The sorcerer seemed to read my thoughts. “Yet it is but the law of the gods,” he declared. “Do not the stars float in the sky? Do not the sun and the moon move across the heavens? And can they be stopped, can they be moved? And the law of the gods that keeps the sun, the moon, the stars in their places keeps also the ball of green in its place. My lord Itzimin has great knowledge of matters of which I know nothing. I, Nohul Voh, possess knowledge of matters of which my lord knows no more. In days to come, each shall impart to the other that which it is desirable to know. Come unto me when you so desire, Itzimin Chac, and you shall learn much from Nohul Voh and shall teach me much, for so it is written in the Book of Destiny. May happiness be yours, my lord, and yours my daughter, and yours, O, Prince.” As he spoke, the door swung open, and bidding Nohul Voh farewell, we stepped from the strange, mysterious chamber into the brilliant sunshine. Clear against the deep blue sky the temple rose in a silhouette of silvery white, and half-expectantly, I glanced at its summit. There was no sign of the lambent, multicolored flames. The Bridge of Light was still cut off. Kinchi Haman awaited me in my palace. He frowned at sight of Azcopil, he glared at Itza, but he spoke quietly, courteously. The people, he said, awaited the son of Kukulcan within the temple. The gods awaited him to lead the people of Mictolan in worship. It was time that I did so. Would I come with him and conduct the ceremony of the setting sun? My heart sank. The wily old rascal had me in a trap. As the semi-divine bearer of the symbol, as the descendant of the Plumed Serpent, I was the supreme head of the cult of Kukulcan. As a priest of his temple, I ranked higher than all others. But I had not the remotest idea of the ceremonies, the worship of the cult. That it called for elaborate rituals, for offerings, for prayers and chants in the secret sacred language of the cult, that it entailed self-sacrifices of the priest’s blood, I knew. But how, at what points in the ceremony? If I attempted it, my every move, my every word would betray me, and the old priest would know I was an impostor. If I refused, both he and the people would know something was amiss. * * * * * ALL these thoughts and misgivings flashed through my mind in an instant. Then an inspiration came to me. I would bluff the old rascal, would catch him in his own trap. He wished to force me to betray myself by taking part in a ceremony of which I was ignorant. I would compel _him_ to betray _himself_; would make him the laughing stock of his people. I nodded assent. “It is indeed time, O, Kinchi Haman, priest of Kinich Ahau,” I said solemnly. “I would give thanks to the gods for their favors, and to my father Kukulcan. Knowest thou the ritual beloved of the mighty serpent?”