CHAPTER X
THE ANGEL BECOMES A BEADSWOMAN
The stars at the foot of the last chapter I called in as an easy bridge by which to cross an interval of two days,—a trick never to be resorted to except when there is nothing of interest to record, as was the case here.
Orteguilla occupied the interval very industriously, if not pleasantly. He had in hand two tasks,—one to instruct Tecetl about the world to which he had vowed to lead her; the other to fix upon a plan of escape. The first he found easy, the latter difficult; yet he had decided, and his preparations for the attempt, sufficient, he thought, though simple, lay upon the floor by the fountain. A lamp shed a dim light over the scene.
“So, so, Tecetl: are we ready now?” he asked.
“You are the master,” she replied.
“Very good, I will be assured.”
He went through a thorough inspection.
“Here are the paint and brush; here the oil and lamp; here the bread and meat, and the calabash of water. So far, good, very good. And here is the mat,—very comfortable, Tecetl, if you have to make your bed upon a stone in the floor. Now, are we ready?”