"It must be nearly lunch-time," ventured Nellie. "I feel pretty hungry."
Her father looked at his watch. "It is only eleven," he said, "but we had breakfast early. There does not seem to be any level ground just here. Shall we come to some after a while, Mauricio?"
"Soon," replied the Indian. "Wait a while and you will see. There will be water, good water, and we can make coffee."
The ascent had grown very steep; the horses tugged slowly but willingly upward. Suddenly they seemed to be at the top of the mountain. The slope on the other side, becoming very gradual, led into a broad, green, pleasant valley fringed by luxuriant foliage.
"How beautiful!" was the general exclamation.
"It seems like an enchanted valley," said Aunt Mary. "If you will observe, it forms an almost perfect circle. That lovely fringe of green surrounding it--the foot-hills just above--and those magnificent mountains in the background--it does indeed make one think of an enchanted valley."
"Once it _was encantado_,"[F] rejoined Mauricio.
"What is it called? Has it any name?" asked Walter.
The Indians smiled and looked at each other.
"You will not be frightened if I tell you?" asked Mauricio. "The danger is past--nothing can hurt you. The spell is long since broken."
"Oh, tell us!" cried Nellie. "We won't be frightened."
"It is called '_El Valle de los Cascabeles_'--'The Valley of the Rattlesnakes.'"
"Ugh!" exclaimed Nellie. "Are there rattlesnakes down there?"
"Not any more, I think; perhaps never any there," answered Mauricio. "But there is a story."
"A story? Oh, do tell it to us," cried the children.
"You see, as we come nearer," replied the Indian, "that in the centre is a large, round spot where nothing is growing--no grass, no bush, no tree."
It was true. In strange contrast to the fresh verdure all around, this single, bald, unlovely spot, black as though fire had burned it, stood forth.
"Once, very long ago," said Mauricio, "there lived a tribe of Indians in those mountains over there where the Volcan smokes. They came every year here to this valley for their _fiesta_--all the tribe. Once they were at war with some others who dwelt beyond the Volcan, near to the peaks of the Cuyamaca. Then it happened that the son of the chief of the Volcans was wounded and captured in a fight, and they took him to the camp of the Cuyamacas, and there he was tended by the women.