We
galloped on, and were hospitably received by the Indian governor, who
did the honors of the community in person. He showed us the interior
of the terraced buildings, and conducted us through the subterranean
_estufa_ where, for centuries before the invention of the
friction-match, the Indians kept their sacred fire--fire made sacred
through the difficulty of obtaining it or rekindling it when once
extinguished--and so watched day and night by sleepless sentinels.
When we entered the town we left our horses hitched to the willows on
the bank of the irrigating ditch, near the wall of the first house,
and I ordered the dog Vic to remain with them. Three-quarters of an
hour afterwards Vic looked into the _estufa_ from above, gave three
sharp barks, and dashed away.
We were so deeply interested in the examination of a lot of scalps,
quaint pottery, weapons of warfare, etc., that we paid no attention to
her. Presently she appeared a second time, repeated her barking, and
ran off again. A few moments later the dog again showed herself at the
sky-light, and thrusting her head downward continued to bark until I
approached the foot of the ladder.
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