Less than fifty of the most villainous remained in Morning Breeze’s fold. These were careful not to make themselves noticed too much, because there was some talk among the upright Mayan citizens of seeing if there wasn’t enough warriors to fill the sacrificial well.
Things seemed to have come to an ideal pass. Except, possibly, in the case of pretty Princess Monja. She was plainly infatuated with Doc, but making no headway. She was, of course, well bred enough not to show her feelings too openly. But all of Doc’s friends could see how it was.
Doc removed all firearms to their stone headquarters house. He locked the weapons in a room. Long Tom installed a simple electrical burglar alarm. Monk made up more of his paralyzing gas. He stored this with the arms. In the face of the peace, such preparations seemed unnecessary, though.
Every one noted Doc was inexplicably missing from the city at times. These absences lasted several hours. Then Doc would reappear. He offered no explanation. Actually, he had been ranging the jungle sections of the Valley of the Vanished. He was seeking his father’s murderer. He traveled, apelike, among the trees, or silent as a bronze shadow on the ground.
Near the lower end of the valley he found what his keen senses told him was the camp of his quarry. But it was a cold trail. The camp had been deserted some time. Doc tracked the killer a considerable distance. The scent ended at the trail out of the valley.
THERE came the day when elderly King Chaac decided things were normal enough to adopt Doc and his men into the tribe. There was to be a great ceremony.
After they would be shown the gold source.
The ceremony got under way at the pyramid.
Since Doc and his friends were to become honorary Mayans, it was needful that they don Mayan costume for the festivities. King Chaac furnished the attire.
The garb consisted of short mantles of stout fiber interwoven with wire gold, brilliant girdles, and high-backed sandals. Each had a headdress to denote some animal. These towered high, and interwoven trams of flowers fell down their backs.
Ham took one look at Monk in this paraphernalia and burst into laughter. “If I just had a grind organ to go with you!” he chuckled.
Because pistols did not harmonize with this garb, they left them behind. No danger seemed to threaten, anyway.
The entire populace assembled at the pyramid for the ceremony. The Mayan men wore the same costume as Doc and his friends. In addition, some wore a cotton padlike armor, stuffed with sand. These resembled baseball chest protectors. Those attired in the armor also carried ceremonial spears and clubs.
Doc noted one thing a little off color.
Morning Breeze and his red-fingered followers were nowhere about!
Doc gave some thought to that. But there seemed no serious harm Morning Breeze could do. His fifty men were hopelessly outnumbered in case they started trouble.
The rituals got under way.
Doc and his men first had their faces daubed with sacred blue. Mystic designs in other colors were painted on their arms.
They were next offered various viands to which ceremonial significance was attached. They each drank honey—honey by the strange bees of Central America which store it in liquid in the hive, not in combs. Next was atole, a drink made from maize, and kept in most elaborate and beautiful jars.
Atop the pyramid, native incense was now burning in an immense
quiche
, or ceremonial burner. The fumes, sweeping down the great golden pyramid in the calm, bracing air, were quite pleasant.
Seated in orderly rows about the pyramid base, the entire Mayan populace kept up a low chanting. The sound was rhythmic, certain musical words repeated over and over. There were a few musical instruments, well handled.
The affair moved rapidly toward the climax. This would be when Doc and his friends were led up the long flight of steps bearing offerings of incense for the great burner and little stone images of the god Kukulcan to place at the feet of the larger statue.
It was necessary, King Chaac had explained, to mount the steps only on their knees. To do otherwise would not be according to Hoyle.
The Mayan women were taking an equal part in the ritual with the men. Most of these were very attractive in their shoulder mantles and knee-length girdles.
The time came when Doc and his friends started up the long line of steps. It was tricky business balancing on their knees. Around them, the Mayan chanting pulsed and throbbed with an exciting, exotic quality.
Yard after yard the adventurers ascended. Suddenly Morning Breeze appeared. Shrieking, he sprang through the hundreds of Mayans ringed about the pyramid base.
THAT halted everything.
It was an unheard-of thing. The ritual was sacred. For one to interrupt was highest sacrilege.
Hundreds of angry Mayan eyes bore upon the chief of the red-fingered fighting guild.
Morning Breeze commanded attention with uplifted arms. “O children!” he shrilled. “You cannot do this thing! The gods forbid! They do not want these white men!”
At this juncture some Mayan muttered loudly that the Mayans didn’t want Morning Breeze, either.
Ignoring the hostility, the warrior leader continued:
“Fearsome will be the fate to fall upon you if you make these outsiders Mayans. It is forbidden!”
Doc Savage made no move. He saw in this dramatic interruption a last wild bid by Morning Breeze. The fellow was desperate. His hotly blazing eyes, the shaking in his ‘arms, showed that.
Anyhow, Doc wanted to see just how deeply the golden-skinned Mayans loved him. He had confidence in them. They wouldn’t listen to Morning Breeze lampoon the white men for long.
And they didn’t!
Dignified King Chaac called a sharp command. Mayans—the fellows who wore the quilted armor and carried the weapons—surged for Morning Breeze.
The warrior chief took fight. Like a jack rabbit in spite of his short legs, the ugly fellow bounded away. At the crowd skirts he halted.
He screamed: “You fools! For this you must come to Morning Breeze with your noses in the dirt and beg his mercy! Otherwise you die! All of you!”
With that proclamation he spun and fled. Four or five well-cast javelins lent wings to his big, ungainly feet.
The dissenter disappeared in the jungle.
Doc was very thoughtful. He had learned to judge by men’s voices when they were bluffing. Morning Breeze sounded like a man who had an ace in the hole.
What could it be? Doc pondered. He became more uneasy. The fiend who had murdered the elder Savage was still at large. That man was clever, capable of anything. Doc wished his men had their guns.
The ceremonials resumed where they had left off. For four or five minutes the chanting continued. Bodies swayed rhythmically. The savage cadence had a quality to arouse, incite strange feelings.
Again Doc and his friends advanced up the pyramid stairs, keeping balanced on their knees. The bundles of incense, and the stone images they carried were getting burdensome.
All eyes were on Doc’s magnificent frame. Truly, thought the yellow-skinned people, here was a worthy addition to the clan of Maya.
Doc and his five men were almost at the top. King Chaac was before them, showing where the incense should be placed.
The final words of ritual were about to be spoken by the sovereign of the Valley of the Vanished.
Then the holocaust broke.
SUDDEN staccato reports rattled. Shots! They were so closely spaced as to be almost one loud roar. Their noise beat against the great yellow pyramid in terrible waves.
“Machine guns!” Renny barked.
Piercing screams, moans of agony, arose from the assembled Mayans. Several had dropped from the murderous leaden hail!
There had apparently been four rapid-fire guns. They were situated on the four sides of the pyramid. So well screened were the weapons that no trace of them or the operators could be seen.
Doc shoved his friends, as well as King Chaac and the Princess Monja, down in the shelter of the large images on the pyramid top.
Not a moment too soon! Lead stormed the spot where they had been. Rock chips showered off the images. One big, long-nosed likeness even toppled over. Flattened bullets fell about them.
Doc picked up one of those lead blobs, studied it. His brain, replete with ballistics lore, instantly catalogued the bullet.
“This is not the caliber of our guns!” he declared. “That means they haven’t seized our weapons. So some one has brought in machine guns from the outside!”
The adventurers looked at each other. They knew the answer to the question. The murderer of Doc’s father had brought in the guns!
The hail of lead ceased.
To the right, on a low knoll backed by brush, Morning Breeze made his appearance.
“You behold the fulfilling of my prophecy!” he shouted. “Destroy these white men! Crawl to me and beg for your lives! Acknowledge me as your ruler! Otherwise you shall all die!”
Even from that distance they could see Morning Breeze’s wild look.
“He’s insane,” Monk muttered. “Plumb dingy!”
A flight of spears gave Morning Breeze’s answer. With wild yells of anger, a group of the Mayan citizens attired in quilted armor charged the warrior chief. A machine gun forced them back, slaying several.
Then elderly King Chaac raised a great shout. He called some command at his people. So rapidly did he speak that Doc’s knowledge of Mayan was not sufficient to follow him.
The Mayan people began to run up the pyramid steps. They came with orderly speed, in a column the full twenty feet wide.
Doc stared at them, not realizing what they were intent on. The first of the yellow-skinned people passed him.
Doc now observed King Chaac had exerted pressure on the large Kukulcan idol beside the water tank that was always flowing. The idol had levered back. Revealed was a large cavity! Well-worn stone steps stretched downward into darkness!
Into this opening the column of Mayans dived. Like well-trained soldiers they sped up the side of the pyramid. But they seemed as surprised as the white men at sight of the opening.
Doc glanced askance at the elderly Mayan sovereign.
“Of all my people, only I knew of this hidden door,” explained King Chaac.
The machine guns of the red-fingered warriors were silent. The orderly retreat up the pyramid side must have them puzzled. And no doubt they thought they had wrought enough havoc with their weapons to bring the Mayans to terms.
Doc watched the gun emplacements close—his sharp eye had located each one. He saw the red-fingered devils show themselves.
He saw one other man—a fellow masquerading in a repulsive snakeskin costume. Colored feathers were arrayed down the back of the hideous serpent outfit.
This revolting figure seemed to be directing the whole thing. He even gave Morning Breeze orders. Doc, catching the man’s voice faintly, knew by the accent he was no Mayan.
Suddenly the machine guns went into operation again.
But they had waited too long. Practically all the Mayans were inside the pyramid. Even as the hail of metal started anew, the last of the golden-skinned people ducked into the wide, secret door.
King Chaac and Princess Monja now descended. Doc and his five friends followed.
The Mayan ruler showed them slits in the masonry. Through these, it was possible to observe whether any one was coming up the steps.
Even as they looked, some of the red-fingered warriors ran to the foot of the pyramid and started up the stairs.
“If we just had our guns!” Renny groaned, his puritanical face genuinely forlorn. But Doc and his men had left their weapons in their store house.
“Watch!” commanded King Chaac. He called a low order to some of his men far down the darkened passage into the depths of the pyramid.
Great, round rocks were passed up and chucked outside. The dornicks bounded down the steps. The warriors were battered back. They picked themselves up and fled.
“They cannot get to us here,” said King Chaac.
DOC Savage listened to the shouting voice of the man in the snake masquerade. The tones reached them faintly.
Doc identified the coarse voice! The snake man was the slayer of the elder Savage, and the prime mover in the planned Hidalgo revolution. It was the voice Doc had heard in that hotel room in the Hidalgo capital city, Blanco Grande.
Doc knew now why he had found no trace of the killer during the past week. The man had been away from the Valley of the Vanished, getting the machine guns.
“How about food supplies?” Doc asked.
Reluctantly, King Chaac admitted: “There is no food.”
“Then we’re penned up,” Doc pointed out. “There is plenty of water, I presume?”
“Plenty. The stream that supplies the pool atop the pyramid—we have access to it.”
“That helps,” Doc admitted. “Your people may be able to hold out a few days. My men and myself, accustomed to hardship, might beat that. But we’ve got to do something.”
Suddenly Doc bounded upward to the lip of the opening in the pyramid top. He glanced quickly about. He decided to take a chance. It was a chance so slim only a man of Doc’s unique powers could wrench success from it.
“No one shall try to follow me!” he warned.
Then, with a swift spring, he was out of the passage that dived down into the innards of the golden pyramid.
So unexpected was Doc’s appearance that a moment elapsed before the clumsy red-fingered machine gunners could turn a stream of lead on the pyramid top and the tiny temple there. By the time metal did storm, Doc had bounded off the top.
He did not select the stairs. He had a better means of descent. The steep, glass-smooth side of the pyramid! The gold-bearing ore of which the great structure was made was hard. The ages it had stood there had not weathered away enough of the soft gold to roughen the original sleekness much.
Leaning well back, Doc coasted downward on his heels. His leap had given him great momentum.
Twenty feet, and he spun over and over expertly. Thus, he flashed to one side several yards. It was well he did. Machine-gun bullets clouted into the course he had been following, and screamed off into space.