CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX.
TOLLING THE SUMMONS.
We return to Costal. We have seen the Zapoteque making his way throughthe sedge, and boldly launching himself into the muddy waters of thelake--his blind fatalism rendering him regardless of the voraciousalligators of the Ostuta, as he had already shown himself of the sharksof the Pacific. Could the eye of Don Cornelio have followed him underthe gloomy shadow which the enchanted hill projected over the lake, itwould have seen him emerge from the water upon the shore of the sacredCerro itself, his black-skinned associate closely following at hisheels.
The mountain Monopostiac is neither more nor less than a gigantic rockof obsidian, of a dark greenish hue, having its flanks irregularlyfurrowed by vertical fissures and ridges. This peculiar kind of rock,under the sun, or in a very bright moonlight, gives forth a sort of dulltranslucence, resembling the reflection of glass. The vitreousglistening of its sides, taken in conjunction with the mass of thickwhite fog which usually robes the summit of the mountain, offers to theeye an aspect at once fantastic and melancholy.
At certain places, of which Costal had a perfect knowledge, are hugeboulders of obsidian, resting along the declivities of the Cerro, andwhich, when struck by a hard substance, gives forth a sonorous ring,having some resemblance to the sound of a bell.
After climbing some way up the steep declivity of the mountain, Costaland his neophyte halted by one of these boulders. Now apparentlyabsorbed in profound meditation, now muttering in a low tone, and in thelanguage of his fathers, certain prayers, the Zapoteque awaited thathour when the moon should reach its meridian, in order to come to thegrand crisis of his invocation.
It would be a tedious detail were we to describe the many absurdceremonials practised by Costal to induce the genius of the waters toappear before him, and make known the means by which he might restorethe ancient splendours of his race. Certainly, if perseverance andcourage could have any influence with the Indian divinities, Costaldeserved all the favours they could lavish upon him.
Although up to this moment neither Tlaloc nor Matlacuezc had given theleast sign of having heard his prayers, his countenance exhibited suchhopeful confidence, that Clara, gazing upon it, felt fully convincedthat upon this occasion there was not the slightest chance of a failure.
Up to the time of the moon reaching her meridian--the moment so eagerlyexpected--more than an hour was spent in every sort of preparation forthe grand crisis. Up to that moment, moreover, Costal had preserved agrave and profound silence, enjoining the same upon Clara. This silencerelated only to conversation between them. Otherwise Costal had fromtime to time, as already stated, given utterance to prayers, spoken,however, in a low muttered voice.
The moment had now arrived when the dialogue of the two acolytes was tobe resumed.
"Clara," said the Zapoteque, speaking in a grave tone, "when the gods ofmy ancestors, invoked by a descendant of the ancient Caciques ofTehuantepec, who has seen fifty seasons of rains--when they hear thesounds which I am now about to make, and for which they have listened invain for more than three centuries, some one of them will appear beyondany doubt."
"I hope so," responded Clara.
"Certain they will appear," said Costal; "but which of them it may be, Iknow not; whether Tlaloc or his companion Matlacuezc."
"I suppose it makes no difference," suggested the negro.
"Matlacuezc," continued Costal, "would be easily known. She is agoddess; and, of course, a female. She always appears in a white robe--pure and white as the blossom of the _floripondio_. When her hair isnot wound around her head, it floats loosely over her shoulders, likethe mantilla of a senora of high degree. Her eyes shine like two stars,and her voice is sweeter than that of the mocking-bird. For all that,her glance is terrifying to a mortal, and there are few who could bearit."
"Oh, I can bear it," said the negro; "no fear of that."
"Tlaloc," continued Costal, "is tall as a giant. His head is encircledwith a chaplet of living serpents, that, entwined among his hair, keepup a constant hissing. His eye is full of fire, like that of thejaguar; and his voice resembles the roaring of an angry bull. Reflect,then, while it is yet time, whether you can bear such a sight as that."
"I have told you," replied Clara, in a resolute tone, "that I wish forgold; and it matters little to me whether Tlaloc or his wife shows methe _placer_ where it is to be found. By all the gods, Christian andpagan! I have not come thus far to be frightened back without betterreason than that. No!"
"You are firmly resolved, comrade? I see you are. Now, then--I shallproceed to invoke my gods."
On saying these words, the Indian took up a large stone, and advancingto the boulder of obsidian, struck the stone against one of its angleswith all his might. The collision produced a sound resembling that of abrazen instrument; in fact, like the stroke of a bell.
Twelve times did Costal repeat the stroke, each time with equal force.The sounds echoed over the waters of the lake, and through the aisles ofthe forest on its shores; but their distant murmurings had scarce diedupon the air, when a response came from the woods. This was given in aseries of the most frightful howlings--the same which had terrifiedCaptain Lantejas upon his tree, and which Don Mariano had found himselfunable to explain.
Clara partook of a terror almost equal to that of Don Cornelio, but itarose from a different cause. He had no other belief, but that thehowling thus heard was the response vouchsafed by the pagan gods to theinvocation of his companion. After a moment his confidence becamerestored, and he signed to Costal to continue.
"Sound again!" said he, in a low but firm voice, "it is Tlaloc who hasresponded. Sound again!"
The Indian cast a glance upon his companion, to assure himself that hewas in earnest. The moon showed his face of a greyish tint; but theexpression of his features told that he spoke seriously.
"Bah!" exclaimed Costal, with a sneer, "are you so little skilled in theways of the woods, as to mistake the voice of a vile animal for that ofthe gods of the Zapoteque?"
"What an animal to make a noise like that?" interrogated Clara, in atone of surprise.
"Of course it is an animal," rejoined Costal, "that howls so.Sufficiently frightful, I admit--to those who do not know what sort ofcreature it is; but to those who do, it is nothing."
"What kind of animal is it?" demanded Clara.
"Why, an ape; what else? A poor devil of a monkey, that you could knockover with a bit of a stick; as easily as you could kill an opossum. Ah,_hombre_! the voice of the great Tlaloc is more terrible than that. Butsee! what have we yonder?"
As Costal spoke, he pointed to the shore of the lake whence they hadcome, and near the point where they had left their horses. It was inthis direction, moreover, the howlings of the ape had been heard.
Clara followed the pointing of his companion, and both now saw what gavea sudden turn to their thoughts--a party of horsemen carrying torches,and scouring the selvage of the woods, as if in search of something theyhad lost.
The two worshippers watched until the torches were put out, and thehorsemen passing round the shore disappeared under the shadows of astrip of forest.
Costal was about to resume his invocations; when, with his eyes stillturned towards the point where the horsemen had left the shore of thelake, he beheld an apparition that caused even his intrepid heart totremble. By the thicket of reeds, and close to the water's edge, awhite form appeared suddenly, as if it had risen out of the lake. Itwas the same which had been seen by Don Cornelio from his perch upon thetree.
It was not fear that caused the Zapoteque to tremble. It was an emotionof exulting triumph.
"The time is come at last!" cried he, seizing the arm of his companion."The glory of the Caciques of Tehuantepec is now to be restored. Lookyonder!"
And as he spoke he pointed to the form, which, in the clear moonlight,could be distinguished as that of a woman, dressed in a robe as white asthe _floripondio_, with long dark tresses floating
over her shoulderslike the mantilla of some grand senora.
"It is Matlacuezc," muttered the negro, in a low, anxious tone, andscarce able to conceal the terror with which the apparition had inspiredhim.
"Beyond doubt," hurriedly replied Costal, gliding down towards thewater, followed by the negro.
On arriving at the beach, both plunged into the lake, and commencedswimming back towards the shore. Although the white form was no longervisible to them from their low position in the water, Don Cornelio couldstill see it glancing through the green stems of the reeds, but nolonger in motion.
Costal had taken the bearings of the place before committing himself tothe water; and, swimming with vigorous stroke, he soon reached the shoreseveral lengths in advance of his companion.
Don Cornelio could see both of the adventurers as they swam back, andperceived, moreover, that the white form had been seen by them, and itwas towards this object that Costal was steering his course. He saw theIndian approach close to it; and was filled with surprise at beholdinghim stretch forth his arms, as if to grasp the goddess of the waters,when all at once a loud voice sounded in his ears, crying out thewords--
"Death to the murderer of Gaspacho!"
Along with the voice a light suddenly flashed up among the bushes, andthe report of a carbine reverberated along the shores of the lake.
Costal and Clara were both seen to dive at the shot; and for a time DonCornelio could not see either of them.
The white form had also sunk out of sight, but near the spot which ithad occupied, the long reeds were seen to shake in a confused manner, asif some one was struggling in their midst.
Don Cornelio could hear their stems crackle with the motion; and hefancied that a low cry of agony proceeded from the spot; but the momentafter all was silent; and the lake lay glistening under the pale silverymoonbeam, with nothing visible in its waters, or upon its shores, tobreak the tranquil stillness of its repose.