Stronghand had pointed out to the majordomo clusters of storied houses, suspended as it were from the flank of the hill. But these houses were only built temporarily, and in case of an attack on the village would be immediately destroyed. The hill, doubtless in consequence of one of those natural convulsions so common in these regions, was separated into two parts by a quebrada of enormous depth, which served as the bed of an impetuous torrent. On either side of this quebrada the Indians had built an enormous construction, of pyramidal shape, upwards of two hundred and fifty feet in height. These two towers contained the lodgings of the inhabitants, their granaries and storehouses. More than eight hundred beings, men, women, and children, resided in these singular buildings, which were connected together at the top by a bridge of lianas, boldly thrown across the abyss. These towers could only be entered by a ladder, which was drawn up each night; for as a last and essential precaution, the doors were sixty feet from the ground, in order to guard against surprise.
Nothing could be more curious or picturesque than the appearance offered at a distance by this strange village, with its two massive towers, having ladders for stairs, up and down which people were constantly moving. A few days previously, for greater safety, and to guard the village from a surprise, the chiefs had a trench dug, and a palisade erected, composed of stakes fastened together by lianas. The Indians had taken this precaution, to prevent their horses, on which they especially calculated for the success of the meditated expedition, being carried off by surprise, as so frequently happens on the border.
The travellers were conducted with great ceremony by the chiefs, who had come to receive them at the entrance of the village, to the square, on one side of which stood the "Ark of the First Man;" on the other, "The Great Medicine Lodge, or Council Hut." During the ride the majordomo fancied he saw among the crowd several individuals belonging to the white race, and mentioned it to his comrade.
"You are not mistaken," the latter replied; "several Mexicans reside in the village and trade with the Indians; but that must not surprise you, for you are aware that the Gilenos are mansos. Stay, here is a monk."
In fact, at this moment a stout, rubicund monk crossed the square, distributing blessings right and left, of which the Indians seemed to take but little notice.
"These worthy Frayles," the hunter continued, "lead here a rather monastic life, but in spite of the trouble they take, they cannot succeed in making proselytes. The Comanches are too attached to their religion to accept another; still, as they are too savage to be intolerant," he added, ironically, "they allow these poor monks entire liberty, on the express condition that they do not interfere with them. They have even permitted them to build a chapel, a very poor and simple edifice, in which a few passing adventurers offer up their prayers; for the inhabitants of the village never set foot in it."
"I will go to it," said Paredes.
"And you will act rightly. However, I will do this justice to the four monks who, through a love of proselytism, have confined themselves to this forgotten nook, of stating that they bear an excellent reputation, do all the good they can, and are generally beloved and respected by the population. This praise is the more valuable, because the Mexican clergy do not enjoy a great reputation for sanctity."
"But now that war is declared, what will become of these monks?"
"What do you think? They will remain peacefully, without fearing insult or annoyance. However savage the Indians may be, they are not so savage, be assured, as to make the innocent suffer for the crimes of the guilty."