It was in the afternoon of a day a week or ten days subsequent to the
time when Hualcoyotl became separated from Menke and Oza, in eluding
the Tepanec soldiers on the plateau, that Mitla, the daughter of
Tezcot, had gone around the mountains for an hour's pastime with her
bow and arrow; and, having grown weary of the diversion, was returning
home. She had just passed a sharp extension at the foot of the mountain
and was sauntering leisurely along the border of a patch of ripened
chia-plant, which her father's servants had gathered into piles and
left lying on the ground, when her attention was attracted by a distant
yelling, heard from the plateau behind her. She stopped, and, while
listening to the repeated yells, which were growing louder and nearer,
was suddenly startled by the appearance of a man running toward her
from the direction in which the hallooing was heard. He was evidently
fleeing from threatened danger, and almost exhausted. His appearance
was one of deep distress, and when he came nearer she saw that a look
of despair was depicted on his pale and haggard face. She comprehended
the situation at a glance, deciding that he was being pursued by a foe,
and instantly conceived the idea of concealing him. Without waiting for
explanations, she raised a pile of the chia-plant, and, when he came up
to her, told him to get under it, which he tried to do, but only
succeeded in falling in a helpless heap upon the ground. Mitla did not
wait for a further effort on his part, but speedily covered him with
the stalks of the plant where he had fallen. Telling him to lie
still--hardly a necessary thing to do, to a man in his exhausted
condition--she moved quickly from the spot in the direction of her
home.
The man's concealment had been accomplished none too soon, for Mitla
had taken scarcely a dozen steps when a party of Tepanec soldiers came
in sight around the mountain in hot pursuit of him. So soon as they
came in view she stopped and looked at them a moment; then turned and
fixed her gaze on a rise in the ground just ahead of her, as if
something had attracted her attention to that point. On being asked if
she had seen the fugitive, she answered by pointing in the direction of
the rise. Her ruse was successful, for the soldiers, without further
question, set off on a brisk run. Mitla followed them, to get as far
from the fugitive's hiding place as possible.
When the soldiers gained the opposite side of the rise they were
completely nonplussed, and appeared undecided what to do. Mitla
approached them with perfect composure, and, when interrogated, as to
what direction she thought the man had gone, encouraged them to think
he had taken to the mountain. This seemed to agree with their own
conclusions, and, to her delight, they dashed away, and were quickly
hidden among the bushes, in search of him.
Mitla wisely concluded it would not do to go back to the place where
the man was concealed, just then; so, to consume a little time, went on
to the house. After informing her mother and Oxie of her adventure, and
cautioning them not to show any interest in her movements, she returned
by a roundabout way to the chia patch. Coming to the pile of stalks
under which the man was lying, she said--only loud enough for him to
hear:
"Do not attempt to rise; the soldiers are searching for you among the
bushes near by, and might discover you. You will be informed when all
danger is past."
After thus enlightening him, she went leisurely back to the house, to
await her father's return from the mountains, where he had gone in
quest of game.
The hunter returned early, and Mitla told him of her adventure. He
decided at once that the man could not be relieved with safety before
dark. In coming to this conclusion he felt, in his kindness of heart,
that it was hard on the poor fellow to be left in such a trying
position for so long a time, but, with the soldiers in the vicinity and
liable to appear at any time, he must bear it if he would escape.
The hunter suspected the fugitive's identity, and, while waiting for
night to come, when he could go to his relief, occupied the time in
ruminating as to how he might best serve him. He haply hit upon an idea
which appeared so plausible to him that, with an emphatic slap of the
knee, he exclaimed:
"Just the thing! I'll save him, or my name's not Tezcot."
"What is 'just the thing,' father; and who are you going to save?"
asked Mitla, who was present, and somewhat startled by the hunter's
sudden outburst.
"The prince, child. Who else could I save just now?" he answered,
absently.
"The prince! what prince?"
At this moment a revelation came to Mitla's mind, which was quite a
surprise to her, and she said, expressing it:
"What a simpleton I have been, father, not to have thought of it
before--the man under the pile of chia-stalks is Hualcoyotl, the
Tezcucan prince! Is that what you mean?"
"Yes, Mit, that is just what I mean."
"And you think you can save him?"
"I'm sure I can, Mit," answered the hunter, positively. "But, child, ye
must ask no questions; I can not answer ye."
"Very good, father. I'm sure you will do whatever you think you can,"
she replied, with the confidence of an unqualified belief in his
infallibility.
The time dragged along very slowly to the kind-hearted hunter after his
conception of a plan for relieving the fugitive. He felt that the poor
fellow must certainly be suffering no little agony in his painful
position, and his sympathy was stirred accordingly.
Night, which was impatiently waited for, came on at last, enveloping
the mountains in darkness, obscuring from observation objects at a very
short distance. It was the hour of relief for the hapless wanderer
hidden out in the chia patch.
Tezcot and Mitla quietly left the house, and approached the spot where
the man was concealed. The latter pointed out the pile of stalks which
covered him, and the former lifted them off his motionless form. They
found him in a pitiable condition, quite unable to rise. The hours of
confinement under the chia stalks, together with his previous
enervation, had rendered him benumbed and helpless. He was assisted to
his feet, but his limbs refused to sustain him, and it was found
necessary for the hunter to carry him to the house. He was taken to a
private apartment, and placed on a comfortable couch. A mug of pulque
was given him to drink, after which it was thought best to leave him
for a time to himself, to recover, in a measure, from his spent
condition.
More than a week of enforced concealment on the mountain, without food
to stay his increasing hunger, had passed to Hualcoyotl since he became
separated from his servant and the hunter Menke. He had not been
disturbed in his hiding place, but the distress arising from his
protracted fasting, together with a consequent nervous anxiety, had
brought him to the verge of desperation. He must, and would, have
something to eat, and, regardless of danger, started out to find it. He
reached the plateau, and having boldly emerged upon it, stood looking
about him for a house where the much needed food might be obtained.
While thus occupied he was made aware of the fact that a party of
soldiers were approaching; they had discovered him, and were watching
his movements. It took him but a moment to determine what he would do.
He did not feel equal to the exertion which would be required in an
effort to elude them by climbing the mountain; so, on observing a
projection extending out from it, only a short distance from where he
was, he promptly decided to round it if possible, and find concealment
beyond. He started off at a careless gait, though feeling very shaky.
When the soldiers saw that he was walking away, they increased their
movement; he did the same, which brought from them a savage yell, which
sent him forward with a bound. For a short distance he ran with his
usual fleetness, but the impelling force was excitement, which did not
last. He succeeded in turning the point, but in an almost exhausted
condition. It was at this juncture he came upon Mitla; what followed,
the reader knows.
When the hunter returned to the prince's couch, he found him in a very
much improved condition. By a little exertion of his own, aided by the
stimulating effects of the pulque, his circulation was rapidly
reasserting itself, and his forces, though in a weakened state, were
reviving. Refreshments were brought in, of which he was permitted to
eat a sufficiency but not excessively.
Tezcot avoided referring to the prince's identity, deferring his
inquiries until the latter should be more fully restored.
Hualcoyotl did not suspect that his host had a suspicion as to who he
was--at least showed no sign that he did. He was inclined to be
reserved and uncommunicative; however, took occasion to express his
gratitude for the kindness shown him.
The hunter, after giving his unhappy guest all necessary attention, and
assuring him of his safety, left him for the night.
The next morning Tezcot repaired to the apartment occupied by the
prince, and found him quite comfortable. Food, and a night's rest on a
soft couch--the first he had enjoyed for many days, did wonders in
restoring his exhausted forces.
The hunter was quite sure that his guest was Prince Hualcoyotl; but
before proceeding to carry out his plan for securing him from further
pursuit, he wished to obtain an acknowledgment of his identity; so,
after assisting him to prepare for the morning meal, he addressed him,
saying:
"Your presence in this house is known to no one outside of the family
of Tezcot, the hunter." The prince's countenance brightened at once on
hearing that name, which had been spoken of in such warm terms by
Menke, and his hopes were renewed and buoyed by the confidence it
imparted. He listened more attentively while the mountaineer continued:
"Since it is no secret that Hualcoyotl, the Prince of Tezcuco, is a
fugitive, and hiding somewhere in these mountains, you can not be
greatly surprised when told that we think you are that person. Do not
feel any concern for your safety, for Hualcoyotl is as secure with
Tezcot as he would be in his own palace, surrounded by his friends."
The prince, though surprised that his identity was suspected, was
greatly relieved and encouraged by the hunter's language, and his
confidence went out to him at once; for he felt sure that he had found
in him a friend--a friend who had been raised up to help him in his
darkest hour. To the kindly spoken words of his host he replied:
"And you are the great mountaineer, Tezcot, the chief of hunters.
Hualcoyotl is indeed fortunate in finding refuge with such a man. The
name of Tezcot relieves me from all concern, for it is an assurance of
good-will and security. For the first time in weeks I am glad to
acknowledge my identity. Yes, glad to say, I am Hualcoyotl. Your
divination is correct, kind friend; for the fugitive prince stands
before you, profoundly grateful for his deliverance."
It was now Tezcot's turn to be surprised, for he inferred from the
prince's language that he was not unknown to him. Hualcoyotl continued:
"When the good hunter Menke said that Tezcot was a man true as his
arrow, and worthy of the utmost confidence, it did not occur to me that
I would so soon be thrown upon his generosity. But such are the ways of
the Great Unseen, whose purposes we can not comprehend. Hualcoyotl is
surely an object of His protecting care," he concluded reverently.
Tezcot was deeply impressed by the exhibition of reference manifested
by the prince for the Unseen Power which seemed to be shielding his
life and proving him in the crucible of adversity, to prepare him for
the great future which then lay hidden before him. Wonder prevailed,
however, and he said:
"Your words are astonishing. Do you mean to tell me that you have met
the hunter Menke, and yet are here a rescued fugitive?"
"Yes, Tezcot; but days have passed since we met and were unfortunately
separated," replied the prince.
"Still, I'm puzzled to account for your being here as you are, after
meeting so good and shrewd a friend as Menke," returned the hunter.
"No doubt you are; but be assured, kind friend, it was no fault of his
that it is so." The prince went on and related the circumstances of his
meeting with Menke, and what followed.
"Menke is a good friend, but a little odd," said Tezcot, when the
prince had concluded. "He has no doubt looked for you in every place
but the right one," he continued. "You certainly have reason to think,
from what you have seen of us, that you have nothing to fear from the
mountaineers. If they might do it, I am sure all of them would be glad
to afford you assistance."
"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 gratitude."
"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 assistance 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 assurance 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 embarrassed 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 noble hunter, Tezcot, assuring 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 gratitude 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.