It was late before I reached the palace of the priests and I was both hungry and tired by my day’s tramp. Entering the large room reserved for us I found my comrades sitting with solemn faces, silent and depressed. Paul and Chaka were there, so they had evidently been as unsuccessful as myself.
I glanced around the circle.
“Where’s Pedro?” I asked.
“They have taken him,” said Paul sadly.
“Where to?”
“To the sacrifice.”
I started back in horror.
“The sacrifice!”
“Yes,” returned Allerton. “It seems to-day is the Feast of the Harvest, and when the sun is highest in the sky—at midday, that is—they sacrifice to their god in gratitude for the ripening of the grain. Ama spoke of this yesterday, but I had forgotten it. This morning, while we were away, the priests came here and forced the boys to draw cuts, without explaining what it was for. Poor Pedro drew the lot, and was led away—he knew not where.”
I shuddered.