"I believe you, Tezcot, and heartily appreciate the disposition of friendliness. Especially do I feel thankful to yourself for what has already been done for me. That such an excellent friend was raised up to help me so opportunely fills me with unmeasured grat.i.tude."

"Your feelings are natural; but, my friend, you are not yet beyond danger. Let us look to your further safety. If you will permit it, I think something may be done to secure you from any future discomfort, so far as the Tepanec soldiery is concerned," said Tezcot, getting round to his purpose.

"I am in no condition to decline the proffered a.s.sistance of anyone, nor will I that of Tezcot and his friends. My present weal is in your hands. What would you have me do?"

"Only this: put your trust in the mountaineers, and follow me without question. You will have no cause to regret it, should you do so,"

replied the hunter.

"At this moment I am no more than a child. I need no a.s.surance that your intentions are worthy of my whole confidence. I trust you, my friend, implicitly; do with me what you will," he answered, showing how weak and dependent he had become.

"It is well. When the stars alone shall give light to guide us, we will go to a retreat which only an army may successfully invade to disturb you. But, come; breakfast waits."

When the prince entered the eating-room, his appearance, as compared with what it was the night before, was greatly improved. His apparel was considerably soiled; but after a good cleaning and rearranging, which it had received at the hands of Tezcot's servants, made him appear more like the well-bred person he was.

The hunter named each member of his family by way of introduction.

Hualcoyotl immediately turned toward Mitla, and said:

"To this young woman a debt is due from me which all the wealth of Anahuac, in my hands, could not cancel. Words are meaningless when drawn upon to express what I feel for the ready thought which prompted the action whereby I was saved from an implacable enemy. Hualcoyotl will ever owe one debt which can not be paid."

Mitla was greatly embarra.s.sed by the words and manner of the prince, addressed to her so unexpectedly; yet, after a moment's hesitation, she recovered herself, and said:

"Your words are very kind, and more than repay me for what I did to save you from your pursuers. I shall always be glad that I was where I could help you."

The prince was pleased with her reply. It showed a degree of intelligence he was not expecting to find in a mountain girl, and he said:

"I am having a peculiarly diverse as well as adverse experience.

Yesterday I was a miserable, suffering fugitive, hunted by a relentless foe into a condition of absolute incapability; this morning the conditions are entirely and happily reversed by your wonderful presence of mind at a rare and perplexing moment. In the midst of extremest adversity I am suddenly brought to realize a sense of security and happiness by being thrown upon the generosity of this most generous family. First there comes to me this morning the kindly expressed sympathy of the n.o.ble hunter, Tezcot, a.s.suring me of my safety; and now the generous words of my admirable young preserver. What can I say in return for your magnanimity?"

"Don't try to say anything, Prince. Forget your grat.i.tude for a little while; cease to praise us, and fall to eating heartily, that you may have strength to endure what is before you," interrupted the host pleasantly.

"One could not do less than eat heartily in this excellent mountain home," he replied, looking kindly at Zoei.

Tezcot rejoined in a jocular manner, and the conversation continued, varying as the meal progressed.

Breakfast was over, the prince had retired to his apartment, and Tezcot was gone. The latter had taken his hunting outfit and disappeared, but not without a word of caution to the former.

It was not an uncommon thing for the hunter to take his javelin, bow and quiver, and go away for a day's hunt; so, on this occasion, there was nothing thought of it.

CHAPTER XX.

It was mid-afternoon, and quiet reigned in and about the mountaineer's home. Tezcot was still on the mountain, where he had gone in the morning, presumably to hunt. Hualcoyotl, though still very weak from privation and the effects of the distressing ordeal through which he had pa.s.sed the previous day, was enjoying, in undisturbed seclusion, a peacefulness of mind he had not experienced since his wanderings began.

Mitla and Oxie were pa.s.sing a leisure hour in the inviting shade of a large cypress tree, which stood a short distance from the house. To this spot they often went to while away their unoccupied time in chatting, and, if industriously inclined, to fashion some article for the adornment of the person or home. Mitla, on this occasion, was engaged in arranging a piece of feather-work, while Oxie, less diligent, lazily disposed herself on the warm, dry sward near by.

The happiness of innocent girlhood was enjoyed by both these maidens, for no disturbing influence had, up to this time, come to mar the rustic simplicity of their lives. The pa.s.sion of love, which sooner or later stirs the heart of youth, was yet unknown to them.

Oxie was saying:

"I think the prince is very handsome, sister, don't you?" She spoke with shyness, as if the expression involved a thought to which she ought not give utterance. Mitla looked up with no little surprise and said, inquiringly:

"When did your eyes open to the thought that men are sometimes handsome, Oxie?"

"My eyes have long been open to that which is attractive, Mitla. Would you have me close them now, that the object is a man?" she replied, with some show of impatience.

"Not so, sister; but coming from you, the words sounded oddly. It seems only yesterday that you were a child. Your question tells me you are one no longer. But to answer you: The prince is fine looking, yet does not impress me as being admirable. Under more favorable circ.u.mstances he would, no doubt, be quite handsome."

"It is when he speaks that the beauty of his countenance is seen," said Oxie with more courage, which Mitla's answer had imparted. "His eyes are so bright, they fairly dazzle one. When he spoke to you this morning at breakfast I could not help admiring him. It surely was not wrong, sister?"

"I can not say if it was wrong or not; yet, Oxie, I would not encourage such thoughts; they might wound your heart," replied Mitla, not yet having realized that older hearts than Oxie's were subject to impressions that often wound.

"Why do you say that, sister?" asked Oxie, somewhat curiously. "Why should it wound my heart to think well of the prince's looks?"

"Do you know what such thoughts lead to, Oxie?" rejoined Mitla, soberly.

"I can not say that I do; but surely not to anything serious?" still curious.

"Well, sister, I will tell you. After admiration follows love, which in this case would indeed be serious. The folly of a mountain girl falling in love with a n.o.ble, and he a prince at that, should be apparent even to you, Oxie," Mitla answered, a little severely.

"Why folly, sister, if her love should be returned?" asked the infatuated maiden. This was too much for Mitla's philosophic mentality, and she concluded that a further discussion of the subject would only tend to strengthen the impressions made upon Oxie's inexperienced mind by the person of the young prince. She answered evasively:

"I only know, sister, from what I have heard, and think I would prefer to say no more about it. See!" she suddenly exclaimed, "yonder comes father. Let us run to meet him," and away they sped to meet the hunter, whose appearance was hailed by Mitla as being very opportune.

"You are early at home to-day, father," she said, when they came up to him. "Has anything happened to you?"

"Yes and no, child. You double up your questions so, I scarcely know how to answer," said he, in reply. "I was a little anxious about the prince, and returned earlier on that account. He's all right, eh?"

"He seems to be, father. We would not know that he is in the house, from any noise he makes," answered Mitla.

"Where is your game, father?" inquired Oxie, noticing that he brought none with him. "You never before came home with an empty hand."

"No, child; not if I were hunting."

"Have you not been hunting, father," she pursued.

"No, Oxie. Other business has claimed my attention to-day."

"I can guess where you have been, father," said Mitla, eager to give expression to a suddenly conceived thought.

"I wouldn't wonder, child, if you should," he replied, apparently indifferent as to whether she could or not.

"You have been to see the hermit. Am I not correct?"

"Yes, Mit, you are correct. I went to have a talk with Ix about the prince."

"I know now what you meant yesterday, when you declared you would save the prince, while he was still under the chia stalks," added Mitla. "It was thoughtful in you to see in the hermitage a refuge for him," she continued, her voice expressing approval, which was also reflected on her animated countenance. "Will the hermit approve of it?"