A man often sees mystery in a woman where there is nothing but a yawning vacuity, the so-called feminine mystery being but a cunning facade behind which lies nothing worthwhile. But Katherine wasn't like that. She was amusing, intelligent and talented in a number of ways; she sketched competently in a better than amateur way, she cooked well and alleviated our chuckwagon diet, and she knew a hell of a lot more about the archeological score than I did, although she admitted she was but a neophyte. But she would never talk about her husband in any way at all, which is a trait I'd never come across in a married woman before.
Those I had known -- not a few -- always had something to say about their mates, either in praise or blame. Most would be for their husbands, with perhaps a tolerant word for their weaknesses. A few would praise incessantly and not hear a word against the darling man, and a few. the regrettable bitches, would be acid in esoteric asides meant for one pair of ears but understood by all -- sniping shots in the battle of the sexes. But from Katherine Halstead there was not a cheep one way or the other. She just didn't talk- about him at all It was unnatural.
Because Fallon and Halstead were away most of the day we were thrown together a lot. The camp cook and his assistant were very unobtrusive; they cooked the grub, washed the dishes, repaired the generator when it broke down, and spent the rest of their time losing their wages to each other at gin rummy. So Katherine and I had each other for company during those long hot days. I soon got the film developing taped and had plenty of time on my hands, so I suggested we do something about the Mayan building.
'We might come up with an epoch-making discovery,' I said jocularly. 'Let's give it a bash. Fallon said it would be a good idea.'
She smiled at the idea that we might find anything of importance, but agreed that it would be something semi-constructive to do, so we armed ourselves with machetes and went down to the cenote to hew at the vegetation.
I was surprised to see how well preserved the building was once it was denuded of its protective cover. The limestone blocks of which it was built were properly cut and shaped, and laid in a workmanlike manner. On the wall nearest the cenote we found a doorway with a sort of corbelled arch, and when we looked inside there was nothing but darkness and an angry buzz of disturbed wasps.
I said, 'I don't think we'd better go in there just yet; the present inhabitants might not like it.'
We withdrew back into the clearing and I looked down at myself. It had been hard work cutting the creepers away from the building and I'd sweated freely, and my chest was filthy with bits of earth turned into mud by the sweat. I was in a mess.
'I'm going to have a swim in the cenote,' I said. 'I need cleaning up.'
'What a good idea,' she said. 'I'll get my costume.'
I grinned. 'I won't need one -- these shorts will do.'
She went back to the huts and I walked over to the cenote and looked down into the dark water. I couldn't see bottom and it could have been anything between six inches and sixty feet deep, so I thought it was inadvisable to dive in. I climbed down to water level by means of the steps, let myself into the water and found it pleasantly cool. I splashed about for a bit but I didn't find bottom, so I dived and went down to look for it. I must have gone down thirty feet and I still hadn't found it It was bloody dark down there, which gave me a good indication of conditions if I had to dive for Fallon. I let myself up slowly, dribbling air from my mouth, and came up to sunlight again.
'I wondered where you were,' Katherine called, and I looked up to see her poised on the edge of the cenote, silhouetted against the sun fifteen feet above my head. 'Is it deep enough for diving?'
Too deep,' I said. 'I couldn't find bottom.'
'Good!' she said, and took off in a clean dive. I swam slowly around the cenote and became worried when she didn't come up, but suddenly I felt my ankles grabbed and I was pulled under.
We surfaced laughing, and she said, That's for pulling me under in Fallen's pool.' She flicked water at me with the palm of her hand, and for two or three minutes we had a splashing match like a couple of kids until we were breathless and had to stop. After that we just floated around feeling the difference between the coolness of the water and the heat of the direct sun.
She said lazily, 'What's it like down there?'
'Down where?'
'At the bottom of this pool.'
'I didn't find it; I didn't go down too far. It was a bit cold.'
'Weren't you afraid of meeting Chac?'
'Does he live down there?'
'He has a palace at the bottom of every cenote. They used to throw maidens in, and they'd sink down to meet him. Some of them would come back with wonderful stories,'
