The devils!” Dick wrenched ont his revolver, but the old man gripped his wrist.

“Quiet, you fool! We can’t save the child now, and if you make a sign we shan’t save her either. If you can’t stand it, get out!”

The young engineer controlled himself.

“It’s too horrible! Poor little Christobal! My God, why can’t they kill us all and have done with it!”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, talking like that,” said the madman. “When a man has nerves like a woman he shouldn’t come to the Temple of Death.”

After that one terrible cry, all was silence again. Nobles, virgins, young men and curacas continued their slow progress round the Temple. Behind them entered the amautas, sages who teach the children of the Incas; the Red Ponchos, who surrounded the altar like a sacred guard. None of them carried visible arms. The high dignitaries of the court followed, wearing the blanchana, a flowing tunic of light bark, painted in vivid colors. Each man carried a barbaric emblem with wide-open jaws, destined to frighten away all evil spirits.

Dick thought that Maria-Teresa was entering, but then saw that the litter borne on the shoulders of nobles was occupied by a figure which he did not at first recognize. His robe and sandals seemed of solid gold, and his ears were weighted down with enormous ear-rings, reaching almost to the shoulders. About his head was the royal llantu, a multi-colored turban of delicate tissue, and his forehead was further adorned by the kingly borla, the heavy scarlet and gold fringe of which partly hid his eyes. Two coraquenque plumes towered above the crown.

As he descended from his litter, aided by two pages, and slowly mounted the steps of the golden pyramid, the assembly bent to its knees. At the summit of the pyramid, he paused gravely, took his seat on the golden throne, and gave the Aimara greeting:—“Dios anki tiourata.”

Then all rose to their feet, while he sat motionless, like a graven image.

“The bank-clerk!” exclaimed Dick, as he faced toward the hidden watchers.

They had before them Huayna Gapac Runtu, King of the Incas.

“The god is seated in all his light!” chanted the assembly in unison, repeating the words three times. Then the wail of the quenias filled the air, and the religious cortège entered the temple, led by the four Guards of the Sacrifice, their heads erect now, for the sacred bonnets hid no secret Behind them walked another Red Poncho, bearing in his hands a mass of knotted cords. Dick recognized the Preacher of Caja-marca, head of the quipucamyas, or Keepers of the Historic Word. Then came Huascar, in the saffron-colored vestments of the high-priest, preceded by lesser dignitaries of the church, while four curacas held over him a canopy of brilliant-hued plumes. All bowed before Huascar; the Inca alone was above him.

From the high-priest’s stern face and somber eyes, Dick looked to his hands, to see if they were red with the blood of sacrifice. He felt a wild desire to shoot him down there, to kill him like a mad dog among his priests and servitors.

The mammaconas advanced, chanting. He could not at first see Maria-Teresa, hidden from view by black veils, rhythmically waved about her. The movement ceased and the women parted, leaving the way clear for the two among them who were to die and who advanced with uncovered faces, smiling like happy children.

The quenias ceased their song, and the second litter was brought forward in solemn silence. Dick shivered. Was Maria-Teresa dead or alive? He hoped vainly that her litter might pass close to him, as had Huascar’s canopy. From where he was, she seemed as inert and lifeless as the mummy monarch beside her, and little Christobal was no longer in her arms. That part of her face left uncovered by the golden robe and head-dress was tomb-like in its pallor, and her eyes were closed.

The double throne was set down between the altar and the pyres; Huascar took his seat on the right of the altar, and the chief of the qui-pucamyas on the left; the mammaconas stood on the altar-steps. The two who were to die, their black veils discarded for dainty holiday attire, with flowers in their tresses, knelt at Maria-Teresa’s feet. The nobles and the curacas were ranged round the temple with the virgins and young men. The three Guardians of the Temple closed the doors. No others might enter, for the common people, forbidden the sight of these mysteries, waited far away, in the Corridors of Night, until the priests should return to lead them back through the labyrinth to the light of day.

Huascar rose, and his sonorous voice opened the ceremony.

“At the beginning was Pacahuamac, the Pure Spirit, who reigned in the darkness; then came his son, the Sun, and his daughter, the Moon; and Paeahuamac gave them armies, which are the Stars.

“Unto the Sun and Moon were born children. First were the Pirhuas, king-pontiffs; then the Amautas, pontiff-kings; and then the Incas, kings of kings, sent on earth to rule mankind.”

The assembly repeated Huascar’s words like a litany. When it was ended, young men brought a llama to the altar, and the Guardians of the Temple offered up the sacrifice. Huascar bent over the entrails.

“The gods are propitious,” he announced to the King.

At a sign from the throne, the chief of the quipucamyas rose to his feet, and in a few verses recalled the chief terrestrial episodes of the history of the Incas, the assembly chanting other verses in reply in the same monotonous rhythm, while the priest slipped the knots of the quipus through his fingers like a monk telling his beads.

When he reached the verse recounting Atahualpa’s martyrdom, a great shout went up ............