Roger the Bold: A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico

by F. S. Brereton

"Let justice be done," he said to himself. "For me there is no life. I feared death a moment ago, though I have nothing to live for. But my lord the noble white man has much before him. He is bold. He has given strength, wisdom, and almost life itself for our cause, and it is but just that we should give him the promised reward. He shall have it. While I can I will read the secret and will show the treasure, leaving him to deal with these rogues. Give me the disc," he said aloud. "The place is near at hand, that I know, but where I cannot say till I have read the picture."

For a little while he stared at the disc, tracing the lines of the causeways with his finger. What he saw there that Roger and others had failed to detect it would be impossible to state, but suddenly he gave a cry, while Alvarez gave vent to an exclamation of pleasure.

"He reads the secret," he said hoarsely, his eyes almost starting from his head, so great was his eagerness. "Come, now, sir priest, hasten, or these other birds of prey will be down upon me. Show me the wealth, for I wish to secure it for myself alone."

One of the natives who acted as guard to the priest rapidly interpreted, Alvarez taking the priest by his robe in his anxiety to hurry him on to the treasure.

"They are getting closer," he cried. "Listen to their shouts. They will be here, if you are not speedy. Where is the hoard?"

His anxiety to be moving was pitiful. He trembled, stared about him as if he were hunted, and stamped with impatience. Then to his huge delight the priest moved.

"I have read the secret," he said. "The disc tells where the treasure is deposited. 'Tis close at hand. Follow, and I will take you to it."

He cast a significant glance at the spot where Roger had last been seen, and smiled grimly in his beard as he noted that the white cacique had come even closer. Then he turned on his heel and swept on through the garden.

"Follow!" he called out. "To the treasure-house."

There was no need for him to bid the Spaniard to follow, for the anxiety of the traitor who had so nearly slain Roger with his treacherous dagger impelled him forward till he outstripped the priest. Then he took him again by the robe and pulled him on, dragged him through the garden, and on to where one of the many sacrificial towers lifted its lofty walls above the buildings. It was surrounded by a low wall of glazed tiles, and its pavements and steps were constructed in a manner which showed that it was of special design.