“Still, the prospect of hunting for that city pleases me, for I am an adventurer in my heart. If ever we get further than the forest country in Tabasco, where your friend with the token is waiting for you, our search will probably end in the leaving of our bones to decorate some wilderness or mountain top in the unknown regions of Guatemala.
“But what of that? I have no chick or child; my death would matter nothing to any living soul; for years I have worked hard with small results; why should I not follow my natural bent and become an adventurer? I can scarcely do worse than I have done, and I think that the way of life would suit me.
“That mine you showed me is rich enough no doubt, but I have no capital to deal with it, and if I had, my experience of the place was such that I never wish to set foot in it again. In short, I am ready to start for Tabasco, and the Sacred City, and wherever else you like, so soon as you are fit to travel.”
“Do you swear that on the Heart, señor?” I asked.
“By all means; but I should prefer to give you my hand upon it.” And he stretched out his hand, which I took.
“Good. You swear on the Heart, and give me your hand—the oath is perfect. We are comrades henceforth, señor; for my part I ask no better one. I have nothing more to say. I cannot promise that you will find this City, or that, if you find it, it will advantage you. I am an unlucky man, and it is more likely that, by yoking yourself with me, you will bring my misfortunes upon your head. This I swear, however, that I will be a true comrade to you, as you were to me yonder in the mine, and for the rest, the adventure must be its own reward.”
CHAPTER V.
THE BEGINNING OF THE QUEST
Something more than a month from the day when the Señor Strickland and I made our compact to search for the secret city of the Indians, we found ourselves, together with Molas, at Vera Cruz, waiting for a ship to take us to Frontera, where we proposed to disembark. This port we had chosen in preference to Campeche, although the latter was nearer to the ruins where we hoped to find the Indian Zibalbay, because from it we could travel in canoes up the Grijalva and other rivers, unobserved by any save the natives.
Things are changed now in these parts, but in those days the white men who lived thereabouts beyond the circle of the towns were too often robbers, as Molas had found to his cost some few weeks before.
At Vera Cruz we purchased such articles as were necessary to our journey, not many, for we could not be sure of finding means to carry them. Among them were hammocks, three guns that would shoot either ball or shot, with ammunition, as many muzzle-loading Colt’s revolvers, the best that were to be had twenty years ago, some medicines, blankets, boots, and spare clothes.