During the time that our various preparations thus went forward we had no direct news from the stronghold of the enemy; yet many vague rumors reached us of the army that was being set in order there to take the field against us. On the other hand, the constant departure from among us of those who were loyal to the ancient government kept the Priest Captain well informed of all that was in progress in our camp. No effort was made by the Council to prevent these departures, for all of our plans were working so well, and our forces were increasing so prodigiously, that it was to our advantage that the enemy should have news of our rapidly augmenting strength; and especially was it hoped that the news thus carried to the city might incline many there who wavered in their allegiance to take open part with us—or, at the least, to refuse to take part against us—and that in this way there might be stirred up a very dangerous spirit of mutiny within the enemy's lines.

The plan of campaign that the Council had adopted struck me as being an exceedingly prudent one. This was that we should not attempt an attack upon the city—for, indeed, to assail such fortifications without artillery would have been utterly hopeless—but should wait until the enemy came out to assail us, and then meet him on our own chosen ground. In every way this plan was in our favor. It most obviously was to our advantage to delay as long as possible the battle that was inevitable, and that, when it did come, must decide the fate of the rebellion finally. Every day that this was deferred was a substantial gain to us, in that the organization of our army was thereby rendered the more complete, and also in that the effective hold of the new government upon the people throughout the valley was thereby strengthened. On the side of the enemy, delay would produce no corresponding gain, rather would it tend to weaken the hold of the Priest Captain upon those who remained faithful to him; and, being shut up with his whole army and a multitude of non-combatants within those great stone walls, a very terrible foe, against which stone walls are no defence, presently would attack him in the shape of hunger. Therefore we had only to wait—maintaining the while a vigilant patrol of guard-boats on the lake, so that no fresh supplies might reach the garrison in the city—in the sure conviction that our foe would of his own accord come forth to give us battle, and that we then would have the advantage of standing wholly on the defensive until some happy turn of chance should so favor us that we would risk nothing in making an assault.

It was a very fortunate thing for us that matters stood in this way; for wellnigh the whole of the trained army of the Aztlanecas was with the Priest Captain, and against this well-disciplined body of men our own hastily assembled and imperfectly organized army would have made but a poor showing had we met on equal terms. Even under the existing circumstances, so favorable in many ways to our success, Tizoc and the other military officers who were with us did not at all disguise their anxiety as to what might be the outcome of the battle so soon to be fought; and especially did they dread some well-planned stealthy movement of the enemy, by which our camp might be suddenly set upon and fairly carried before our own untrained forces could be rallied from the bewilderment and confusion into which they would be thrown by the shock of such surprise.

Rayburn, who had seen a good deal of Indian fighting in his time, fully shared in this feeling of anxiety. "Indian fights, you see," he said, "are not like any other kind of fights. The side that wins has got to do it with a whoop and a hurrah. Indians haven't got any staying power in them. They can't hold out against anybody who stands up against them squarely, and won't be scared by a howling rush into running away. That's the reason why our little bit of an army at home is strong enough to police our whole Indian frontier. A single troop of our boys—if the fighting's square, and they haven't been corralled in an ambush—can stand off a whole tribe; and they can do it because they just get their backs together and won't give in. What bothers me about the fight that we're going to have is that the regulars are on the other side. Of course, being Indians too, regulars like these don't amount to much; but they are bound to be a long chalk better than this rowdy crowd of ours. We've got a pretty fair chance to win, because we're in a strong position, and because our people mean to wait until the other fellows come at 'em; but I tell you what it is, if ever they manage to get inside here, or if ever we go outside after them—that is, while they're fresh and full of fight—it's bound to be all day with us. These miners, and the rest of this Tlahuico outfit, will fight like wild-cats as long as they're on top, but every bit of fight will go right out of them the minute they find that they're beginning to get underneath. That's the Indian way. I'm trying hard to believe that our crowd will whip the other crowd; but I must say, Professor, that I'm not betting on it."

"Well, I'm bettin' on it, and bettin' on it high," said Young. "I don't pretend t' know as much about this sort o' thing as Rayburn does; but I do think I know a live devil when I see one—an' these miners are about as lively an' about as devilly as anything that ever broke loose from hell. They're just as full o' th' wickedest sort o' fight as they can stick in their ugly skins, an' they're just sick for a chance t' let it get out of 'em. All we've got t' do is t' worry th' other crowd for a while by lettin' 'em monkey around tryin' t' bag us; an' then, when they've been pretty well shot off, an' are gettin' tired, just make a rush for 'em an' scoop 'em in. Regulars or no regulars, these miners 'll go through 'em like a limited express; an' the' first thing th' Priest Captain knows we'll have walloped him right smack out o' th' baggy things he wears on his feet an' thinks are boots. That's th' size of it, Rayburn. That's what's goin' t' happen right here—an' don't you forget it! An' then, if there's any way out o' this d—n valley, we'll load up with dollars an' pull out for home."

For my own part, I was not disposed to be either so doubtful as Rayburn or so sanguine as Young. In what each of them said there was much truth, and my inference from such of the facts in the case as were within my knowledge and my comprehension was that the chances for and against our success were very evenly divided. Had I listened only to the promptings of my hopes, I should have entertained no doubt whatever touching the certainty of our victory; for I was at that time so elated by the knowledge that I had acquired, and that each day was increased by the acquisition of new and most precious facts, whereby a flood of light was let in upon what hitherto had been hopelessly dark places in Aztec archÆology, that I was disposed to believe as firmly as ever did the first Napoleon in the assured ascendency of my lucky star. However, I did not wholly permit my wits to be run away with by the joy begotten of my truly wonderful discoveries; and I strove even to contemplate calmly the possibility that I might myself be slain in the battle that was so close upon us; and that thus the exceedingly valuable information which I had acquired would be lost to the world, and to myself would be lost the honorable fame due me for having gathered it. Yet I regret to state—for until that time I had entertained unreservedly the belief that I truly was a philosopher—my attempt at calm contemplation of this dismal and far from improbable combination of evil circumstances had no other effect upon me than to throw me into a most violent rage. It seemed to me so stupidly unreasonable that some mere common brute of an Indian, by the crude process of splitting my skull open, might deprive me, and through me the scientific world, of the priceless knowledge that with much effort I had stored within my brain.

But all thought of my own fortunes, and of this possible sudden cutting of my life-strings, presently was thrust aside by the inroad of another matter that was of far more serious moment to me, inasmuch as there was involved in it a menace against the life of one of my companions; and, indeed, this matter was one which startled our whole camp, for it was nothing less than a formal offer on the part of the Priest Captain to condone the rebellion, and to compromise with the rebels, on certain far from exacting terms.

The envoy sent to treat with us came in a manner befitting his dignity and the importance of his mission, having a considerable retinue with him in his barge, and being himself a grave and dignified man well advanced in years. Two of our guard-boats accompanied his barge across the lake, and he alone was permitted to land in Huitzilan. Being led before the Council, he delivered himself briefly of his message, and added to it neither argument nor comment of his own. The Priest Captain, he said, desiring to avoid the shedding of blood among brethren, was willing to forgive the wrong already committed, and was willing even to concede in part the demands made by the rebels, in consideration of the acceptance by those now in arms against him of certain very easy terms. For his part, he would yield in so far as to restore the custom of permitting parents to buy back their own children, and so to save them from being sacrificed or from becoming slaves; and he would withdraw also his claim to the exercise of certain rights (which need not here be specified) in civil matters, to which a counter-claim was set up by the Council. In return for these concessions, he demanded that the army raised by the rebels should be immediately disbanded; that order should be restored in Huitzilan by returning the miners to their work, and the Tlahuicos generally to their masters throughout the valley; and that the arms which had been manufactured should be turned over to the keeper of the arsenal in Culhuacan. The final demand made by the Priest Captain related to ourselves; and the Council was given to understand that upon its punctual and exact fulfilment the whole of the negotiation must depend. Young and Rayburn and I, the envoy said, must be thrust out through the Barred Pass, whence we came, and there left to shift for ourselves; Fray Antonio must be without delay surrendered—that the dreadful sin that he had committed by preaching vile doctrines, subversive of the true faith, might be punished in so signal a manner that the gods whom he had outraged would be appeased.

Both Fray Antonio and I were present in the Council chamber when the envoy delivered his message; and when this final demand was made—hearing which made me grow sick and faint, so keen was the pang of sorrow that it caused me—I turned towards him quickly, expecting that he also would feel the hurt of the blow which through him, because of my great love for him, had stricken me so grievously. But so far from being at all cast down by the knowledge thus rudely conveyed that a very cruel death menaced him, there was upon his face a look of such joyful elation, of such rejoicing triumph, that it seemed as though the very greatest happiness that life could hold for him had been thrust suddenly within his grasp.

Within the Council, and outside of it also, when the terms which the envoy offered were spread abroad, there was at once aroused a very hot antagonism between contending factions in regard to the wisdom of placing trust in the Priest Captain's promises, and to the justice of yielding to his demands. So far as the Council was concerned, its members having no especial regard for our welfare now that we had served their purpose, the slaying of Fray Antonio, and the expulsion from the valley of the rest of us, were trifling matters which well enough might be conceded if thereby peace might be secured. The matter of importance that this body had to consider was how far the Priest Captain could be trusted to fulfil promises made to rebels in arms, when these same rebels voluntarily had submitted to disarmament and were at his mercy; and on this essential point the whole debate that followed turned. The faction that favored disarmament insisted that such yielding was not surrender, inasmuch as the Priest Captain had conceded all that the rebels had asked; while those of the faction that favored war rested their case on the ground that the promises of concession were made only to be broken, and that this sudden willingness on the part of the Priest Captain to grant what he had heretofore so persistently refused was proof that he recognized the hopelessness of his position, and so was seeking to retain by craft the power that he no longer could hold by force. These latter, therefore, urged that his false promises should not be heeded; and that the matter at issue should be settled surely and finally by carrying to a triumphant conclusion the war, for the waging of which all needful preparations had been made.

The debate upon this matter continued throughout the whole day without any conclusion being arrived at, and we listened to it—Fray Antonio and I translating to the others—with a very earnest interest, inasmuch as the outcome of it all might be the instant slaying of one of us, and for the rest of us an imprisonment in wild fastnesses among bleak mountains for what was like to be the whole remainder of our lives. When night came, and the Council, being still unresolved, broke off its session until the day following, we came back to our quarters and there talked over the situation, and not cheerfully, among ourselves.

"Even if these fellows understood algebra," said Rayburn, "I don't see how they could get an answer to the problem that they're trying to work. All the x's that ever were made are not enough to represent an unknown quantity like the Priest Captain; and it simply is not in the conditions of the case that they possibly can know what allowance to make for the factor of error. For the last three hours, as far as I can make out, they've just been talking in a circle, and going over and over the same ground. The size of the business is that half of them believe the Priest Captain is telling the truth, and the other half believe that he is lying. This is a matter of conviction; it is not a thing that they can argue about. As far as I can see, there is nothing to prevent them from keeping on talking without getting anywhere for the next twenty years."

"Well, all I can say," said Young, "is that if they'll put me in th' cab, an' let me run their train for 'em, I'll get it up this grade in no time; an' what's more, I'll just take it down th' other side o' th' divide a-kitin'! What's th' matter with th' Priest Captain, an' only half of 'em have th' sense t' see 't, is that he's just solidly lyin'. He's been lyin' to 'em from away back, I reckon; an' he's lyin' to 'em now; an' he'll keep on lyin' to 'em right smack along till he gets t' th' end of his run. If they're fools enough t' believe him they're bound t' get left th' worst kind. They've got him in a hole now, an' he knows it—an' that's more'n they do, t' judge from th' way they're goin' on. I did have some respect for that Council. So far, they've managed things first-rate. They've run in advance o' their schedule right along, an' they've kep' up a rattlin' head o' steam with mighty d——n bad coal. But if they really mean t' draw their fires, just when they ought t' put on th' forced draught an' let her go for all she's worth, I must say I haven't any more use for 'em. Seein' 'em shilly-shallyin' around like they're doin' now, when they ought t' be takin' their coats off an' sailin' in, just makes me sick!"

Fray Antonio—whose habit of quiet was such that he rarely sought to take part in the talks that we had in English among ourselves—somewhat surprised me by asking me to translate to him what Young and Rayburn had been saying; and when he had heard it all he was silent for a while, and evidently was engaged in earnest thought. At last, speaking very gravely, he asked us if we greatly feared being thrust out from the valley in case the Council decided to accept the Priest Captain's terms; and without giving us a chance to answer, he bade us remember that we had not at all explored the last valley that we had passed through before we entered the caÑon that ended at the Barred Pass, and that from it there well might be some outlet through which we could return to the civilized world; and even were we forced to end our days in it, he continued, speaking quickly and urgently, a much worse fate might come to us; for the valley was a bright and beautiful one, as we had seen, and had in it an abundant supply of food. Would living there, he asked, be any worse for us than living where we then were—where we were equally shut in? And even supposing that the war ended in victory for us, and that our allies gave us entire freedom of action, what more could we do than end our days in the Valley of Aztlan, or else go back to that other valley and search for an outlet thence whereby we could get into an open way among the mountains, and so once more to our homes? And then, still denying us opportunity to answer, he went on to speak of the pain and misery and despairing sorrow that the threatened war would bring; and then, more gently, of the duty that pressed upon us of averting this calamity, that was also a crime, even though to do so we must sacrifice hopes and wishes very dear to our hearts.

"What th' dickens is th' Padre drivin' at, anyway?" Young exclaimed; "I don't ketch on at all."

"No more do I," said Rayburn. "It's a first-rate sermon that he's giving us, but I don't see where he means the moral of it to fetch up."

For myself, so closely were Fray Antonio and I bound together by bonds of sympathy, I saw but too plainly what he meant should be the outcome of his discourse; and I was not surprised, therefore—though hearing thus plainly expressed in words what I had been dreading, sent a dull, cold pain into the very depths of my heart—when he unfolded to us the whole of the plan that he had been forming within his mind. What he said was said very simply, and with a loving sorrow for the pain that might come to us through shaping our actions in accordance with his strong desire; and this desire was: that, of our own free-will, we should retire from the valley by the way that we came thither, and so leave the Council free to accept unhesitatingly the Priest Captain's terms.

"And what of yourself?" I asked; for I felt within me a strong conviction that for himself he had in view a very different fate.

He hesitated for a moment before answering me, and his color changed a little; and then an unwonted ruddiness gave animation to his face, and a light of glad and strong resolve shone in his eyes as he replied, in a voice that was very low, and at the same time very clear and firm: "I shall go to the Priest Captain, in Culhuacan!"

"And so go to your death," I said, speaking brokenly, for the pain that his words caused me went through me like a knife-thrust.

"Say, rather," Fray Antonio answered, "that I go to win the life, glorious and eternal, into which neither death nor sin nor sorrow evermore can come!"