“That is another matter,” said the Marquis.
“But I am no more comfortable about it... there is something in the air... the Indians are not behaving normally.... The other day, in the Plaza Mayor, I heard extraordinary remarks being made by some half-breeds to a couple of Quichua chiefs.”
“Yes, we did not meet a single Indian on the way from Callao, and I have not seen one in the city,” said Dick. “Why is that, I wonder?”
“Because of the festival,” interjected Aunt Agnes. “They have their secret meetings. They disappear into the mountains, or some warren of theirs--catacombs like the Early Christians. One day, the order comes from some corner of the Andes, and they vanish like shadows, to reappear a few days later like a swarm of locusts.”
“My sister exaggerates a little,” said the Marquis, smiling. “They are not so very dangerous, after all.”
“But you yourself are worried, Christobal. You have just said so.”
“Only because there might be some rioting....”
“Have they got it in them?” asked Mr. Montgomery. “They seem so nerveless....”
“They are not all like that.... Yes, we have had one or two native rebellions, but it was never anything very serious.”
“How many of them are there in the country?” put in Dick.
“About two-thirds of the population,” answered Maria-Teresa. “But they are no more capable of really rebelling than they are of working properly. It is the Garcia business that has unsettled them, coming after a long period of quiet.” She turned to her father. “What does the President think of it all?”
“He does not seem to worry a great deal. This Indian unrest recurs every ten years.”
“Why every ten years?” demanded Uncle Francis.
“Because of the Sun Festival,” said old Irene. “The Quichuas hold it every ten years.”
“Where?” Dick took a sudden interest. “Nobody knows,” replied Aunt Agnes, in a nervously strangled voice. “There are sacrifices... and the ashes of the victims are thrown into rivers and streams... to carry away the sins of the nation, the Indians believe.”
“That is really very interesting!” exclaimed Uncle Francis.
“Some of the sacrifices are human,” half groaned the old lady, dropping her head to her plate.
“Curious,” remarked the savant. “And there may be some truth in it. I know that they were customary at the Festival of the Sun among the Incas. And Prescott makes it clear that the Quichuas have kept not only the language of their ancestors, but also many of the ancient customs.”