“Of the Aztecs?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” said Xoli, slowly and gravely. “The shields I do not know are few and of little note. At one time or another I have seen them all pass my portico going to battle.”
A bystander, listening, whispered to his friends,—
“The braggart! He says nothing of the times the owners passed his door to get a pinch of his snuff.”
“Or to get drunk on his abominable pulque,” said another.
“Or to get a loan, leaving their palaces in pawn,” said a third party.
But Xoli went on impressively,—
“Those two to the left belong to a surly Otompan and a girl-faced Cholulan. They had a quarrel in the king’s garden, and this is the upshot. That other,—surely, O citizens, you know the shield of Iztlil’, the Tezcucan!”
“Yes; but its neighbor?”