In good measure prepared for some such result, in case their
expectations should prove true, friendly hands at once closed upon the
exile, hurrying him back, and still more completely under cover, as
quickly as might be.
Cooper Edgecombe seemed as wax in their hands, not utterly deprived
of consciousness, but rather like one dazed by some totally unexpected
blow. He made not the slightest resistance, yielding to each impulse
given, shivering and weak as one just rallying from an almost mortal
illness.
Yet there came an occasional flash to his eyes which warned the wary
professor of impending trouble, and as quickly as might be the stunned
aeronaut was removed from the point of observation, taken by short
stages back to the spot where rested the flying-machine.
Ixtli seemed something awed by this (to him) inexplicable conduct on
the part of the gaunt-limbed stranger, but gave his new-found friends
neither trouble nor cause for worry, bearing them company and even
lending a hand whenever he thought it might be needed.
The Gillespie brothers were far more deeply stirred, as was natural,
but even Waldo contrived to keep a fair guard over his at times unruly
member, speaking but little during that retreat.
With each minute that elapsed Cooper Edgecombe gained in bodily powers,
and while his mental strength was slower to respond, that proved to be a
blessing rather than otherwise.
The rendezvous was barely gained ere he gave a hoarse cry of reviving
memory, then strove to break away from that friendly care, calling
wildly for his wife, his daughter, fancying them in some dire peril from
which alone his arms could preserve them.
It was a painful scene as well as a trying one, that which followed
closely, and respite only came after bonds had been applied to the limbs
of the madman,--for such Cooper Edgecombe assuredly was, just then.
There were tears in the professor's eyes, as he strove hardest to soothe
the sufferer, assuring him that his loved ones should be restored to his
arms, yet repeatedly reminding him that any rash action taken then must
almost certainly work against their better interests.
The exile grew less violent, but that was more through physical
exhaustion than aught else, and what had, from the very first, appeared
a difficult enigma, now looked far worse.
Only when fairly well assured that the sufferer would not attract
unwelcome attention their way through too boisterous shouting, did the
professor draw far enough away for quiet consultation with his nephews.
Mr. Edgecombe was deposited within the air-ship, secured in such a
manner that it would be well-nigh impossible for him to do either
himself or the machine material injury, no matter how violent he might
become; and hence, in case of threatened trouble from the inmates of
the Lost City, flight would not be seriously hindered through caring for
him.
Professor Featherwit now gleaned from his nephews pretty much all they
could tell him concerning sights and events since his departure in quest
of the exile. That proved to be very little more than he had already
learned, and contained still less which seemed of especial benefit to
that particular enigma awaiting solution.
True, Waldo suggested that Ixtli be employed as a medium of
communication between the Sun Children and themselves; but, possibly
because, as a rule, this irrepressible youngster's ideas were generally
the wildest and most far-fetched imaginable, uncle Phaeton frowned upon
the plan.
No; the young Aztec might prove true at heart, even as indications went,
but the risk of so trusting him would prove far too great.
“That's just because you haven't known and slept with him, like we
have,” declared Waldo. “He's red on the outside, but he's got just as
white a soul as the best of us,--bar none.”
Bruno likewise appeared to think well of the young brave, and suggested
an amendment to Waldo's motion,--that he accompany Ixtli into the
sunken valley, covered by the friendly shades of night, there to open
communication with the Sun Children.
“By so doing, we could make certain of their identity,” the young man
argued, earnestly. “That, it appears to me, is the first step to be
taken. For, in spite of the apparent recognition by Mr. Edgecombe, it is
possible that no actual relationship exists.”
“What of that?” bluntly cut in the younger Gillespie. “Don't you reckon
strangers'd like to take a little walk, just as well as any other
people?”
“Patience, my lad,” interposed the professor. “While we seem in duty
bound to lend aid and assistance to women in actual distress, we can
only serve them with their own free will and accord. Granting that the
women we saw upon the teocalli were other than those believed by our
afflicted friend--”
“But, uncle, look at their names! And don't Ixtli say--tell 'em all over
again, pardner, won't ye?” urged Waldo, taking a burning interest in the
matter, as was his custom when fairly involved.
The young Aztec complied as well as lay within his power, giving it as
his fixed opinion that sore trouble, if not actual peril, awaited the
Children of the Sun, unless assisted by powerful friends. He spoke of
the mighty chieftain, Prince Hua, and of the high priest, Tlacopa, who
was, to all seeming, playing directly into the hands of the 'Tzin.
“He say Mother of Gods call--loud! He say sacrifice, and dat--no, no!
Quetzal' send--Quetzal' save--MUST save Victo, Glady!”
Further questioning resulted in but little more information, though, as
Ixtli grew calmer, he emphasised such statements as he had already made,
elaborating them a trifle. And, by this, his questioners learned that,
humanly speaking, the fate of the Sun God's Children depended almost
entirely upon the whim or fancy of the chief paba of the teocalli.
Through Tlacopa issued the awesome oracles, and when his voice thundered
forth the dread fiat, who dared to openly rebel?
Further questioning brought forth one more important fact,--that there
was absolutely no hope of either Victo or Glady coming forth from the
valley, either by night or by day. While ostensibly free of will as they
were of limb, neither woman was permitted to leave yonder temple, save
under armed escort; and guards were on duty each hour of the day and
night.
“But we could get to see and speak with them, Ixtli?” asked Bruno, eager
to reach some fair understanding as to the future course of action.
“Yes, white brother, go with Ixtli,” came the hesitating reply; but then
the Aztec caught one of Gillespie's hands, holding it in close contrast
to his own brown paw, shaking his head doubtingly.
“No like. Keen eye, dem people. Watch close. Find 'nother white
skin--bad!”
“You hear that, Bruno?” asked the professor, really relieved at such
positive evidence in conflict with the rash proposition made by the
young man.
“Of course I thought of going under cover of the night, uncle, and
surely it would not be such a difficult matter to darken my face and
hands? With dirt, if nothing better can be found. And if I wore the
clothes you brought from the cavern, uncle Phaeton?”
“That's the ticket!” broke in Waldo, eagerly. “Why, in a rig like that,
I could turn the trick my own self!”
The consultation was broken off at this juncture by a faint summons
from Cooper Edgecombe, and Professor Featherwit was only too glad of the
excuse, hurrying over to the flying-machine, finding to his great joy
that the exile was now far more like his old-time self.
Still, great caution was used in revealing all, and it was not until
considerably later in the day that Mr. Edgecombe felt capable of taking
part in the discussion of ways and means.
He declared that his recognition had been complete, in spite of the
long years which had elapsed since losing sight of his dear ones; and he
earnestly vowed to never give over until their rescue was effected, or
he had lost his life while making the attempt.
While the two air-voyagers were thus engaged in talk, Bruno silently
stole away with Ixtli, taking a bundle along, and leaving Waldo to throw
their uncle off the track in case his suspicions should be prematurely
awakened. Then, side by side, two Indian braves silently approached
the aerostat, causing Professor Featherwit to make a hasty dive for his
dynamite gun to repel a fancied onslaught.
“Sold again, and who comes next?” merrily exploded Waldo, dancing about
in high glee as the supposed redskin slowly turned around for inspection
before speaking, in familiar tones:
“Would there be such an enormous risk of discovery, uncle Phaeton,
provided I put lock and seal upon my lips, save for the ladies?”
That experiment proved to be a complete success, and after Cooper
Edgecombe added his pathetic pleadings to the young man's own arguments,
Professor Featherwit gradually gave way, though still with reluctance.
“I could never find forgiveness should harm come to your mother's son,
boy,” he huskily murmured, his arm stealing about Bruno's middle. “I'd
far rather venture myself, and--why not, pray?” as Waldo burst into an
involuntary laugh.
Then he turned upon Ixtli, a hand resting upon each shoulder while he
gazed keenly into those lustrous dark orbs for a full minute in perfect
silence. Then he spoke, slowly, gravely:
“Can we trust you, friend? Would you sell the boy to whose arm you
owe your own life, unto his enemies? Would you lead him blindly to his
death, Ixtli, son of Aztotl?”
A wondering gaze, then the Indian appeared to flush hotly. He shook off
those far from steady hands, drawing his knife and with free fingers
tearing open his dress above the heart. Thrusting the weapon into
Bruno's hand, he spoke in clear, distinct accents:
“Strike hard, white brother! Open heart; see if all black!”
Eye to eye the two youths stood for a brief space in silence, then the
weapon was let fall, and Bruno gripped the Indian's hand and shook it
most cordially.
“Strike you, Ixtli? I'd just as soon smite my brother by birth!”
“And that's mighty right, too!” cried Waldo, impetuously.
“I really begin to believe that you are all in the right, while I alone
am left in the wrong,” frankly admitted the professor.