Part 10 (2/2)
”Indeed, princess, I think you mistake regarding the love of Miriam for this young man; they have seen little of each other; and it may be, as you yourself said, that he has perished in the wilderness.”
”I believe he lives,” she answered: ”I should know it, were it otherwise. But if I cannot have him, neither shall she. I have told you already that, unless you swear to me not to put forth your power upon me to dismiss me, I will not lead you to the treasure. But that is not enough; for men deceive, and you are a man. But if at any time hereafter I feel within me those pangs that tell me you are about to separate me from this world, at that moment, Kamaiakan, I will drive this knife through the heart of Miriam! If I cannot keep her body, at least it shall be but a corpse when I leave it. You know Semitzin; and you know that she will keep her word!”
She reined in her horse, as she spoke, and sat gazing upon her companion with flas.h.i.+ng eyes. The Indian, after a pause, made a gesture of gloomy resignation. ”It shall be as you say, then, Semitzin; and upon your head be it! Henceforth, Miriam is no more. But do you beware of the vengeance of the G.o.ds, whose laws you have defied.”
”Let the G.o.ds deal with me as they will,” replied the Aztecan. ”A day of happiness with the man I love is worth an age of punishment.”
Kamaiakan made no answer, and the two rode forward in silence.
It was midnight, and a bright star, nearly in the zenith, seemed to hang precisely above the summit of the great white pyramid at the mouth of the gorge.
”It was here that we stopped,” observed Semitzin. ”We tied our horses among the shrubbery round yonder point. Thence we must go on foot.
Follow me.”
She struck her heels against her horse's sides, and went forward. The long ride seemed to have wearied her not a whit. The lean and wiry Indian had already betrayed symptoms of fatigue; but the young princess appeared as fresh as when she started. Not once had she even taken a draught from her canteen; and yet she was closely clad, from head to foot, in the doublet and leggings of the Golden Fleece. One might have thought it had some magic virtue to preserve its wearer's vitality; and possibly, as is sometimes seen in trance, the energy and concentration of the spirit reacted upon the body.
She turned the corner of the pyramid, but had not ridden far when an object lying in her path caused her to halt and spring from the saddle.
Kamaiakan also dismounted and came forward.
The dead body of a mustang lay on the ground, crushed beneath the weight of a fragment of rock, which had evidently fallen upon it from a height.
He had apparently been dead for some hours. He was without either saddle or bridle.
”Do you know him?” demanded Semitzin.
”It is Diego,” replied Kamaiakan. ”I know him by the white star on his muzzle. He was ridden by the Senor Freeman. They must have come here before the earthquake. And there lie the saddle and the bridle. But where is Senor Freeman?”
”He can be nowhere else than in this valley,” said Semitzin, confidently. ”I knew that I should find him here. Through all the centuries, and across all s.p.a.ces, we were destined to meet. His horse was killed, but he has escaped. I shall save him. Could Miriam have done this? Is he not mine by right?”
”It is at least certain, princess,” responded the old man rather dryly, ”that had it not been for Miriam you would never have met the Senor Freeman at all.”
”I thank her for so much; and some time, perhaps, I will reward her by permitting her to have a glimpse of him for an hour,--or, at least, a minute. But not now, Kamaiakan,--not till I am well a.s.sured that no thought but of me can ever find its way into his heart. Come, let us go forward. We will find the treasure, and I will give it to my lord and lover.”
”Shall we bring the pack-horse with us?” asked the Indian.
”Yes, if he can find his way among these rocks. The earthquake has made changes here. See how the water pours from this spring! It has already made a stream down the valley. It shall guide us whither we are going.”
Leaving their own horses, they advanced with the mule. But the trail, rough enough at best, was now well-nigh impa.s.sable. Ma.s.ses of rock had fallen from above; large fissures and creva.s.ses had been formed in the floor of the gorge, from some of which steaming vapors escaped, while others gave forth streams of water. The darkness added to the difficulties of the way, for, although the sky was now clear, the gloom was deceptive, and things distant seemed near. Occasionally a heavy, irregular sound would break the stillness, as some projection of a cliff became loosened and tumbled down the steep declivity.
Semitzin, however, held on her way fearlessly and without hesitation, and the Indian, with the pack-horse, followed as best he might, now and then losing sight for a moment of the slight, grayish figure in front of him. At length she disappeared behind the jutting profile of a great promontory which formed a main angle of the gorge. When he came up with her, she was kneeling beside the prostrate form of a man, supporting his head upon her knee.
Kamaiakan approached, and looked at the face of the man, which was pale; the eyes were closed. A streak of blood, from a wound on the head, descended over the right side of the forehead.
”Is he dead?” the Indian asked.
”He is not dead,” replied Semitzin. ”A flying stone has struck him; but his heart beats: he will be well again.” She poured some water from her canteen over his face, and bent her ear over his lips. ”He breathes,”
she said. Slipping one arm beneath his neck, she loosened the s.h.i.+rt at his throat and then stooped and kissed him. ”Be alive for me, love,” she murmured. ”My life is yours.”
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