his climb.

As he drew himself upon another terrace he saw before him a dark opening
into the very mass of the pyramid, which was built either of brick or
of stone, he could not tell which. He thought once of creeping in and of
hiding there, but after taking a couple of steps into the dark he drew
back. He was afraid of plunging into some well and he continued the
ascent. He was now about sixty or seventy feet up, but he was not yet
half way to the top of the pyramid.

He was so slow and cautious that it took more than a half hour to reach
the crest, where he found himself upon a platform about twenty feet
square. It was an irregular surface with much vegetation growing from
the crevices, and here Ned felt quite safe. Near him and sixty feet
above him rose the crest of the Pyramid of the Sun. Beyond were ranges
of mountains silvery in the moonlight. He walked to the edge of the
pyramid and looked down. Four or five fires were burning now, and the
single mandolin had grown to four. Several guitars were being plucked
vigorously also, and the sound of the instruments joined with that of
the singing voices was very musical and pleasant. These Mexicans seemed
to be full of good nature, and so they were, with fire, food and music
in plenty, but now that he had been their prisoner Ned never forgot how
that dormant and Spanish strain of cruelty in their natures could flame
high under the influence of passion. The dungeons of Spanish Mexico and
of the new Mexico hid many dark stories, and he believed that he had
read what lay behind the smiling mask of Santa Anna's face. He would
suffer everything to keep out of Mexican hands.

He crept away from the edge of the pyramid, and chose a place near its
center for his lofty camp. There was much vegetation growing out of the