The brigands were already lighting a fire beside one of the huge monoliths, and Carossa lay down on a serape.  The fire blazed up, but it did not detract from the weird effect of the Hall of Pillars.  One of the men warmed food which he brought from another of the ruined houses, and Carossa told his prisoners to eat.

“What I give you to-night, and what I shall give you to-morrow morning may be the last food that you will have for some time,” he said, “so enjoy it as best you may.”

He smiled, his lips drawing back from his white teeth, and in some singular way he made Ned think of the black jaguar and his black lips writhing back from his great fangs.  Why had Obed spoken of coming with them?  Better to have been stripped in the path, and to have gone on alone.  But he ate the food, as the long marching had made him hungry, and lay down within the rim of the firelight.

The men also ate, and Ned saw that they were surly.  Doubtless they had endured much hardship recently and had secured little spoil.  He heard muttered sounds which he knew were curses.  He became more uneasy than ever.  Certainly little human kindness lurked in the hearts of such as these, and he believed that Carossa was playing with them for his own amusement, just as a trainer with a steel bar makes the animals in a cage do their tricks.

The mutterings among the men increased.  Carossa spoke to one of them, who brought forth a stone jar from a recess in the wall.  Tin cups were produced and all, including Carossa, drank pulque made from the maguey plant.  They offered it also to Ned and Obed, but both declined.

The pulque did not make the men more quarrelsome, but seemed to plunge them into a lethargy.  Two or three of them hummed doleful songs, as if they were thinking of homes to which they could not go.  One began to weep, but finally spread out his serape, lay down on it and went to sleep.  Three or four others soon did the same.  Two sat near the great monolithic doorway, with muskets across their knees.  Undoubtedly they were intended to be sentinels, but Ned noted that their heads drooped.

“I shall sleep now, my Gringo guests,” said Carossa, “and I advise you to do the same.  You cannot alter anything, and you will need the strength that sleep brings.”

“Your advice is good,” said Obed, “and we thank you, Captain Carossa, for your advice and courtesy.  Manners are the fine finish of a man.”

His serape had not yet been taken from him, and he rolled himself in it.  Ned was already in his, lying with his feet to the smoldering fire.  The boy did not wish to sleep, nor could he have slept had he wished.  But he saw that Carossa soon slumbered, and the sentinels by the doorway seemed, at least, to doze.  He turned slightly on his side, and looked at Obed who lay about eight feet away.  He could not see the man’s face, but his body did not stir.  Perhaps Obed also slept.

A wind was now rising and it made strange sounds among the vast ruins.  It was a moan, a shriek and a hoarse sigh.  Perhaps the peons were not so far wrong!  The ghosts did come back to their old abodes.  Ned was glad that he was not alone.  Even without Obed the company of brigands would have been a help.  He lay still a long time.