“You see, boy, he is the bravest man and best fighter in the army; and the sensible fellows of moderate skill and ambition have no fancy for the hot place in a fight, which is generally where he is.”
“The discredit is not to him, by Our Mother!” said Hualpa, laughing.
The broker stopped to cherish the fire in his pipe,—an act which the inexperienced consider wholly incompatible with the profound reflection he certainly indulged. When next he spoke, it was with smoke wreathing his round face, as white clouds sometimes wreathe the full moon.
“About an hour ago a fellow came here, and said he had heard that Iztlil’, the Tezcucan, had challenged the ’tzin to go into the arena with him to-morrow. Not a bad thing for the god Quetzal’, if all I hear be true!”
Again the pipe, and then the continuation.
“You see, when the combat was determined on, there happened to be in the temples two Othmies and two Tlascalans, warriors of very great report. As soon as it became known that, by the king’s choice, they were the challengers, the young fellows about the palace shunned the sport, and there was danger that the god would find himself without a champion. To avoid such a disgrace, the ’tzin was coming here to-night to hang his shield in the portico. If he and the Tezcucan both take up the fight, it will be a great day indeed.”
The silence that ensued was broken by the hunter, whom the gossip had plunged into revery.
“I pray your pardon, Xoli; but you said, I think, that the lords hang back from the danger. Can any one volunteer?”
“Certainly; any one who is a warrior, and is in time. Are you of that mind?”
The Chalcan took down the pipe, and looked at him earnestly.