At that moment the chief priest, breaking through the circle of his subordinates, strode quickly toward de Sancerre. Falling upon his knees, he raised his long arms toward the sky and uttered a harsh shout which was repeated by the onlooking priests.
“You are saved!” whispered the panting Noco, an instant later, to the Frenchman. “Coyocop has rescued you from death!”
Having paid homage to the misunderstood scion of the moon, the guardian of the sacred fire handed to de Sancerre the bark, within which the former had found no evil spell. Scrawled beneath the Frenchman’s words were these:
“The Holy Mother has heard my prayers. All glory be to her for this strange miracle. I await your coming with a grateful heart. No harm can fall upon you, for I have warned the temple priest. May the saints guard you through the night.
“Julia de Aquilar.”
Turning to Noco, who had regained her breath, de Sancerre said:
“Say to this servant of the sun that I grant him pardon for his foolish threats. But warn him to take heed of how he walks. Unless he payeth abject homage to my power, it may go hard with him.”
Waving his rapier ’til it flashed before the eyes of the overawed priest like a magic wand made of silvery moonbeams, de Sancerre strode with studied dignity toward Noco’s hut, and disappeared from sight. The sun-priests, headed by their subdued chief, filed solemnly toward their blood-stained temple, and presently the moon, drooping toward the west, gazed down upon a city apparently abandoned by all men.
CHAPTER XVII
IN WHICH DE SANCERRE BREAKS HIS FAST AND SMILES
Worn out with the exhausting experiences of long hours, unprecedented, even in his varied career, for the many contrasted emotions with which they had assailed him, de Sancerre had thrown himself, fully dressed, upon a bed of plaited reeds in Noco’s hut, and, despite his inclination to muse upon the joy and wonder of the day’s concluding episode, had fallen into a dreamless, restful sleep, which still wrapped him in its benign embrace long after the sun-god had blinked at the matutinal shouts with which the shining orb was greeted by its worshippers at dawn. The day was nearly ten hours of age before the Frenchman, stretching his arms and legs to their full length, awoke suddenly, and, with a smile upon his lips and a gleam of happiness in his eyes, recalled instantly the marvel which had made his present environment, with all its perils, a delight to his refreshed and ardent soul. Suddenly he discovered that while he slept his outer garments had been removed. Turning on his side he raised his head, rested it upon his hand, and glanced toward the centre of the room, which still bore marks of the disorder begotten by the hasty flight of the disguised Franciscan and his charge.