A burly fellow sprang towards Itza at the priest’s words. There was no time for argument, no time for anything but instant action. I must prove my words, must make good my boast. I drew my revolver, fired from the hip, and the soldier plunged forward. But his fall was scarcely noticed by the amazed, horror-stricken, terrified people. Screams, yells, groans came from them as they grovelled in the dust while the priest, flinging himself from his litter, threw himself at my feet chattering incomprehensible gibberish and pleading for mercy. I had won the day. To be sure it had been at the cost of a man’s life and I regretted having been forced to kill the fellow who was, after all, only obeying the priest’s orders, but it could not be helped and, I felt, it had probably saved many lives (including Itza’s and my own) that would have been sacrificed had I not at once asserted myself. * * * * * PLACING my foot upon the neck of the prostrate priest--a somewhat theatrical pose I admit, but perfectly appropriate under the circumstances--I harangued the people. Timidly, fearfully they, raised their heads at sound of my voice, and with frightened eyes gazed at me, fairly trembling with terror of another demonstration of my power over thunder and lightning. “People of Mictolan!” I cried, “Arise and fear not. I, the bearer of the Book of Kukulcan come to you in peace and friendship. Bear witness O, People of Mictolan, that Kinchi Haman defied him who brings the token, and behold him humbled and in the dust. He has been spared death by the magic of my thunder and my lightning because he is of the priesthood of Kinich Ahau, but no other shall be spared who defies me, and even he will feel the vengeance of Kukulcan if he bows not to my will. And bear witness O, People of Mictolan that the maiden Itza weds with me and not with Kinich Ahau. Should ill befall her, should harm come to her, the vengeance of the Plumed Serpent will fall upon the city and its people.” A great sigh arose from the throng. “Thy will is law, O, son of Kukulcan. Thy words shall be obeyed,” they chanted, almost as with one voice. “Arise, Kinchi Haman,” I ordered the still groveling priest, removing my foot. “You have heard my words. Bear them well in mind, O, Most Ugly One.” Shaking, terrified, the priest managed to gain his feet, but despite his physical--and his superstitious fear--malignant hatred and vindictiveness were in his burning deep-set eyes. But his words were humble, apologetic, as he begged pardon for defying me.