kind father, forgive our being tardy,” she continued; “we were detained on such loving pretexts as befits the exalted regard felt for our guests.” She gave her hand to Alcamayn and bounded lightly to the ground.

“Shame oppresses me sorely for having kept thee waiting,” said Kerœcia, as she suffered Orondo to assist her.

“Thy dalliance was slight,” he answered gallantly, “and our first concern is for thy pleasure.”

“Let us go at once,” they all said.

Each one picked up a basket of flowers and followed Kerœcia and Orondo.

It was a pretty sight. The women and children filled every nook and corner of the booths with flowers while the priestesses swung incense up and down the aisles and over the commodities. The men paid their guests compliments, plied them with sweet-meats and were as courteous and considerate as the occasion demanded.

Fathers took occasion to have a little visit with their children; husbands and wives consulted their mutual interests; while lovers contrived to exchange much of the small coin of affection, openly, innocently and with obvious encouragement.

Mingling freely with the crowd, were the vestal virgins, themselves trained by Priestesses of the Sun, in charge of the boys and girls under the age of twelve. These eager little bodies were allowed to satisfy their curiosity. The vestals tried to explain everything coming under their observation, so that the visit was an object lesson as well as a half-holiday.

Groups of older boys came attended by warrior-priests, who trained them in the art of warfare, after which they were apprenticed to the various guilds, and taught to be skilled in some branch of industry. In many cases, an elder brother or other relative was serving an apprenticeship while a younger boy was still studying warfare. Then, there was a pardonable display of skill and knowledge by the elder, which did not fail to spur the ambition of the younger.

Both sexes were allowed to study picture writing, music or oratory, and there was much friendly rivalry among them.

The guild awards were always those most hotly contested. In this category were prizes for cooking, weaving, basketry, pottery and the care of the sick, which was the prerogative of the women, while all the industries gave encouragement to the apprentice boys in their charge.

CHAPTER TEN
THE FORTUNE THAT WAS TOLD WITH TAROT CARDS

Setos, the Dogberry of Tlamco, lived in a pretentious square house where the disused Laurel Hill Cemetery is now located. The house was gay in stucco ornament and artistic coloring. The surrounding grounds were extensive, and the rambling enclosure was altogether the most elaborate private establishment in the city.

Quick, active, energetic and scientific, Setos had, also, the cunning of a schemer and the ambition of a dictator. In stature, he was short and pudgy, with a round, fat body and with disproportionately small extremities. He made many gestures with his arms and carried his straight stiff thumbs downward. His finger-nails were narrow, indicating obstinacy and conceit, while his thick and stubby fingers showed that he was cruel and selfish. Setos’s eyes were small and gray.

In addition to long ham-like ears was a nose which was a cross between a hook and a beak. The thin lips and square jaws completed a countenance which reflected a bold and uncertain temper. The man had a nervous habit of clasping his coarse, fat hands, especially when excited or over-anxious. Withal, he was inordinately vain, not of his good looks certainly, but of his achievements—and, his godliness.

Akaza had a way of looking straight through Setos’s mean, shabby nature which mightily irritated this entirely self-satisfied man. Setos always imagined that he was being put upon in the civic councils, and he was determined that the visitors should imbibe something of his greatness at the fountain-head.

It did not require much diplomacy nor persuasion to induce Kerœcia to pay Ildiko a visit before leaving Tlamco.

“When Eko Tanga says farewell, to-morrow,” Setos said to her, “it will save thee embarrassment to spend the remaining days with Ildiko. It would not be politic to take thy leave at the same time, because of the ill-concealed distrust between the Monbas and Eko Tanga. Shouldst thou go immediately after, it would be discourteous to the government of Ian. Let me urge thee strongly to continue here for a time.”

“Give me leave to add my prayer to thine, father,” said Ildiko, quick to see the importance of the move to herself. With Kerœcia as her guest, she would have the eyes of the whole city on her for a time. “Rahula do persuade our friends to make us happy,” she concluded with a pretty, affected lisp.

“I am wholly in thy hands,” responded Kerœcia. “Thy request lines with my desires. I am weary of public function. Besides, I am enslaved by curiosity concerning thy mode of living. Thou art not of the Azes.”

“Rightly spoken,” said Ildiko. “Thou art justified in seeking to know the domestic habits of Tlamco. It is not granted me to read signs like Rahula, but I can see the drift already.”

There was nothing malicious in Ildiko. Kerœcia colored quickly, but made no reply.

“Who knows but that I had ulterior motives in asking the fair lady to remain with us?” said Setos, pompously. “I hope for a son-in-law, some day, and Ben Hu Barabe is entirely to my liking.”

Ildiko, frivolous and vain, never doubted that she had made an impression in that quarter. A keen eye would have detected the sudden pallor of Alcyesta and the protective movement of Kerœcia. Self-centered Setos did not look at Rahula; therefore, he did not see the swift, half-fearful glance she gave Alcamayn, nor did he note the suppressed excitement of Orondo.

Kerœcia understood that the official character of her visit was at an end, and she experienced a feeling of relief. Setos anticipated this. He knew that the commercial benefits to be derived from a closer association of the two people were yet unrealized, and he did not intend to lose an opportunity to profit by the situation.

Will it jar on the sensibilities to discover that Setos took advantage of, and swindled the Monbas in every transaction following? He did this in order to make a reputation for zeal and shrewdness among his fellow councilmen.

It was Friday, the day of the bath, and not long before the time appointed for the departure of the high-priestess. Ildiko, Alcyesta, Mineola and Kerœcia were taking a siesta while deft-fingered maids brushed the hair spread out over their shoulders to dry after hammam and massage. They were seated on cushions piled on the still heated flagging, near the play of a perfumed spray. Their finger tips, nails and palms had been beautified, and the flat-iron shaped pumice-stone rubber had been industriously applied to the bottom of the feet, until each one was as soft and pliant as a baby’s untried sole. Long loose-fitting robes tied at the waist with striped silk, were the only garments worn.

The bathers regaled themselves with an ice-cream water-melon, which had been buried in an artificial snow-bank since early morning. Setos knew how to manufacture ice, but he preferred to follow the custom, long prevalent in Tlamco, of packing the snow in winter and bringing it down from the mountains as needed for daily use. A water jar made of porous clay, and completely covered by a fine growth of timothy grass had been filled with mead and hung in a window where a draught of air played upon it. The Azes believed that a turquoise prevented contagion, and that an emerald had the quality to purify water; so, the patera drinking-cups of silver provided were ornamented with them.

“It nears the fourth hour since we commenced our bath,” commented Kerœcia, helping herself to a drink from the ewer. “We have talked about everything I know. Now, what shall we do?”

The daintily carved orange-wood spoon in the hand of each listener was hastily returned to the yellow flesh of the melon, freckled with black seeds, and three pairs of eager eyes focused on the speaker.

“I will tell thee what I should like to do,” cried Ildiko. “I should like to talk about love. I intend to marry within a year.”

“O—h, dost thou?” they all exclaimed, in a breath. “Hast thou decreed who shall be party to this resolve?”

“Yes—and no. In Atlantis, the parents often select a husband or wife for their children. But one is not compelled to accept their choice,” she answered.

“Has a selection been made for thee?” queried Alcyesta.

“Yes. My father and Rahula have partly agreed that I am to marry Alcamayn.”

“Oh! Ho!” was all that could be distinguished, as the wooden plates were quickly set aside, and a general readjustment of cushions closed in around Ildiko.

“I am not sure that I am pleased,” that young lady went on to say. “I would rather select my husband myself.”

“No one of our tribe can do that, except our high-priestess,” rejoined Alcyesta. “Does thy religion allow thy priestess such liberty?”

“Truly not. Our priestesses may marry if someone asks them, but they cannot help themselves. Oh, that I were a Monbas high-priestess!”

“What wouldst thou do?” asked Kerœcia, with a smile, while Alcyesta did not seem to breathe.

“I would propose to thy Chancellor, Ben Hu Barabe,” she averred.

“Ben Hu Barabe is already betrothed,” replied Kerœcia. “He will espouse my beloved Alcyesta, when we return home.”

“How fortunate thou art!” said Ildiko to Alcyesta, but slightly abashed. “I can always marry Alcamayn. I should be puzzled to know what to do in thy case,” she continued, addressing Kerœcia.

“I fail to see why,” answered the priestess.

“There is more than one among the Azes and Atlantians who would speak if he dared.”

Kerœcia blushed and looked confused. Alcyesta and Mineola asked in a breath:

“Who are they?”

“Use thine eyes and find out,” replied Ildiko. “We have only one marking of the sun-dial for beauty sleep. Then we must array ourselves becomingly for the sake of Orondo, Alcamayn, Hanabusa and Ben Hu Barabe who arrive at the dinner hour.”

The high-priestess had arisen in the meantime.

“Not a wink of sleep to put a little rose in thy cheeks and add diamond sparkles to thine eyes?” chattered Ildiko.

“Not this time,” declared Kerœcia. “I must away at once as I have promised early audience to one of our friends.”

“May the assurances he brings thee be good and comforting,” murmured Ildiko, already half-asleep.

“May the Lord of the Lapse of Time enfold thee completely,” answered Kerœcia, with a careless nod, as she passed out of the chamber.

Orondo usually stood with his right foot forward, as if on guard, his broad, powerful shoulders thrown back, and his chest well out. In civilian’s dress, he wore an agate-headed serpent of scarlet leather around his head. On his neck was a gorget of leather set with gold bosses, from which hung a long, black cloak, bordered with fur. He had on a short apron-like skirt of leather, with a triple row of gold bosses around the bottom, and edged with a heavy leather fringe.

Wrinkled leather buckskins and gold-bossed sandals completed his costume.

Wearing no beard, his straight black hair fell well down over his shoulders. He was a patient, faithful worker, self-reliant, reserved, proud, firm in friendship, but an unrelenting foe. Slow to anger, he was like a bull when aroused.

Orondo’s voice in speech and song was mellow and agreeable. A countenance that glowed with animation, added much to his dauntless appearance. It was not like him to parley or waste time in useless subterfuge; but whatever he attempted he went straight about. So, desiring to consult Yermah, he marched into his presence without any preliminaries.

Noting his perturbed manner, the Dorado laid down a brush-pen he was using, and said:

“Something has interrupted the even tenor of thy well-ordered life, Orondo. Can I serve thee?”

There were curious white and red lines on the swarthy face, and the features looked pinched and drawn. He was exceedingly quiet, but there was an unusual brilliancy in the piercing black eyes.

“I have come to ask thy advice and blessing in a matter of great import to me,” he finally answered. “The point of superior years counts but little between us; but thou art my chief, and I love thee well.”

“Of that I am fully assured. My blessing and good wishes thou hast only to command. Give me to see the matter lying deep in thy heart, that I may judge for thee,” replied Yermah, fully aware that a crisis of some kind was at hand.

“Duty demands that I render strict obedience to my superiors, of whom thou art one, and the command is that I shall take a wife from the native women of this country.”

“I had feared from the ominous import of thy manner that some dark deed touching the honor of the state oppressed thy knowledge,” quickly responded Yermah, a feeling of relief giving place to his uncomfortable apprehension. “This is a more simple matter.”

“Not without thy consent. My heart rebels at the thought of a wife among the Azes,” answered Orondo, gravely.

“Then why mis-use desire? There is time enough. Thou hast fewer years than I. Let thy better parts speak, then come to me,” said Yermah, rising.

“This situation confronts me,” said Orondo, with agitation.

“Unmask thy feeling. I am not fully in confidence. Thou bemoanest the mandate to wed a native, yet affirm thy inner soul bespeaks its mate,” replied Yermah, shaking his head and looking perplexed.

“She whom I adore is the high-priestess of the Monbas,” said Orondo, scarcely above a whisper.

Yermah dropped into his seat as if he had been shot, and put his hands before his face as if to ward off a blow. Orondo, too much wrought up to detect feeling in another, asked eagerly:

“Thou wilt grant me permission to woo her, and if I win, wilt bless our union?”

“My vow to the Brotherhood forbids any other course. Go, go now, with my blessing, Orondo,” Yermah managed to say.

“May the Master of the Radiance shower thee richly,” murmured his auditor, as he stumblingly found his way out.

Yermah sat like a man stunned. For the first time in his life he drank deeply and long at the fountain of pain.

Orondo walked like one in a dream. He was in an exalted frame of mind, and seemed to be carried on the wings of the wind toward the house occupied by Rahula. He had won his first victory. He had permission from his civil chief. Now he would consult the unseen forces; then, he would learn his fate from the lips of his beloved. Hope was holding high carnival, and singing a merry tune in his ear, as he approached the door of the “Divination Room,” in the center of the square building.

“An humble applicant stands at thy door, Rahula,” called Orondo; “one who begs that thou wilt open to him the secrets of his destiny.”

“Upon what pretext dost thou invoke aid of the unseen powers?” demanded Rahula, the reader of the tarot cards, from behind a heavy tapestry curtain. “If of trivial import, begone at once! I will not hear thee.”

“Life and love are the subjects of my longing,” he answered. “And so urgent is my mission, I would fain discharge any obligation imposed upon me.”

Suddenly the heavy bronze bolts in the door flew apart. There was a sliding, grinding sound as the entrance was cleared, and he was across the threshold of the most noted and able professional fortune and story teller of that day.

“Welcome, Orondo. Neither pitch nor accent betrayed thee. The triplicity of mind, heart, and bodily function are wholly at thy service,” said Rahula, coming forward and placing both hands on the upper arms of her visitor, while she lightly brushed his forehead with her lips. He in turn kissed the back and palm of her left hand, thus appealing directly to her intuitional powers.

A pair of bull-headed and eagle-winged sphinxes guarded the north and south side of the square-topped golden tripod, which was supported by twigs of madroña wood, tipped with gold. This consecrated table occupied the middle of the room; and in the mouths of the sphinxes were hooks from which were hung perfumed, jeweled lamps.

In the center of the tripod was a round disk composed of various metals radiating in stripes. On the outer edge of the rim were twenty-four hieroglyphs of magic, at equal distances from each other. A tiled floor liberally spread with rugs and skins, completed the furnishings, save a duplicate stool of black under-glaze with a meander in white around it, which served as a seat for Rahula on the opposite side. The ceiling showed twelve radiations in the folds of colored silk, which started from the central canopy and ended in a frieze of twenty-four enlarged hieroglyphs, interlaced in a dragonesque meander. Pompeiian-red tapestries hung on the walls, relieved by wise sayings painted on banners of silk tissue, which were placed at intervals in perpendicular strips.

Rahula’s ample, flowing robes were of purple silk, with a circlet of jet on her head, and a girdle of the same at her waist. Around her neck was a filigree gold and silver collarette fitting close to the skin. From a recess in the wall opposite the door Rahula brought forth the figure of a youth, a young calf, a lion, an eagle, a dragon, and a dove. These were of Atlantian workmanship, in pure gold and silver, curiously blended, the feathers, hair, clothes and scales being of silver, while the bodies were of gold.

She placed these on the floor on either side of her seat, saying:

“Should thy quest of knowledge pertain to a wife, we must consult the dove,” holding the figure in her hand as she spoke.

Orondo bowed. She placed the dove in between the sphinxes, and continued:

“If children crown thy life, the youth must be their champion. Shall we consult him?”

Again Orondo nodded, and the statuette was ranged beside the dove.

“The lion has power and authority in his keeping. This emblem I shall choose for thee.” Saying which she stood it in the same row.

“By the dragon thou shalt know thy length of days. Does the outlook satisfy thy desire?”

“Proceed, Rahula, and mayst thou be led by the guardian of the circuit.”

The sibyl stood facing Orondo, while balancing a plain gold ring tied with a thread of flax over the ball of her left thumb. As soon as the string was straight, she exclaimed:

“I cry unto Thee who makest time run, and liest in all the mysteries. Hear thy servant!”

Slowly the ring began to describe a tiny circle. Then it swung farther and farther toward Orondo, until it was opposite.

“Propound thy question, but silently,” said Rahula, watching the ring, intently.

As if moved by some hidden power, the undulating ring answered his thoughts. The same increase in vibration as before, finally brought the ring in contact with the raised rim sufficiently to make it tinkle like a fairy bell.

“Aila Kar!” chanted Rahula. “Affirm it a third time. One-two-three!” and the ring once more hung motionless over the center of the magic plate.

“Thou standest faint-hearted at the Temple of Love newly erected in thy heart, Orondo,” declared Rahula, with a searching glance.

“Yes. And I fain would know if I may enter,” said he simply.

“The tarot gives us wisdom here,” was her reply, as she returned to the recess, and brought a sandal-wood box filled with small ivory cards. When she drew off the sliding lid, there were three packages, two of which she placed in a flattened disk-shaped basket of fine weave, which divided in two. Each side was furnished with a ring for a handle, and when she had unwound the linen coverings of the cards, she closed it.

“Hold the two rings firmly and shake the basket well,” she directed her visitor.

The third package contained the twenty-two keys of Divine Wisdom, and these Rahula shuffled thoroughly, keeping a square of fine linen over her hands in the process.

At the four cardinal points outside the metal disk in the center of the table were: on the north, a square of inlaid topazes; on the east, a similar setting of emeralds; on the south, a duplicate of sapphires; while on the west was a square of rubies. From each of these was a trine—numbered for the yellow, on the yellow disks, 2, 7, 12; on the green, on disks of green, 3, 8, 9; for the blue, on blue circles, 5, 4, 10; for the red, on red disks, 1, 6, 11. These trines were so interlaced that the rows of numerals made an outside circle, corresponding to the signs of the zodiac.

“Lay the basket on the metal disk,” commanded Rahula. “Then I will open the book of fate for thee.” Orondo did as he was bidden. Rahula emptied the ivories into her lap, and quickly arranged the cards in order, face upward, without changing their relative positions. When she had taken out the four aces (one representing a blossoming rod—the modern clubs; the second, a royal chalice—the modern diamonds; the third, a sword piercing a crown—ace of swords; and a circle inclosing a lotus-flower—the ace of cups), she handed them to Orondo, and told him to shuffle them well.

“The astral key to arcane knowledge is in thy hands. As thou valuest happiness, let no unclean thought steal in and pollute the fountain-head,” solemnly warned the reader of magic, as she invoked the genii of the day and hour.

The signs by which Orondo sought to divine the future, are found to-day in the scepter of Osiris, long the prerogative of kings and emperors. The pontifical staff, the eucharistic chalice, the cross and Divine Host, the patera cup containing the manna, and the dish of offerings were borrowed from the four aces of the ancient tarot and its central disk. These cards were never used for games of chance or for amusement but always for purposes of divination, and they were held sacred.

“Now place the ace of diamonds—the royal chalice of life—on the ruby square, which corresponds to the principle of motion, action, and will,” directed Rahula. “The blossoming rod of the ace of clubs place on the topaz square, which is the trine of power, influence and right. Then cover the emerald square with the ace of cups, the trine of love, service and favor. Lastly, cover the sapphires with the ace of swords, which pierces the crown of physical being, the trine of evil, malice and death.”

When the four squares were covered, she continued:

“This forms the quaternary of Life, Power, Love and Affection. Before I place the cards on these trines, tell me what color best pleases thee.”

“I am fond of red—and blue, also,” returned Orondo.

“Then thou art materialistic and passionate on the one hand, and an idealist on the other. This will keep thee warring with self; and if the former predominates, will tend to weaken the heart-action. What flower dost thou hold sacred?”

“The delicate flax-blossom is a symbol of my love.”

“And by this token thy ideal woman must be constant in conjugal fidelity. Excess in this direction leads to jealousy, the very epitome of selfishness. But what flower dost thou love for its own sake?”

“Myrtle, sprig and blossom, are always endeared to me.”

“Then thou hast the redeeming grace of brotherly love. Of the three animals—the horse, the dog, the cat—which dost thou like the best?”

“The horse first, and then the dog.”

“Which tells me that thou art capable of a noble, affectionate, and faithful friendship. Trial lies along this line. Give me leave to judge thy antipathies.”

“Rats and mice offend me much.”

“Upright and fastidious,” she murmured. “Nor does thy frank and open nature warm to spiders, nor thy proud spirit willingly tolerate serpents.”

“How well thou readest my inner thoughts!” exclaimed Orondo, wonderingly. “Never have these sentiments lent action to my tongue.”

“In dreamland what rich spoils assail thy vagrant will?”

“Happiness and joy attend my sleeping ventures.”

“A sanguine temperament, normally exercised—a personality which will die hard in the living man, and one which is liable to wreck the body.”

She examined both of his hands, minutely—fingers, palms and wrists. Finally she said:

“To three separate warnings must I give voice. The heart is threatened seriously as to feeling and action. Sudden and tempestuous jealousy assail thy future, and the divine spark will not be generous as to years. So much for thine own self. As to outside entities which may mingle and interweave, the tarot must be oracle.”

The king of cups represented him who cultivated affection; the king of diamonds, the custodian of wealth, and the proper distribution of it; the king of swords, the inventions and skill of the inquirer; the king of clubs was the significator of all manual labor. The queens were the wives, actual or prospective, in a question concerning men. They were the personalities of the woman herself in a feminine inquiry. The heralds and knaves represented religious and civic power respectively, while the numbers from two to ten pertained to the personalities.

Orondo watched her eagerly while she placed the cards, face downward on the four trines. When they were all in position she turned over the ace of diamonds, on the western cardinal point of rubies, and then quickly laid those on numbers 1, 6, 11—in a row. Beginning with number 1, she said:

“This pertains to the present state of time—thy life as it is at this moment. All is well from this point. Number 6 is exalted and grand, as the individual contacts Deity. But in number 11, there are adverse conditions—I can see neither posterity nor extended continuation here.”

“Posterity holds nothing for me?” questioned Orondo, concern dominating manner and voice.

“Not as the matter lies. But all the cards are involved in the final reading. Have patience.”

She next placed the ace of clubs on the northern point, face upward, and arranged the cards on numbers 2, 7, 12—as before. Beginning with number 2, directly above the ace, she said:

“This is the place of power, majesty and honor. In such conditions thou standest well. Thou wilt govern Tlamco in future days. A change of place is shown by the covering of number 7. Supreme rule, however, attends it; while in the place of 12, merit and acquired skill stand worthy sponsors to thy desires.”

On the eastern point, directly in front of Orondo, she uncovered the emerald, hidden by the ace of clubs, and proceeded to read from number 3—the place of love, felicity, agreement and delight. What she saw there was so adverse that she quickly turned over the cards, marking the place of love in service, reception and bounty in which she found some encouragement. Number 9, the place of favor, help and succor were in exceeding doubt.

“What is it?” queried Orondo, impressed by her manner.

“The trine of love is much assailed by disquieting import. So, I pray thee, give me leave to consult the throne of affliction at once, that the whole matter may stand revealed.”

“Thou hast my full consent,” said Orondo, now intent and eager.

“Swords fall on this trine of opposition, persecution and punishment,” exclaimed Rahula. “This portent quickens fear. Number 4, the place of mighty retribution, is not free from evil aspects. Treachery is thy portion in number 5, with malice attendant, while number 10 gives speedy death. Be not wholly convinced by this,” she entreated. “Suffer me to assail the doors of Divine Wisdom, substituting the twenty-two keys for the cards.”

She scarcely waited for Orondo’s nod of assent before she had swept the ivories into their basket, and was busy shuffling and placing the keys around the aces, still face upward. There was an intense silence as she hastily placed the keys on the numbers—first face downward in trines, and then the reverse, with the outward circle completed first. She read from the outward ring toward the center.

“Love and marriage come as thy portion, but not without delay and much suffering. After this, the body sleeps,” she said in conclusion.

The cool brisk wind felt refreshing to Orondo’s fevered cheeks as he hurried along the streets flooded with afternoon sunlight. The every-day commonplaces of active life about him passed unnoticed in the rapid whirl of his conflicting emotions.

“Fancy claims me for her own,” he thought. “Surely there can be no harm in obeying such sweet service as links me to my loved one.”

Orondo smiled softly, and as he turned into the broad avenue leading to Iaqua, his serenity was fully reëstablished. He went to his own apartments, and spent much time and labor over his toilet. Finally, when extract and oil, brush and comb had done full justice, he found his way into the smoking-room, where he sought quiet for his nerves in the narcotic effect of a chibouk. Under its soothing influence he indulged in the airiest of day-dreams. As the appointed hour drew near, he repaired to the sanctuary, where he knelt and humbly petitioned Divine Grace to attend his venture.

---

“Father,” said Ildiko, as she stood with Setos in the twilight awaiting their dinner-guests, “make no demand for light early to-night. Some unseemly circumstance oppresses the spirit of Kerœcia. She has been weeping.”

“Yearning for her own may weigh her down. If so, we have failed to make our welcome speak to her heart. In this we must be more vigilant. H-s-h! Here she is, attended!”

Scarcely had the women found seats when the voices of Hanabusa, Ben Hu Barabe and Alcamayn were heard responding to Setos’s greetings in the broad entrance hall.

“Where is Orondo?” asked Alcamayn, as he came toward Kerœcia. “In the street at the last marking of the sun I had speech with him, intent then upon immediate attendance here.”

Kerœcia paled visibly, and replied with difficulty:

“Orondo’s presence has lately honored me. He begs to absent himself at dinner,” she said, turning appealingly to Setos.

“Affairs of urgent moment must have decided him. His convenience and wish dictated the day and hour of our assemblage,” rejoined Setos. “May there be no evil import behind this sudden change.”

“Has the Dorado been seen to-day?” asked Alcamayn. “Twice I sought him on matters of state, but he was not at Iaqua.”

“He rowed out on the bay at an early gnomon, unattended,” responded Hanabusa. “Many times I hailed him, but he was unmindful of my presence.”

“The cares of his office sat heavily on my shoulders in consequence,” said Setos, with a show of assumed irritation.

By judicious complaint many a vain soul betrays its self-importance. Glancing around the room, to see if he had created the desired impression, Setos suddenly bethought him of Ildiko’s words. He bustled about for a few moments, and then gave escort to Kerœcia who was glad to escape to the dining-room.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
A REALIZATION OF LOVE WHICH BEGGARED LANGUAGE

Orondo returned not to Iaqua during the night. He went to a favorite nook in the gardens, the same he had taken such pride in showing to Kerœcia. Here he went over the ground again step by step, and that same pride lay in the dust at his feet grievously wounded. Trifles to which he had attached peculiar significance now seemed to him commonplace politeness.

Orondo could not accuse Kerœcia of playing with him. She had been openly and candidly indifferent. Her effort to shield him, her kindness, were eloquent of her disinterested friendship. He groaned under her sympathy, but he was not without capacity to plan a course of action.

The first watches of the night witnessed his wrestle with overwhelming grief, but as the cool morning hours came on, his thoughts turned to the future. He looked forward eagerly to his departure from Tlamco, which he knew from the beginning he must take. Hope led him to believe that he would have a companion for the exile, which now he gratefully remembered would be a lonely one. He sat motionless upon the curbing which bordered the artificial lake near the perfume-beds, utterly oblivious to their refreshing odors. His thoughts were so painfully centered that he noted neither the passing hours nor his own bodily discomfort.

Finally, habit warned him that dawn was approaching, and he mechanically roused himself. He knew, without conscious effort, that he must greet the rising sun with composure; therefore he tried to rally his drooping spirits. Still like one in a dream, he removed his cloak and helmet, then washed his hands and face in the clear, cool water of the lake. His benumbed and stiffened nether limbs protested painfully against his essay at walking. He heeded them not. Instinct led him in the direction of Iaqua.

Yermah, too, had passed a sleepless night. He spent the day on the water, floating and drifting with the ebb and flow of the tide, struggling to reconcile himself with the conditions confronting him. At night he came back to Iaqua, but purposely avoided meeting Orondo. Love made him humble, and he did not for a moment doubt the result of Orondo’s wooing. He knew that his countryman was a lovable man, and he could not find it in his heart to blame Kerœcia for accepting him. No—Orondo had asked his consent and blessing; he must be willing to give it with all his heart.

How stern and forbidding seemed the face of duty! How hateful the precepts of honor! Yermah censured himself unsparingly. Many times as he paced the apartments, still clad as he came from the bay, he spoke his thoughts aloud. He argued with himself long and earnestly.

“How beautiful, how lovely she is!” Yermah exclaimed for the hundredth time. But he was sick with the thought that she belonged to another. He told himself that he would rather give her to Orondo than to any one else. But why should she not have loved him? If such affection had blessed his life, he would hasten his appointed task, and then claim his choice for a wife according to law and custom. It would be only a few months to wait. Now what difference did it make? Orondo stood in his place.

How unsatisfactory, how paltry seemed his life work and aims! How completely helpless and discouraged he felt! But he must face the situation like a man. With the rising sun Orondo would come with a beaming countenance to recount his happiness. It would require all his fortitude to do and to say what was expected of him.

Thinking thus, he drew aside the curtains and peered at the sky. The first mingling of pink and gray heralded the coming day. Performing the necessary ablutions, he wrapped his cloak about him and left the house. He did not notice particularly the direction he took, walking rapidly forward, with his head bent in strained attention. Once inside the main entrance to the gardens, he halted, listening for footsteps ahead of him.

For the first time he observed the dew lying on the bent grass in drops separate and distinct from each other, but thickly studding each blade and leaf. Suddenly on the curving pavement a few feet in front of him, stood Orondo, irresolute, stricken and old. He had not yet caught sight of Yermah, but had merely paused in his erratic course, without definite idea whether to proceed or to retreat.

“May truth and love be with thee, Orondo,” said the Dorado, in an unsteady tone of voice. “Mayst thou live by them, and by such means triumph over all hindrances.”

“The goodness of this place and hour be upon thee,” responded Orondo, still not recognizing Yermah.

As the men looked at each other, a family of deer roused themselves under the shelter of a friendly live-oak tree standing in the sward to the right of the pavement. The buck stood up and shook his graceful, spreading horns, until the leaves overhead quivered in the current of air set in motion. The doe licked the side of one fawn, while the other spotted creature wrinkled up its little nose, took a sniff of fresh air, and clicked its hoofs together in the very exuberance and joy of living.

The two heavy-hearted men gazed at one another in an embarrassed silence. Finally, Orondo said:

“I have seen the priestess Kerœcia.”

“And—she?” Yermah finished the sentence with a supplicating movement and braced himself for the shock.

“She—she is not for me,” responded Orondo, brokenly.

Not to have saved his immortal soul, could Yermah control the wave of emotion which swept over him, making him stagger like a drunken man. The revulsion of feeling was so strong that he put out his hand to steady himself, while his senses fairly reeled.

Like a flash the truth dawned on Orondo; but he would have suffered his tongue cut out rather than acknowledge even to himself what he had seen. Profound pity moved him, and under its influence he threw himself on his knees before the Dorado.

“Give me leave,” he cried, “to take men and flocks and go into the valley of the Mississippi, to begin mound-building. My mission in Tlamco is finished.”

“Stand equally with me,” exclaimed Yermah, assisting Orondo to rise and embracing him. “A solemn covenant binds thee to that task. Consult only thine own pleasure and convenience.” Then, after a pause, “I shall miss thy strong, right hand, thy faithful heart and welcome presence here.”

The dawn, bright from the Orient couch, had chased away the stars, and as Yermah spoke a golden ring came slowly above the horizon. The bells in the temples and Observatory chimed inspiringly. Nature was astir all about them, while the entire city was at devotion. With bared heads both men turned their pale faces toward the east. Yermah’s arm lay affectionately on Orondo’s shoulder.

“Homage to Thee who risest above the horizon,” said the Dorado, reverently. “I come near to Thee. Thou openest the gates of another day.”

“Om-ah!” responded Orondo, who continued: “Great Illuminator out of the golden, place thyself as a protector behind me. I open to thee.”

“Om-ah!” said Yermah, as they both stretched out their arms and bowed three times to the now fully risen sun.

---

It was the day following Orondo’s visit, and Kerœcia was disturbed, downcast and depressed. For the first time since her entrance to Tlamco she longed for the mountain fastnesses of the Monbas. She felt stifled. She wanted air, breath, room. A sense of utter loneliness was upon her. Again she could have cried bitter tears for Orondo. It was agony to her soul to know that she had hurt him. The surprise of it—the pity of it! The reflex action of her hours of unalloyed pleasure was full upon her.

So she stood under the moonless sky, while the clouds scurried overhead in a pell-mell race with the incoming fog. She was chilled at heart, and instinctively sought a sheltered nook, where she felt she could be absolutely alone.

Kerœcia remained for some time motionless, frowning into vacancy, so preoccupied that she did not notice a tiny moon-shaped boat of paper zigzagging its way down the narrow waterway at her feet. It might have passed her had not the splash of a pebble thrown a spray of water on her skirts. Glancing quickly about her, she advanced toward the wavering craft in time to rescue a red velvet rose floating loosely in a cluster of feathery ferns.

She tucked the flower and its greenery into her corsage and made them fast, but not before she had inhaled their fragrance and noticed their beauty. Then she examined the neatly folded parchment. Across the prow was the word “Yermah.” At the sight of his name, happiness surged through every avenue of sensibility like rare old wine. Kerœcia’s face was all tenderness as she pressed her lips to the writing.

It was a lingering, cooing movement, such as women who love employ.

Yermah had been watching her through a tapestry of vines, leaves and blossoms. In the interim his hopes ran as high as her spirits had been somber and low. He shook the branches of the hedge and stamped with his foot; but she was too much absorbed to hear him.

At last he contrived to make her know that he was near.

He had left home with the mere desire of seeing her, and with no intention of speaking. But when he saw her kiss his name, it was the eager impulse and bound of impassioned love which brought him to her side. His hungry eyes drove him there for sight of her. Now his hungrier heart demanded more. The same impulse impelling him forward controlled his further action.

Kerœcia made no resistance when he caught her in his arms, nor did she deny him when his lips sought hers, insistent and clinging. Each soul claimed its own. Each organism responded to its counter exhilaration.... Love beggared language.... It was well.

Neither had voice nor speech, as by common impulse they drew apart and hurried away in opposite directions. Yermah dared not trust himself to look back, while Kerœcia groped her way into the house and hid in her own room, safe from human eye.

“Men kiss like women,” she murmured naïvely, and in a surprised tone. “Their lips are the same, but—” Then she buried her face in her hands while a hot blush burned its way to the roots of her hair. Her cheeks still tingled with the light sweep of mustache and beard, and she fell to wondering if she could see the kiss as plainly as she still felt it. Those dear arms! How strong and masterful their protecting enfoldment!... The perfume of the crushed and broken rose brought her back to reality. She unfastened it, and buried her mouth in its petals, so close that a drop of blood spread itself over her white teeth. Presently she wiped her lips with a dainty bit of linen.

“Sealed in blood!” she exclaimed, as she examined it. “And nothing but heart’s blood can ever sever the bond. Oh, Yermah, my hero, my king! I love thee!”

The Dorado hurried through the streets with his senses in a whirl, and then entered Iaqua by a private gate. He did not pause until he threw himself on his knees before the statue of Orion. The soft light of incense-tapers and jeweled lamps revealed the pallor of his countenance. Too agitated to attempt prayer, he nervously held his hands to his head, and tried to collect his thoughts—to control his emotions.

“Oh, truant and coward that I am!” he exclaimed. “Why could I not speak the words my heart is bursting to tell? Will she know how sincerely, how devotedly I love her?”

He threw off his cloak, pushed his helmet on the floor, and wiped the perspiration from his brow.

“What a lovely creature a woman is! I can feel her soft, yielding body yet—her warm breath and sweet lips. No wonder I could not speak! Will her thought accuse me? And her dear, little hands!—I could crush them easily.”

Then, as if suspicion crossed his mind, he upbraided himself for ungentleness.

“Did my roughness hurt her? Did I frighten her by my suddenness?... So this is love!... And I not know how to express what I feel! Why has not Akaza taught me?... I see—I see—no one can teach another! I must learn for myself.... This is why the sages say it is like subtle poison. My blood is on fire! I do not know myself—my ugly self!” he added, as he arose and peered at his reflection in the mirrored wall.

Never before had he been dissatisfied with what he saw. It was his first realization of self-consciousness, and he was full of the humility of a master passion.

“Her hair fell here over my arm,” he continued, smiling tenderly. “I sense it yet. The perfume of it is sweet to my nostrils. Why did I not beg a lock for remembrance?”

He paced the floor restlessly.

“How unmanned and undone I am! Oh, my Kerœcia! Thy first kiss has enslaved me! I could not see the luster of thine eyes, but I could feel thy love. I can look into thy heart. Surely thou canst see that mine is filled with thy dear image.... I loved my mother, and Akaza, too ... but this is love of another kind!... If my mate should deny herself to me! No, no, no! I cannot live without her!... Poor Orondo! Poor soul!” he cried, in accents which revealed his great sympathy.

It was not until long after, that Yermah quit the chamber and finally sought rest.

CHAPTER TWELVE
“A BROTHERHOOD VOW BINDS THE SOUL!”

“Hold the burning feathers close under his nose,” directed the chief shaman, who had been hastily summoned to Iaqua, when Orondo was found in an unconscious condition early the following morning after his adventure with Yermah in the public gardens. “We will soon determine whether it is merely a fainting fit or of more serious import.”

The pungent and penetrating odors produced no effect except to cause the sufferer to turn his head and moan.

“Delirium chains his physical senses,” said the shaman, when Orondo opened his eyes without recognizing any one.

In their own peculiar fashion, the chief and his two assistants examined the seven principal organs of the body—the same that are symbolized by the curls of Medusa, and whose appetites must be controlled before there can be health either on the physical or the mental planes.

“Extreme heat, and a labored and painful drawing in of the breath is here,” said the chief, while one assistant carefully wrote down his words.

It was compulsory upon healers to post in a conspicuous place on the temple walls to which they were attached the number of cures made, and by what processes. Orondo being a civic leader, the law required that his malady should be written on the tablet back of the Chief Councilor’s chair in the Temple of the Sun.

“Pains in all the bones, and in the cords which give them motion,” he continued. “The air-bellows rise and fall one-half, and the hammer in the left breast moves slowly and is very weak. Lend a hand.”

The scribe hastily put down his parchment and assisted in placing Orondo in a hammock, hung in the full glare of the sun, in a circular, glass-sided room. The sick man was quickly stripped to the waist, and the shamans took turns in holding first a large red convex lens over the region of the heart and lungs; then an orange-colored one; and finally a yellow-green ray of light was concentrated over the heart, to stimulate its retarded action. This process will be recognized as the forerunner of the modern X-Ray.

Then by what is now known as the Swedish movement, they went over the entire body, keeping the lenses focused on the parts being kneaded and rubbed. When this treatment ceased, they carried him back to his wall-pallet, taking care to lay his head to the north, thus taking advantage of the magnetic currents.

A small oblong bit of copper was placed in an olla of snow-water. It was fastened by a silken-cord to a copper anklet clasped above the patient’s left foot. Over the main artery was a small disk of copper with Orondo’s seal on the outside.

“Squeeze the sponge gently, and slip it under the signet,” directed the head physician.

Believing that the topaz exercised a powerful influence over an afflicted mind, the shaman rubbed a necklace of these stones briskly between his hands, and put it around Orondo’s neck. For the first half-hour the fever increased, and then Orondo raved incessantly:

“Love denies dominion in my heart!... Not for thee, Orondo! She makes no return!... A Brotherhood vow binds the soul!... No, no, no, poor man!... Help him, All-Powerful One!”

The chief shaman put some water into hollow glass vessels formed like double convex chromo-lenses, and hung them in the sunlight. These were labeled according as they were yellow, blue, red, or violet-colored.

Later an attendant poured a few drops of aconite tincture into a blue glass bowl, and, mixing it with some water from the blue chromo-lens, gave Orondo some of it to drink. It was known that pure water under the chemical action of the blue rays of sunlight was a cooling, soothing nervine, and that it would greatly assist the bluish herb in reducing inflammation and temperature.

While Orondo slept a silver chafing-dish was brought into the room, and a decoction of dandelion was slowly simmered in water from the ambero, or yellow lens. The remainder of the water was mixed with equal parts of maguey spirits.

Induction belongs to the dominion of inanimate nature, to the magnetic, or cold; while deduction is the ruling force of animation or heat. To assist in producing reaction, the magnet already referred to, was fastened to the body, or hot pole, and immersed in snow for a cold pole, in order to oxygenize the blood.

During the sleeping hours this force worked steadily in conjunction with other remedies, and when Orondo awoke in the afternoon, he was rational and without fever. Noting his condition, the magnet was removed, and the patient lifted once more into the hammock, where he was thoroughly sponged with alcohol and water. After this, his throat, chest, and shoulders were vigorously rubbed with warm olive oil, perfumed with lavender. The odors of plants are antiseptic, and were much employed in sick rooms by the ancients.

While the physicians were busy, the tamanes in attendance changed the pallet and linen completely. Placing Orondo in it again and setting a lavender spray in motion near the window, they retired to bring in a lacquered tray of food. Freshly baked tortillas, young leeks, and pickled olives, with salted almonds and dried figs formed the principal part of the meal, while a dish of fresh cocoanut and oranges, sliced together, served for dessert.

The tray and dishes had scarcely been removed before Setos came bustling in. Sanitation was his hobby, and he was always urging the necessity for legislation against disease, which he considered was the result of criminal carelessness.

In Tlamco every bit of refuse was carefully collected and burned each day. A large section of the water-front, where the prevailing winds carried the smoke and odor well out to sea, was reserved for this purpose. The flood-gates of the entire water system were opened during certain hours of the night and all the waste canals cleansed thoroughly.

“By Him who is the breath of every living thing, tell me how affliction befell thee?” asked Setos, sitting down on the bed near the foot and searching Orondo’s face anxiously.

“By the only method possible,” answered Orondo. “Because I have violated the laws of harmony.”

“This is bad, very bad! It gives less favored men an excuse to neglect their bodies in an unwarrantable manner,” said Setos, warming up to his favorite theme. “If we could only send out an army to teach the people the possibilities of water, the difference between good and bad food, the necessity for proper rest, the inexorableness of natural laws, disease would become what it was intended to be—a brief, infrequent, reparative process.”

He pursed up his lips and sniffed loudly in self-satisfaction. It was so seldom that he had an opportunity to fittingly repeat this homily.

“I think that our laws are strictly and justly administered in this respect,” ventured Orondo. “The advocates and healers are supported by the state. Self-interest prompts the latter to report disease as they find it. They know enough of law to name the penalty attached to hereditary and contagious diseases. The advocates know enough of healing to detect symptoms of forbidden maladies. It is a capital offense for either party to conceal conditions of this kind. I do not see what more can be done.”

Utter weariness closed Orondo’s eyes for a moment, and Setos refrained from further speech.

“Let kindness of heart prompt thee to fill a pipe for me,” said the patient, presently.

When it was handed to him, he said with a wan smile:

“Let us indulge our nerves with a harmless sedative as a step in the right direction. I shall wait until thy bowl is filled.”

Setos hastened to comply, and after the first three whiffs, which were always silent fire-offerings, said:

“Ildiko refuses to be comforted because of thy continued absence from our house. She grieves for thy affliction, and sends her best thoughts.”

“Beauty and goodness are the crown of fair Ildiko. It is not possible for me to do more than receive such flattering unction. I am indeed undone,” he made answer, catching his breath painfully.

“The priestess Kerœcia, and her sweet maids are much concerned for thy misfortune. Hanabusa has already been twice to hear if reason came back to thee.”

“I pray thee leave me,” cried Orondo, piteously. “My heart!” he gasped, as the chief shaman bent over him hurriedly, in response to Setos’s call.

“All matters of importance must rest while this man regains control of his better physique,” said the shaman, authoritatively. “It were cruel to tax him at this time.”

“Nothing except friendly greeting passed between us,” declared Setos, much exercised at the sudden bad turn apparent in Orondo.

“I will come again at nightfall,” he said.

“Be thou content with inquiry, only,” returned the shaman, still frowning over the complete undoing of all his labor.

“The sun must be on the earth’s magnetic meridian before quiet will come again to our patient,” said the chief shaman, as he prepared to go out for an airing, after working over Orondo for one hour.

“The sun will not be below the horizon until the seventh marking of the gnomon, and until that time we can only wait and watch,” he said, in answer to Yermah’s anxious question. “Setos has injured his rest greatly, but he has asked for thee more than once. If thou wilt exercise caution, thou mayst go to him.”

“I understand Orondo,” replied Yermah. “I have stayed away because I feared to excite him. I am glad that I may see him.”

Yermah came quietly and put his hand on Orondo’s head. He knew how to still the throbbing, uncontrolled emotion dividing the sick man’s mental and physical self. Without a word, he willed him peace, and after a time Orondo opened his eyes and seemed to breathe easier.

“The Master of the Hidden Spheres, who causes the principles to arise, give thee peace, Orondo.”

Orondo made no reply; his lips quivered and his eyes filled. Yermah took both his hands, and, looking at him steadily, said:

“Part of thy burden falls upon me. I will share physical pain with thee.”

Soon the veins in Yermah’s hands, and then those in his forehead, stood out like whipcords. He experienced the same difficulty in breathing, the same spasmodic action of the heart, as had Orondo. He sighed deeply, and it was soon apparent that Orondo’s nervous tension was relieved. In the silence which followed both were busy with the same thoughts.

“When does she go?” Orondo asked, finally.

“The day following to-morrow.”

“Hast thou seen her since?”

“Once only. I have not had speech with her.”

“Twice has she sent to ask after me.”

“Which newly affirms the gentleness of her nature.”

The situation was trying for Yermah, but he humored his companion, as he saw that speech was a relief to him. He did not suspect Orondo of knowing that he, too, loved Kerœcia.

“When strength comes again, I must consider the work before me,” said Orondo, after an eloquent silence. “Duty lays a stern hand on both of us.”

“The shamans will cause public complaint if I indulge thee in that direction,” said Yermah. “A sharp reprimand rewarded Setos for his effort in that line.”

“Setos said nothing to me of that matter,” said Orondo, in surprise.

“But he said that to thee which taxed thy powers of control, and for this reason he is forbidden to see thee again, to-day. Dost thou wish me to have a similar experience?”

“The shamans will see that thou hast greatly aided me,” said Orondo, as the chief shaman came to his bedside accompanied by Akaza.

“The twilight hour approaches, and I have come to worship with thee,” said the hierophant, making the sign of benediction over Orondo. Turning to Yermah, he said:

“The Father of the Beginnings have thee in safe keeping.”

“The same rich blessing follow thee,” responded Yermah, as he took leave.

The principle of Life is alchemical. The chemical elements must be absorbed in order to give health. As making alchemical gold was really finding the Perfect Way, so the elixir of life is the proper use of the astral light composing the photosphere surrounding our physical bodies.

When the astral body is charged with oil, and the physical body is well supplied with electricity, the secret of magnetism is revealed. The gypsies are the only people who have preserved the knowledge necessary to produce this peculiar chemicalization.

The arrow shot by Orion, William Tell and others, is Thought, the Sagitur; the same as Heracles shot at Helios. The ability of the individual to project thought determines the possession of occult power. This force is gained by harmonizing the physical, mental and spiritual attributes, so that thought may function from any one of these planes. In other words, it is to have complete possession of all these faculties.

To project thought, is literally hitting the bull’s eye, as Orion did when he killed Taurus—the astronomical aspect of the world-old battle between the higher and the lower self.

The liberty which the original William Tell sought to achieve was not political, but a victory over his own lower nature—a battle which the men and women of Tlamco fought out in every phase.

“The water-holding capacity of the nerve-cells is much impaired,” said the chief shaman to his assistants, when giving directions for the night. “Nervous irritability follows. Sleep will be light and infrequent. Watch beside him. At every third marking let him sip liberally from the ambero lens. Between times, give him drink from the purpuro flagon.”

In company with Akaza, he left Iaqua.

It was as the chief shaman had predicted. Orondo failed to find refreshment in troubled sleep, so that the gray, foggy morning found him correspondingly wearied and depressed. Symptoms of pleuro-pneumonia were clearly established, and for three days he had a hard fight for life.

Finally, when well enough to dress himself, he resolutely put on the same clothes he had used such care in selecting for his memorable visit to Kerœcia. It tried him severely to reinvest himself with them, but this was in keeping with his stern resolution to crush out useless regret. He wisely concluded that the easiest way out of it was to accustom himself to the same routine as before. He must not yield to such weakness as to shrink from inanimate things which were associated with her memory.

Some carefully pressed blossoms of flax, fragile, delicate, little blue-cups, dedicated in thought to his love, were the only mementos he kept. These he hid away in an ivory dice-box given him by Ben Hu Barabe on taking leave.

Orondo had managed to listen to the words of greeting and farewell from Kerœcia, and had responded thereto manfully. What the effort cost him may be inferred from the fact that he kept his room closely for the week following, refusing to see any one save the tamanes who served him.

When he came again among his fellows, there was a stern, set look on his face, which was accentuated by the sunken eyes and sharpened cheek-bones, but there was no alteration in his manner of life. He began preparation for immediate departure.

Yermah lived in a rose-colored world of his own creation. He made pretty speeches to imaginary women, and never even in sleep lost the consciousness of Kerœcia’s presence. In his audience chamber during the day, he granted requests for her. His decisions were all for her benefit, and the directions for various public works were delivered as he fondly imagined he would do if she were present. Several times in affixing his signature to documents he came near to writing her name.

Yermah was singularly absent-minded, with all his amiability and politeness. He went among his pets with the air of a lover, and was entirely oblivious to the screech of the parrots and monkeys in and around the stables. He got on famously with Cibolo; and if the horse had understood him, he would have made a clean breast of the situation.

It would have been such a relief to talk about her.

The Dorado usually had dressed well, as became a man of his station; but now he was fussy and particular to a noticeable degree. He taxed Alcamayn’s ingenuity to the utmost in devising suitable gifts for Kerœcia and her attendants, and insisted upon superintending the enameling of the medallion-shaped mirror which he was to present to the priestess. The bits of blue, green, and black enamel must be as shiny and lustrous as the gems they surrounded, and the burnished gold rim and handle must be as fine as the skill of his workmen could make it.

This exchange of mirrors was a pretty compliment among the rulers of olden times—for by this flattering method each was assured of the faithful remembrance of the other. They had but to look into the mirror to discover the subject of the other’s thought—at least in theory.

An oval of burnished bronze, framed in silver filigree, enameled with black and white, and set with turquoise, coral, moonstones, and amethysts was the regulation gift from Kerœcia. It was mannish enough to suit the requirements, but it was too formal to express her feelings.

She made a strawberry of red cloth, and with fine brown floss dexterously worked in the seed specks. It was filled with fine sand and grains of musk. The little cup was cleverly imitated by green cloth, and the berry was fastened by a tiny eyelet to a piece of narrow red cord.

Consideration for Orondo, constrained Yermah’s impatience to seek Kerœcia immediately, and the preparations for her departure were of such public character that he had no further opportunity of seeing her alone, until his chariot stood before the door of Setos’s house, waiting for her.

Cibolo and his three companions tugged hard at their bridles, as a consequence of ten days’ idleness. They would have enjoyed kicking up their heels and running like the wind, especially when music, noise and confusion gave such warrant; but Yermah kept a vise-like grip on them, quieting them by a word now and then.

Kerœcia’s pride found complete satisfaction in his excellent horsemanship. There were no gloves on his strong, white hands, wound up in the reins, but the wrists were as firm and hard as steel. It was a master-hand that held the lines, and she was not in the least distressed or alarmed when the horses reared and plunged and stood on their hind feet.

The couple were nearing the round-house on the upper limit of the canal, and Yermah’s face was set and pale. He had suddenly forgotten all the pretty speeches he had intended to make. Finally, when there was not a minute to spare, he turned to Kerœcia with an agonized expression and tried to speak. His lips moved, but no sound escaped them, as they fashioned the words: “I love thee!”

That was all he could remember to say, and he was dismayed when he realized that his voice had failed him.

His eyes swam, and he instinctively clutched at his heart as he swayed from side to side.

Kerœcia moved nearer to him helpfully, and with a smile of infinite tenderness slipped her hand into his. For a moment he did not return its pressure; then it seemed to nestle close to his palm, and, with a caressing touch, left something in his grasp when it was withdrawn. When he opened his hand he found the little strawberry.

“With all my heart,” she said in a whisper. He kissed the keepsake rapturously, and slipped it into a fold of his tunic in time to assist her to alight from the chariot. Etiquette forbade his accompanying her farther.

With straining eyes he stood watching and waving his hand to her, until the balsas put into the bay.