Next they gave him a violent emetic, which left him completely prostrated from weakness. With the characteristic stoicism of his race, however, he uttered no complaint, but presently gained sufficient strength to pass on to the next trial, a cruel and painful letting of blood. His uncle bade him put out his tongue and through the end of it, he thrust a sharp stone awl. Waiting priests caught the blood on little balls of cotton and these were borne off to the sanctuary of Itzamna as an earnest of his faith and purification. At sunset a small fiber cord with thorns caught in it every few inches was passed through the still open wound, cruelly lacerating the flesh, and fresh blood drawn to offer to the god in renewed proof of his constancy of purpose. That night Holon Chan was so exhausted that he slept without stirring, until awakened before dawn to prepare himself for the long day of meditation and prayer in the sanctuary of Itzamna which preceded the actual investiture at sunset.