The Red Lure

by Roy J. Snell

  CHAPTER XV THE HIDDEN CITY

  It was strange, weird, fascinating, this march of the Mayas. The rhythmicchant, the all but inaudible pat-pat of their bare feet, the sighing windin the palms that waved like plumes above their heads, all this stampeddeep into the minds of the boy and the girl impressions that time willnever erase.

  It was a march, a grand processional, but where to? What was to be theend of it? Armed to the teeth, these men had but a short half hour beforebeen following, surrounding them, perhaps planning to kill them asintruders in their secret land. What of the present? Was this a marchdone in their honor? Was Johnny being thought of as a hero because ofhaving saved the life of that beautiful Indian girl, and was this marchgiven in his honor? Or was it a ceremonial march which would end withtheir being sacrificed to some gods, black, green or gold?

  As he pondered these questions, Johnny remembered something he had readin Hardgrave's book, something that had made his blood run cold. TheMayas did offer sacrifices to their gods, or at least they had in oldentimes. And now, as he recalled it, he understood the presence of thosepools along the trail. The Maya country was a land without streams. Itwas a limestone country. All the water ran in underground grottos. Fromtime to time one of these grottos caved in, forming a pool. That was thesecret of the pools they had seen. Some of these pools held more terriblesecrets. Some of them were thousands of years old. A party of scientists,coming upon one of these in a territory that had been abandoned by theMayas, had found not only rich treasure in ornaments of gold, silver,onyx and jade, but human skulls as well. The lives of those whose skullslay hidden for so many years beneath the water had been sacrificed tosome god. What god? The god of the rising sun? of the noon-day sun? ofthe setting sun? of fire? of water? Who could tell. There lay theirskulls, mute testimony of the death they had died.

  "So we, too, may die?" Johnny whispered to himself. "Who knows?"

  As for Jean, knowing nothing of this, she was enjoying the experience toits full. And why not? Why dream of tragedy in the sunlight of a gloriousday?

  The march came to a halt before a long, low building, and at once anelderly man, dressed in an embroidered cape which, with his dignifiedbearing, gave him quite an air of distinction, came out to greet them.

  At once the beautiful Indian girl broke away from the ranks of thewarriors and began a long and excited speech. Accompanied by manygestures and many a nod of her head in the direction of the white trio,this speech was impressive indeed.

  "What's it all about?" asked Roderick.

  "Don't understand Maya," smiled Johnny, "but as far as I can tell, she isPocahontas and I'm John Smith. She is pleading for my life before thegreat chief. If I'm not mistaken there's a strong family resemblance.She's his daughter."

  "Pleading for your life?" exclaimed Jean.

  "My life and yours perhaps," Johnny smiled. "These Mayas have a way ofsacrificing folks to their gods. Also I've heard that white people arenot at all welcome.

  "Roderick," he said suddenly, "what sort of god would you prefer to besacrificed to--a black one, a green one or one of pure gold?"

  Roderick shuddered, but did not reply.

  "Surely you are romancing!" exclaimed Jean.

  "Indeed I'm not. Never was more in earnest in my life. Men havedisappeared into the jungle. Many have never come back. Do you think allhave perished of hunger and fever? Not much. I read it all in a book.Besides, Hardgrave has told me."

  It was the girl's turn to shudder.

  "I'll put the question more picturesquely," Johnny said, turning to Jean."Would you prefer to be sacrificed to the god of the rising sun, thenoon-day sun, or the setting sun?"

  "The rising sun," she answered quickly. "The morning is so full ofpromise. Surely that would be the god to choose if there really were suchgods, and one were to be sacrificed."

  All this talk came to a sudden end as the chief, stepping forward, tookfirst the hand of the white girl, then that of her companion. After that,nodding to Roderick and the Mayas, he led them into his house.

  There, seated on mats, with a cool breeze floating in from open windows,they were soon being served to a refreshing drink and to food that wasfamiliar, but that seemed passing strange in these weird surroundings.

  "Hot tamales!" Johnny exclaimed as a great mahogany tray of tamales wasset before them.

  "Mm-m!" murmured Jean as she tasted hers. "Wild turkey tamale. Howdelicious!"

  "They should understand the making of them," said Johnny as he took agenerous mouthful. "Unless I am mistaken the Mayas invented them. Theyprobably served them on plates of gold before Columbus discoveredAmerica; yes, or even Solomon found his mines."

  "How--how picturesque! How romantic!" murmured the girl.

  Johnny agreed with her, but in his mind many questions were constantlybobbing up demanding an answer.

  That night as he lay alone on a comfortable bed of mats with a heavy homewoven blanket for protection from the night chill of this higheraltitude, he thought of many things.

  As he heard the steady pat-pat of a sentry's feet as he paced before thedoor of that long, low house, he realized that they were virtuallyprisoners. They were being treated very well, and would be in the future,he hoped. But would the Mayas allow them to return home? He doubted it.The trails to this hidden city of the wild Mayas--it was truly a city andalready Johnny had seen thousands of the little brown people--were secrettrails. How Roderick had come to stumble upon the trail they hadfollowed, he could not tell. Well enough the native chief knew that toallow these uninvited guests to depart was to throw away the key to hiscastle and city.

  What, then, would happen? Would they be detained there indefinitely, begiven the privilege of becoming members of the tribe, of learning thesecrets of their ceremonies and initiated into hidden mysteries?

  "And in the end perhaps marry the princess," Johnny chuckled. "Grandlittle old fairy story, this."

  Strangely enough, at this moment he felt the call of the red lure asnever before. As he closed his eyes he could see great trees comecrashing down, see little tractors dragging massive logs through thebush, see those logs splash into the water to form a raft to at last godrifting silently down the river. This was to have been his greatventure. He was to have tapped a primeval forest of priceless wood. Thatwood was to have been brought to enrich the world. The richest lady ofthe land might not disdain to have her boudoir furnished with richappointments made from this wood. A king or president might be proud tolay his most important documents upon its shiny surface. There was tohave come from this success, riches, and a consciousness of fineachievement.

  "And I gave it up for what?" he asked himself soberly. "For adventure,for the joy of discovery. And for a pal, a golden-haired girl. The girl;I owe all to her. She gave me back life when it was all but gone. But Iwas not the only one who chose. She chose as well. Together we choseadventure, discovery. The lure of the unknown beckoned and we came. If weescape will we win renown? Will they say we have added a chapter to theworld's golden store of knowledge? Hardly. We are not great scholars. Wecannot bring back a detailed report; don't know how. We can only say, 'wehave been, we have seen,' and that is all. And yet, what adventure, whatlure of discovery!"

  With that he fell asleep.