“James Strickland,” she repeated with some difficulty, “I thank you, James Strickland, for rescuing my father from torment and me from insult; and because of that deed, I, Maya of the Heart, whom many have served, am your servant for ever.”
“You should thank my friend, Don Ignatio,” he said, pointing to me.
For a few moments she looked at me searchingly, then replied, “I thank him also, but you I thank the most, for your hand rid me of that hateful man and saved us.”
“It is early to return thanks, lady,” he said; “we are not out of danger yet.”
“I have little fear now that we have escaped from that dreadful house,” she answered almost indifferently, “since our hiding-place is at hand. Also how can they find us in this forest? Hark! what was that?”
As she spoke a faint and distant sound fell upon our ears,—such a sound as might have been made by a bell struck far away at night.
“That is how they will find us,” he said, springing to his feet. “Do you hear, Ignatio? The dogs have hit our trail. Which way does our road run now, lady?”
“Along the banks of the stream.”
“Then we must go forward in the water,” said the señor, “it is our only chance, for the hounds cannot track us there.”
Now we began to scramble down the bed of the stream as fast as the boulders and the weariness of Zibalbay would allow. Fortunately it was not a broad river, nor very deep, still sometimes we could scarcely stand in the rapids, and twice, not daring to set foot upon the bank, we were forced to swim the length of the pools, which we did in terror fearing lest they should be haunted by alligators. For something over an hour we followed the stream thus, till suddenly Maya halted, saying that if we would gain the building where they had dwelt, we must leave the water and plunge into the forest. By now we were exhausted,—indeed, unless he were carried, the old Indian, Zibalbay, could not have gone another mile; so, notwithstanding the danger of setting foot upon the land, on learning that the place was near and that food was to be found in it, we hesitated no longer, but once more began to thread the bush. Not more than three hundred paces from the banks of the river we came upon a high mound densely overgrown with trees, between the boles of which appeared masses of cut stone.