"If we—a—now if we could finish that paper, we might be able to sell it, you know," Elsa went on. "We certainly haven't an enviably large fortune." She reached into one of the dark pigeon-holes of her father's ponderous desk. "Ook-ook!" she pursed up her full red lips, as she held a yellow scroll from her and gingerly flicked away the dust which had collected upon it since her father's death. "Now here's what I call interesting. An old letter or something, written on agave-leaf paper." From their long association with their father in his archeological researches, the girls had gained a more than superficial knowledge of Aztec customs and antiquities. "'We, the Aztecs, are a proud race,'" she readily translated. "'It is not for the Spaniards to glory in complete victory over us, for though they have conquered our bodies, they have not conquered our spirits. Well may they rejoice in the ruining of our beautiful cities. But when they search, and search in vain, for the wealth which they know has been ours, how they will rage! But their anger shall be as vain as their searching. Those of us who are left will not see the invaders glorying in what was once the splendor of the Aztecs. Rather will we bury, and hide from all future generations, if need be, the secrets of our riches. It is that my descendants may one day scoff at the descendants of those who have made me, who was a prince, a slave, that I am making this record. Among the mountains which the Spaniards have called the "Corderillas" is one in whose top is a hole of great depth, from which it is said, there once flowed streams of liquid fire, the vengeance of the gods upon the people. This mountain stands between two sister mountains of far greater height than itself, and is near the middle of the range.' Why, that might be Ahualtaper, right near here." Elsa had the topography of the country around their home very clearly mapped out in her mind.
Dolores nodded. "Go on," she said.
"'Half-way up the side which faces the rising sun,'" Elsa continued, "'is a ledge, upon which is a rock, apparently one with the mountainside, and in which, when viewed from a distance, can be seen a resemblance to the cross of Tlaloc. One day a descendant of mine will find and displace this rock; whereupon, the entrance to the tomb of my ancestors will be revealed. There are many such tombs and many such mountains as those which I have described, but which I have not named. However, in the particular burial place to which I refer is a jade image of the god Tlaloc. It is studded with valuable turquoise. Where this image is found will also be found what should be the source of untold wealth to the discoverer.
"'In warning, let me say that none but the eldest son of a family must ever know of this document; and should he be tempted, ever, to part with it, let him remember that bodily want is preferable to the curses of the dead!'"
The two girls remained silent for a few moments. "Well," asked Elsa, at last, "what do you think of that?"
Dolores turned again to the desk. "It is interesting," she replied, "but of what use can it ever be to us? We could never find the place. Why, we've been in dozens of burial grottos already, and they are all pretty much alike." She opened another drawer. "Here is father's diary."
The book fell open at the page upon which the last entry had been made. "'May 15'—the day father became ill—'poor wrinkled old Gomez died today,'" she read. "'He wanted to give me information about a jade Tlaloc, some famous image which has been lost. He tried with his last breath to do me the service of aiding me in my research. He gave me also a very ancient manuscript. I do not know where he got it. I hardly feel equal, to-night, to the task of translating it. Perhaps Elsa will do the translation tomorrow. If I could find such an idol, it would be of great value to me in my treatise on jade.'"
Elsa waited long enough only for Dolores to stop reading. "Dolores, we must find that idol."
Dolores looked gravely at her sister. "This is really a serious matter, Elsa. It would save us from the necessity of working if we could find it. But how can you and I alone accomplish anything? We should have to go into the mountains, and have a donkey, and camp in the open air, and——"
"Well," Elsa impatiently interrupted the enumeration of objections, "what of that? You and father and I used often to go into the mountains, and have a donkey, and camp in the open air; and father always depended more upon us than we upon him. You think it over while I get tea." Elsa left her sister sitting alone and looking out of the study windows to the solemn rugged Corderillas.