He was still seated there when the miners who had filled the graves came up the path, and with them the priest from the plains below. The Mexicans halted outside the broken walls. Only one Indian, who had followed at a distance, crossed the line of entrance, and stood apart, watching and listening in a furtive way--watching the American especially. "Many times I have heard of this place," said the priest, "but never before have I been so far into the mountain. There are strange old traditions of it in the accounts some of the early padres left. Their king or chief became Christian and gave his sons to the Church, but the main body of the people kept to many of their pagan rites. And this was their temple. The men ask me if you continue with the mining, senor." He noticed they all listened for the answer, and looked relieved when he said, "No." "They are all very glad, senor. They ask me to tell you they have no ill will, but they say not any of their men will go into the mine of the temple." "Some superstition?" "It seems so. They say one man always dies when outsiders meddle with the mountain, but never before have three men died at once. They ask you to let the company know that none of them will come back." "Very good," and Bryton arose and picked up the sombrero he had dropped beside him. "I will tell them to bring foreigners if they mean to keep on; but I doubt it. The cave-in down there means a fortune to dig out. I don't think they have the capital." He was turning away, when he noticed the Indian. "Is he a workman?" The others exchanged glances, and then one of them stepped forward. "No, senor. He is one of the mountain people. No one knows where they live. I know a little of their talk. He says for us all to go away, or worse things will always happen. He--he wants to speak to you." "Well?" The man hesitated, and then said a few words, and the Indian replied in a strange jargon with peculiar aspirated syllables. "He says," continued the interpreter, hesitatingly, "to ask if she is to come back." "She?" Bryton's face flushed, as the priest looked at him curiously. "You have known those people before?" "I--my brother and I were lost once in the forest here. We--well, we were made to feel we had trespassed; but some one--a sort of missionary among them--made them lead us to the plain. It would have been better if my brother had never come back." "And--?" The priest noticed Bryton's hesitation; so did the Indian, for he walked direct to him, and pointed to the ring he wore, and looked from the ring to Bryton's face. "Tell him," said the American, "that she is a man's wife, and lives in a lovely land." "You see her--some day?" asked the Indian. "No--not ever again--perhaps." The Indian bent his head, and with a slight gesture as of farewell, turned and walked swiftly away from them, around the bend of the mountain.