A door of their prison, of which they had not known, opened behind them, and snapped shut with a click, and they knew that some one had entered the room. When the intruder spoke they discovered that it was Tom Conover. “I’ve made up my mind to help you,” he said, speaking in low tones. “You are to be slain at sunrise in the morning, by one of the priests of the Toltec temple. You saw the steaming lake that lies close by this prison—right behind it, in fact. The temple and this prison were built on this spot because of that boiling lake. Victims are stabbed on the stone steps back there, which lead down to it, and then their bodies tumble down into the lake, and that is the end of them, and people standing on the other shore, when they see that the thing is done, set up a great shout and afterward there are religious exercises in the temple, led by the priests. “I’ve seen it myself, more than once; all enemies are served that way; and once a year, if no enemies have been taken, warriors are selected by lot for the purpose. It’s a horrible business, and I never was in love with it. “And that’s the plan for you. I didn’t see at first how I could help it, as Itzlan is determined you shall not leave here alive; but I’ve worked out a plan. “There is one Indian here who used to be my servant, and he will do whatever I tell him, perhaps because he isn’t over-and-above bright. Well, I have had him get your horses and tie them to those little pines at the edge of the trail, where it comes down from that notch in the mountains. You know the place. And I have had him tie your rifles and weapons to the saddles. On one of the saddles he has hung two buckskin bags of gold—pure gold; and that is for this Morgan boy. “Perhaps I was a fool for doing that. But I’m going to risk it. And risk the anger of the woman. I’ll pull through all right, for the woman will stand by me, whatever comes. And I reckon,” he added thoughtfully, “that I’ll need her, if it gets out that I did it.” “Why can’t you go with us?” asked Buffalo Bill, who had risen. The other prisoners had also risen, in their excitement, the German with a startling clatter of his wooden shoes. “You’d better take those blocks off your feet,” advised Conover, “they make too much noise; your stocking feet will be best for you. Carry the shoes in your hand, if you must have them.” “Ach!” panted the baron, “der desert sand voult purn my feed off mitoudt ’em!” “Then carry them in your hands. And now listen: Whatever the risk is, I’m going to take it. This door I came through here is a secret one, and only a few even of the Toltecs know of it. I’m going to hope that suspicion will fall on some of those who do know. For I think it isn’t understood that I possess the secret. Itzlan told me about it long ago, but perhaps she even has forgot that she did. Anyway, I take the risk.