The feelings of the captives, as they heard the sound of the drums, the shouts of the natives, and once or twice caught the scream of agony of their comrades, were terrible. This was the fate that they, too, were to undergo; and men who had, a hundred times, looked death in battle in the face, shuddered and trembled at their approaching doom.
Each day two of their number were taken, and the same terrible scene was gone through. Roger was rather surprised that he himself was not one of the first selected, as his height and figure made him specially conspicuous among his comrades; but he supposed that he was being one of those reserved for some special festival. Whatever the famine might be in the city, the captives were well fed; for it was a point of honor, among the Aztecs, that all victims offered to the gods should be in good health and condition.
The guards were changed every six hours, and on the third day, in the officer over the relief, Roger recognized, to his surprise and delight, his friend Bathalda. The latter, as he entered, made a significant motion to Roger, as he caught his eye, to make no sign that he recognized him.
The Aztecs, as usual, sat down in groups, chatting. They had no fear whatever of the prisoners attempting to escape in the daytime, and it was only at night that they exercised any special vigilance in seeing that they did not attempt to unloose their bonds. Bathalda presently sauntered up into the corner in which Roger was sitting.
"How are my friends?" the latter asked, in a low voice.
"Well," Bathalda replied. "Cuitcatl explained to the young emperor the circumstances under which he came to know and assist you, and was at once restored to favor, and now commands a large body of troops here. I have not seen the princess. She is at the palace. Cuitcatl bade me tell you that they are working for you, and will rescue you before the time comes for your sacrifice; but at present the watch is too strict."
"But I may be chosen, any day," Roger said.
Bathalda shook his head.
"Cuitcatl has bribed the priests who choose the victims to leave you until the last; so you need not feel uneasiness on that score. Be patient and watchful. If any of your guard approach you and say, 'The time is at hand,' you will know that he is a friend. Act as he tells you. I dare not say more, now."
Ten days passed. Juan had gone, and Roger had been much moved at parting with him--more so, indeed, than the old soldier himself, who had kept up firmly, and was prepared to meet his fate with contempt for his enemies, in the assurance that his death would be terribly avenged.