"He ought to be that same!" cried Tim, with his mouth full; "he's had plenty of time to learn, anyhow. Ask the old cocoanut his age, Jack."
"Don't you take liberties with his name, Tim. Cocom was a king of Mayapan; and this, I presume, is his descendant."
"Royalty out at elbows!" said Peter, blandly.
"It's a king, is it?" remarked Tim, staring at the Indian. "He looks a mighty second-hand sort of article. I should be a king myself. Wasn't one of my ancestors King of Cork?"
"Good morning, gentlemen," said Philip, entering at this moment; "where did you pick up Methuselah?"
"This is Cocom, my guide," said the doctor, proudly introducing Cocom, who removed his sombrero with a graceful sweep.
"Oh, you are going to hunt the ferocious beetle, are you not? What is he, Jack? An Aztec?"
"No; a descendant of the Mayas."
"A dethroned king—no less."
"You know the country round here, Cocom?" said Philip, taking no notice of Tim's joke.