The Boy Fortune Hunters in Yucatan by L. Frank Baum

Once outside the palace we found a great concourse of natives awaiting us, headed by some twenty red-robed priests. In spite of the evil looks cast upon us there was no insulting word or jibe uttered. I gave the Itzaex credit for saving their breath when it was not needed.

Although the sky had now begun to lighten and all near-by objects were fairly distinct, the torches were still carried ahead as we began our march. This was brief. Soon we came to the lake and were led upon a large flat-boat which at once set out for the temple, urged by a score of rowers with long paddles. The people tumbled into hundreds of other craft, big and little, and followed at our heels.

Arriving at the island the priests took us in charge and escorted us up the steep steps forming the side of the great temple.

This was the largest building in Itza. It was shaped like a pyramid, with steps on all four sides leading to the flat top, some hundred feet from the base. Openings here and there showed that the center of the pyramid was divided into rooms, where the priests doubtless dwelt and held their secret rites and ceremonies. All great public events, such as our proposed carving, were held on top the temple in plain view of the populace gathered below.

Just as we had reached the top-a long and weary climb-the sun rose red over the horizon, and at once there was a clang of gongs and bells and a shrill blowing upon many conch-shells. While this lasted-a full minute, perhaps-we quietly gazed about us.

We stood upon a platform about fifty feet square, the outer edge being lined with priests standing in statuesque attitudes. In the very center of the place was a cube of marble with a hollow space at the top, in which lay a glistening knife. It was not a pretty sight, I assure you, and for an instant it made me shudder.

Now the priests set up a low chant, while at the bottom of the steps appeared the three patriarchs I had noticed at the palace the day before. This was the holy triumvirate, and they ascended with dignified deliberation while the multitude below and those still occupying the fleet of boats all prostrated themselves reverently.

"It's time to inflate the gas-jackets, boys," whispered Allerton.

He uncorked a canteen of water and saturated the crystals of themlyne in his case, afterward handing the canteen to me. One by one we all followed suit, while the chanting priests eyed us doubtfully but forbore to interfere. The gas generated freely and began to fill the hollow jackets, which swelled until we were just able to keep our feet on the platform. Pedro let in a little too much, and would have floated had not Chaka quickly shut off the valve and released some of the excess gas. Pedro, frightened at his own buoyancy, managed to regain his feet with difficulty, and the incident made the priests surrounding us all the more suspicious.

"Are your electrites ready? " inquired Paul.

We nodded.

"Use them if necessary," he commanded.

Then we waited. I looked anxiously for the promised breeze, which so far had failed to put in an appearance. But it was yet early.

Slowly the holy three mounted the steps and we were all ready for them when they arrived at the top. Scarcely glancing at us they turned to the people and commanded them to rise, an order that was speedily obeyed.

Then one of the three began a harangue in a loud impressive voice. He said they were gathered to witness a sad and solemn but most important ceremony, decreed by the all-wise gods of their fathers. The former atkayma, the noble and wise Tcheltzada, a direct descendent of the gods, who had ruled the nation for many years, had finally met his fate fighting nobly against their enemies the Mopanes, who had beheaded him. By the command of the royal Datchapa a terrible revenge had been taken upon the murderers and the noble victim's head and body had been recovered. These now lay at the foot of the pyramid on the funeral pyre, and in order to please and propitiate the gods, who had loved and cherished the great Tcheltzada, a number of strangers, including several of the hated white people, were to be slain and their blood sprinkled upon the ashes of the lamented atkayma. All this in honor not alone of the dead, but of his son the new Atkayma Chaka and his most holy brother, the wise and esteemed Datchapa, who as leader of the royal council had decreed the interesting ceremony that was about to take place.

I could see how cleverly the priests favored old Datchapa by giving him the credit of catering to the people's hatred and lust for blood. It boded ill for Atkayma Chaka's future that his wiley uncle practically controlled the powerful priesthood.

As the chief priest concluded his speech he turned about and asked:

"Who condemns these prisoners to the sacrifice?"

"I do," answered a voice, as Datchapa stepped from behind a row of priests. "As head of the Royal Council of Itzlan I condemn these prisoners to be slain and their blood mingled with the ashes of Tcheltzada-if the gods consent to accept the tribute."

At this all eyes were fixed upon an ugly little image of the god Bacáb, which was perched upon a shelf about midway up the front of the pyramid.