His voice broke, and when he had regained his self-control he saw that Katonah had joined Cabanacte and the friar at the entrance to the hut.
CHAPTER XVI
IN WHICH A SPIRIT SAVES DE SANCERRE FROM DEATH
There reigned in Noco’s hut intense silence. Stretched upon a bench in the centre of the room lay de Sancerre, his head bent forward and his eyes agleam, while he listened apprehensively to the murmurs of the night outside. On the ground at his feet squatted his aged hostess, quick to interpret every sound which echoed from the sleeping town. Her eyes still burned with the light of her marvellous vitality, but her present posture indicated that her old bones had grown weary of the friction begotten by a long and exacting day.
“All is well, señora? You hear no threatening sound?” De Sancerre’s voice bore witness to the excitement under which he labored at that crucial moment.
“A dog barks, near at hand; an owl hoots, far away. Our friends are safe beyond the town—and all is well!”
“Bien! Doña Noco, I trust the keenness of your ears. I feared the searching gaze of wakeful spies. ’Tis possible your priests have gone to sleep.”
The old hag grinned. “Make no mistake,” she exclaimed, in her broken Spanish. “Their eyes have seen your people, but, fearing Cabanacte’s wrath, they dared not search beneath the white robes at his side. Within the temple chattering priests will ask each other whom my grandson guides. They’ll ask in vain! But, hark! The night’s as quiet as a sleeping babe.”
“Then, when I’m in the mood, I’ll vow a candle to St. Raphael,” cried de Sancerre, lightly. “He travelled safe by wearing a disguise! But tell me, Doña Noco, is the coast now clear? I’ve set my heart upon a look at Coyocop’s abode. I cannot sleep until I know where this fair spirit of the sun is lodged.”
The beldame’s black eyes flashed with excitement. Her overwrought frame seemed to renew its vigor as she arose to her feet and hurried toward the low-cut entrance to the hut. An instant later, de Sancerre found himself the solitary occupant of a dreary and disordered room. He peered through the shadows toward the exit through which Noco had passed and, for a moment, doubt of her good faith entered his mind. He fully comprehended the perils of his environment, and realized that upon the loyalty of the old hag who had just left his side depended his escape from the dangers which beset him. While it might be that he, an envoy from the moon, helped to fulfil an ancient prophecy in which these fickle sun-worshippers put faith, the fact remained that their chief, the Great Sun, had failed to give him countenance before the temple priests. It had become painfully apparent to de Sancerre that the real centre of authority in this land of superstitions was to be looked for near the sacred fire and not at the King’s throne. The fact that the Brother of the Sun had found it inexpedient to lodge the Frenchman in the royal residence bore testimony to the strong ties which bound the palace to the temple, to the close relationship of church and state. To a man who had spent years at Versailles, the influence exerted by a priesthood upon a king was not a marvel.
“Ma foi!” muttered de Sancerre to himself, as he rested his aching head upon his hand and watched expectantly the hole in the wall through which Noco had departed. “The old finesse which served me well at courts has worn itself to naught. In France or in this wilderness my fate’s the same. I jump to favor—then the King grows cold and potent priests usurp the place I held. But, even so, the tale is not all told. I’m here to solve a puzzle, not to fawn upon a prince nor tempt the vengeance of a temple’s brood. So be that Noco’s true, I yet may work my will upon a stubborn mystery.”