CHAPTER XIX.
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.