Still the hollow _bum-bum-bum_ of the water-drum, whisper and cluck of the notched sticks. A very old man, the skin of whose naked legs was grey and tough as elephant hide, had attached ceremonial circlets of dried yucca pods about his ankles in a cuff extending almost to the knees. He took his stand by the instrumentalists and his feet moved in a shuffle in time to the drum beats. The pods emitted dry whispers. The rapt look of a seer was on his leathern features. The kettle in place, Quelele himself went to a small pen of _ocatilla_ sticks on the outskirts of the village and brought therefrom a young rooster. The fowl’s head bobbed nervously and his small eyes glinted as he was carried on the big Indian’s arm through the throng. Two helpers lifted the edge of the soap kettle while Quelele thrust the cock underneath. A faint clucking came muffled from the iron prison. The bird thrust his head out here and there from beneath the rim, seeking egress. Now Benicia took from ’Cepcion something she had carried wrapped about in a handkerchief and carried it to the kettle top. She let fall the handkerchief and with a slight gesture focused the eyes of all upon the stained dagger. A sigh like the swish of a scythe in long grass swept through the crowd as the girl balanced the knife on the exact top of the dome of fire-smudged metal. The ancient with the yucca rattles did a sacrificial step which caused a sharp alarm like that of the desert sidewinder’s warning. Grant and Bim, still unaware of the significance of all this preparation, sensed the growing tensity of emotions all about them. The Papagoes, like all their kind, more than ready to invest with ritual any untoward incident of life, saw in the white girl’s preparations--particularly in the offering of the knife upon this rude altar--formulæ of an appeal to decision of powers beyond human comprehension. Perhaps the elders, remembering tales of ancient custom, recognized the preliminaries and welcomed a revival among the unregenerate younger men of a direct appeal to Elder Brother. If big Quelele knew better he had kept his tongue still. Benicia’s features had never relaxed their cold intentness during the preparations. There was even, to Grant’s troubled scrutiny, some element of the barbaric there. A look like that on the stone visage of an Aztec goddess, implacable, without mortal instincts. She took her stand by the kettle and spoke rapidly to the Papagoes, pointing to the knife, then lifting her finger to mark the place of the sun in the white sky.