“In this place I ensconced myself, and lay there for hours, with the rats running over me, so anxious was I to get at the truth. In the end I was not disappointed, for they began to talk. A great deal of their conversation I could make nothing of, but at length the girl said, after examining an old gilt crucifix that hung upon the wall:
“‘Look, father, here also they have gold.’
“‘It is gilt, not gold,’ he answered, ‘I know the art of it, though with us it is not practised, except to keep from corruption the spears and arrowheads that fowlers use upon the lake.’ Then he added:
“‘I wonder what that leaden-eyed, greedy-faced white thief would say if he knew that in a single temple we could show him enough of the metal he covets to fill this place five times over from floor to ceiling.’
“‘Hush!’ she said, ‘ears may be listening even in these walls; let us risk nothing, seeing that by seeming to be ignorant alone we can hope to escape.’”
“Well,” asked the señor eagerly, “and what did Zibalbay answer? I think that you said the old man’s name was Zibalbay,” he added, trying to recover the slip.
“Zibalbay! No, I never mentioned that name,” Don Pedro replied suspiciously, and with a sudden change of manner. “He answered nothing at all. Next morning, when I came to question them, the birds had flown. It is a pity, for otherwise I might have asked the old man—if his name is Zibalbay. I suppose that the Indians had let them out, but I could not discover.”
“Why, Don Pedro, you said just now that they were still in the house.”
“Did I? Then I made a mistake, as you did about the name; this wine is strong, it must have gone to my head; sometimes it does—a weakness, and a bad one. It is an odd tale, but there it ended so far as I am concerned. Come, señor, take a cup of coffee, it is good.”
“Thank you, no,” answered the señor, “I never drink coffee at night, it keeps me awake.”