be well received, did he reach her country. Malinche's
opinion was not encouraging.

"I think," she said, "that they would sacrifice you in the temples.
All our gods love sacrifices, and every year countless persons are
offered up to them."

"It is a horrible custom, Malinche."

Malinche did not seem to be impressed, as he expected.

"Why?" she asked. "They would be killed in battle, were they not
kept for sacrifice. The Aztecs never kill if they can help it, but
take prisoners, so that death comes to them in one way instead of
another; and it is better to be killed in the service of the gods,
than to fall uselessly in battle."

"I don't think so at all, Malinche. In battle one's blood's up, and
one scarcely feels pain; and if one is killed one is killed, and
there is an end of it. That is quite different to being put to
death in cold blood. And do they sacrifice women, as well as men?"

"Sometimes, but not so many," she said; "and in dry weather they
offer up children to Talloc, the god of rain."

"But they cannot capture them in war," Roger said, horrified.

"No, they are sold by their parents, who have large families, and
can do without one or two."

To Malinche, brought up in the hideous religion of the Mexicans,
these things appeared as a matter of course; and she could scarcely
understand the horror, and disgust, which her description of the
sacrifices to her gods caused him.

"And you think that they would sacrifice me, Malinche?"

"I cannot say," she replied. "The priests are masters in these
things. If they said sacrifice, they would sacrifice you; but if
they thought you a god, you would be treated with great honor. How
can I tell? I think that they would pay you greater honor than
here, but of course I cannot tell."

"Why should they pay me greater honor, Malinche?"

"Because one of our gods was white. Quetzalcoatl was the kindest of
our gods. He taught us the use of metals, instructed us how to till
the ground, and laid down all the rules for good government. When
he lived in Anahuac everyone was happy. Every head of corn was so
big that a man could scarce carry one. The earth was full of
flowers and fruit. Cotton grew of many colors, so that there was no
need to dye it, and the very birds sang more sweetly than they have
ever sung since. Ah! If Quetzalcoatl had always stopped with us, we
should have been happy, indeed!"

"But why did he not, Malinche?"

Malinche shook her head.

"He w