These words doubtless contained the result of the hunter's reflections, and were the expression of the resolutions he had just formed.
Several days elapsed, and nothing of an interesting nature occurred in the village. The military committee sat several hours during the interval. The plan of the coming campaign was definitively arranged and the collection of the Indian forces was the only thing that delayed the outbreak of hostilities. Whistler returned to the village four days after his departure, and reported to the hunter that Paredes reached the hacienda without any accident, and nothing had disturbed the tranquillity of the journey.
In the meanwhile, the different Indian tribes forming the great confederation of the Papazos began flocking into the village. Ere long there were no quarters left for them, and they were compelled to camp on the plain, which, however, was no hardship to men accustomed to brave all weather. On the twelfth day after Paredes' departure, the hachesto convened all the chiefs to a general meeting at sunset, in order to perform the mystic rites of the great medicine before opening the campaign. At the moment when the sun disappeared below the horizon in clouds of purple vapour, the amantzin, or first sorcerer of the nation, mounted the roof of the medicine hut, and by a sign commanded silence.
"The sun has withdrawn its vivifying heat from us," he said in a powerful voice, "the earth is covered with darkness, and this is the mystic hour when man must prepare for the struggle with the genius of evil—begin the great medicine."
At the same instant, animals of every description appeared from all the lodges, from the corners of the streets, gliding down the ladders of the pyramids, or coming from the plain; quadrupeds, birds, and reptiles collected in the village square, with horrible cries, overflowed the streets on all sides, and spread out over the country for a league round. These animals were Indian chiefs, clothed in the skins of the beasts they wished to represent. Not only do the Indians imitate with rare perfection the different cries of animals, but they have also made a special study of their manners, habits, mode of progression, and even of the way in which they eat and sleep. Nothing can furnish an idea of the horrible concert composed of these cries—hisses, snapping, and roars, mingled with the furious barking of the dogs. There was something savage and primitive that powerfully affected the imagination. At intervals silence was suddenly re-established, and the sorcerer's voice rose alone in the night.
"Is the evil principle conquered?" he asked; "Have my brothers trampled it under foot?"
The animals responded by horrible yells, and the noise began again worse than before. This lasted the whole night through. A few minutes before sunrise the sorcerer repeated the question for the last time, which had received no other answer but furious yells. This time the pure and melodious voice of a young girl rose in the silence, and pronounced these words:—"The Master of Life has pity on his red children; he sends the sun to their help. The evil principle is conquered."
At the same instant the sun appeared in its radiance. The Indians saluted it with a cry of joy, and throwing off their disguises, they fell on their knees, with faces turned up to heaven. The sorcerer, holding in his right hand a calabash full of water, in which was a sprig of wormwood, sprinkled a few drops to each of the cardinal points, crying with an inspired air—"Hail, O sun! Visible minister of the invisible Master of Life! Listen to the prayers of thy red sons. Their cause is just; give them the scalps of their enemies, that they may attach them to their waist belts. Hail, O sun! All hail!"
All the Indians repeated in chorus—
"Hail, O Sun! All hail!"