“Well? upon the fourth?”
“They will roast us!”
We might have been more startled at this abrupt declaration had the idea been new to us, but it was not. The probability of such an end had been in our thoughts ever since our capture. We knew that they did not save us at the mine for the purpose of giving us an easier death; and we knew, too, that these savages never made men prisoners to keep them alive. Rube was an exception; but his story was a peculiar one, and he escaped only by his extreme cunning. “Their god,” continued Sanchez, “is the same as that of the Mexican Aztecs; for these people are of that race, it is believed. I don’t know much about that, though I’ve heard men talk of it. He is called by a queer, hard name. Carrai! I don’t remember it.”
“Quetzalcoatl?”
“Caval! that’s the word. Pues, señores; he is a fire-god, and fond of human flesh; prefers it roasted, so they say. That’s the use we’ll be put to. They’ll roast us to please him, and at the same time to satisfy themselves. Dos pajaros al un golpe!” (Two birds with one stone.)
That this was to be our fate was no longer probable, but certain; and we slept upon the knowledge of it the best way we could.
In the morning we observed dressing and painting among the Indians. After that began dancing, the dance of the mamanchic.
This ceremony took place upon the prairie, at some distance out in front of the temple.
As it was about commencing, we were taken from our spread positions and dragged up near it, in order that we might witness the “glory of the nation.”
We were still tied, however, but allowed to sit upright. This was some relief, and we enjoyed the change of posture much more than the spectacle.