BRITISH MYSTERIES - Fergus Hume Collection: 21 Thriller Novels in One Volume. Fergus Hume
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“And the Chalchuih Tlatonac?” asked Dolores, breathlessly.
“They discovered that loss on returning to the teocalli for the morning sacrifice. All the priests were in despair, and Ixtlilxochitli, knowing you had taken the sacred gem, Señor, burnt a lock of your hair to——”
“A lock of my hair!” interrupted Jack, in surprise; “how did they get that?”
“Some of your hair was cut off when you were ill, and preserved in the temple.”
“And why did they burn it?”
“Because, by doing so, they devote your soul to Tlacatecolotl, the evil one.”
“Oh, the Aztec devil,” replied Duval, carelessly. “Much good that will do them. I should have thought it wiser for them to look for the stone.”
“They are looking for it, Señor, and for your body—in the bed of the torrent.”
“I’m afraid they will be disappointed with the result of their search. So they think we are dead?”
“Yes, Señor. You are safe from pursuit; but I am not.”
“What do you mean?”
Cocom withdrew his left arm from the fold of his zarape. The hand was cut off, and nothing remained but the stump of the wrist, seared with hot-iron. A hideous object. Dolores cried out, and hid her face in her hands with a shudder. Jack at once understood why Cocom had acquiesced so calmly in the theft of the opal.
“Behold, Señor!” said the old man, shaking the mutilated wrist at Jack, with a look of hatred; “this was my punishment for suffering you to escape. My hand was cut off before Huitzilopochtli, and burned with red-hot iron. Then I was shut up in prison, to wait till the god’s will was known.”
“My poor Cocom!” cried Jack, much distressed, “how you have suffered for aiding us. Thank Heaven you have escaped!”
“Yes, Señor. Ixtlilxochitli did not think I could leave the city; but in the night I got out of the window of my prison, and followed you down the secret way. With all my strength I followed, but I feel sure that the hounds of the priests are on my track.”
“But as Ixtlilxochitli knows you are not aware of the secret way, he——”
“Señor,” interrupted Cocom, vehemently, “he must know it now. After the discovery of the cañon, guards were placed there. I have left the city. One other way only could I have gone—the secret way. Believe me, Señor, the Indians are not far behind.”
“Dios!” cried Dolores, in terror, “we will be discovered!”
“Not so, Señorita! On my way hither, I met a friend coming from Tlatonac to the shrine. He told me that the boat of the Americano had gone some days since to Acauhtzin, to demand the release of Don Juan. She returns to-day, and will pass this point at noon. There is a canoe below, Señor! Let us depart in that canoe, and meet the steamer.”
Jack sprang to his feet, with a shout, at this prospect of deliverance.
“Philip’s yacht,” he cried, joyfully; “good! We will do as you say, at once, Cocom, and cut across the line of her passage. She will be sure to pick us up.”
“Not now, Señor! At noon!”
Jack went to the entrance of the cave, and looked at the altitude of the sun.
“It wants two hours to noon. In one hour we will start.”
“Bueno!” replied Cocom, stolidly, “let us hope the hounds of Ixtlilxochitli will not find us. Once we see the boat of the Señor Americano, and we are safe, if not——”
Cocom shook his head to intimate he had grave doubts of what would be their fate in such an event, and took another drink of aguardiente. Jack knew that in returning Philip would keep the yacht close to the shore, in order to avoid the war-ships of Xuarez, which generally kept a long way to seaward. He, therefore, took up his station at the mouth of the cave, and watched the northern horizon for the first trail of smoke from the yacht’s funnel.
As in most tropical countries, towards the middle of the day all sounds of life ceased, and Nature took her siesta. In the hush, the three people in the cave heard far away a wild cry. Cocom sprang to his feet, and hurried to the entrance to lay his hand on Jack’s arm.
“Ixtlilxochitli’s hounds! Let us get away at once. Quick, Señor! We will start now.”
“And be safe,” cried Jack, excitedly, pointing towards the horizon; “yonder is the yacht!”
There was a speck on the horizon, but they had no time to look at it. The cries of the Indians sounded nearer and nearer. Guided by Cocom, they left the cave and rushed down a steep road to the beach. Hastily selecting a large canoe, Cocom sprang in. Jack lifted Dolores over the gunwale, and stepping in himself, pushed quickly off. Just as they got her afloat, a crowd of Indians burst out of the woods, and made for the beach. With keen eyes they had distinguished Cocom as the fugitive whom they were after, and fearful of losing their prey, poured down in a tumultuous mass. A shower of arrows fell around them, but luckily did no damage, save one which grazed Jack’s cheek. In another moment, they were in deep water, paddling quickly from the shore.
The Indians at once seized the remaining boats, of which there were about a dozen, and hurriedly embarked. Impelled by powerful arms, these boats shot out after the fugitives with great rapidity. Jack turned his head to look for the yacht. She was steaming southward with great speed. With the strength of despair, Jack paddled, and so did Dolores. Cocom was but little use with his mutilated hand, but stood up in the bow cursing their pursuers fluently in the Indian tongue.
From the start, they had gained considerably on their pursuers, and fortunately an accident happened, by which three of the canoes, coming into collision, were overturned. The screams and cries of those struggling in the water caused their comrades to pause, and during a few minutes Jack succeeded in placing a longer distance between himself and his pursuers. The Bohemian was so near that he could see the Union Jack flying at her masthead, the foam swirling from her bows.
With wild yells to encourage one another, the remaining canoes started again; but, their folly in keeping close together in a mass, impeded their own speed. A good distance stretched between the pursuers and pursued. Cocom stood swearing fluently, Dolores prayed loudly in Spanish, but Jack, with teeth set hard, paddled as though the devil were after him. To lose all when within sight of safety, it would be too terrible; and as he forced the boat along, he kept glancing over his shoulder to look at the course of the yacht. She was standing closer in to shore, and the canoe would cut across her trail in ten minutes or thereabouts.
Those on board had evidently seen a boat was being chased by the Indians, for the sound of a gun broke on their ears.
“Hurrah!” yelled Jack, joyfully. “Philip sees us. Come on, you cursed wretches, I’ll escape you yet.”
Dolores flung down her paddle with a cry. She was completely worn out, and could do no more. Jack did what he could, but the Indians rapidly gained on them. A second gun announced that the yacht was close at hand. So were the Indians now within bow shot. Already some were fitting the arrows to the strings. An idea struck Jack which promised to be their salvation.
“Dolores, the opal! the opal! Hold it up. They dare not fire then.”
She caught his meaning at once, and as the nearest boat drew on, sprang to her feet and held up the great gem. It flashed and sparkled in the sun, and a cry of wonder burst from the lips of their pursuers. The foremost warriors dropped their bows. They recognised the Chalchuih Tlatonac, and superstition, stronger than anything else in their natures, paralysed their arms.
“Señor, the boat!” cried Cocom, joyfully.
Jack turned his head. The Bohemian was less, much less, than a quarter of a mile away. Seeing this, the Indians, while forebearing to shoot,