"If thou meanest to hint at our Captain-General by that," agreed Cabrera, "thou art right enough, for I believe that he hears thoughts sometimes, without need of the tongue to give them utterance. But the business grows interesting. I love a plot. I would thou wert about to propose to break bounds, and take a midnight wandering." "And it is--" a pause at the fancied sound of an approaching footstep. And then he continued, scarcely audibly, "It is even so. Wilt thou join me?" Cabrera paused an instant, and gave a perceptible start. "It is death, Diego, by the General's orders." "I know it. And it is death to a native Christian, my lost Indian interpreter, as a living sacrifice to heathen gods, if we do not rescue him ere the dawn. But there, I should not have asked thee to share the double danger; I will go alone. You will not, at least, betray me?" "No, nor suffer you to go alone," was the hurried answer. "I would sooner shoot myself. But there comes your exchange. Where shall we meet again?" "In the hollow there, two yards to the right," muttered Montoro quickly, and then he stood silent and watchful, awaiting the new-comer, as though intent upon nothing beyond guarding his present post. Two minutes later he once more stood beside Cabrera, at the only spot of the temple's surroundings whence escape unobserved was possible. Montoro's diligent search had discovered it very soon after he quitted the General, and the daring companions had scarcely met before they were safe outside the temple's precincts. There they were joined by the Indian woman, waiting to be their guide to the great temple of sacrifice. On its lofty summit there was a fire burning, and in front of the fire was visible, even at a distance, the great stone, stained with the blood of the countless human sacrifices offered up to the honour of the horrible god of war. Closely following their guide, and keeping in the darkest shadows of the houses along the silent streets, the two Spaniards went on their adventurous mission of mercy. Suddenly the woman fell back upon them for a few moments with a low cry, and her hand upraised towards the temple's heights. The Spaniards stood still and with their eyes obeyed her sign. The fire had been replenished, and blazed up fiercely, and there, high up above the houses of the town, on the elevated platform, and illuminated by the ruddy glow, there now stood a group of men. As the Europeans gazed they perceived a stir amongst that group--one appeared to fall; there was a pause, the woman with another shuddering cry dropped her face into her hands. Then a far-off shout fell upon the two friends' ears, and they saw an upraised arm against the glowing background, a hand that held something-- "Is it a head?" muttered Cabrera. But the woman once more hurried them on. "But if he is already slain," questioned Montoro sadly, "what can we do more?"