Ned knew that it was a land of
little rain, and for a few moments he had a wild hope that in some
manner he might catch enough water for his use on the crest of the
pyramid. But reason soon drove the hope away. There was no depression
which would hold water, and he resolved instead to make the descent
under cover of the darkness.
When he had come to this resolution the thirst was not so fierce.
Indecision being over, both his physical and mental courage rose. He ate
and had left enough food to last for two days, which he fastened
securely in a pack to his body. Then, machete in hand, he looked over
the edge of the pyramid. There was some noise in the camp, but most of
the soldiers seemed to be at rest. Lights flickered here and there, and
the ruined city, showing only in fragments through the darkness, looked
more ghostly and mournful than ever.
Ned waited a long time. Drops of rain began to fall, and the wind moaned
with an almost human note around the pyramids and old walls. The rain
increased a little, but it never fell in abundance. It and the wind were
very cold, and Ned drew the serape very closely about his body. He was
anxious now for time to pass fast, because he was beginning to feel
afraid, not of the Mexicans, but of the dead city, and the ghosts of
those vanished long ago, although he knew there were no such things.
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