Only to give an involuntary start and cry as he caught indistinct glimpses of fleshless bones and grinning skulls, those grim relics of mortality showing upon every side as his wild eyes roved around. Then a hand struck down the match, and a swift voice breathed: “Dey come dis way. See us hide--come hunt, now, to kill!” CHAPTER XXIV. THE SUN CHILDREN'S PERIL. Not until the two young men passed beneath those heavy curtains did either one of the Sun Children really give thought to their own possible peril, but stood close together, arm of mother about daughter as they listened to the ominous sounds without, so rapidly growing in force and number. Then, just as the deep tones of the war-drum boomed forth upon the night air, the fallen Aztec betrayed signs of rallying wits, giving a low sound which might have been groan of pain or curse of baffled rage. Be that as it may, the sound served one purpose: Victoria Edgecombe (to append her correct name for the first time) drew her child farther away, her right hand reaching forth to pluck a light yet effective spear from where it lay against the wall. “Mother, mother!” faintly panted the maiden, plainly at a loss to comprehend all that had so recently transpired. “What is it? What does it all mean? Surely that was Ixtli; and--the other?” “A messenger from your father, child, and--” “My father? I thought--he is not--not dead?” “Thanks be to heaven, not dead!” with hysterical joy in face as in voice. “Alive, and seeking us, Gladys! Coming to rescue us from this death in life, and now--to your knees, my daughter; to thy knees, and lift thanks unto the good Father who has at last listened to my moans!” Again the war-drum boomed forth in an awesome roll, but all unheeding that ominous sound, paying no attention to the stirring of yonder savage, whose lacerated scalp was painting his face a deeper red than even nature intended, mother and daughter sank to their knees, lifting hands and hearts towards the All-Powerful, even as their gratitude floated towards the Throne of Grace. Then arose the hoarse tones of Huatzin, bidding his allies find and slay without mercy; cursing the treacherous Aztec who had thus guided one of a strange tribe into the very heart of their beloved city. With a short, fierce ejaculation, Victo sprang to her feet, right hand once again grasping shaft of javelin, its copper point gleaming ruddily in the rays of lamp as though already moistened by the heart-blood of yonder villain. Far differently acted the maiden, her figure trembling with fear and wonder commingled, her lips slightly blanched as she clung closer to her mother. Yet through all ran a touch of girlish curiosity which helped shape the words now crossing her lips. “Who was it, mother? Who could the stranger be? And whither has he gone?”