the Spaniards there was seen the sign of warning that King
Chaltzantzin had promised should tell when the danger that he had
so well prepared for should be near; which sign was the going out
of the sacred fire that the priests guarded on a certain high hill.
Meantime, all knowledge of their brethren hidden in the Valley of
Aztlan for their help in time of peril was lost to the Aztec tribe
in dim tradition; for the King had commanded, in order that his
people might not fall into weakness through trusting in the
strength of others for protection, that no open record of the
colony that he had founded should be preserved. Therefore was this
matter a secret known only to a few priests whose blood was of the
royal line; in whose keeping, also, was the token that King
Chaltzantzin had commanded should be sent to the walled city of
Culhuacan when its warriors were to be called forth, and a map
whereby the way thither was made plain. And so it was that,
when the sacred fire ceased burning, the priests were alert
for the threatened danger; and when the landing of the
Spaniards--'fair-faced and bearded men, coming from the
eastward'--was known to them, they warned their king, Montezuma,
that the prophecy was fulfilled, and that the time for sending for
the army and the treasure had come.
"For the bearer of this message was chosen a priest of the blood
royal, with whom went also a younger priest, his son. And with
these went a guard, whereof the captive Indian was one, that they
might be carried in safety through the region where the wild
Indians were. But the valor of the guard was useless, for the wild
Indians set upon them in such prodigious numbers--in a place not
far from where is this present mission of Santa Marta--that all of
the company, save only this single Indian who was wounded and made
captive, was overpowered and slain. Yet among the slain, the Indian
said, was not found the body of the priest's son; nor was there
found on the priest's body the token that he had been the bearer
of, nor the map that showed the way. For a time the Indian had
hoped that the younger priest had escaped out of the fight alive,
and had carried to them who dwelt in the walled city of Culhuacan
the message of summons; but as the years went onward and nothing
came of it, this hope had died within his heart.
"This, Very Reverend Father, is the strange story told me by this
Indian; who spoke with the urgent sincerity of one devout in the
Christian faith who knew by sensible perception that his death was
near at hand. Eagerly he begged that to these Gentiles, his
brethren by blood, might be sent in their secret fastnesses the
blessed Word whereby they would be delivered from the chains of
their idolatry into the freedom of Christian grace. And, surely,
the treasure that they ward very well may be wrested from these
heathen that it may be used in part in this land in God's service,
and that in part it may go to the just enriching of our lord the
King.
"Nor is the matter one that is difficult of accomplishment. For a
token which shall give us the right of entry into this walled city
of Culhuacan we need only the Word of God and a sufficient force of
men well armed with swords and matchlocks. Nor is it any bar to our
quest that the map showing the way thither has been lost. The
Indian told me that this way is so plainly marked that one who had
found it could not lose it again. For at spaces of not more than a
league or two apart, upon flat places of the rock convenient for
such purpose, was cut the same figure that the token of summons had
engraved upon it; and, with this, an arrow pointing towards where
the next carving would be found: and so these signs went onward,
the heathen priest had told him, even to the very entrance of the
Valley of Aztlan. And that this matter might be made sure to me, he
led me to a spot but a league to the westward of this mission of
Santa Marta and there showed me one of these signs, with the
pointing arrow carved also on the rock beside it--of all of which
the drawing here made is an indifferent good copy. And by that
guiding arrow we went onward to another like carving at a little
less than two leagues away to the northward. Therefore, Very
Reverend Father, I, of my own knowledge, am a witness to a part, at
least, of the truth of what that Indian told. And with all my heart
do I add mine own entreaty to his simple pleadings for the
salvation of the souls of his brethren; and also do I venture to
entreat that among those who go to carry the Word of God to this
hidden heathen host I may be one; so that I, though all unworthy of
such honor, shall have a part in rendering to God so glorious a
service.
"The more urgently do I ask this favor because here, in this
mission of Santa Marta, it is but too clear to me that I am
laboring in a barren field. Some hundreds of the heathen I have
indeed baptized; but among all these who have professed our
Christian faith scarce a score show outward and visible signs of a
true regeneration. Many, I am sadly sure, still practise in secret
their old idolatry--and find little more than mere amusement in the
rites of our most holy Church. When they tire of this novelty,
which, in the case of folk of such light natures no doubt will be
in a little while, they will return openly to their idolatry; and
it probably may happen that they then will sacrifice me to their
heathen gods. That, in one way or another, they do intend to kill
me, and that soon, I feel quite sure. I am but twenty-three years
old, Very Reverend Father; and that is an early time in life to end
it. No doubt, also, in killing me they will use torture. And I long
fervently to live, not only for the pleasure of it, but also that I
may do good service to God, and to our Father Saint Francis, by
saving many heathen souls. Therefore I beg that when the army
marches to the reduction of this hidden city that I may be one of
our brethren who will go with it, to hold by tender preaching of
God's goodness and mercy such heathen as may remain alive after our
soldiers shall have conquered that city with the sword.
"I commend you, Very Reverend Father, to the care of Our Lord in
all things, and pray that he may guard your most illustrious and
very reverend person, and protect you in all matters of your
temporal and spiritual estate. And I am the least worthy of your
servants,
FRANCISCO de los ANGELES."
"Of a truth," said Fray Antonio, as he ceased reading, "this brother of
mine adhered closely to the truth when he subscribed himself the least
worthy of the bishop's servants. Were it not here in his own hand, I
should refuse to believe that one of our Order at that time in New Spain
had any thought of saving his own life when God's work was to be done."
For myself, I must own that my heart was deeply touched by the very
humanity of this poor Brother Francisco's cry for help that came up out
of the dead depths of the past; and that was the more keen and pitiful
because the cruel death at the hands of the barbarous Indians that he so
dreaded assuredly had overtaken him. His could not have been a strong
nature, and it was the weaker because of his youth; but, after all, it
was the nature that God had given him, and there must have been a strain
of strength in it, else he never would have braved the dangers which
overcame him in the end. And he was "but twenty-three years old"!
Yet when I sought to lead Fray Antonio's mind to such consideration of
the matter he replied, sternly: "This weak brother failed in his duty.
To him God gave an opportunity to die gloriously for the Faith; but,
instead of accepting that noble reward joyfully, his strongest wish was
that he might find a way by which he might escape alive. Had all
professors of the Christian creed so conducted themselves, that creed
long since would have perished from off the earth. _Semen est sanguis
Christianorum_ is well said of Tertullian the Carthaginian, and, later,
of the blessed Saint Jerome."
As Fray Antonio thus spoke he so drew up his slight figure, and in his
sweet voice was a ring of such commanding sternness, that he was for the
moment transformed. Here was a man wholly different from the gentle
scholar whom I had already learned to love. In the glimpse that I thus
had of his underlying character I saw vivified again the spirit of the
early Christian Church; and I understood, as I never had understood
before, of what stuff they were made who heard pronounced upon them the
sentence, "To the lions!" and joyfully accepted their cruel fate,
defiant of what man might do to them because of the perfection of their
faith in the merciful forgiveness and upholding steadfastness of their
Christian God.
But in a moment a look of sadness and regret came into Fray Antonio's
face, and he added, sorrowfully: "God forgive me for thus judging my
brother, who long since was judged! Who can say that when the hour of
trial came he did not meet his death as bravely as any martyr of them
all? And who can say," he went on, but speaking softly, as one communing
with his own soul, "how I myself--But God gives strength." And then he
ceased to speak aloud, but his lips moved silently as though in prayer.
As I close my eyes I see him again as clearly as I saw him
then--standing beside the old stone fountain, amid the flowers, in the
gladness of the bright sunshine; in his eyes a strange, far-away look,
as though the future for a moment had been opened to him; and on his
strong, fine face a sternly resolute expression, which yet was softened
by the traits which were so strong within him of holiness and gentleness
and love. I cannot know what Fray Antonio prayed for, there in the old
convent garden; but I can guess, and I am well persuaded that his prayer
was heard. Truly, I think that it was something more than chance that
led us thus at first to talk, not of the wonder that was in Brother
Francisco's letter, but of Brother Francisco himself and of his end.
And then the subject-matter in chief of the letter claimed our
attention. In itself this was sufficiently marvellous; but what
increased the marvel of it was the conviction, strong within us both,
that if the hidden city of Culhuacan ever had existed at all it existed
still. Our belief was so entirely logical that, assuming the truth of
the story told by the Indian captive, it admitted nowhere of a doubt.
That the city had been hidden for a long period, through at least
several hundreds of years, from the Aztecs themselves, and that no
knowledge of it had been conveyed to them by wild Indians who had come
by chance upon the valley wherein it was, was evidence enough of the
security of its concealment. There was nothing surprising, consequently,
in the fact that the Spaniards had not discovered it when they first
overran Mexico, nor that it had remained unknown to the Mexicans of
modern times. As is well known, there are to this day prodigious areas
in Mexico which remain utterly unexplored. In the region west of
Tampico; in the north-western States of Sinaloa, Durango, and Sonora; or
in the far southern States of Oajaca and Chiapas, a valley as great as
that in which the City of Mexico now stands might lie utterly hidden and
unknown. And if, as the Indian's narrative implied, this particular
valley had been selected deliberately because it was so hidden and so
inaccessible, and if the described precautions had been taken to isolate
its inhabitants, it very well might have continued to be lost in its
deep concealment through an almost infinite range of years. That it
never had been found since the Spaniards came into Mexico we were
absolutely certain, for the outcry over so great a wonder would have
echoed throughout the whole of the civilized world. Finally, in the name
of the city, Culhuacan, we had a substantial fact which connected the
extraordinary story that had come to us so strangely with matters within
our own knowledge. For this name not only is given in the Aztec
traditions as that of the sacred spot in which their god Huitzilopochtli
spoke to them, but survives until this present day in the name of the
village that lies at the foot of the sacred mountain, in the Valley of
Mexico, called by the Aztecs the Hill of Huitzachtla, and by the
Spaniards the Hill of the Star--on which, at the end of each cycle of
fifty-two years, the sacred fire was renewed. Surely it was no accident
that had caused the name Culhuacan to be given to this village on this
sacred spot; rather must it have been so named by the elect few to whom
the secret was known as a perpetual reminder to them of the reserve of
men and treasure upon which they could draw should danger threaten their
country and their gods.
"No doubt," said Fray Antonio, "what is here told of a secret record,
known only to the priests, supplies one of the lapses in the pictured
history of the Aztec migration; but as we know not which break in the
history is thus filled in, we have no clew whatever as to the
whereabouts of this hidden place. Nor have we any clew as to the
whereabouts of the mission of Santa Marta, whence we might go onward,
guided by the carvings upon the rocks, until we found at last the place
we sought. The mission of Santa Marta, where my brother Francisco long
ago ministered, might have been anywhere in all Mexico; and being so
small a mission, and enduring for so short a period, it is not likely
that any record of it anywhere has been preserved. Had we but the map
and the token of which my brother writes, our way would be clear;
without these guides it well may be a toilsome way and long. Yet do I
know," Fray Antonio continued, earnestly, "that I shall find this hidden
city. In my soul is a strong and glad conviction that God has called me
to the most glorious work of carrying to the heathen dwelling there the
message of His saving love. He has worked one miracle already to call me
to this duty; in His own good time and way I doubt not that He will work
another miracle by which I may be set in the way of its accomplishment."
As Fray Antonio spoke of the map of the Aztec migration, a hope came
into my heart that, as I considered it, seemed surely to be a certainty.
In the excitement of listening to this strange letter--concerning which
not the least strange matter was, that between the writing and the
reading of it had passed three hundred and fifty years--I had forgotten
my own discoveries, and that my purpose was to show him the pictured
paper and the curious piece of gold. But as he spoke of the migration
this matter was called to my mind suddenly; and then in an instant the
conviction thrilled through me that the clew which would lead us to the
hidden city was in my possession.
"God already has worked that other miracle," I cried, joyfully. "Here is
the token, and here is the map that shows the way!" and, so speaking, I
opened the snake-skin bag that I had taken from the breast of the dead
Cacique and drew forth its precious contents.
For myself, I needed no additional proof that here was all that was
needful to guide us to the hidden city. Yet was I glad that in so grave
a matter we should have added to absolute conviction the weight of
absolute proof. And this we had most clearly; for Fray Antonio, cooler
than I, compared the drawing in the letter with the engraving upon the
piece of gold, and found the two to be essentially identical, save that
the engraving lacked the sign of the arrow pointing the way.
"And now," I cried, enthusiastically, "for such discoveries in
archæology as the world has never known!"
"And now," said Fray Antonio, speaking slowly and reverently, "for such
glorious work in God's service as has been granted but rarely to man to
do!"
V.
THE ENGINEER AND THE LOST-FREIGHT MAN.
That the weight of a strange destiny was pressing upon us, neither Fray
Antonio nor I for a moment doubted. It was something more than chance,
we believed, that had brought us together, and that thereafter, by such
extraordinary means, had put into our hands, in places far asunder, yet
at almost precisely the same moment, these two ancient papers; either of
which, alone, would have been meaningless; but the two of which,
together, pointed clearly the way to a discovery so wonderful that the
like of it was not to be found in all the history of the world.
At the moment that I comprehended how great an adventure was before me,
and what honorable fame I was like to get out of it, I determined that I
would keep the whole matter secret from my fellow-archæologists until I
could tell them, not what I intended doing, but what I actually had
done--for I had no desire to divide with any one the honors that fairly
would be mine when I published to the world the result of my
investigation of this hidden community that had survived,
uncontaminated, from prehistoric times. Having this strong desire within
me, it was with great pleasure that I acceded to Fray Antonio's request
that our project of discovery should not be published abroad. His motive
for secrecy, as I presently perceived, was bred of the one single strain
of human weakness that ever I found in him. Even as I was determined
that no other archæologist should share with me the honor of discovering
this primitive community, so was Fray Antonio determined that to him
alone should belong the glory of carrying into that region of dense
heathen darkness the radiant splendor of the Christian faith. If this
were sin on his part, it certainly was a sin that he shared with many
saints long since in Paradise. Even the blessed Saint Francis himself,
when, at the Council of Mats, he portioned out among his followers the
heathen world that they might preach everywhere Christianity, reserved
for himself Syria and Egypt; in the hope that in one or the other of
those countries he might crown his labors by suffering a glorious
martyrdom. And perhaps in this matter Fray Antonio was not unmindful of
the example set him by the great founder of the Order to which he
belonged.
But while we were thus firmly decided to keep to ourselves the honors
that so great an archæological discovery and so great a Christian
conquest must bring to us severally, we perceived that it would not be
the part of prudence to essay our adventure without any companions at
all. Some portion of the country through which we were to pass we knew
to be frequented by very dangerous tribes of Indians, against the
assaults of which two lonely men--neither of whom had any knowledge
whatever of the art of war--could make but a poor stand. And even should
we escape the wild Indians, we knew that we might get into many evil
straits in which our lives might be ended, yet through which a larger
company might pass in safety. And for my own part, I must confess that I
had a strong desire to have with me some of my own countrymen. For the
gallantry of the Mexicans, which gallantry has been proved a thousand
times, I have the highest respect; yet is it a natural feeling among
Anglo-Saxons that when it comes to facing dangers in which death looms
largely, and especially when it comes to a few men against a company of
savages, and standing back to back and fighting to the very last,
Anglo-Saxon hearts are found to be the stanchest, and Anglo-Saxon backs
to be the stoutest which can be thus ranged together. But in our own
case I did not at all see whence such an Anglo-Saxon contingent was to
be obtained.
We had been talking over this matter of a fighting force one afternoon
in Fray Antonio's sacristy--where our many colloquies were held, for we
moved with a thoughtful deliberation in setting agoing our
adventure--and we had come almost to the determination of organizing a
little force of Otomí Indians, and calling upon two brave young
gentlemen of Fray Antonio's acquaintance to join us as lieutenants.
Although I was willing to adopt this plan, since no other was open to
us, I was far from fancying it; both for the reason which I have already
named, and also for the reason--and this Fray Antonio admitted was not
without foundation in probability--that our young allies would be more
than likely, by their indiscreet disclosures, to make our purpose fully
known. Therefore, it was in no very pleasant frame of mind, our
conference being ended, that I returned to my hotel.
As I entered the hotel court-yard I heard the sound of Pablo's
mouth-organ, and with this much laughter and some talk in English; and
as I fairly caught sight of the merrymakers, I heard said, in most
execrable Spanish, "Here's a _medio_ for another tune, my boy; and if
you'll make the donkey dance again to it, I'll give you a _real_."
That I might see what was going forward without interrupting it, I
stepped behind one of the stone pillars that upheld the gallery; and for
all that my mind was in no mood for laughter just then, I could not but
fall to laughing at what I saw.
Over on the far side of the court-yard, with Pablo and El Sabio, were
two men whose type was so unmistakable that I should have known them for
Americans had I met them in the moon. One was a tall, wiry fellow, with
a vast reach of arm, and a depth of chest and width of shoulders which
allowed what powerful engines those long arms of his were when he set
them in motion. His face was nearly covered by a heavy black beard, and
his projecting forehead and his resolute black eyes under it gave him a
look of great energy and force. The other was short and thick-set, with
a big round head stockily upheld on a thick neck, and with a
good-humored face, which, being clean-shaven, was chiefly notable for
the breadth and the squareness of the jaws. He had merry blue eyes, and
his crown--he was holding his battered Derby hat in his hand--was as
bare as a billiard ball. Below timber-line, as he himself expressed it,
he had a brush of close-cut sandy-red hair. I had encountered both of
these men when I first came to Morelia, and during two or three weeks I
had seen a good deal of them, for we had met daily at our meals; and the
more that I had seen of them the better was I disposed to like them. The
tall man was Rayburn, a civil engineer in charge of construction on the
advanced line of the new railway; the other was Young, the lost-freight
agent of the railroad company--whose duty, for which his keen quickness
peculiarly well fitted him, was that of looking up freight which had
gone astray in transit. Both of those men had lived long in rough and
dangerous regions, and both--as I then instinctively believed, and as I
came later to know fully--were as true and as stanch and as brave as
ever men could be.
What they were laughing at, there in the court-yard, was an
extraordinary performance in which the performers were Pablo and El
Sabio. With a grin all over the parts of his face not engaged in the
operation of his mouth-organ, Pablo was rendering on that instrument a
highly Mexicanized version of one of the airs from _Pinafore_ that he
had just acquired from hearing Young whistle it. To this music, with a
most pained yet determined expression, the Wise One was lifting his feet
and swaying his body and nodding his head in a sort of accompaniment,
his movements being directed by the waving of Pablo's disengaged hand.
The long ears of this unfortunate little donkey wagged in remonstrance
against the unreasonable motions demanded of his unlucky legs, and every
now and then he would twitch viciously his fuzzy scrap of a tail; but
his master was inexorable, and it was not until Pablo's own desire to
laugh became so strong that he no longer could play the mouth-organ that
El Sabio was given rest. As he ended his dancing I must say that there
was on El Sabio's face as fine an expression of contempt as the face of
a donkey ever wore.
"Hello, Professor!" Young called out, as he caught sight of me, "have
you given up antiquities an' gone into th' circus business? This outfit
that you've got here will make your fortune when you get it back into
th' States. If you don't want to run it yourself, I'll run it for you
on th' shares; an' I guess Rayburn'll be glad t' go along as clown. He'd
make a good clown, Rayburn would. You see, we're both of us out of work,
an' both lookin' for a job."
"What do you mean by being out of work?" I asked, when I had shaken
hands with them. "What's become of the railroad?"
"Oh, th' railroad's got into one of its periodical bust-ups," Young
answered. "A row among the bondholders, an' construction stopped, an'
working expenses reduced, an' pretty much all hands bounced, from th'
president down. I guess Rayburn an' I can stand th' racket, though, if
th' company can. I've been wantin' t' get out of this d----d Greaser
country for a good while, an' I guess now I've got my chance. I must
say, though, I wish it had come a little less sudden, for I haven't
anything in particular in sight over in God's country, an' Rayburn
hasn't either. So if you want to start your circus we're ready for you
right away. Where did you get that boy-an'-donkey outfit from, anyway?
They're just daisies, both of 'em an' no mistake!"