“Let Bruno do that, uncle. He grew thoroughly disgusted with what he saw over yonder, yesterday,” placidly observed the youngster.
“Waldo, you villain!”
“Well, didn't you vow and declare that you could recognise grace and beauty and all other varieties of attractiveness only in—dark brunettes, old man?”
Professor Featherwit hastily interposed, lest words be let fall through which Mr. Edgecombe might catch a premature idea of the possible surprise held in store; and shortly afterwards the start was made for the snug covert from whence the Lost City had been viewed on prior occasions.
Naturally their route led them directly past the scene of the bear fight, where the huge carcass lay as yet undisturbed, and calling forth sundry words of wonder and even admiration, through its very ponderosity and now harmless ferocity.
Professor Featherwit deemed it his duty to gravely reprove his wards for their rash conduct, yet something in his twinkling eyes and in the kindly touch of his bony hand told a far different tale. His anger took the shape of pride and of heart-love.
In due course of time the lookout was won, and without delay the savant turned his field-glass upon the temple which appeared to appertain to the so-called Sun Children; but, not a little to his chagrin, the azotea was utterly devoid of human life.
But that disappointment was of brief existence, for, almost as though his action was the signal for which they had been waiting, mother and daughter came slowly into view, arm in arm, clad in robes of snowy white, with their luxuriant locks flowing loose as upon former occasions.
Both lads—three of them, to be more exact—gave low exclamations of eager interest as those shapes came in sight, while even Cooper Edgecombe gazed with growing interest upon the scene, wholly unsuspecting though he was as yet.
A slight nod from the professor warned the brothers to stand ready in case of need, then he offered the exile the glass, begging him to inspect yonder fair women upon the teocalli.