At this sally Quizquiz and Villac Umu burst into loud laughter. Several in the crowd followed their example.
“Yes,” the high priest seconded, “call upon your god. Tell him to show us what he can do; we shall see who is the more powerful, yours or our own.”
“The sun is not a god at all, if you want to know the truth,” Stanley hotly proclaimed. “You might as well worship a stick or a stone for all the good it would do you. Therefore we could not have possibly offended that which does not exist.”
“Blasphemer! When your backs are chained to the cold stones, when the snakes have struck and the poison from their fangs is burning in your veins, you will think of your words and wish you had left them unsaid,” Quizquiz hissed. “We have proof of the sun’s power. We are not blind. Each day as the florid tints of dawn light up the eastern sky we are reminded anew of his glory and greatness. Without his light and warmth the valley would be steeped in everlasting gloom, and life could not exist. What other evidence do we need? None! Now, perhaps you can give some proof of the——”
“You ask for proof? All right, you shall have it, and of a most convincing nature. You shall see that the object of your adoration is as nothing in the hand that created it. Then you will believe—but it will be too late.”
“Does the king wish him to speak more in this irreverent manner?” Villac Umu asked, seeming ill at ease. “May not he be struck dead and thus evade our plans of a just punishment?”
“Let him continue, for his show of suffering gives me delight. The more he talks the greater his guilt.”
“On the fourth day from to-day,” said Stanley, drawing from his pocket the string with many knots tied in it, “you shall see a miracle, and one not soon to be forgotten. You say that the sun gives the light and warmth that makes life possible, and even the most ignorant of your people know that that is the truth. Then you shall experience the despair of seeing that light and warmth shut off in the middle of the day while it is at its height. Darkness, like a cloak of mourning, will sweep over the valley and blot from your sight each familiar thing. In the cold blackness, with the chill gnawing into your bones, you will grovel in the dust and raise your voice in lamentations and in prayer, but your words will be wasted, for you will be powerless to drive away the darkness. All that live will curse Quizquiz and Villac Umu, and rightly accuse them of having brought the terrible catastrophe upon their heads.”
The Inca grew pale and arose from his cushions. “Tell me, Villac Umu, is such a thing possible? You talk with the gods and know their thoughts.”
“It is not possible or I should have been informed of it,” the priest assured him, although he too was perturbed. “How could such a thing come about? I assure you there is no god but the sun, and he always protects his child, the Inca, and his people.”