ly from the
outside world?" she retorted, smiling. "The youngest of them, Senor
Jim, first came to Nezahualcoyotl's gardens more than sixty years ago.
When he was less than a year old, hence bringing with him no knowledge
of any other place than this."

"And you mean that they have never gone out from here?"

"Would they thrust their heads through solid rock? Would they tread
along corridors carpeted with snakes? Would they grow wings and soar
to the stars up there? Not only have they never gone out; they do not
so much as know that there is an Outside to go to."

"But you come to them!"

Zoraida laughed.

"And I am a spirit, a goddess to worship, the One who has always been,
the power that created this spot and themselves!"

"They are captives and caretakers of a sort?" he supposed. "But when
they are dead? Who then will keep up your elaborate gardens?"

"Wait. They are returning. There is your answer."

The six ancients filed back. Each man of them led by the hand a little
child, the oldest not yet seven or eight. All boys, all bright and
handsome; all filled with worship for Zoraida. For they broke away
from the old men and ran forward, some of them carrying flowers, and
threw themselves on their knees and kissed Zoraida's gown. And then,
with wide, wondering eyes they looked from her to Jim Kendric.

"Poor little kids," he muttered. And suddenly whirling wrathfully on
Zoraida: "Where do they come from? Whose children are they?"

"There are mysteries and mysteries," she told him, coldly.

"Stolen from their mothers by your damned brigands!" he burst out.

She turned blazing eyes on him.

"Be careful, Jim Kendric!" she warned. "Here you are in Zoraida's
stronghold, here you are in her hand! Is act of hers to be questioned
by you?"

She made a sudden signal. The six little boys withdrew, walking
backward, their round worshipful eyes glued upon their goddess. Then
they were gone, the old men with them, a heavy door closing behind them.

"Again I did not lie to you," said Zoraida. "Since though these have
come recently, they are not yet men. Follow me again."

They went through the long room and into another. This time Zoraida
thrust aside a deep purple curtain, fringed in gold. Here was a
smaller chamber, absolutely without furnishings of any kind. But
Kendric did not miss chairs or table, his interest being entirely given
to the three young men standing before him like soldiers