“I know nothing, my son,” he declared, “but I suspect much. Does the farmer trust the fox among his fowls? Does the hawk nest with the doves? Does the snake move in a straight line? Do melons grow on corn stalks? No, Itzimin! As the gods made them, so will they be, and they have made Kinchi Haman as deformed in brain as in body. Always has he been plotting and planning ill to someone. Always he gloats on suffering and on blood. He never forgives and never forgets. When I see the river run uphill, when I see fish fly in the air, then and not until then will I believe Kinchi Haman no longer plots and schemes harm to someone. But what it is or when or how, I cannot say. But remember, my son, the deer sleeps with his nose to the wind; the gopher rests at the mouth of his hole.” So the old fellow was merely suspicious after all--suspicious only because he mistrusted the priest. He had nothing to base his suspicions on. Like all old people he was something of a scare-head, I began to think. And of what use was it to be able to look into the past and the future, to have the reputation of being a sorcerer, of being possessed with the wisdom of the ages if, when one most wanted it, nothing definite could be learned? * * * * * NOHUL VOH seemed to read my thoughts. He was gazing fixedly, steadily at me. “My son,” he said, a serious note in his voice, “a crackling twig frightens the hare but the tiger pays no heed to a falling tree. My lord feels secure in his strength, but the tallest tree is struck first by the lightning. You say to yourself: ‘Nohul Voh fears without reason.’ You think in your mind: ‘Kinchi Haman dares do no harm unto you.’ Perhaps it is so--often what we most fear is our least danger--but there are many in Mictolan who still are true to the priest of Kinich Ahau; there are many whom he can rely upon, and while the scorpion still has his sting, one should beware of him. Greatly have you injured Kinchi Haman. You have humbled his pride, you have robbed him of the Virgin he had selected as a bride for Kinich Ahau. You have honored the Prince Azcopil; you have made the Temple of the Plumed Serpent greater than that of the Lord of Day. “And there is another thing, O, Itzimin Chac, a matter of which I have not spoken. In the annals of the House of Tutul Zius is an ancient legend--perhaps a prophecy, which says that in the end, one of the Tutul Zius clan shall battle with one of the clan of the Ipa Hanacs, and there shall be bloodshed and death, and the Ipa Hanac shall be slain by the hand of the son of the Tutul Zius. And the legend tells, my lord, that the battle shall be because of a maiden and of a sacrifice, and that it shall take place on the day of Tonalmatl. Though you are not of the Tutul Zius clan, yet do you bear the symbol upon your breast. Kinchi Haman is of the clan of Ipa Hanac, and--the day of the Tonalmatl is but two days distant.”