"Tezcot and his are ever welcome in the home of Ix, the hermit. Enter, and find rest."
Tezcot laid aside his hunter's outfit, and, followed by Mitla, passed into the recluse's lonely abode.
The cell, or room, occupied by the hermit as a habitation, was a natural cavity in the side of the main cavern, situated, as we have seen, some distance back from the entrance. It was square shaped, and answered well the purpose for which it was used.
A burning taper shed a dim and sickly glimmer over the room, giving barely light enough to reveal its contents. At one side of the apartment was a couch, made up of animals' skins, and opposite to it a rough table, on which was placed a burning taper.
Such was the scanty furnishment of the hermit's cell, except the necessary arms of a hunter, with which he was supplied, and which were lying and hanging about the room.
Good friends, like Tezcot, would often give the recluse sufficient provisions to last for days, yet he would sometimes venture out on the mountain, when no eye was near to watch him, in quest of game, which he seldom failed to secure, for he handled his weapons with efficiency.
His food was prepared in the main cavern, leaving his cell free from that inconvenience.
A question frequently asked, but never answered, was: "Who is he, this Ix, the hermit?" He was in truth, and to all, a man of mystery.
The more ignorant of the mountaineers—those who believed the ravine haunted—thought the mysterious individual superhuman in character, and shunned the locality as an abode of spirits. Ix encouraged this feeling and belief among them, so far as he could, though always very grateful to the few who were above such notions, and who were ever welcome visitors to his cavern home.
The hermit could afford no better accommodations than skins thrown on the ground, as a protection, to sit on, and his visitors were seated in this manner. When they were comfortably settled, the anchorite said: