Was this to be the end of my quest? Was I to be sacrificed upon that altar? Even in my extremity and my terror--for I admit I was terrified--I found myself wondering about the identity of my captors. In fact, I began to wonder whether they might not be the people I had come to find; if, through the centuries, they had not degenerated, reverted to semi-savagery, and if the hidden city was not a myth and the old temple all that remained of what had once been a real town. My speculations were cut short by one who appeared to be the priest or chief. He wore numerous gold ornaments, a feather headdress, and, if anything, was more savage-looking than his fellows. He addressed me angrily, but I could not understand a word of what he said. I tried him with Zutugil, with Spanish, with Nahuatl; all without success. He grew impatient, shook me by the shoulders, and as he did so, the copy of my codex fell from the breast pocket of my coat. As he pounced upon it, I mentally thanked Heaven that it was not the original. For an instant, the savage stared at the strip of paper. Then, with a wild cry, he leaped forward, a long-bladed obsidian dagger gleaming in his upraised hand. I felt sure my last minute had come. But instead of plunging the weapon into my breast, he slashed through the cords that bound me, and prostrated himself before me. I glanced about, rose to my feet. Everywhere the Indians were on their knees, their foreheads touching the ground. Whoever they were, whatever their race, they knew the meaning of the codex. The Book of Kukulcan had saved me. Slowly they rose, glancing apprehensively at me, regarding me as they would a superior being--which is exactly what I seemed to them. But I had no mind to remain in that chamber of human sacrifice. Picking up the codex, I strode to the door and into the open air, followed by the silent, half-terrified, half-wondering, but wholly subdued savages. To my dismay, my Indians were nowhere to be seen. Nothing remained but my bags and packages, which were where they were dropped. No doubt they had heard the savage yells from the temple, and having no desire to become martyrs on my behalf, they had taken to their heels. What was I to do? Without porters to transport my outfit, I could not go on. For that matter, I could not turn back. I was stranded, deserted among these wild Indians of the mountains. * * * * *