“But we could get to see and speak with them, Ixtli?” asked Bruno, eager to reach some fair understanding as to the future course of action.
“Yes, white brother, go with Ixtli,” came the hesitating reply; but then the Aztec caught one of Gillespie's hands, holding it in close contrast to his own brown paw, shaking his head doubtingly.
“No like. Keen eye, dem people. Watch close. Find 'nother white skin—bad!”
“You hear that, Bruno?” asked the professor, really relieved at such positive evidence in conflict with the rash proposition made by the young man.
“Of course I thought of going under cover of the night, uncle, and surely it would not be such a difficult matter to darken my face and hands? With dirt, if nothing better can be found. And if I wore the clothes you brought from the cavern, uncle Phaeton?”
“That's the ticket!” broke in Waldo, eagerly. “Why, in a rig like that, I could turn the trick my own self!”
The consultation was broken off at this juncture by a faint summons from Cooper Edgecombe, and Professor Featherwit was only too glad of the excuse, hurrying over to the flying-machine, finding to his great joy that the exile was now far more like his old-time self.
Still, great caution was used in revealing all, and it was not until considerably later in the day that Mr. Edgecombe felt capable of taking part in the discussion of ways and means.
He declared that his recognition had been complete, in spite of the long years which had elapsed since losing sight of his dear ones; and he earnestly vowed to never give over until their rescue was effected, or he had lost his life while making the attempt.
While the two air-voyagers were thus engaged in talk, Bruno silently stole away with Ixtli, taking a bundle along, and leaving Waldo to throw their uncle off the track in case his suspicions should be prematurely awakened. Then, side by side, two Indian braves silently approached the aerostat, causing Professor Featherwit to make a hasty dive for his dynamite gun to repel a fancied onslaught.