"Now, what is the trouble? Why are you delaying?" demanded the officer, fretfully. "Do you not know that we are in the enemy's country, and that a halt may mean capture and more besides?"
He shuddered as he spoke, for even now, when reinforcements of men and horses had come to Cortes, and the campaign was about to be resumed, a dread fear of capture lurked in the minds of all. For that meant a visit to the summit of the huge tower in Mexico, and death on the altar. It was a hideous nightmare to scores of these Spaniards—these adventurers who had by now proved their bravery in many and many an unequal tussle. The very mention of the sacrifice appalled him, though these same men thought nothing of the awful tortures inflicted by their own side, or of the hangings and burnings which were often practised. And this leader of the little band which had captured Roger was one of the many who had fears, only he thought more of the matter perhaps than did others.
"Hasten," he said fretfully. "Do not let us waste a minute that can be saved. Come, Juan, what ails you, man? Why dismount now?"
"To let you or some other fool take the captive," was the cool answer, discipline in the invading army being none of the strictest. "If you are in haste, take the rope and lead this dog yourself while we ride on. I warrant that within a little while your leg will chafe against the rope, and you will find this fellow dragging like a load which is dead. And slowly you will fall behind, till your comrades are well in advance. Then, captain, a push from this captive's shoulder does the work, and you and your steed fall heavily. Mayhap you are killed, and better for you. Mayhap you live, and this dog, having smothered your voice, contrives to free his hands and carry you off. Then—ah, then comes the trouble."
He grinned at his comrades, who enjoyed his subtle joke, and sat their horses, smiling openly; for their leader was a weak and an unpopular man, and they openly derided him.
"Then comes the trouble," repeated Juan, with relish. "The dog smothers you, cuts his bonds, and then whistles to his friends. You are taken, and that very night the Mexicans enjoy a royal feast, to which they invite all friends. Spaniards are rare morsels, captain, and a leader of Spaniards a dainty bit which will not meet with refusal."
There was a shout, while the leader stamped angrily on the ground, gnawing at his moustache in his annoyance. His face was flushed, and it was clear that he was thoroughly angry. But beyond that, in his heart of hearts these words brought terror to his mind; for the Mexican custom was not only to offer prisoners before the altars, but to roast and eat the bodies, the captor being given this special privilege.
"Cease your chatter!" he exclaimed wrathfully, "and let us move on. What caused you to halt?"
"The prisoner and the rope," was the smooth answer. "The dog has attempted to do what I spoke of; he was gradually pulling me back. But I will make an end of the matter. See here!"
He had been busily loosening the rope from the pummel of his saddle, and now that it was free he took the slack in his hand, and, grasping it firmly, jerked on it with such force that Roger turned suddenly, the pain causing him to twist round.