After going some distance into the corn patch, the prince paused to listen for the noise of pursuit. He could distinctly hear the rustling of the stalks, but too far away to give him any present concern. He was safe, he felt, until daylight--at which time, however, he wisely concluded he would not be if he remained on the plateau; for the soldiers would surely search it over from end to end, so soon as it became light enough to see. He must get away, and the sooner he went the better would be his chances of eluding them. But where should he go, was the all-important question. His eyes turned toward the mountain he had just left.

"No, it will not do to go there," he thought; "there is danger in that direction." He quickly decided to take an opposite course and started.

The uncertainty of the situation led him to dismiss at once the consideration of an immediate reunion with the hunter and Oza, and caused him to think only of his personal safety.

He left the patch of corn into which he had fled, and pa.s.sed stealthily out onto the uncultivated ground, which he found covered with weeds and bushes, and very rough. He was compelled to move slowly and pick his way over it. Coming to another patch of corn he entered it, and after going a short distance, paused. Casting his eyes about him he discovered, plainly outlined against the horizon, a mountain, seemingly not very far off, which until now had escaped his observation, and to which he determined to go. It took quite a while to reach it, for it proved to be farther away than he had reckoned. Finally, after a laborious tramp, he stood at its base, and was glad when he entered its dense wood where he might rest once more in comparative security. He went far enough up the side of the mountain to render his position reasonably safe, where he found a spot which was thickly covered with bushes, into which he crept to await the morning's dawning. When daylight spread itself over the scene he was unconscious of it; for he slept. Later on he awoke to find the sun shining brightly through the thick foliage about him. His location was found to be well protected and secure, and he decided to remain in it for the time being.

The prince's situation was now more discouraging, if possible, than at any previous time. In his efforts to get away from his pursuers he had put himself beyond the help of the hunter and Oza. It was hardly possible that they would find him where he was; and it was out of the question for him to attempt to go to them. His case was hourly becoming more desperate. Fate seemed to be driving him helplessly before it.

Thus, in temporary security, we leave him for the present.

When day dawned Menke and Oza were on the lookout for Hualcoyotl; and the soldiers were seen scouring their vicinity in search of him. But, as the reader knows, Menke and Oza, and the soldiers as well, were doomed to be disappointed, for the man they were looking for was at that hour sleeping on a mountain, several miles away.

The soldiers finally gave up the hunt for him on the plateau, and, as good luck would have it, turned their attention to the mountain he had previously occupied, believing he had sought the nearest shelter.

The hunter and Oza waited about the place all day, and when night came on reluctantly turned their steps toward the home of the former.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Euetzin and Cacami, with the a.s.sistance of their colaborers, had done a splendid work among the men of their tribe for the cause of Tezcuco.

Everywhere they had labored the Tezcucan heart was thoroughly aroused, and the secret preparations for resistance to Maxtla's rule were rapidly a.s.suming proportions highly encouraging to the promoters. The comrades were now returning to the once proud capital of their nation to continue the work of organization at the very threshold of the enemy.

The work in Tezcuco had been deferred until a.s.surance of success was made reasonably certain elsewhere; and, now, since a perfect confidence in the ultimate triumph of their cause was felt by the conspirators, the work was to be pushed into that city as a final effort in the creation of the mighty and silent forces which were intended to strike the shackles from the oppressed Tezcucans.

The young men reached Zelmonco villa, on their way to the city, in the afternoon, where they proposed to stop a few hours with Teochma and Itlza. It was a very happy meeting, for weeks had elapsed since the tzin and his companion turned their faces away from the home of the former.

Itlza's welcome to Cacami was very encouraging to him. The weeks of absence he was compelled to endure had strengthened the attachment he had conceived for her, and he was longing for some token of reciprocation, which would release him from his pledge of silence. He thought he saw a realization of his hopes in the greeting he received; and, notwithstanding he was pledged, when he came face to face with the object of his love he felt that his feelings would impel him to speak, should the opportunity for doing so be presented.

The days had not been without effect upon Itlza, too. She had grown thoughtful, and the thoughts which held her most were thoughts of Cacami. She had often gone to the oak tree, where she sat for hours and, dreamingly, lived over again the few pleasant moments she had spent there with him; and, as the dreaming went on, her heart could not do otherwise than go out to the object of her thoughts.

After an hour of pleasant talk, and the subjects of inquiry had been exhausted, the little party broke up. Euetzin went to look about the villa, Teochma to see that suitable refreshments were prepared, and Itlza and Cacami for a short stroll in the park.

Persons who are in love are usually inclined to reticence in the presence of the beloved, except when talking on the subject which is ever uppermost in their minds. Thus it was with Cacami and Itlza. He was thinking of his promise, and was not a little vexed at himself for having given it, now that so favorable an opportunity was presented for pleading his cause. She was thinking of the same thing; and, remembering that she had exacted the promise from him, was endeavoring to devise a way to let him know that he was absolved from it. The consequence was a rather awkward silence between them. He finally managed to say:

"How has Laughing-eyes occupied the time since her brother and myself went away?"

"As she always does--eating, sleeping, and dreaming," she replied, jocosely.

"Were your dreams in your sleeping or waking hours?" he asked, looking at her with quizzical interest.

"You should not question so, Cacami. To be truthful I might be compelled to say in both; then you would think me a dreamer," she answered, coquettishly.

"I should never find fault with your dreaming, Laughing-eyes, if I might be a.s.sured of a part in it," he said, with a look of fondness.

"Selfish Cacami!" she exclaimed, with mock solemnity.

"Yes, Laughing-eyes, Cacami is selfish where you are concerned," he rejoined, with unfeigned tenderness.

She could not mistake the trend of his manner, and hoped earnestly that he would disregard his promise, and speak the endearing words she had herself checked upon his lips before she realized that her best love was his.

"I must have a care for myself; selfish Cacami might choose to spirit me away," she said, archly, at the same time giving him a look which tempted him severely, and almost loosed his tongue. With a heroic effort he controlled himself, and, with strained facetiousness, replied:

"When I do that, Laughing-eyes will furnish the spirit wings."

To this quasi repartee she answered only with a coquettish little laugh.

They had come to the lower side of the park, near the roadway. A short pause had followed Cacami's last remark, and he was fixedly and tenderly contemplating his strangely fascinating companion.

The art of fashioning flowers, as well as feathers, into varied and beautiful designs was an accomplishment frequently attained by the native women, and in which Itlza was an adept. She had plucked some choice varieties, here and there, as she walked along, and wrought them into a delicate, heart-shaped bouquet. She noticed her companion's quiet demeanor, and, feeling a magnetic influence from his fixed gaze, turned to look at him.

"Why are you so silent?" she asked, her voice expressive of sympathetic tenderness. She continued: "And what are your thoughts, that the look from your eyes burns into my very heart?"

Her eyes were fixed on his as she spoke, and the love-light, which shone from them, became suddenly intensified. For an instant she was overcome by the power of his superior magnetism, and, holding out both hands, involuntarily exclaimed:

"O, Cacami!"

When Cacami heard the impa.s.sioned cry, and saw the no less impa.s.sioned light which beamed upon him from the liquid depths of her intensely luminous eyes, the temptation was too strong, and, forgetting his promise, he impulsively clasped her hands in both his own, and, for one moment of blissful thralldom, two souls stood blending on the verge of rapture.

"Itlza!" called the mother, from the hill above.

The spell was broken, and the pa.s.sionate words which trembled on Cacami's lips remained unsaid.

Itlza quickly withdrew her hands, and answered her mother's call; but the flower-heart was left in Cacami's possession.

With quickened pulse the lovers turned from the blissful spot, and walked toward the house.

The emotions which filled the heart and moved the soul of Cacami, in that to him ecstatic moment, can not be described. Those who have in like manner realized the dearest wish of a heart's first and purest love only can know what his feelings were. Itlza had, not in words, but in the language of soul speaking to soul, surrendered to him the citadel of affection--her heart, which was typified in the beautiful heart of flowers which he now possessed.

An hour in Cacami's society had shown to Itlza how deep was the love she felt for him; and, ere the moment of revelation came, the little love-bird which nestled in her heart was fluttering to be released, that it might sing its song for him. She had wrought the flower-heart for her lover, but knew not how it would reach him. The moment came, as we have seen, unexpectedly to Cacami at least, which transferred it to his hand and revealed to him the fact that he was loved.

When the lovers came up to Teochma, who stood waiting for them at the top of the hill, they had overcome their agitation and met her with no perceptible signs of confusion. She said, with a slight expression of impatience:

"Refreshments are waiting, while Cacami and Itlza are lost to the flight of time, and neglect them."

"If I have been remiss, the pleasure of a stroll with Itlza must be my excuse," said he humbly.

"And, Itlza, what have you to say of your conduct?" asked the mother in a quizzical but affectionate manner, at the same time watching the effect of her question. If she thought to fathom the sentiment which moved the young people she failed; for Itlza answered demurely, casting an arch glance at her companion:

"It was Cacami's fault, mother; he had so much to tell that I forgot."

"Well, well, I'm inclined to think you are both to blame; and since it is so, I can not scold. But you must be more thoughtful in the future;"

at saying which Teochma turned and led the way into the house.

After refreshments were served, the family, with Cacami, repaired to the reception room, where the evening was pa.s.sed in pleasant conversation. The young people had no opportunity to communicate farther except in a general way. Thus they were left for another interval of time to meditate on what might have been.