“I have reason to believe them,” gravely replied the negro. “The God of the Christians dwells in the sky; those of Costal inhabit the Lake of Ostuta, Tlaloc, the god of the mountains, lives on the summit of Monopostiac; and Matlacuezc his wife, the goddess of the water, bathes herself in the waters of the lake that surround the enchanted mountain. The third night after the summer solstice—at the full of the moon—is the time when they show themselves to the descendants of the caciques of Tehuantepec—to such as have passed their fiftieth year—and Costal intends to invoke them this very night.”
As Don Cornelio was about endeavouring to bring the negro to a more rational religious belief, Costal strode silently up.
“Well,” said the Captain, “is our information correct? Have you learnt whether Arroyo is really encamped on the banks of the Ostuta?”
“Quite true,” answered the Indian, “a peon of my acquaintance, whom I chanced to meet, has told me that Arroyo and Bocardo are by the ford, where they intercept the passage of all who come this way. It is close by, so that this evening you can deliver your message. After that is done, I would ask leave of absence for Clara and myself for the night. We wish to spend it on the shore of the Sacred Lake.”
“Hum!” muttered Don Cornelio, without noticing the request. “So near!” continued he, speaking to himself, and abruptly ceasing to eat. “What else did your peon acquaintance make known about Arroyo and Bocardo?”
“Only that they are more thirsty than ever—the one for blood, the other for plunder.”
Costal imparted this information in a tone but little calculated to inspire the Captain with a relish for his mission.
He endeavoured to conceal his uneasiness, however; and, raising his voice to a tone of assumed boldness, he inquired:—
“It is to the ford of the Ostuta, then, we are to go?”
“Yes, Señor Captain, whenever it pleases your honour to move forward.”