ancient masonry, and he had a fear of scorpions and of more dangerous
reptiles, perhaps, but he thrashed up the grass and weeds well with his
machete. Then he sat down and ate his supper. Fortunately he had drunk
copiously at a brook before reaching the ruined city and he did not
suffer from thirst.

Then, relying upon the isolation of his perch for safety, he wrapped
himself in the invaluable serape and lay down. The night was cold as
usual, and a sharp wind blew down from northern peaks and ranges, but
Ned, protected by vegetation and the heavy serape, had an extraordinary
feeling of warmth and snugness as he lay on the old pyramid. Held so
long within close walls the wild freedom and the fresh air that came
across seas and continents were very grateful to him. Even the presence
of an enemy, so near, and yet, as it seemed, so little dangerous, added
a certain piquancy to his position. The pleasant tinkle of the mandolins
was wafted upward to him, and it was wonderfully soothing, telling of
peace and rest. He inhaled the aromatic odors of strange and flowering
southern plants, and his senses were steeped in a sort of luxurious
calm.

He fell asleep to the music of the mandolin, and when he awoke such a
bright sun was shining in his eyes that he was glad to close and open
them again several times before they would tolerate the brilliant
Mexican sky that bent above him. He lay still about five minutes,
listening, and then, to his disappointment, he heard sounds below. He
judged by the position of the sun that it must be at least 10 o'clock in
the morning, and the Mexicans should be gone. Yet they were undoubtedly
still there. He crept to the edge of the pyramid and looked over. There
was the Mexican force, scattered about the ruined city, but camped in
greatest numbers along the Calle de los Muertos. Their numbers had been