Once more I turned and deliberately and confidently, ascended the steps, until I stood directly before the immense statue, whose knees were on a level with my head. Then again I faced the priest. I am not a particularly religious man, I belong to no definite sect, but I respect faith and religion in others, no matter what its form. Regardless of their belief, of the fact that they were pagans, the people who had gathered about the temple were there to worship. To them the place whereon I stood was sacred. To them I was a holy being, a priest. My flippant words of a few moments before had been thoughtlessly uttered, had been the first words that came to my lips. But now I was upon the altar itself, upon a sacred spot, and nothing was farther from my mind than to be flippant, to be blasphemous, to desecrate the temple by word or act that, could my words be understood, would arouse the resentment of the people of Mictolan. * * * * * THEY had gathered to hear me give thanks to the gods; they should not be disappointed. Kneeling in sight of all, I repeated the Lord’s Prayer and, to the best of my ability, gave fervent thanks to God for His mercies and prayed that He might guard and protect Itza and that He would not desert us in our time of need. Then, feeling I had done my duty, I rose. The sun was sinking behind the mountains to the west, and I felt that I must bring the ceremonies to a prompt end--with a fitting climax. The time had come for me to assert myself, to humble the rascally, hideous old priest. “Behold, O, Kinchi Haman!” I cried in Zutugil so that all might hear. “Behold, the sun sets; Kinich Ahau hides his face and visits the nether world and he goes without seeing his priest by the side of the son of Kukulcan. Did you not say you knew the ritual of the Plumed Serpent? Did I not warn you that there was much that you knew not? Did I not caution you to make no mistake, to not fail to utter the right words? But you have done nothing, nothing but hide your face of Uayayab, the Poisoner of the Year. You have not joined in prayer, have made no move to render thanks unto the great Kukulcan. False thou art, false to your trust, false to your faith! But Kukulcan is ever merciful. Though he might well wreak vengeance upon you, yet will he be satisfied with less. He calls for the blood sacrifice, O, Kinchi Haman; for the blood of the priest of Kinich Ahau. Come hither and give the blood that he demands!” Speechless, trembling, urged on by the jeers, the shouts of anger from the multitude, fearful of disobeying one who seemed on such familiar terms with the giant god, Kinchi Haman fairly crawled up the stairs to my feet.