“It came from the cueva, that cave which we examined before you were bitten.”
“Who went down the cueva to get it? The place is unclimbable.”
“I went down.”
“You!” he said, in amazement. “You! It is not possible. Do not jest. Tell me the truth quickly. I am tired.”
“I am not jesting. Listen, señor. You were dying for want of water, dying before our eyes; it was horrible to see. I could not bear it, and I knew that my father would not be back in time, so I took the water-skin and some torches and went without saying anything to Ignatio. The shaft was hard to climb, and the adventure strange. I will tell you of that by and by, but as it chanced I came through it safely to find Ignatio about to start on the same errand.”
The señor heard and understood, but he made no answer; he only stretched out his arms towards her, and there and thus in the wilderness did they plight their troth.
“Remember I am but an Indian girl,” she murmured presently, “and you are one of the white lords of the earth. Is it well that you should love me?”
“It is well,” he answered, “for you are the noblest woman that I have known, and you have saved my life.”
Zibalbay did not return till past midday, when he appeared with the water, leading the mule, which had set its foot upon a sharp stone in the desert and gone lame.
“Does he still live?” he asked of Maya.