"The original inhabitants of Mexico? Yes. Didn't Cortez conquer them with a mere handful of Spanish troops?"
"Yes; but that isn't my point," continued Tiny. "They went in for human sacrifices, and they made a point in certain cases of keeping their victims for a twelvemonth before they did them in. During that twelvemonth they fed them up in fine style, and gave them no end of a good time. I wonder if these Makoh'lenga fellows are trying on the same sort of stunt with us? We aren't out of the wood by a long chalk, old son."
CHAPTER XXXI
THE GOLDEN IMAGE
For the next three weeks Colin and Desmond had little to complain of. Apart from their anxiety to communicate with their friends, they really had a rather pleasant holiday. They were well-fed, housed, and cared for, and up to a certain point allowed liberty of action.
Their greatest difficulty was their inability to understand the Makoh'lenga language. Although it resembled the Zulu dialects in the way in which the guttural "clicks" occurred, in almost every other word there was nothing else in common with the native tongues spoken in that part of the Dark Continent.
The chums did not submit to their altered conditions without making efforts to secure their freedom. Very shortly after their arrival they decided to make an attempt to escape. Waiting until it was past midnight and the whole village appeared to be wrapped in slumber, they stole softly through the doorless aperture of their quarters, and made their way towards the tunnel.
It was a moonless night, but the stars were shining brightly, although there was a mist rising from the ground.
Without molestation they drew clear of the village, crossed the open belt of ground, and gained the mouth of the oblique shaft. Here they paused and listened intently. The tunnel was in Cimmerian darkness.