University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

The sun was now fast verging westward. The train
which had been for some time slowly moving along the
ascending road, with Centeola on her steed, and Alcoan
walking by her side both a short distance in advance of
the rest; had at length reached the highest ground, or
table land, which here spread out into a wide, undulating
plain, everywhere covered with an exuberant vegetation
of intermingling forest trees, low coppice, rank grasses and
wild flowers, and extending away to the confines of the
Imperial City. The day had been unusually warm
throughout; and now, though the sun had greatly declined,
the heat seemed to have increased; and there was a strange
sultriness in the atmosphere, which became almost insupportable.
At the instance, therefore, of the Sage, the
whole party came to a halt; and, to rest and refresh themselves,
took refuge in the extended shade of a clump of
wide spreading oaks.

“Does my father perceive anything unusual in the air?”
asked Centeola, after dismounting and taking her stand by
the side of the other.

“He does,” replied the Sage, thoughtfully scanning
the heavens, and then glancing along the earth in
different directions. “The air seems to be full of
portents. He began to perceive them before reaching
the summit level, and now they are more palpable
than ever. The sun appears blood-shot, and all along
the earth glows and quivers the disturbed atmosphere,
which, moreover has become so thick and mephitic, that it
stifles us in the breathing. This is not the air which the
Great Spirit made for us to inhale. One might well fancy
it the air of Mitelan, — that dark abode of the wicked dead
— escaping from their place deep down in the bowels of
the earth.”

“But what does my father think these things may portend?”
asked the former.

“He is not yet able to divine,” answered the other
musingly, “but they doubtless are not without their significance.
They may be portents of something unusual
about to occur.”

The conversation was here interrupted by the exclamations
of one of the company, who, having wandered some
rods out from the road into the adjoining copse, proclaimed
a mysterious and startling discovery. All immediately
hastened to the spot, and plainly discerned faint
puffs of smoke issuing, at brief intervals, from the crevices
of the point of a loose ledge of rocks, which were here
found projecting a few feet above the surface of the

ground. Most of the company, at first asserted that the
smoke must proceed from the remains of some fire, which
had been kindled in, or over these rock fissures. But
after a close examination, it was ascertained that no fire
could have been kindled there, and that there was no sod
or fuel in any of the crevices on which one could be fed.
And, besides that, the smoke was of a singular, bluish
hue; and, what was still more calculated to produce wonder
and alarm, it gave out a strange, sulphurous odor,
which could not have proceeded from any ordinary fire.
All stood mute in astonishment at this curious developement.
And their astonishment in a few moments more
rose to feelings of awe and dismay as they plainly detected
a tremulous motion of the earth beneath their feet, occasionally
attended with low, deep, and scarcely audible
noises, resembling the soughing of the wind. The eyes of
all, with that common impulse by which the feebler ever
instinctively look to the stronger in intellect in cases of
this kind, at once turned to the Sage and his daughter,
for some explanation of the alarming phenomenon.

“The very earth is shuddering at the wickedness of a
city she is compelled to bear on her bosom,” thoughtfully
observed Centeola as if in response to the inquiring looks
of those around her. “But fear not. The portent is not
meant for us, and should cause us no other anxiety than
to press forward to perform the duties of our mission before
it may be forever too late to avail those whom it was
intended to save.”

“Centeola's words are from on high,” added the Sage
“Let us heed them, and fearlessly go forward in our purpose.”

As the company, in hurrying away from the ominous
locality, were regaining the road, they came upon Mitla;
who had not gone forward with the rest to see the wonder;
conversing with a stout, fine looking young warrior, whom
the Sage recognized as the one of Centeola's guards who
had been missing from the company since the victim virgin
was so strangely snatched from her captors on the border
of the prairie, as described in the preceding chapter,
but who had now just arrived to resume his place in the
train. As soon as the Sage perceived him, he looked inquiringly
at his daughter; when the latter, instead of directly
replying to the implied enquiry, turned to Mitla
and said,

“My father, Mitla, would probably like to know certainly
what I think he now only guesses. Thy warrior friend,
here, will keep no secret from thee — question him on the
subject.”

With a blush that betrayed the fact that the warrior
was an accepted lover, the staid Mitla said to him —

“Wampa, the Sage would know whether the dove that
was snatched from the clutches of the hawks is now placed
beyond their reach?”

“Safe,” replied the other, “safe, but in covert till the
danger is over.”

“It is well,” said Alcoan. “It was a brave and worthy
deed of the young warrior, but not perchance without risk
to him. Let no tongue proclaim it, when we reach the
Imperial City.”

The company then again set forward on their journey,
and for the next hour slowly pursued their way without
further adventure or interruption; when they unexpectedly
encountered a numerous party of rough, swarthy
looking men, approaching them in the road from the opposite
direction. The peculiar kind of tools they carried,
together with their equipments and smoke-blackened faces
proclaimed them to be smiths, or the workers of some kind
of metals. As they neared each other, both parties came
to a halt, according to an established custom of the country,
which, in the absence of any other means than that
of oral communication, had become a necessity for acquiring
news and information, and which, therefore, required
parties meeting each other in the road, to stop and mutually
impart such tidings from their respective sections as
they might have in their possession.

“Travellers, we greet thee,” said Alcoan advancing a
few steps forward of his company, and respectfully bowing
to the strangers.

“Thy greeting we kindly return,” responded one of
the latter in behalf of the rest, “and would like to learn
from whence are thy party, and whither bound?”

“We are from the village of the Feathered Serpents,

and bound on a visit to the Imperial City. And now, in
turn, we would know whence thy company, and wherefore
journeying Southward?”

“We are a company of unfortunate miners from the
borders of the great lake of the North, where, as is
doubtless well known to thee, the King's copper mines are
mostly situated.”

“Even so; and we may count ourselves highly favored,
at this juncture, in the opportunity of learning the news
from that region; for from thence strange and alarming
reports are everywhere spreading over all this part of the
country.”

“No more alarming than true, as our own sad experience,
and fortunate escape with our lives, will amply testify.
The whole region, where we were lately pursuing our
occupations in peace and good thrift, is now being overrun
by the swarming hordes of a foe, more savage and ferocious
than the wild beasts of prey. We were driven by
them from the mines and our workshops, many days ago,
leaving half our number slain, wounded, or in the hands
of the enemy, reserved for death or torture. The shops
and houses of all the miners, after having been plundered,
were given to the flames. All their provisions, and
all the products of their labors, including thousands of
spears, long knives and axes, made to supply the King's
armies, were seized and carried away. Soon finding that
all who attempted to resist, and even all who fell in their

way, were slain; our party, among other survivors, escaped
into the forests; and, avoiding the common routes, which
were full of the enemy making their way, like a pack of
hungry wolves, in this direction, we were enabled to keep
considerably in advance of them, till we reached our first
fortified village — the village of the tribe of the Bears,
lying about one day's march to the North of this place,
where, for the first time, we ventured into the open road,
in which we have since been rapidly pushing hitherward,
and are now soon to separate for our respective homes.”

“Didst thou stop at the Imperial City with the news?”

“No, we did not; but all the King's workmen did.
We, being private workmen, or among those who work
on privileges rented from the government, had no duty to
perform, but to hurry home to make preparations for
defending our families from the common danger, either by
gathering them into the village strongholds, or fleeing with
them to a country where this dreadful enemy will not
reach us.”

“But how near has the van of the invading army reached
by this time?”

“Within a day's march, perhaps.”

“How are they armed?”

“At first when they assailed us, they were armed only
with bows and arrows, and heavy war-clubs; but after
they had plundered our work-shops, all that had been enabled
thus to obtain a supply, armed themselves, as we

ascertained by hovering on their flank for the first day
of our flight, with knives, spears and axes, the advantages
of which they no doubt at once perceived.”

“How numerous are they?”

“Count the leaves in the forest, or the stars in the sky!”

“What is their general appearance?”

“That of rough, savage monsters. They are much
larger and taller men than our nation, and being clothed
in the hairy skins of wild animals, they look as formidable
as the rushing herds of the buffalo, before which our bravest
and stoutest warriors and hunters would be borne down
and trampled into the earth. Lucky will it be if our village
strongholds can withstand their terrible assaults, and
luckier still for the Imperial City, whose richness in its
vast stores of provisions, of which they have doubtless
heard, and of which they are evidently intent on possessing
themselves, will tempt them to more desperate onsets.
But thy inquiries being now answered, permit us to hurry
on and spread the alarm among the people, and warn them
of the danger now so certainly at hand.”

The Sage and his daughter with their faithful and devoted
attendants now, for some time, pursued their way
with the thoughtful silence which the tidings they had just
heard, added to the strange phenomenon they had previously
witnessed was, for different reasons, so well calculated
to create. It was not long, however, before their attention
began to be attracted by objects immediately

around them; for by this time, the indications that they
were drawing near a great and populous city became more
and more palpable. Well beaten paths, falling into the main
road from the surrounding country on either side, were
now frequently encountered, and along each of these concentering
avenues, were seen hastening forward, in pairs
or singly, men, women and children, laden with baskets
or sacks of various kinds of provisions, culinary utensils,
pottery, wooden wares and many other articles of traffic;
all pouring into the great thoroughfare on their way to
supply the markets of the Imperial City. Keeping their
company as distinctly separate as possible from the moving
throng before and behind them, Alcoan and Centeola
with quickened pace pressed forward to their destination;
and soon the walls and towers of the city became plainly
discernible in the distance. In a short time they arrived
at the great western gate, which was the most frequented
entrance into the city from the country adjoining it; but
not deeming it expedient to attempt to enter now, they
filed away to a little elevation about a hundred yards distant
and there came to a stand to await the promised coming
of the young chief.

While standing here with their attention generally directed
to the towers, temples and other of the more prominent
objects of the city, they were startled by the sharp
exclamations of surprise of one of their number; and
suddenly turning they beheld Mitla standing a little aloof

from the rest and pointing wildly up a broad, graded
pathway, coming in from a rock quarry in plain sight, less
than a half mile to the west.

“Look! look!” she exclaimed, “hills of living, moving
flesh! what are the monsters?”

All eyes instantly followed the direction indicated by
her extended arm; when they saw moving down the
road towards them, two animals so huge as to surpass in
size all other known quadrupeds as much as the largest
buffalo surpasses the lightest antelope. In shape and appearance
they were something between the ox and the elephant
with double and treble the bulk of the latter, and
much longer bodied in proportion than either. To their
snouts was attached a short, stout elephant-like proboscis,
used by them to pull down saplings and the lower limbs
and boughs of large trees, on which they mostly fed.
They were fastened like a yoke of oxen, to a sort of drag,
composed of stout timbers, into which, next the ground,
were framed large wooden rollers to relieve the draft.
On this drag had been placed an enormous stone, weighing
forty or fifty tons, and with this load they were making
their way along the hard beaten road in the direction
of the Western entrance into the city, under guidance of
half a dozen drivers, who, with long lance-shaped goads,
urged them forward and kept them in the road.

“They are mammoths, of which you have all heard,

though never perhaps have before seen,” remarked the
Sage.[2]

“I have always known,” observed Centeola, “that
these monster animals, which I now for the first time
with amazement behold, had an existence in some parts of
the country; but I did not know that they were so docile
that they could be trained to such uses.”

“They are,” rejoined the Sage; “though immeasurably
the largest and most powerful of all the known animals
of the earth, as kind and manageable as the
cow-buffalos which we tame and keep for their milk.
They are easily trained, not only, like these, to draw huge
stones, which nothing else could remove, but to bear the
heaviest burdens which can be lifted upon their backs.
The kings of the Imperial City have thus employed them,
for many generations, for all heavy drafts; and all the
great stones used in the walls of the city, and in foundations
of the temples have been drawn by them in the
manner we are now witnessing. But they seemed doomed
to follow the fate of the horse, which has already disappeared;
a few now only remain, and it is well that it
should be so. They ruin the forests wherever they move,

and thus destroy the food of thousands of the lesser, but
more useful animals, like the elk and deer, which have an
equal right to live. And for this, the Great Spirit and
wise Provider for all created animals, has doubtless decreed
that this whole race of monsters shall pass away
and be known no more to man, forever, unless, it may be,
by the huge bones found in the earth which they once
devastated.”

The attention of the amazed company had by this time
become riveted on the passing spectacles of the mastodons
and the stupendous boulder they were drawing, which now
approached and swept by into the city, with the deep,
grinding noise of the rushing avalanche, and with a force
and impetus that made the earth groan and tremble beneath
the heavy tread of those mighty feet, and the crushing
weight of the load that was made to follow them.

This novel spectacle having thus passed out of sight,
the attention of the party was now directed towards the
city, the greater part of which was overlooked by the little
eminence where they were standing. The city, which
was built on a plain, lay in the form of a parallelogram
about two miles long, North and South, and about one
mile broad, East and West. It was enclosed on every
side by massive stone walls, fifteen feet high, which at the
top were thickly studded with sharp spikes of copper,
hardened to the unyielding texture of steel, as were all
the edged tools in use in the country, by the secret arts

of the smiths and miners. At the corners and mid-way
of each of the four walls, rose high above their tops,
stony square wooden towers designed both for ornament
and defense, running up into slender pinnacles above,
being pierced all round in the parts next the tops of the
walls with loop-holes for the use of archers and spearsmen.
From every quarter of the compactly built city
rose lofty temples, surmounted by the gilded images of
the particular deities to whose worship the structures were
dedicated; while towering high over all the rest, stood the
great temple of Mixitli, the reputed god of war, the assumed
patron and protector of the Imperial City, and
the chief object of worship among its multitudinous inhabitants.
The private dwellings of the people, like those
of all great towns, were as strongly contrasted as the conditions
of their occupants, varying from the contracted
cabins of the poor laborer to the showy palatial mansions
of the opulent nobles.

Such were the outline views presented at a distance by
the Imperial City, containing an amount of people which,
like the populous No of the Scriptures, had known no
enumeration, but which was doubtless more than enough
to constitute it the greatest native city found existing, at
the period of our tale, anywhere north of the land of the
palm trees.

While our company were occupied in taking note of
the different objects which the city presented, and listening

to the mingled noise and tumult that rose from its
crowded streets, the long expected Tulozin suddenly appeared
before them.

“I have at length procured for thee, Centeola, and her
attendants, good Alcoan, a fitting establishment adjoining
my father's residence,” he said with a countenance full
of respect and tenderness, but obviously marked with sadness
and anxiety. “But I am not without many misgivings
about thy reception when the objects of thy mission
become known. The city is full of commotion and
alarm in consequence of the news just received of the
rapid advance of the dreaded foe towards us. The King
and Council are in constant consultation in devising measures
and precautions which they may deem best calculated
to meet the demands of the crisis.”

“We met on the way,” responded the Sage, “a company
of private miners and artisans, fleeing to the South,
who imparted to us tidings of similar import, and who
said that the King's workmen also escaped from the foe,
had stopped at the city. Is it from these last that the
news has been received?”

“In part; but later and more particular accounts have
been brought in by the King's runners, who though remaining
nearly two days later in sight of the invaders
than the miners, yet, by their wondrous fleetness of foot,
came in but a few minutes afterwards.”

“And what is their report, young chief?”

“More alarming still. They report that the enemy,
after having followed down the river in this direction, several
days, have left it and diverged to the West, so as to
bring their line of march direct to this city, which they
will reach within a day or two if not successfully resisted.”

“Who is expected successfully to interpose and resist
them between the point they have reached and this place?”

“The warriors of the fortified village of the tribe of the
Bears, which will now fall in their route. The runners say
that those warriors were preparing for a desperate resistance,
and were confident they should be able to stay the
march of the savage invaders, though they have laid waste
the whole country, and driven every thing before them to
the near vicinity of that place. But notwithstanding this
hope that the advance of the foe will be thus stayed, our
rulers and, with them, the whole city, are filled with the
greatest anxiety and alarm.”

The dialogue was here brought to a close by the sounds
of some new tumult within the walls in the vicinity of
the gate; and the loud voice of a man, evidently on the
approach, was heard exclaiming,

“Clear the gate-way! make room there for the King's
messengers!”

“It's the King's sheriff, called out only on important occasions,
and he therefore is doubtless dispatching messengers

on errands of unusual moment,” said Tulozin in answer
to the inquiring looks of those about him.

As the servile throng in and about the gate-way were
promptly falling back, the sheriff, richly accoutred in peculiar
costume, bearing a long polished lance in his hand,
wearing a tall cap faced with a bright bronze eagle, and
having on his person various other ensignia denoting his
authority as a high officer of the King, now issued from
the gate, followed by seven young athletic men, also wearing
the King's uniform, who, on a motion made by the
former, at once arranged themselves in a line in the open
space outside the walls, and stood waiting their instructions.
The officer there produced, and proceeded to deliver
to them the different badges, on which were pictured
the totemic emblems of the tribes, to which they were
severally dispatched, and having thus supplied them all,
he charged them collectively —

“To make all possible speed to the tribes, to which
their different symbols would direct them, order the head
men to summon all their warriors into the field, strengthen
all their defenses, and make every other needed preparation
to meet the enemy, who are coming down like a
prairie fire, from the North. Now go, and fail not,” he
added waving his lance for the departure of the royal messengers,
who instantly hurried away, and, falling into the
long loping trot, to which their class, as well as the common
runners, were trained for the attainment of the greatest

speed, were soon out of sight. As soon as the officer
had thus put the messengers on their way he
turned to the guard and gave order for an early closing
of the gate in their charge, and for exercising the utmost
caution and rigidness in guarding it through the coming
night.

“The sun is sinking behind the hills and night approaches
now soon,” observed Tulozin, arousing himself
from the fit of moody abstraction into which he had fallen.
“The Sage heard the order for the early closing of the
gate. Let him and Centeola with their train then at
once prepare for entering the city.”

And Alcoan and Centeola having accordingly notified
their followers to that effect, the whole company were
soon in motion; when, led on by the young chief, they
passed through the gate between the lines of the guards,
who, at a sign from him, readily yielded a passage, and
the gate being thus passed, they at once found themselves
in one of the most crowded streets of this great and farnoted
city. Hundreds, who had come in from the surrounding
country to market their wares and edibles, were
eagerly pressing forward towards this great western entrance
to secure their egress before the hour of closing
the gate. Tradesmen of every description stood clamoring
at their doors for customers. Provision dealers, venders
of wares and trinkets, and various other kinds of
market-men, with baskets in their hands or on their heads,

were jostling each other on the way, and filling the air
with their cries and recommendations of the different articles
they carried for sale. From every part of the city
rose the sounds of the noisy war-drums. Bands of armed
warriors, whose burnished spears were glittering in the
rays of the setting sun, were seen marching in different
directions to man the towers for the night, or guard the
intermediate walls, and all, as far as eye and ear could
reach, was one extended scene of commotion and tumult.

The passage of Centeola and her train, as they slowly
made their way through the mingled throng, under the
guidance of Tulozin, who did his best to open a way for
them, seemed everywhere to attract attention and excite
curiosity, and the unwonted spectacle of the white horse,
rode as it was by a maiden of such dazzling beauty, evidently
became a matter of especial wonder and admiration.
Scores of persons of all ages and sexes crowded around
the embarrassed company along their road to witness the
novelties which their unusual appearance presented, and
but for the continued exertions of the young chief, actively
assisted by the bold and stalwart Wampa, they never
would have been able to have effected their passage through
the crowd, and among all the annoying obstacles they were
compelled to encounter every rod of their progress. Finding
this difficulty of advancing to grow greater and greater,
Tulozin suddenly changed his course, and, leading the
party through less crowded streets, at length enabled them

to reach the quarters he had provided for them, in safety,
where Centeola and her maidens found a welcome refuge
from the noisy crowd and the various annoyances to which
they had been subjected in this their brief city experience.