"Perhaps he is not already sacrificed," came the anguished answer in broken Spanish. "There are many to die to-night to please the god; perhaps he still lives, and may be saved." For that 'perhaps' the devoted champion of the oppressed, and his friend, continued their dangerous route. It might be to meet the fate that, only twenty-four hours before, Escalante had spoken of with such horror. But even if they escaped that, it would but be to receive death at the hands of their own countrymen. Montoro began to be sorely troubled. To save one man he had brought the life of another into jeopardy. After all, it might be that he did deserve Alvarado's accusation. He stood still again. "Cabrera, I have done wrong." "Well," was the calm answer. "A thought more wildly, perchance, than might have been looked for from the sensible Don Montoro. Shall we return?" "You will," was the eager reply. "We have not as yet gone too far for you to find your way back easily." "Oh--h," ejaculated Cabrera. "And for thyself?" "I go on." "Ah! I see. Thanks, my friend, for your dismissal then, but--I go on also." Montoro clenched his hands tightly. "It will be a load off my heart, Juan, if you will return." "Without you?--never. You must keep your load." They had begun to move on again slowly before this short dialogue was ended; but now a bitter, imploring moan from the poor creature with them helped Montoro to forget all but her troubles, and making a sign to her, they hurried on as rapidly as before. After all, as far as Juan de Cabrera was concerned, any excitement, even to the excitement of deadly peril, was better than peace and quietness. He rather liked the sensation of feeling as though a dozen or two pairs of those lean, small, redskin hands were stretching out from every doorway to clutch at him, and that he had a sword by his side which should win him freedom. Montoro for the time thought of nothing at all, but his purpose to rescue his native servant from the bloody altar of the horrible war-god Huitzilopotchli. Arrived at the foot of the mound on which the chief temple was built, the guide paused, and looked at her companions as though with some compunction for having brought them into so great peril; but her regrets were then too late. They had caught sight of a spectacle which had filled them with loathing indignation; and they sprang up the mound, rushed up the great flight of stone steps in the centre of the temple with a fierce shout, regardless of prudence, indifferent to all consequences, and gained the platform just in time to witness the completion of a third awful act of heathen faith.