Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

YERMAH THE DORADO
The Story of a Lost Race

BY

FRONA EUNICE WAIT COLBURN

“It requires a great many shovelfuls of earth to buy truth”

—Swiss Proverb

NEW YORK

THE ALICE HARRIMAN COMPANY

Copyrighted 1897

By FRONA EUNICE WAIT

All rights reserved

Revised and Re-copyrighted 1913

By FRONA EUNICE WAIT COLBURN

All rights reserved

THIS VOLUME

IS DEDICATED TO THE

WHITE KNIGHTS

OF ALL LANDS AND OF ALL THE AGES

IN LOVING MEMORY OF

MY FATHER

JAMES LAFAYETTE SMITH

—Frona Eunice Wait Colburn

FOREWORD

This book “Yermah the Dorado,” was first published at The Sign of the Lark, San Francisco, in 1897. The issue was limited to five hundred copies, mostly subscribed for by personal friends of mine. The notes, manuscript and plates were all lost in the fire of 1906.

The date of publication is of the utmost importance because the Llama City, Tlamco, the scene of this romance, was located in Golden Gate Park, where it was destroyed by earthquake, in the long ago.

Since the actual occurrence of 1906, the original story has been slightly revised, but not a line of the description of the earthquake has been changed, nor an incident added. Whoever lived through those days, as I did, will not need to be told why. The use of aeroplanes and wireless telegraphy, with the recent visit of a huge comet are additional reasons impelling me to reprint what is very like a pre-vision of things to be.

To me Golden Gate Park is a hallowed spot. As a place of refuge I saw an ephemeral city reared in a night of stress and misery. The beauty of a rebuilt modern metropolis will but serve to recall the vanished glory of the dream city ruled by the man who was the real El Dorado.

Frona Eunice Wait Colburn.

TO GOLDEN GATE PARK

Where once the Wisdom-City’s temples rose

Within her “Gates of Gold,” our latter day

This noble pleasure ground but loves, and knows,

Nor guesses where the fanes of Tlamco lay;

Yet who shall say what spell that vanished race

Bequeathed forever to this mystic place?

For through this realm enchanted, wanderers stroll—

Or from the Seven Seas, or dwellers near—

And cares forget, while from each weary soul

Life’s heavy burden slips—till peace reigns here

Where blue sky arches over flower and palm,

And west winds whispering, breathe a healing balm.

Here creep the old and sad, so long denied

The welcoming smile these sunny spaces hold;

Fond lovers weave their golden dreams beside

Gay, laughing children counting poppy gold;

To all the Park brings rest, and sweet relief

From work or pain, or haunting wraiths of grief.

—Ella M. Sexton.

YERMAH, THE DORADO

THE STORY OF A LOST RACE

CHAPTER ONE

Yermah, the Dorado, was refreshed and invigorated by his early morning ride. It had been a voluntary gallop, and it would have been hard to say which found the keenest enjoyment in it; he, his horse Cibolo, or Oghi the ocelot, which ran beside them in long, slow leaps, covering much ground yet always alighting noiselessly and as softly as a cat.

It was a beautiful morning, one that would correspond to the first of June now—but this was in the long ago, when days and months were reckoned differently.

The tall grass and wild oats left ample proof of close proximity along the roadside by the fragments secreted in the clothing of Yermah and in the trappings of Cibolo. Oghi, too, could have been convicted on the evidence his formidable toes presented. Added to this was the indescribable scent of dew, of the first hours of day and the springtime of nature.

It was the first time since his arrival from Atlantis that Yermah had ventured alone outside the city limits. When once the temples, and marketplaces of Tlamco were left behind him, he had given Cibolo the rein and abandoned himself to the exhilaration of going like the wind.

Tlamco, the Llama city, the name of which was unknown to the men who sought the mythical Kingdom of Quivera—that will-o’-the wisp land—supposed to be the center of the Amazon inhabited island of California of the very remote past. Tlamco vanished so completely that there were no traces perceptible to the men who founded Yerba Buena on the same peninsula ages after. Its existence would be laughed at by present day inhabitants of San Francisco were it not true that the hills in and around Golden Gate Park are living witnesses of great mathematical skill.

The first denizens built some of these hills and shaped others to give the diameters and distances of all the planets. Who of to-day will believe that Las Papas, or Twin Peaks, show the eccentricities of the earth’s orbit to one fifty-millionths of its full size?

At present early morning milk-trains, and trucks loaded with vegetables from the outlying gardens intercept and mingle with the heavy wagons laden with meat from South City. In short, the modern city’s food supply comes from the same direction in which Yermah rode. Conditions and people have changed since then, and so have many of the features of the locality itself.

South of what is known as the Potrero was a bay. Now it is a swamp, and the north and south points there are the remains of forts, although they appear to be nothing more than hillocks blown into shape by merest chance. To the west is a hill on which dwelt Hanabusa, the captain of the three-decked war-galleys, or balsas. Nearby was the signal tower which could be seen from every eminence in the city. It guarded the western side of the sanded causeway leading from the marketplace in the center of Tlamco to the water’s edge. Hanabusa’s house afforded protection to the north side.

Yermah skirted the range of hills on the land side, where the granaries of his people were located and which accounted for the presence of the war-galleys and the defenses in that neighborhood. He rode down what is known as the old San Bruno Road, where he was kept busy returning the salutes of the workmen whose duty it was to produce, conserve and prepare food for their fellows.

Meeting Hanabusa near his house, Yermah dismounted to consult with him. While the men talked, Oghi lay in wait for a flock of birds, which had been frightened into rising from the ground. Oghi was more like the South American jaguar than any of the ocelots of Central America. In olden times these animals were plentiful on the Rio Grande, and were used by the sportsmen of the day for hunting, much as dogs are now employed.

This morning once fairly in the country, the quick eye of Oghi detected a fine buck deer surreptitiously grazing in a field of oats by the roadside. Instantly the ocelot crouched low and hugging the ground crept stealthily forward. The black-tail, soon conscious of danger, elevated its head adorned with a splendid set of antlers still in the velvet. Its nostrils were distended, and it sniffed the air suspiciously. Like a bolt from a gun the deer made a tremendous leap, and was off at top speed. Oghi continued to trail in a crouching position, which made him look like a long, black streak against the horizon. He gained on the deer from the first, and when near enough made a furious spring.

The leap fell short, but Oghi lighted on the rump of the buck and nearly bore it to its haunches. The wounded animal shook off its assailant and plunged ahead desperately, but it was plain to be seen that it was badly hurt where Oghi’s claws had torn out great pieces of flesh and hide.

The ocelot now changed tactics. All his cruel leonine nature was aroused by the exertion and the taste of warm blood. Instead of hugging the heels of his victim, he endeavored to run alongside near the shoulder where he could fix his sharp teeth in the throbbing throat. For a few moments they ran side by side, straight and even as a pair of coach horses.

Then, with a mighty cat-like spring, Oghi’s long, slender body stretched out and up into the air. When he descended, his claws had closed on the jugular vein of the deer. For an instant there was no break in speed. The deer made two more leaps, then staggered, whirled once around, and victor and vanquished went heels over head together in the long grass.

Yermah kept close behind, putting Cibolo to his best paces in an endeavor to save the life of the deer. He called repeatedly to Oghi to let go his hold. Finally the creature reluctantly obeyed with a sullen growl. Not only were the main arteries and veins in the deer’s throat severed, but the heavy blows had broken the shoulder-blade.

Yermah hastily fastened the chain he carried to the bull’s-hide band on Oghi’s foreleg, which was held in place by two smaller chains fastened to the animal’s collar. As the captor licked the blood off his chops, the death-struggles of his prey grew fainter, and finally ceased altogether.

Oghi was quite a character in his way, and enjoyed an unique reputation among the inhabitants of Tlamco. He came as a gift to Yermah from the Atlantian colonists of the Rio Grande. He seemed so disconsolate and lonely when first brought to his new home, that Yermah sent to his former region to secure the ocelot a mate. In the meantime, the young man told all his friends about it and promised his favorites the first litters which should follow this happy venture. Oghi’s reputation for intelligence, docility and courage made every one feel fortunate in the prospect of owning some of the stock.

Pika, the mate, was an ocelot beauty and carried herself with all the haughty disdain a full knowledge of that fact might have inspired. When turned loose in the yard with Oghi, she flew at him instantly and whipped him unmercifully. In no circumstance would she allow him near her. Oghi submitted like a sheep. He even crawled flat on his belly and howled for mercy. In these encounters he kept close to the wall on the opposite side, and whenever possible scaled it with remarkable agility.

This unexpected outcome gave rise to great hilarity, although the consensus of opinion was that Oghi had behaved like a gentleman. There were men in those days capable of facing a hostile regiment, single-handed, but who capitulated unconditionally at sight of an irate female—so this idea is not entirely modern.

It may have been that an easy victory over Oghi caused Pika to over-estimate her fighting abilities, for she did not hesitate to attack a grizzly bear and in so doing came to an untimely end. It was a rough-and-tumble fight, but a duel to the death from the beginning.

Had Pika been more wary, she would have kept well to the rear; but she foolishly got in the way of Bruin’s right paw and the result was a skull split from nose to ear.

When Yermah’s irreverent friends came to condole with him, he invited them to witness his endowment of Oghi with a badge of mourning. This was the bull’s-hide band, worn on the left foreleg by means of which Oghi was always manageable. Suspended from the hook which fastened the leading chain was a leaden heart with the inscription—

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF PIKA

which was indeed a sign manual of submission and servitude. If at any time during the rest of his life, Oghi showed signs of rebellion, Yermah had but to pull the chain and the left foreleg was doubled up close to the body, while the collar around the neck became uncomfortably tight.

Iaqua, Yermah’s official residence, was surrounded by an immense octagonal enclosure, and was approached by two beautiful gates. The one due north closed a roadway composed of tiny sea-shells, extending to the bay and overlooking the Golden Gate. The other was a terminus of a foot-path of flagging which led to the Observatory. Here the adobe was laid in irregular forms and covered with stucco.

Iaqua’s eight towers were circular in form and had battlements and winding stairways. Each was furnished with deep-set octagon loopholes for observation, and comfortably accommodated twenty men. The entrance was a door opening into the courtyard and connecting with a passageway under the terrace. It was this opening fitted with loopholes which really made the building a fortification.

The whole structure was flat-roofed, having battlements of hard wood plated with lead. The lower floor of each tower was used as a guardroom, being furnished with huge tables and benches which followed the outline of the room. There were stools of terra-cotta, porcelain and hard woods elaborately carved where the body-guard suite of the Dorado lived. In each tower, one above the other, were two sleeping apartments of equal size with mess-rooms attached.

As Yermah galloped up through the wide southern gate, the courtyard filled with members of his staff. As he swung lightly from the saddle, it was noticed that Cibolo showed signs of the morning work. Yermah led his charger to the stable door, and, as he was being rubbed down, gave him some salt and patted him affectionately.

Oghi took offense at this show of partiality, and leaping over the back of the horse, stood uncomfortably near Yermah, the hair along his spinal column on end and his tail straight and threatening. Yermah spoke sharply to the ocelot.

Disturbed by the commotion, a flock of parrots having the freedom of Cibolo’s crib began to screech and to chatter, as if they not only comprehended but sympathized with Oghi’s jealousy. In less than a minute they were vigorously fighting among themselves, and Yermah, unable to make himself heard above the noise and din, fled incontinently.

Cibolo came from Poseidon’s stud, whence his ancestry was traced back many generations. He had all the qualities which conduced to endurance and speed. Cibolo’s bright eyes gave evidence of energy and splendid nerve, and he carried himself like a king. His straight neck and perfect joints were connecting links of a muscular system of great power. In the center of a wide, flat forehead was a star, and the glossy coat of hair distinctly outlined a delicate tracery of veins. The nostrils were wide and open, while the mobile ears, set well apart were small and straight. Never in his life had the horse been struck a blow. He was docile, obedient, affectionate and intelligent.

With fine-cut horn brushes, the groom set to work removing every particle of dust and sweat from his skin, smoothing every hair into its proper place, until it shone like fine satin. The mane and tail were combed like human hair and plaited into tight strands, which would be loosened only when he was harnessed to the chariot, later in the day. As became the station of his master, the head ornaments, saddles, coronas and trappings worn when hitched to the chariot were masses of jewels, feathers, silver bells and embroidery.

Yermah went directly to his private apartments in the eastern quadrangle of Iaqua. The approaches to this part of the house were screened by trellises covered with flowering creepers. After a plunge and a shower of both salt and fresh water, followed by a liberal use of lavender spray, of which the Dorado was extremely fond, he emerged from the hands of his dresser with a glow of health and happiness on his face. He lingered but a moment in the hallway, then crossed over to the extreme eastern triangle, which was a private sanctuary where he often went to consult the oracle Orion on personal matters.

The statue was of carved alabaster exquisitely proportioned. It represented the figure of a man, with diamond eyes, whose head supported a jeweled miter terminating in a point. The belt which confined the loose robe at the waist line had three solitaires of purest water which were supposed to grow dim if the petitioner were not in good health or was in danger. If these stones became opaque or colorless, the phenomenon gave rise to most dismal forebodings.

Orion was placed in a square niche exactly facing the rising sun, holding a fan and a sickle in the hand. A window of jeweled glass let in the first rays of the morning, lighting up the gold and silver ornamentation back of the figure. The right side was of gold, the left of silver—one typifying the sun, the other the moon. Back of the head, suspended from the ceiling, was a splendid panache of green feathers dusted with jewels, and above this was a crystal ball, whose knobby surface reflected rainbow colors in circles and zones. At the feet was a bas-relief representing a golden humming bird flying over water which was a symbol of Atlantis.

The prayer-rug in front of the statue was of ivory, woven in strips. It was as flexible as cloth and beautifully fine. The double-key pattern, characteristic of pre-historic America, formed the border; but this was much broken and most effective with its shadings of black, skillfully intermingled with filigree carvings. Pastils of incense burned on the altar—peace and quiet reigned supreme.

The Dorado was a child of promise; that is to say, he had been set apart as the future ruler of the island of Atlantis and her outlying colonies. By the Brotherhood of the White Star he had been consecrated, before he was born, to a life of service. Yermah was a veritable sun-god, and as the subdued light fell over his long, wavy blond hair and beard, while kneeling before the oracle, he was a specimen of manhood fair to look upon.

Tall, broad-shouldered and athletic, with not a pound of flesh too much, his countenance was as open and frank as that of a child. His large, round, clear-seeing blue eyes were placed exactly on a normal line—eyes whose truthfulness could not be questioned; and the slightly arched heavy brows indicated physical strength and mental power. Yermah had a large hand evenly balanced and well formed. The joints of the fingers were of equal length, ending in round pink nails, denoting liberal sentiments as well as love of detail. The small, clean-cut ear helped to bear out other testimony of his having been born during the morning hours. Ever mindful of the little courtesies of life, both in bestowing and receiving, he was a model of propriety and dignity even as a youth.

Yermah possessed a nature which aroused others to the highest degree of activity. Unfortunately this activity was as liable to be against as for his interests. He was high-spirited and resolute, but generous and sympathetic. As a friend he was considerate and faithful. As an orator he was magnetic, and irresistible; and as the shoulders are the thermometer of feeling he made many gestures with them.

On the spur of the moment, under the dominating influence of emotion, the Dorado sometimes acted without thinking, but he was incapable of harboring malice. In later life this qualified him for arbitration, when the necessities of the people demanded its exercise.

“The peace of a perfect day be with thee, Yermah,” said Akaza, the hierophant.

He kissed the Dorado on the right cheek, the forehead, and then on the left cheek, as he stood clasping the young man’s arms, murmuring the names of the three attributes of Divinity. Only an initiate of the highest order ever gripped an arm in precisely the same manner as Akaza had done, and Yermah was gratified by the distinction and favor shown.

“The same sweet grace be with thee now and always,” was Yermah’s greeting in return as he carried the long, thin, white beard of the old man to his lips.

Then adroitly drawing Akaza’s arm through his own, he led the way to a nook in the private sitting-room facing the sanctuary, on the threshold of which he had encountered his visitor.

“Forgive my keeping thee waiting,” he continued. “I yielded to the seductions of the balmy air and Cibolo’s easy gait, riding farther out than I at first intended.”

“It were easier to make excuse hadst thou not unnecessarily cast insinuations on Cibolo,” answered Akaza, smiling. “It is not fair to the horse, since he is not here to make known how he was encouraged and abetted in his labor of love. I have but arrived from Ingharep, having completed calculations of the planets concerning our journey to Yo-Semite.[^[1]] Walking in slowly, I was glad of the few moments’ breathing time.”

He helped himself to some salted melon and dried anise seeds on the platter which his host pushed toward him, but he refused the cigarette the latter had rolled of corn-husks and filled with fine tobacco. Yermah picked at the anise seeds after ordering a pot of chocolate and some corn wafers.

“Wouldst thou advise me to go at once, to offer this young priestess asylum here while negotiations are pending between Eko Tanga, the emissary of the land of the Ian of which she is a native, and the Monbas, holding her as hostage?”

The hierophant hesitated and looked sharply at his auditor before replying.

“Thou hast still to overcome that which bars the entrance before thou hast completed the labors of initiation, and I am not unmindful of thy real destiny. Yes,” he continued deliberately, and as if the fate of an immortal soul hung on his words, “yes. I am prepared to go with thee into the Yo-Semite. Whatever the result of the expedition, I will help thee to endure.”

As he ceased speaking Yermah noticed that he held both thumbs tightly and sat motionless, save that his lips moved silently. His piercing dark eyes focused in empty space, and he seemed for a moment far away from his surroundings.

“And the gold which I came here to find—does it lie in that direction? Will my initiation into the Sacred Mysteries be completed upon its discovery?”

Yermah was carefully noting Akaza’s abstraction.

“The gold thou art to find lies in that direction, and when found the Brotherhood of the White Star will welcome thee.”

“Then thy long journey from Atlantis will be crowned with success, and we can return like a pair of conquerors—thou to preside over the temple whose foundations were laid the day I was born, I to tip its spires with virgin gold. Then the initiation, and I am ready to assume my duties as Grand Servitor. There is but one short year in which to accomplish this.”

“True child of the sun, full of hope and impatient of delay! Youth is thy eternal heritage.”

“Youth, indeed!” said Yermah, with mock severity. “Thirty times will the earth have encircled the sun when the next day of my nativity arrives. I hope soon after that to be a family man, staid and sober.”

“What is this about a family?” queried a newcomer, a swarthy son of Mars, who stood in the doorway. His head was without covering other than a band of red leather, having a bull’s head and horns of agate, and a solitaire for Aldebaran in the center with a gold boss on each side. He wore the quilted cotton tunic of a soldier and his feet were protected by leather sandals tipped with gold.

On the lower arm near the elbow, were several long strips of leather, cut like a fringe, with different devices at the ends to show his occupation as well as his prowess at arms and in games; also, the temple or priesthood to which he belonged. Those on the right arm indicated strength and skill; those on the left his aspirations, social and spiritual.

Over this arm was thrown a cloak of perfumed leather, ornamented with lustrous dyes in soft colors, which found a congenial background in the pliant, velvety surface of the ooze finish. Around his neck was a gorget, from which depended seven rows of beads each of a different color.

He was a younger man than Yermah, and quite as handsome, but in a different way. He came in with a brisk step, without hesitation, and it was evident from his manner that he belonged to the place. He greeted Akaza as Yermah had done, and stood waiting to be asked to join the conclave.

Yermah handed him a curiously wrought gold cup filled with chocolate, made as only the Aztecs, of all later races, knew how to do. It was thick like custard, with a layer of whipped cream on top, served ice cold and eaten with a spoon. Its nutritive qualities made it a household confection, and it was used much as bouillon is to-day. With it was eaten thin corn-meal wafers, rolled into fanciful shapes and browned until crisp and dry.

“Thou art come in time to add thy counsel to mine, Orondo,” said Akaza, kindly. “Yermah stands in need of thy assistance in a state matter of importance, one which is certain to be fraught with momentous consequences to all concerned.”

“I thank thee for thy courtesy. But I thought thou wert discussing marriage when I came in. That, I believe, is my next duty, and I have unwonted interest. As Yermah is vowed to celibacy, I fail to comprehend the import of his words.”

Again Akaza fortified himself against conflicting emotions, and was silent.

“Our spiritual leader bids us offer aid to the high priestess, Kerœcia, at present with her followers worshiping in the Yo-Semite. I am expected to visit her there and thou must bear me company.”

“Thou hast but to command me. It were best to go in state, as this may incline them to peaceful disposition toward our future. In the valley of the Mississippi[^[2]] they already have strong position, and could harm me infinitely when once I begin operations there. It were impolitic to expose the copper deposits in that region as the metal is growing scarce in the land of Mexi, and we would perish without it.”

“Thou wilt not see me again until we are ready for our journey; I have need to be alone,” said Akaza, as he held up his hands in benediction, forming an outline of the sacred fire on the altar.

Both men arose and saluted respectfully, and, without further words, Akaza passed from the room.

CHAPTER TWO
THE CITY OF TLAMCO—ITS TEMPLES AND MARKETPLACES

The favorite breathing-place of the San Francisco of to-day is the site of what was once the Llama city, Tlamco, stretching from the Panhandle entrance at Golden Gate Park to the beach at the Cliff House rocks. It was a city of seven hills, marking the orbits and the diameters of the planets, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune, as well as forming a map of the Pleiades.

This ancient abode of the Atlantian colonists in California was laid out in circles, with a large temple in the center, near the east end of Golden Gate Park at the inter-section of Haight and Shrader Streets. From this point were twelve radiating streets, intersected by four principal avenues, constructed on the cardinal points of the compass.

The one to the east led to Park Hill, which was terraced up to Mount Olympus on the south, and continued on to the East Temple fortress.

The western avenue led through the center of the park proper to Round Top, or Strawberry Hill, now ornamented with an artificial waterfall and an encircling lake. This hill is a natural rock, upon which was constructed the Temple of Neptune.

The corresponding thoroughfare on the north led to the Observatory and main fortress on Lone Mountain. These roadways were crowned with fine sand, still found in abundance in the dunes in the immediate vicinity.

There were tall three-faced obelisks of dark-red sandstone at the outside limits of the streets, while the inner terminals were marked by corresponding pillars of marble, similarly decorated. Single and double cross-bars at the top of each of these were hung with huge beaten-brass lanterns.

It was these statue obelisks, twelve in number, representing Mercury in the twelve hours, which gave the name of Tlamco to the city. The cognomen signified Wisdom.

These columns had three faces which literally pointed the way. The countenance on the right was that of a bearded old man; the middle face a laughing, sinister one, while that on the left was of a youth looking dreamily out into the distance. The shafts were placed so that the young sun-god faced the orb rising in the east, symbolical of the future; the center denoted the present, and reflected the sun at mid-day, while the old man fronted the west. Sunset typified Saturn, the Father Time of to-day.

The figures were armless, and their legs and feet were incased in iron coffins set on square bases of black basalt. The obelisks proper were tapering, and at the points were covered with white enamel. The lamps hanging from the cross-bars were furnished with opalescent glass globes, and on the apex of the obelisks were balls of the same material radiating the light in myriad rainbow colorings. Cut deep in the basaltic base was the inscription:—

I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE

which is a Gnostic interpretation of redemption, and at that time had reference to the course of the sun. The Way was Horus, the ray of wisdom shining through the darkness; the old man was Truth, or experience; while the center was Life, or the Light-Giver. The iron coffin was the belt of Orion and had reference to the death of the material world.

Esoterically, the belt of Orion is the band of causation, to loosen which, and to free ourselves from its influence, solves the riddle of life itself.

In the center of the city was the Temple of the Sun with twelve sides and four main entrances which overlooked the avenues. Its minarets and domes were tipped with gold. There was a dome over each doorway, and a larger one in the center, which terminated in a truncated spire. Under this was a circular hall surmounting twelve arches, resting on an equal number of pillars which represented the astral giants holding up and guarding the Cosmos.

The capital of each pillar was carved into the semblance of the face of a young virgin with an inscrutably mystic expression. On her head was a monster serpent biting the tail of another on the right. The bodies of the serpents ran in wavy lines around the recesses at the back of the arches, where the head in turn held in its mouth the tail of the preceding one, forming a long meander around the hall. On them, and commencing at the northeast corner, was inscribed a hymn to the Cosmic Virgin:—

EAST.

O thou who in thine incomparable beauty risest from the deep!

Thou who dwellest in all form, and givest life to all emanations!

Thou, Everta, who ridest on the whirlwind!

Gird thy children with the armor of justice.

SOUTH.

Thou who at thy rising doth manifest the splendor of truth,

And at thy meridian causest the fruit of the earth to ripen in its season,

Give, O Horo! at thy setting, peace to all thy children.

WEST.

Thou who dwellest in the manifest and the invisible,

And makest one the astral deep and the mountain of substance,

Grant, O Dama! union to the souls of thy people.

NORTH.

Thou whose sandals crush the head of malice and discord

And who dost establish on the rock of eternity thy seal of power,

Make, O Gharep! on thy right hand a dwelling for the brethren of Tlamco.

The recesses facing the cardinal points led to the four entrances; the remaining eight were curtained off, and used as civil courts. In each corner was a pair of winged mastodons, facing each other. Their outstretched wings touched and formed a sharp angle. On the breast of each mastodon was a jeweled lamp of sacred fire.

Directly under the central dome was a concave counterpart, brilliant with jeweled crystals, from the pinnacle of which was suspended a gilt ball held in place by four golden chains. The globe was a sunburst with horizontal rays. The serpent meander on the outer wall back of the recesses gave the orbit of the inter-mercurial planet Vulcan, to the same scale as the gilt ball did of the sun. Underneath the radiating globe was a porphyry disk of equal diameter, symbolic of the fire on the altar.

This central temple, typical of active life, was the scene of great public ceremonies, such as the reception of ambassadors, and there the awards for all civic honors were bestowed. The floor was a circle of radiating tiles, twelve red, alternating with an equal number of yellow. Around the center palladium were twenty-four seats for the Council of State, with the one at the south raised for the Chief.

The populace were allowed access to the building and to assent to or to disagree with the proceedings of the Council. These men, in a material sense, represented the twelve labors of Hercules. They pictured this personality of the sun as old and eloquent; and a councilor failing in proper persuasion and ability to reason was driven out. It was necessary for him to be an experienced and ready debater, because his colleagues, in groups of six, challenged his statements—one set pathetically, one in ridicule, one in denunciation and another in denial.

If the members of the Council quarreled, the sitting was adjourned at once, and no further meeting was lawful until the disputants took a solemn oath that they were reconciled. News of such an occurrence spread over the city like a flash. It was considered a great breach of decorum for a man to speak without consideration for another’s feelings, or in a loud, angry voice while in the Council Chambers.

Yermah had four advisers, who in turn sat as Chief Councilors. These were Akaza, Orondo, Setos and Alcamayn.

There were also one hundred and sixty warrior priests in his personal suite, quartered in the fortifications around Iaqua. Some of these were descendants of the pioneers who founded the city; others were there by honorable promotion for service rendered the state.

Yermah, alone, was accountable to the Grand Council of Atlantis, while Akaza was the only representative of the hierarchy. He led the white magicians out of Atlantis when black magic gained supremacy, twenty years prior, and had only returned in time to accompany Yermah on his tour of inspection through the outlying colonies.

Conforming to the general outline of the temple enclosure, but on a lower eminence, was a twelve-sided plaza which was the marketplace of Tlamco. Every street and avenue converged upon it, and it was always alive with men, women and children on traffic bent. In deep porticos facing the outer circle, were booths and bazaars where everything required by the population was for barter and exchange. Like the Temple of the Sun in the center, this beehive of industry had an outside circle describing the orbit of Mars, typical of the curious warfare which trade was to wage in later times, between man’s temporal and spiritual welfare.

Long lines of white and black horsehair reatas were carried to the top of the truncated spire on the temple, and made fast to the base of a colossal figure of Hercules, which was of madrono wood—indigenous to this locality. The wood is as hard as metal, and the statue was completely covered with fish-scales and feathered plates of solid silver so neatly put together as to appear like a casting. The face and other fleshy parts were treated to a liberal coating of oil and copal, giving them a smooth and metallic appearance.

The other end of the hair rope was fastened to one of the inner obelisks. These were novel bulletin boards; for each day’s transaction in the market was heralded by the appearance of many small colored flags flying above the particular section in active trade, or to announce the arrival of fresh supplies.

Akaza lived on Round Top, in the Temple of Neptune. The monastery, which was occupied by the highest order of initiates, was surrounded by high white walls. The temple itself was square, four stories high, and had entrances facing the cardinal points. Here were tall trees and deep solitude, away from the bustle and turmoil of traffic.

Akaza stepped into the Council Chamber on his way to the monastery after his visit to Yermah. Alcamayn, the jeweler, was presiding, and Setos, the heap of flesh, was urging the necessity for sending a deputation of merchants into the territory of the Mazamas, which extends from the Sierra Nevada and Coast Ranges of mountains on the southeast, to the confines of Behring Sea on the north and west. Mazamas signified mountain climbers and was not the name of a nation, race or tribe.

Traveling merchants in those days were not a set of pack-saddle peddlers, as they became in later times. They were a distinct guild and were allowed to carry manufactured articles which they were free to exchange for anything made or grown by another people. They went about with many attendants and were always treated with consideration, sometimes performing diplomatic service connected with trade relations and in exceptional cases acting as spies.

“The Mazamas are not of our faith. They are nature-worshipers, and must fail to achieve a high place in the affairs of this continent. They have been in rebellion against our cousins of Ian, and it is the part of prudence to look upon them with suspicion.”

“Will Setos be kind enough to state definitely what he expects to accomplish by dispatching a delegation from the guilds in his group to a friendly territory?” asked Alcamayn. “If war is the purpose, Orondo must decide; if for religious propaganda, then the hierophant, Akaza, should be here to speak.”

“I am here to speak,” declared Akaza, coming forward. “My voice is for a visit to the Mazamas, but not in the manner proposed by Setos.”

Setos flushed—hot and uncomfortable. He was not intentionally untruthful, but he could not let an opportunity pass unimproved when a keen, sharp transaction would materially benefit his section of the industrial guild.

Akaza looked straight at him and said quietly, “I will not have spies sent into the house of a friend.”

“Will the hierophant enlighten us as to his wishes?” asked Alcamayn, respectfully.

“Yermah, Orondo, Setos, Rahula, and Ildiko, with proper following, will accompany me on a friendly mission to the high-priestess, Kerœcia.”

“Are we to know the nature of this mission?” queried Setos.

“It is my wish that the high-priestess visit Tlamco. We offer our services as arbiters between her tribesmen and the government of Ian.”

“Has the time for this undertaking been decided?”

“The hour of departure has not been named, but it will be accomplished while the guild of arts is in the seat of judgment. The Dorado desires that Alcamayn serve in his stead. He will not be long absent.”

Alcamayn arose, folded his hands across his breast with the open palm turned inward, and inclined his head profoundly. There was a burst of applause, and an expression of acquiescence from the audience, which pleased Alcamayn mightily. He was a young Atlantian, not quite acclimated to Tlamco, and just beginning to exercise his prerogative as a favorite of Yermah’s foster-father, Poseidon.

Noting that it was near the noon hour, Akaza said, making the hierarchal sign of benediction:

“Have done! If Alcamayn will go with me to the Observatory, I will fix the time of our journey, also its duration, that he may be better able to devote his energy to the cause of his fellow-servants. May the sun preserve and keep us free from malice and disease—two mortal enemies of the soul.”

As one man they responded: “Haille, Akaza! Haille!”

Setos was primarily a man of stomach. With his reddish-brown cloak of coarse cloth swinging loosely from his shoulders, and shining neck-ornaments aggressively in evidence, he elbowed his way out of the building, hastening into the stalls where fresh vegetables and fruits were laid out in tempting array. Setos’s barter was for cucumbers and squashes, giving in exchange taos of tin, which he redeemed later, with bags of chalk, kalsomine and staff. He was careful to see that the custom of pelon was strictly enforced.

For each regular customer a tiny tin cylinder was hung up in the stalls, in full view, marked with the name and number. For every purchase made a bean was dropped into the cylinder, and at stated times these were removed and counted. Sixteen beans entitled the customers to a rebate in commodities.

Setos’s square jaws relaxed and his thin lips smacked with satisfaction on seeing some luscious melons. He had already selected one, bespeaking his good digestion and critical eye, when his daughter, Ildiko, the Albino, called to him:

“Thou by whom I live, Setos, the wise father, come with me to Rahula in the bazaar of sweet odors. She awaits us there.”

“What mischief hast thou been planning this fair day? Is it new raiment or a bit of candied sweets?” questioned Setos, as he followed Ildiko from the food section past piles of cotton in bales, wool, flax, and silk in the raw state, to where the manufactured articles were displayed.

She did not pause in the section devoted to dress or ornament, giving only a passing glance to the tapestries, pottery, enameled and jeweled vessels, baskets and rugs lying about in confused heaps.

“It is neither of these,” she explained as they went along. “I crave thy judgment on a new sweet coffer fashioned by Alcamayn. He ornamented it according to my direction.”

“Because that foolish man has humored an idle whim of thine, must I come to barter? Out upon both of ye!”

“Rahula is already bargaining for one of the leather pockets held in a filigree of gold. Even widows may carry these. Thou knowest that she is very strict in decorum and temple service. She says that perfumes are acceptable to the Brotherhood, and even a vestal may use them in her hair.”

Ildiko, daughter of the moon, knew how to play upon the weakness of her fellows and was well aware of her father’s predilections. “Thou hast no words of condemnation for Rahula,” she pouted.

They turned into the portico where the perfumers’ bazaars were located before Setos could answer. The young woman waited for the effect of mingled odors on a nature whose whole bent and inclinations were toward the appetites. By the time his senses were fully alive to the seductive fragrance, Rahula was speaking to him. She was past-mistress of the art of flattery.

“There is no need to commend thee to the keeping of the gods of magic, Setos. Every lineament of thy noble face bespeaks exalted favor.”

Setos was fatally weak with women. He knew it, and alternately made love to, or abused, them.

“The finger of Time has failed to touch thee,” he replied, removing his conical hat, and holding it across his stomach with both hands, “nor hast thou forgotten the offices of speech.”

Rahula, who had risen, made the usual sign of submission with her long, thin fingers. As she looked intently from father to child, she quickly discerned that Ildiko’s pink countenance was puckered into a frown.

“Has the little weaver, Ildiko, told thee of her latest success at the loom?” she asked with fine tact.

Ildiko made a motion of dissent, and laid her forefinger across her upper lip. None knew better than she that silence was impossible. It suited her evasive disposition to make mystery of the most trivial circumstance; she was in reality delighted with the sensation she was making. Many of the shop-keepers and some of the passers-by gathered to examine the roll of fine, gossamer-silk tissue, which Rahula adroitly drew out of the perfumed pocket held in her hand. Setos may be forgiven the glow of pride and satisfaction with which he surveyed the product.

At this moment Ildiko reached over and picked up the identical jeweled coffer which she had in mind when she went in search of her father. To the feminine eye her coveting was entirely justified, and when she managed to bring the dainty bauble between the silken veil and Setos’s focus of vision, he was still smiling in a pleased manner. She leaned on him affectionately, and said in a coaxing tone:

“The water-lily design set with brilliants was my idea. I got the suggestion from the pond in our garden, when the fountain left a fine spray like dewdrops in the heart of the lilies growing there. Dost thou see thy favorite rushes in the twisted lines on the mouth and handles?”

Setos could hold out no longer.

“Must I find thee a golden chain for support?” he queried, half petulantly.

History fails to record why a certain type of man always finds fault with what he knows in his soul he must do for his women-folk. Setos was troubled with that “little nearness” which has rendered the Scotch of later times famous.

“If the chief of the merchants’ guild will send some of his excellent wine of maguey in exchange, we vendors of sweet odors will be content. A chain, which we can procure from our neighbors, the artificers in gold, will be included in the purchase price.”

Setos was about to conclude the transaction, when Rahula said:

“Alcamayn has confided to me his intention of making a chain of special design, which he will present to Ildiko, with consent of Setos.”

Without further parley Setos led the way out of the stalls. When he halted, it was in front of a booth where his beloved wine of maguey was kept in abundance. There was a private entrance to the enclosure through which Setos passed, followed by the two women.

With a show of special interest, accompanied by an insinuating smile, Rahula said: “Hast thou a secret in the fabrication of this drink unknown to other makers?”

Setos shook his head in vigorous negation and continued giving his order for refreshing drinks. Ildiko preferred pulque. Rahula ordered metheglin, a spiced drink made by boiling fragments of beeswax and honey together, allowing it to ferment after it has been skimmed and clarified.

“Wilt thou hold it impertinent in me to ask thee,” continued Rahula, as soon as she could attract the attention of Setos, “to what process thou art indebted for the superior quality of thy wine of maguey?”

“It is made from the guava plant cut in the dark of the moon, but roasted and matured in the light of that orb. Care in manipulation does the rest.” Then lowering his voice and making a grimace as he winked, knowingly, he continued:

“No one suspects that my bottles are made of pliant glass and that only the covering is of goats’ skin.”

Standing with faces toward the east, they bowed their heads reverently; without a word they drank, not heartily, but in moderate sips. When they had swallowed the third mouthful, they resumed their seats. The women nibbled at honey-cakes and salted nuts, while Setos rolled a cigarette. Before lighting it, he said:

“Akaza, the hierophant, announced in the Council Chamber at meridian that a visit of state is soon to be made to the high-priestess, Kerœcia. Thou art to be my companions to the Yo-Semite, where the Monbas tribes are at the festival of renewal.”

“Must we countenance the rites of these childish worshipers of the four elements?” demanded Rahula. Intolerance was one of the bonds of sympathy between them.

“I raised that question in Council, but Akaza vouchsafed no decided answer.”

Both were silent for a moment, busy with the same train of thought.

“Oh, that we had some of the flying vehicles of thy invention in Atlantis! We could then make the journey without hardship or fatigue,” said Ildiko. Setos and Rahula quickly exchanged a meaning look, then cast furtive glances about to see if Ildiko had been overheard.

“Let us go hence,” said Setos, irritably. “Speech is the pale, silvery reflection of the moon, my daughter, while silence is the golden rays of the sun and the wisdom of the gods. I charge thee keep a closer watch over thy tongue. It is an unruly member and performs the same office as a two-edged sword.”

When it came time to separate, Setos said: “Akaza leads us. Yermah and Orondo go also; while Alcamayn remains and serves in our stead. I do not doubt the loyalty of our new subjects; but Yermah seems to find it prudent to leave some of his own countrymen at the helm.”

He spoke in a dissatisfied way—the reflex of his own mind. It is impossible for the best of us to see beyond the reflection of ourselves; so, Setos attributed to Yermah motives which would have actuated himself in a similar situation.

Rahula, the fish-goddess, speculated on her way home as to how much Ildiko really knew of the reasons which impelled her father to leave Atlantis. She shrewdly guessed that his presence in the camp of the white magicians was a matter of expediency rather than conviction, but valued her position as companion and confidante of Ildiko too highly to jeopardize it by an injudicious question.

Rahula was content to let matters shape themselves. Her ambitions found satisfaction in the encouragement Ildiko gave Alcamayn. She was a born matchmaker and intrigante and knew that Ildiko was the apple of her father’s eye despite his petulancy and parsimony. Setos was a man of ardent love-nature whose affections had not all been buried with his wife. Rahula’s gray hair and parchment skin did not let all hope die within her.

CHAPTER THREE
THE VIRGINS OF THE SUN AND THE VOICE OF TLAMCO

Alcamayn, the fop, and Akaza, “the old man of the band,” as he was familiarly spoken of by all classes, presented a striking contrast as they walked toward the Observatory, which was enclosed in a circular wall and dedicated to Jupiter.

Akaza, tall, spare and sinewy wore a cloak of brocade in varying shades of green shot with silver discs. It was fastened to a shoulder collarette, set with pearls imbedded in hollow glass beads containing mercury. His breastplate of bronze had a gold and silver inlay, while his long, thin white hair fell over his shoulders and the crown of his head was tonsured in honor of the sun. Fastened by the cord at his waist was a cluster of narcissus and lilies. He carried a green jade tao, surmounted by an eagle, in his right hand, showing that he commanded in the name of science instead of war.

Alcamayn was small, round-shouldered, hooknosed and bushy of eye-brow. His small beady eyes had a shifty downward glance as if he were intent on examining the ground at his companion’s side. He had been a sufferer from small-pox and he was extremely sensitive concerning his facial disfigurement.

Unable to submit to the control of others, he was a swaggerer, a braggart, and very resentful. Every little slight irritated him and he was given to brooding over his wrongs. When he had magnified the promptings of wounded vanity and selfishness into a veritable mountain, he struck back and at the most unexpected time.

As an off-set to these disabilities, he had sterling honesty, unswerving loyalty to Akaza and Yermah, and he was the most skillful artificer in metals and precious stones in all Tlamco. He was inventive and original, having added many fine pieces to the collection of beautiful vessels in the temples and at Iaqua. He had all the instincts of a gambler and on more than one occasion came dangerously near indulging in the forbidden prank of drinking too much.

His expert knowledge of precious stones enabled him to display magnificent jewels and he often discoursed learnedly on their speed, refraction and temper, much as lovers of gems have done in every age since.

Alcamayn wore amethysts for luck, and usually a tunic of ochre yellow richly trimmed with peacock feathers and silk fringes. His head-piece was a high cap of white lambskin. On his feet were jeweled sandals and chamois leggins were met at the knee by a full short cotton skirt, having the figures of the zodiac embroidered around the hem in a bewildering mixture of brilliant hues.

On the sides of Lone Mountain, which the men were rapidly approaching, were several small mounds, still plainly indicated. Deep tanks were hollowed out on the top of each of these, having the circular bottom and sides lined with cement and filled with filtered water. In addition to serving as observation pools for the sidereal system, these tanks furnished drinking water for the cavalry and infantry camps situated on the right and left hand side of the main buildings.

A circular tower of red sandstone and brick rose in the center of the mountain itself. On the inside was a stone stairway, having landings at the various windows, where there was room enough for such lenses and apparatus as was necessary to fully observe the moon and stars imaged in the pools below.

The reflection of the sun in these pools marked the hours of the day and time was very sensibly measured by studying the sidereal system. By a nice adjustment, the lenses revolved with the earth’s real motion. The Atlantians and all of their descendants studied the reflection of the planets and stars in a pool of filtered water sunk below the earth’s surface.

The tower tapered toward the top, and under an eight-sided pyramidal roof hung a massive copper bell, which was struck to proclaim the hours. Around the circle were chime bells, one for each of the five-note scale; and these were so grouped that by hearing them one knew which temple service was indicated. When it was time to go to a temple, these bells were rung continuously twelve strokes; then a full interval of rest when the process was repeated three times.

The “Voice of Tlamco” as the huge central bell was called, rang at dusk, warning all pedestrians to go to their dwellings. Licensed healers of the priestcraft and patrols were the only persons allowed on the street at night, except on extraordinary occasions, and then, the “Voice of Tlamco” tolled with wonderful effect.

Lower down, covering much of the ground now occupied by San Francisco proper were the ambulance sheds, battering-rams and other paraphernalia used in warfare. These were enclosed by a wall which skirted the water’s edge, not where the sea-wall now is, but as the water-front was known to the founders of Yerba Buena.

As Akaza and Alcamayn neared the entrance of the Observatory they met a procession of Virgins of the Sun, coming from the Temple of Venus. It was the duty of these virgins to replenish the sacred fires kept burning continuously on the towers and in the temples throughout the city. A crystal lens and a bit of cotton was used to focus the sun’s direct rays and imprison its fires. Once ignited the flame was held sacred and constantly fed, lest disaster should befall the entire tribe. On the apex of the octagonal belfry was a twelve-sided urn filled with charcoal, upon which, with proper ceremonies, four times in twenty-four hours were placed sticks of copal and cedar. At midnight and at sunrise this function was performed by a selected order of priesthood. At mid-day and at sunset it was done by the vestals.

As the women advanced, Akaza and Alcamayn saluted—Akaza, by carrying his open palms even with his forehead on each side; Alcamayn, by the sign of submission. To emphasize his symbol of equality Akaza said:

“Thou shalt make me thy servant.”

“Thou shalt make us to go through fire and water for thee,” they responded in unison, making the same obeisance as Alcamayn had done, bending the knee and with a downward gesture of the right hand.

The jeweler was included in the comprehensive bow given in passing but no further words were spoken. He did not attempt to conceal his respect and admiration; the vestals were equally frank in their curiosity. They had seen but few men so fastidious in dress, and there was a difference between his general appearance and that of the men of Tlamco.

Passing through the gateway a confusing scene greeted the visitors. Here two bands of warriors had been going through a quaint manual of arms in a competitive drill and were about returning to quarters. Carrying snake-headed batons, at the head of the column were the superior officers who acted as judges. Behind them came the two ensign bearers, one flaunting a triangular-shaped banner of embroidered satin, depicting a white heron on a rock. It was suspended from a gold bar, supported by a burnished bronze standard, finished with a cluster of brilliant-colored plumes.

The other emblem was a white satin square, showing a golden eagle with outstretched wings ornamented with silver-set emeralds. The pole was gilded, and tufted at the top with curled white horsehair, out of which protruded a flaring crest of peacock feathers.

Back of each standard bearer marched the trumpeter and drummer of the regiment. A blast from the trumpet, and a movement of the banners guided the companies, while general orders were signaled by the gold-knobbed baton.

The modern drum-major is not the only man knowing how to twirl an ornamental baton, as he casts side-long glances at his own moving shadow, nor is his high-stepping more admired to-day than it was of old. Vanity often changes the details, but seldom the actual methods of self-gratification.

The leaders wore quilted cotton tunics fitted closely to the body. Over this was a cuirass of thin gold and silver plates, in imitation of feathers. Leggins of ooze leather were attached to breech-clouts of dark blue cotton, while the feet were covered with sandals or bull’s-hide moccasins ornamented with bead-work. Wound around the shoulders was a gayly striped mantle of fine wool, so light and soft in texture that in actual combat it served as a sash for the waist.

The helmets were of wood fiber, light but durable, from the crests of which floated a panache of feathers. The form of head covering, the color and arrangement of the plumes, indicated the family and rank of the wearer. Every warrior carried a shield, either of metal, or leather, or a light frame of reeds covered with quilted cotton.

A perfect sea of spears and darts tipped with transparent obsidian or fiery copper, sparkled in the noonday sun. The gay head coverings, the ribbons floating in the air, and the ornate shields wove in and out in serpentine undulations, finally disappearing in one of the Long Houses used for mess.

There was a clash and a rattle of arms as a company of expert archers of the White Heron drew bow and discharged three arrows at a time. But there was quite as much spirit and dash in the hurling of javelins by the men fighting under the eagle blazonry. To this weapon, thongs were attached, by means of which the knife was shot through the air revolving so rapidly that it seemed like a ball of glittering steel. Presently, the blade returned and fell near the hand that gave it its forward impulse. Seldom, if ever, was there an accident in the performance of this extremely difficult feat, despite the anxiety and solicitude the undertaking always inspired.

On constant duty was a group of fighting men who served as lookouts at the various points of vantage in the tower. It was from this source that the men on parade learned that Akaza, the spiritual head, and Alcamayn, the representative of civil government, were inside the fortification. The intelligence was flashed from a set of mirrors and the impromptu display of prowess followed.

That there was keen rivalry in the competition, not unmixed with envy was shown very quickly, when a partisan of the White Heron, threw dirt into the face of an adherent of the Eagle Banner.

The parade ground was cleared at the time, but it was only a moment before a crowd collected around the angry disputants. They were dragged apart and hurried in opposite directions by friendly hands, whose good offices did not cease until the men were brought back and made to sing the national chant. First one man sang, then the other, while their auditors clapped their hands in accompaniment, and passed judgment on their efforts.

The insulted man took the initiative. While singing, he offered his hand to the offender. The face of the latter clouded, but the eyes of the camp were upon him. He sullenly took the outstretched hand, and finally the two voices blended in unison. Their comrades swelled the chorus to a mighty shout and the whole difficulty was over.

This was in the Golden Age, in Pre-historic America, when the man who served was a great soul, and he who refused to resent an insult, the brave one.

Blood surged through the veins of Alcamayn, caused by accelerated heart-action as he kept a firm hold of Akaza’s waist, to assist the hierophant in following the sinuosities of the winding stairway in the tower. Finally they stood alone on the roof, and as soon as the elder man’s breathing became normal, he faced the east, and, with outstretched arms, cried:

“I adore Him who enables me to endure.”

Alcamayn bowed his head, and, making the same genuflection, murmured:

“I give thanks to Him whose strength hath supported me thus far.”

Slowly and impressively the twain faced the other cardinal points and repeated the same words. Then Alcamayn gave hand, and Akaza soon retraced his steps to where the mechanical apparatus for astronomical calculations and observations were in position. While thus occupied, Alcamayn surveyed the whole city, going from one lookout to another.

It was a perfect day, and his surroundings resembled an enormous ant-hill, with throngs of workers going in and coming out of the houses, or hastening along the thoroughfares. He turned to the bay, where a vision of surpassing beauty rewarded him.

Not a wisp of fleecy cloud dimmed the blue vault overhead; the only flecks of color being the pinks and lavenders blended into the sky-line above the horizon.

The soft, limpid atmosphere revealed the outlines of the shore indentations, whose lights and shadows added their quota to the indescribable charm. The water was smooth and clear as a sheet of crystal, with big and little crafts moving here and there instinct with life and industry.

Off what is now Black Point, Alcamayn saw a party of fishermen with their dogs and skiffs making for the shore. There were two groups of men and dogs already on the beach at stations about two hundred yards apart.

At a given signal the dogs started from their given points and swam straight out seaward, single file in two columns. At a sharp cry from one of the men on the beach, the right column wheeled to the left, and the left column wheeled to the right, until the head of each line met.

Then another signal was given, at which they all turned and swam abreast to the shore. As the dogs neared the beach, increasing numbers of fish appeared in the shallow water. When their feet touched bottom, the animals pounced upon their finny captives and carried them to their masters. Each dog was given the head of the fish he had secured, as his share of the catch. The dog who caught nothing received nothing.

For a long time Alcamayn was unable to distinguish any member of the party now coming cityward, but he could see that it was of unusual importance. Soon he caught sight of Yermah seated in a palanquin, which was borne on the shoulders of four black men, and then he saw Oghi streaking along ahead of the pack of dogs which were in full cry at his heels. The ocelot often sprang to one side and played with his canine pursuers, while anon he scaled a wall for their special delection. He was a magnificent swimmer, and a good fisher, despite the fact that he occasionally put his sharp teeth through the fish, rendering it unfit for other than his own use.

“It is near the third marking past meridian-time,” said Akaza; “and when the circle is once more completed there will be but ten days remaining before we shall begin our mission of amity.”

“Have fitting preparations been made?” asked Alcamayn.

“Hanabusa must take cognizance that a compliment of balsas do escort duty at commencement. A signal from Iaqua will apprise him.”

“Yermah is but returning from a fishing expedition beachward. I have visioned him from an upper lookout.”

“Then let him have speech with thee at once. Take freely the counsel he imparts, and let me have assurance of his assent when the windows of thy soul greet and speed our parting hence. Peace abide with thee.”

He lightly kissed the forehead bared and inclined toward him.

Alcamayn paused a moment on the threshold and gazed lingeringly into a kindly countenance flushed by close mental application.

“May the preservative principle of the Trinity have thee entirely in its keeping,” he responded, as he passed from view down the same spiral which had given him so much labor to ascend earlier in the day.

CHAPTER FOUR
DISPATCHING RUNNERS TO THE YO-SEMITE

The Servitors of Tlamco were held strictly responsible for the conduct of their respective offices. Promotion and preference did not depend upon birth but on deeds.

“What has he done?” was the question propounded when a candidate presented himself for an office of public trust, and the same query met his lifeless body when it was offered for burial. Socially, and in the temples the same rule followed; so that distinctive service was the mainspring of their civilization.

Next to the priestly office, agriculture ranked highest in the choice of occupations. Men profoundly learned in every branch of it were continually in attendance at Iaqua. There were stations devoted to observation of climatic conditions; to the reclamation of wild fruits and cereals, or the propagation of new ones for food; to the surveying and proper distribution of lands; to the building of aqueducts, canals, bridges, granaries and public highways—to say nothing of the research in the extraction of dye stuffs from both vegetable and mineral substances.

Nearly all of the cereals and fruits known to man were reclaimed from a wild state by the contemporaneous inspiration of these times.

The surrounding country was divided into four sections or provinces, while the populace was grouped into tens, having an official who attended to minor details. Every thousand of the population had a magistrate. Each ten thousand, or fraction thereof, had a governor, who was one of the Counselors of State.

Orondo was at the head of the Civil Counselors, and it was to him, as first judge, that all questions of moment were submitted. Monthly reports were made to him by inspectors sent out for this purpose—men who served a lifetime without any other remuneration than the medals and prestige their positions insured. The priests owned nothing for themselves or their temples, nor did the advocates or healers receive recompense for service.

The community was superior to the individual, and the government provided for the needs of all its people. The land was divided into three parts; that belonging to the sun supported the priesthood, and built and maintained its temples.

Education was in the hands of the warrior-priests and the Virgins of the Sun; so the universities and schools drew their support from the same source. The next third belonged to the government and was cultivated for its benefit.

The unit of value was a day’s labor, and all the taxes were paid in this way. When the people had planted the remaining third of the land for their own use, they worked alternately for the government (constructing public roads) and on the sun lands.

Hospitals for the aged, for orphans, and for the sick were a part of the government expense, institutions universally copied from, but seldom accredited to the Aztecs and Peruvians by modern civilization.

No man was allowed to take advantage in a barter. Disputes arose every day among the guilds in the bazaars, but there was the same clannish feeling among them that has since made and maintained the family. Each trade was loyal to its own. They were ashamed to have a neighboring guild know that they quarreled, and it was a very aggravated case which invoked the law.

When planting-time came, Orondo turned the first furrow of sod, and the Virgins of the Sun dropped the seeds, while Akaza commended the undertaking to the four elements.

There were songs of rejoicing, and much exhibition of skill in cultivation, which at the close of the season, was rewarded by prizes and medals from Yermah’s own hand. There were no idle men and women, and no paupers in these communities, while to be accused of laziness was a great disgrace.

The private houses in Tlamco were of sun-dried bricks, covered with stucco, elaborately ornamented and delicately tinted. They were seldom more than one story high, with ceilings of ornamental woods, while the walls were tinted or hung with simple cotton tapestries. The flat-roofs were often bright with potted plants, and these dwellings were invariably surrounded by flowers and a stretch of greensward.

The hospitals, the barracks, the Brotherhood houses and those occupied by the priestesses faced the cardinal points and were the squares within the circular streets. They were uniformly four stories high, with truncated sloping roofs, and terraced grounds, forming ornamental bits of landscape among the trees, and commanding a fine view of bay and harbor.

Clusters of sunflowers grew here and there in out-of-the-way places. Free use was made of cherry, laurel, clove and lavender plants along the highways, because they were known to produce ozone; and the gardens contained their favorite flowers—narcissus, hyacinth and mignonette in abundance.

Orondo was giving an audience to the mathematicians who were employed in the Hall of Quippos, at Iaqua, where the government accounts were kept. And when it was known that Alcamayn had arrived Orondo sent and begged his presence. When the jeweler stepped into the hall, he found the place littered with quippos of all kinds. They were scattered about on chairs, on the tables, and some were hanging upon the walls, while clerks called the numbers and tallied the curiously knotted cords in a monotonous drone.

There were intricate estimates for the warriors shown by the red cords and fringes; yellow denoted the gold used in the mechanical arts and industries and in the temples; but these were few and simple in combination compared with the white ones, indicating the enormous amount of civil transactions for the current month.

Silver was used for state accounts, and its knots were curious little buttons, full of meaning for the men who mastered the art of the quippos. The largest bundle of all was the green, which, by its varying shades and fanciful combinations recorded the amount of wheat, corn and all agricultural produce owned or used by the pueblo city of Tlamco.

“One knot! Red signal corps,” called the teller.

“Signal corps, ten,” answered the tally.

“Two single knots, and one knot doubly intertwined, silver, Alcamayn.”

“Two knots, twenty; one doubly intertwined, one hundred,” repeated the tally.