The Lost City [63]
than even nature intended, mother and daughter sank to their knees, lifting hands and hearts towards the All-Powerful, even as their gratitude floated towards the Throne of Grace.
Then arose the hoarse tones of Huatzin, bidding his allies find and slay without mercy; cursing the treacherous Aztec who had thus guided one of a strange tribe into the very heart of their beloved city.
With a short, fierce ejaculation, Victo sprang to her feet, right hand once again grasping shaft of javelin, its copper point gleaming ruddily in the rays of lamp as though already moistened by the heart-blood of yonder villain.
Far differently acted the maiden, her figure trembling with fear and wonder commingled, her lips slightly blanched as she clung closer to her mother. Yet through all ran a touch of girlish curiosity which helped shape the words now crossing her lips.
"Who was it, mother? Who could the stranger be? And whither has he gone?"
"With Ixtli, my child, and may the good God of our own people grant them both life and liberty! If I thought--your father, Gladys! Alive and looking for his beloved ones! See! from his own dear hand, and he says--Hold! who comes there?"
But the alarm appeared to be without actual foundation, for the sounds came no closer, remaining beyond the drapery past which Lord Hua had staggered only a few brief seconds before.
Gladys rallied more speedily than one might have expected, and she spoke with even greater interest than at first.
"My dear father, and alive? Oh, mother, why is he not here to--why should he send another? And that one--he spoke our dear language, mother; surely he is not--not as Ixtli?"
"No; he was of our own people, child, and I can hardly conceive how he came hither, save that Ixtli must have acted as guide."
"And those awful warriors!" shivering as the war-cries followed the muffled roar of the great drum. "If found, he will be slain!
Do you think there is any hope for him, mother? And he seemed so--so--"
"He is gone with Ixtli, and Ixtli is true to the very core," Victo hastened to give assurance. "I would rather trust him than many another of thrice his years and warlike experience. Ixtli is true; ay, as true and tried as his father, Aztotl!"
"Who loves you, mother, and would win--"
"Hush, child!" just a bit sharply interposed the elder woman, yet at the same time tightening that loving clasp. "Merely as the daughter of his Sun God, Quetzalcoatl, and--ha!"
Once again there came the echoes of rapid foot-falls beyond the heavy draperies, and again this Amazonian mother drew her superb form in front of her shrinking child, poising the javelin in readiness for stroke or casting, as might serve best.
A strong arm brushed the curtains aside sufficiently to admit its owner's passage, but the armed warrior stopped short at sighting the Sun Children, his proud head lowering, hands crossing over his broad bosom in token of adoration,--for it surely was more than mere submission to one held his superior.
With a low cry, Victo drew back a bit, weapon lowering as she recognised friend in place of enemy.
"It is you, Aztotl?" she spoke, in mellow tones. "I thought--did you remove the usual guards, this evening?"
"The blame falls to my share, Sun Child," the Red Heron made answer, with a meekness strange in one of his build and general appearance, that of a king among ordinary warriors.
"Not justly, nor through fault of your own, my good and true friend," the elder woman made haste to give assurance. "Not even thy lips shall speak slander of Aztotl the True-heart, my brother."
With a swift advance the Red Heron caught the unarmed hand, to bend over it until his lips barely brushed the soft, perfumed skin. Then he sank to one knee, bowing his head until his brow touched the floor beneath her sandalled feet.
Swiftly, gracefully, these movements were made, and where they would have appeared fulsome or degraded in some, with this warrior the effect was far from disagreeable to see or to experience.
Victo flushed warmly
Then arose the hoarse tones of Huatzin, bidding his allies find and slay without mercy; cursing the treacherous Aztec who had thus guided one of a strange tribe into the very heart of their beloved city.
With a short, fierce ejaculation, Victo sprang to her feet, right hand once again grasping shaft of javelin, its copper point gleaming ruddily in the rays of lamp as though already moistened by the heart-blood of yonder villain.
Far differently acted the maiden, her figure trembling with fear and wonder commingled, her lips slightly blanched as she clung closer to her mother. Yet through all ran a touch of girlish curiosity which helped shape the words now crossing her lips.
"Who was it, mother? Who could the stranger be? And whither has he gone?"
"With Ixtli, my child, and may the good God of our own people grant them both life and liberty! If I thought--your father, Gladys! Alive and looking for his beloved ones! See! from his own dear hand, and he says--Hold! who comes there?"
But the alarm appeared to be without actual foundation, for the sounds came no closer, remaining beyond the drapery past which Lord Hua had staggered only a few brief seconds before.
Gladys rallied more speedily than one might have expected, and she spoke with even greater interest than at first.
"My dear father, and alive? Oh, mother, why is he not here to--why should he send another? And that one--he spoke our dear language, mother; surely he is not--not as Ixtli?"
"No; he was of our own people, child, and I can hardly conceive how he came hither, save that Ixtli must have acted as guide."
"And those awful warriors!" shivering as the war-cries followed the muffled roar of the great drum. "If found, he will be slain!
Do you think there is any hope for him, mother? And he seemed so--so--"
"He is gone with Ixtli, and Ixtli is true to the very core," Victo hastened to give assurance. "I would rather trust him than many another of thrice his years and warlike experience. Ixtli is true; ay, as true and tried as his father, Aztotl!"
"Who loves you, mother, and would win--"
"Hush, child!" just a bit sharply interposed the elder woman, yet at the same time tightening that loving clasp. "Merely as the daughter of his Sun God, Quetzalcoatl, and--ha!"
Once again there came the echoes of rapid foot-falls beyond the heavy draperies, and again this Amazonian mother drew her superb form in front of her shrinking child, poising the javelin in readiness for stroke or casting, as might serve best.
A strong arm brushed the curtains aside sufficiently to admit its owner's passage, but the armed warrior stopped short at sighting the Sun Children, his proud head lowering, hands crossing over his broad bosom in token of adoration,--for it surely was more than mere submission to one held his superior.
With a low cry, Victo drew back a bit, weapon lowering as she recognised friend in place of enemy.
"It is you, Aztotl?" she spoke, in mellow tones. "I thought--did you remove the usual guards, this evening?"
"The blame falls to my share, Sun Child," the Red Heron made answer, with a meekness strange in one of his build and general appearance, that of a king among ordinary warriors.
"Not justly, nor through fault of your own, my good and true friend," the elder woman made haste to give assurance. "Not even thy lips shall speak slander of Aztotl the True-heart, my brother."
With a swift advance the Red Heron caught the unarmed hand, to bend over it until his lips barely brushed the soft, perfumed skin. Then he sank to one knee, bowing his head until his brow touched the floor beneath her sandalled feet.
Swiftly, gracefully, these movements were made, and where they would have appeared fulsome or degraded in some, with this warrior the effect was far from disagreeable to see or to experience.
Victo flushed warmly