Heart of the World

by H. Rider Haggard

So beautiful was this bubble... that for some minutes Maya watched it.

For a minute or more she remained thus, drinking her fill and enjoying the coolness of her bath, which was pleasant after the stupefying heat of the caves, then, first having taken care to remove the tinder that was tied to it, she slipped the water-skin from her shoulder, washed it out, filled and replaced it. Next, she dragged herself up the bank, and by the light of a new torch started for the foot of the shaft.

Here Maya rested awhile, gathering up her energies, then, feeling that once more she began to grow afraid, she commenced the ascent. There were a hundred and one of the notches, for she had counted them as she came down, and now again she began to count, so that she might know her exact position in the shaft, of which she could see nothing because of the intense darkness. Before she had ascended fifty steps she was dismayed to find a feeling of weariness taking possession of her, which forced her to pause awhile hanging to the face of the pit. Then she went on again and with great efforts reached the seventy-fifth step, where once more she was obliged to hang, gaining breath, till a pain in her right leg, upon which most of her weight rested, warned her that she must stay no longer. For the third time she struggled upwards, desperately and despairingly dragging her feet from niche to niche. Her breath came in gasps, the straps of the heavy water-skin cut into her tender flesh, and her brain began to reel.

Now there were but ten more steps. It came into her mind that she might save herself by loosing the burden of water from her shoulders, to fall to the bottom of the pit, but this she would not do. Now only three niches remained and the goal would be won, but now also her brain was giving. Darker and more bewildered it grew, yet by a desperate effort she kept some fragment of her sense. Her foot was in the topmost hole, her body was balanced upon the edge of the pit, and, pulled down by the choking weight of the water, she was like to fall backwards. Then it seemed that a voice called her, and for the last time she struggled, writhing forward as does a wounded snake, till darkness closed in upon her mind.

When Maya recovered, a while later, she found that she was lying on the edge of the shaft, over which her feet still hung. Instantly she remembered all, and, with a little scream of terror, drew herself along the floor. Then with difficulty, for she was still breathless, and her muscles seemed to have no strength, she rose to her feet, and having felt for and picked up her linen robe, she crept towards the spot of light which marked the entrance to the cave. Presently she was through it, and with a sigh of thankfulness sank to the earth and put on her garment, then, rising, she walked slowly towards the camp, bearing the precious water with her.

Meanwhile, knowing nothing of all this, I, Ignatio, also had been thinking. I remembered how, when I lay crushed beneath the rock, the señor had ventured his life to save me. Should I not then venture mine to save his? It seemed so. Without water he would certainly die, and greatly as I dreaded to attempt the descent of the cueva, yet it must be done. Leaving the hammock, I searched for the Lady Maya, but could not find her, so I called aloud,—“Señora, señora. Where are you, señora?”

“Here,” she answered. “What is it? Is he dead?”

“No,” I said, “but I am sure that unless he has water he will die within little more than an hour. Therefore I have made up my mind to try to descend the cueva. Will you be so good as to watch the señor till I return, and if I return no more, as is probable, to tell your father what has happened. He will find the talisman of the Broken Heart lying with my clothes at the mouth of the pit. I pray that he will take it, and I pray also that he should travel back to Mexico, bearing with him some of the wealth of his city, there to continue the great work that I have begun, of which I have spoken to him. Farewell, señora.”

“Stop, Don Ignatio,” said Maya in a hoarse voice, “there is no need for you to descend the cueva.”