"Oh, Cocom, I thank you."
"Are you mad, Señor?" whispered the Indian, thrusting him hurriedly back; "eyes may be on us now. The walls of this room are pierced with secret eye-places."
Jack recognised the wisdom of this reasoning, and sank back on his couch. It was just as well he did so, for at that very moment the drapery of the door was swept aside, and a man entered the room.
He was a majestic-looking personage, much taller than the average Indian. Indeed, he was as huge as Tim himself, but not so bulky. He wore a long white robe, falling to his feet, over this a mantle of gaudy leather-work. On his head was set a fresh chaplet of flowers, on his breast burned the red glimmer of a small opal. Advancing into the middle of the room, he swung a small incense-burner before Jack, throwing therein some odoriferous gum, which made a thick, perfumed smoke. After this, he cast some flowers on the couch, and muttered a few words with uplifted hands, finally ending the ceremony by falling on his knees.
"What does this mean?" asked Jack of Cocom, who stood reverently on one side, observing all this mummery.
"Hush, Señor! He adores you as a god."
"Devil take him and his worship," muttered Jack, crossly, in English. Then the priest spoke in the Indian tongue, and Cocom translated his speech to Jack.
"Is my lord better in health?" asked the priest.
"Tell him I am; but I don't care about being preserved for sacrifice."
"Speak not so, Don Juan," said Cocom, in Spanish, with a look of alarm; "you are not supposed to know anything of that. I told you on the peril of my life."