CHAPTER XV.
"That was a good shot, Mit! Your old father couldn't have done itbetter." Such was the comment made by Tezcot, the hunter, on the resultof a well directed arrow from a bow in the hands of Mitla, the"Mountain Princess."
They were out on the mountain, hunting. Tezcot often went on shortexcursions of the kind to please Mitla, and it gave him genuinepleasure to do so. Being very kindly disposed, as he was, it affordedhim much gratification to make others happy, especially his children.
"He's a fine specimen of his kind," he continued, holding the bird upbefore him, "and will increase your stock of plumage, and, as well, addanother feather to your archer's cap."
The prize was a most beautiful pheasant; and for a moment Mitla's eyeswere bright with excitement, but as she gazed upon the lovely bird,lying dead and bleeding at her feet, where her father had carelesslythrown it, the woman's heart within her was touched with feelings ofcompunction, and she said:
"Father, is it well to kill such beautiful birds? My heart is sadbecause I have done this."
"It's all the same, child, whether the bird is beautiful or ugly; theone suffers equally with the other, when it comes to that,"philosophized he. "Hello, Menke! Is that you?" he continued, addressinga hunter, who just then came up to where they were.
"Wull, yes, it's me, ef I know myself; an' think I should, for somefolks do say that Menke an' me are right sociable," jestingly repliedthe newcomer, a well known mountaineer hunter, who was much addicted totalking to himself, to which addiction his remark referred.
"That ye are, Menke, we all know," answered Tezcot, appreciating thehunter's reference to his peculiar habit, "but it doesn't make ye anyless friendly toward the rest of us."
"Wull, no; Menke's about the same all over," returned he, and, suddenlychanging the subject, continued: "Goin' far up the mountain, Tez?"
"Not far. We're only out for a short hunt this morning. Mit, there,enjoys a trip to the mountains occasionally."
"Good mornin', Princess," he said to Mitla. "Had any luck, eh?"
"Yes, I have one beautiful bird, a pheasant. See! Is it not a prettyone?" she replied, showing him the prize.
"Nice bird, Princess. Shot it yerself, eh?"
"Certainly, but wish I had not; it is such a lovely bird," shereturned, looking sorrowfully at it.
"That's the woman of ye, Princess. Women don't make good hunters;they're too squeamish," he observed, rather contemptuously.
"You, no doubt, speak truly, Menke; but it is our nature, and we cannot help it," she replied, her eyes fixed on the bird with anexpression of sadness.
Menke turned to Tezcot, and said:
"Say, Tez, wish ye'd jine me in a trip across the mountain to-day.Can't do it, eh?"
"Not to-day, Menke; it would spoil Mit's sport. Some other day I'll gowith you."
"All right, Tez; ye know yer own business. The mornin's goin' rightfast, an' I'll have to be goin' with it, ef I'd get roun' 'fore night.Good mornin', Princess."
"Good morning, and success attend you, Menke," she returned.
With a parting word to his friend Tezcot the hunter left them, movingrapidly up the mountain, and was soon lost to view among the timber.
Tezcot and Mitla, at a later hour, awoke to the fact that they werefarther from home than they had intended to go at starting out. Theywere more than a league and a half away, and the hunter thought it timeto call a halt. Their hunt had proven fairly successful, quite a bunchof game having been secured, rendering the excursion very satisfactory.
"Father," said Mitla, when a return had been decided on, "let us visitthe hermit's cave, on our way, going home. I have not been there for along time."
"If a visit to the hermit would please ye, Mit, we'll go that way."
"Thank you, father; it would, indeed, please me very much to visit thehermitage again."
So it was settled the hermitage should receive a visit from them.
The hermit's cave was the abode of a recluse, whose identity andprevious life were a profound mystery. By accompanying the hunter andMitla to it, we will at least get an insight into the character of theman.
About a league from Tezcot's house was a long, narrow, and dark ravine.It was fully a half mile in length, and was inwalled on either side bysteep elevations. Its gloomy wildness was seemingly filled with anawe-inspiring presence, and only a few of the denizens of themountainous range would venture into it. Stories were told of strangesights and sounds haunting its lonely recesses, which readily foundcredence in the minds of the more superstitious of them.
Tezcot, and a few other fearless hunters of the locality, took thestories for what they were--creations of fancy or design, andoccasionally explored the place in quest of game.
Since the advent of the hermit on the mountain, which took place someyears prior to the incidents narrated here, these bolder mountaineersmight have been seen at intervals cautiously invading its solitudes,going, in most cases, to the hermitage to visit its strange occupant.
The ravine was situated east and west, and those who were familiar withits dark depths found it most easily entered from the eastern terminus.
When Tezcot and Mitla arrived there, they went in without hesitation.They found the ground rough, and frequently quite sloping, yet madegood progress over it.
After going some distance into the ravine, they turned toward thesouth, and began the ascent of the steep acclivity in that direction,along a natural depression in its side.
Going well up out of the ravine they made a turn to the west, and wentaround the side of a mountain until they came to a dense growth ofunderbrush, which had the appearance, in its denseness, of beingimpenetrable. Tezcot, however, knew the ground well, and quickly founda place that would admit of their passing through. When they came outon the opposite side of the thicket, it was to find themselves on akind of shelf in the side of the mountain, at the back of which rose analmost perpendicular wall of rock. Following this rocky wall for ashort distance back, they came to a great recess in its face, which hadthe appearance of a natural vestibule. In the rear of this recess wasan opening, which proved to be the entrance to a cavern. Tezcot wentfamiliarly forward, passing through the aperture into a tunnel-shapedcave, which appeared as running far back into the mountain. Theinterior was only dimly lighted from the entrance; yet thesemi-darkness did not seem to impede the hunter's movement, for he wentconfidently in, until he came to an opening in the side of the tunnel,before which he stopped, and gave a peculiar signal.
In response to the signal there presently appeared before the visitorsthe form of a man dimly outlined in the faint light of the cavern. In avoice which was deep and solemn, he inquired:
"Who would break in on the solitude of Ix, the anchorite?"
"Tezcot, the anchorite's friend, and Mitla, his child, who have come topay their respects to him, and hear again the words of wisdom which hislips are wont to speak," replied the hunter, respectfully.
"Tezcot and his are ever welcome in the home of Ix, the hermit. Enter,and find rest."
Tezcot laid aside his hunter's outfit, and, followed by Mitla, passedinto the recluse's lonely abode.
The cell, or room, occupied by the hermit as a habitation, was anatural cavity in the side of the main cavern, situated, as we haveseen, some distance back from the entrance. It was square shaped, andanswered well the purpose for which it was used.
A burning taper shed a dim and sickly glimmer over the room, givingbarely light enough to reveal its contents. At one side of theapartment was a couch, made up of animals' skins, and opposite to it arough table, on which was placed a burning taper.
Such was the scanty furnishment of the hermit's cell, except thenecessary arms of a hunter, with which he was supplied, and which werelying and hanging about the room.
Good friends, like Tezcot, would often give the recluse sufficientprovisions to last for days, yet he would sometimes venture out on themountain, when no eye was near to watch him, in quest of game, which heseldom failed
to secure, for he handled his weapons with efficiency.
His food was prepared in the main cavern, leaving his cell free fromthat inconvenience.
A question frequently asked, but never answered, was: "Who is he, thisIx, the hermit?" He was in truth, and to all, a man of mystery.
The more ignorant of the mountaineers--those who believed the ravinehaunted--thought the mysterious individual superhuman in character, andshunned the locality as an abode of spirits. Ix encouraged this feelingand belief among them, so far as he could, though always very gratefulto the few who were above such notions, and who were ever welcomevisitors to his cavern home.
The hermit could afford no better accommodations than skins thrown onthe ground, as a protection, to sit on, and his visitors were seated inthis manner. When they were comfortably settled, the anchorite said:
"How is it with my wise friend--thyself, O Tezcot, and those who sharewith thee the bounteous favors which bless thy mountain home?"
"It is well with us. And thou, O friend, hath good or evil come to makeor mar thy peace, of late?" replied the hunter inquiringly.
"My lonely life is seldom interrupted. Its simplicity could only leadto peace if the mind were less active. But who can say, O, mind, bestill, and trouble not thyself with what is past, or what may come?"
The hermit's words showed that he was not in his usual temper of mind.They indicated that his meditations sometimes disturbed him. On noprevious occasion had Tezcot heard him intimate that disquietingrecollections were ever present to interrupt the peacefulness of hislonely life. And yet, why not? The man had not always been a hermit.The surprise to Tezcot was in the yielding of his habitual restraintupon his speech, so far as to give utterance to such a thought. He didnot immediately respond to the hermit, and, after a moment's pause, thelatter continued:
"You have come from the world of light, O Tezcot, and know much that isdark to Ix. If it please you, will you tell me something of what ispassing there? How fares it with the people in the valley?"
"Why should Ix, the hermit, who has gone from the world to findseclusion in a mountain fastness, seek knowledge concerning the peopleand of what is passing beyond? Does the anchorite tire of his lonelymountain cell, and long for a place among them, that he turns from hissolitude to inquire after the people's welfare?"
"Tezcot is wise, but he reads only from that which his eyes behold.There are sealed records from which even he can not read. Ix is one ofthese to all the world, yet not without his sorrows. Memory is not lessbright because of the darkness which hides external things," rejoinedthe hermit, with deep pathos in his voice.
"Tezcot is rebuked," returned he, regretfully. "The wisdom of Ix isgreater than his. The hermit's desire to learn something of what ispassing among the people in the valley shall be gratified. There ispeace on the beautiful Anahuac, and the people appear to be happy;still, there is unrest and repining beneath it all. The signs bespeak acoming storm--not of the heavens, which we wot of when the sky isovercast and chains of fire flash across it--nor yet when the watersdescend and the thunder's deep and awful voice is heard. No, it is nota storm like that, but one in which the passions of men shall sway themas the tempest sways the mighty tree; a storm in which blood shall flowand once more stain and soil the beautiful face of Anahuac; and sorrowshall find place in the hearts of many people, and lamentation shallascend."
The voice of the hunter was like one inspired. The hermit felt it, andreplied:
"The language of Tezcot is the language of a prophet. Whose hand is inthe strifeful storm of which he foretells?"
"The hand of Maxtla, king at the royal city of Azcapozalco, is in it,"answered the hunter.
At the mention of Maxtla's name, an expression of fierceness came overthe hermit's face, but the taper's dim light did not reveal it. Heinquired, in a voice in which there was evident displeasure, causingthe hunter to give him a closer look:
"Where is the old destroyer of Tezcucan liberty, Tezozomoc, that Maxtlais king at Azcapozalco?"
"The old king is dead," replied Tezcot.
"The world is none the worse for that, I'm sure," returned the hermit,showing unmistakable enmity.
"It is surely not any better since Maxtla is king," answered thehunter, observing with interest the hermit's relaxing reserve.
"What would he--this Maxtla of Azcapozalco?" inquired Ix.
"It is known that he would destroy the Prince of Tezcuco, because ofjealousy and hatred." A gleam of intelligence might have been seen tolight up the anchorite's countenance on hearing these words, but it wasnot observed by the hunter, who continued: "The prince is a fugitive,hunted as a fox by the vassals of the king."
The hermit was silent and thoughtful for a moment, and then asked:
"Whence come the signs which speak to Tezcot of an approachingconflict?"
"If Ix would read the signs himself, let him go into the valley wheredwell the Tezcucans--the oppressed people of the fugitive prince. Thedeadly serpent lies motionless in our path, but should our footperchance fall upon it, our destruction would follow swift and sure;though not more surely than retribution on the man who tramples humanrights beneath his heel," replied the hunter, impressively.
"The words of my wise friend are full of meaning. They come to Ix likea message from the world. He will treasure them up and give themthought, for they are portentous. Things of which the wise hunter hathno knowledge press heavily upon Ix's mind. His heart is sad because ofthe wickedness of men," returned the hermit, in gloomy accents.
Tezcot was acquainted with some of the hermit's peculiar moods, andfelt, from his manner, that a longer stay would be neither pleasant norprofitable; so, after a brief silence, he arose and said they woulddepart, inasmuch as their absence from home had been prolonged in orderto make the hermitage a visit.
The hermit expressed his gratification for the visit, and said further:
"My friend has brought much food for thought, for which I am grateful.Do not forget, O Tezcot, that you and yours are ever welcome in thehome of the hermit. Tarry not away; for Ix would hear more of the signsof the hour and what they portend."
"When the signs speak more clearly I will come again, that Ix may haveknowledge of their import," returned the hunter, turning to leave thehermit's cell.
They passed into the main cavern, where a liberal division of the gamewas made, of which the hermit received a goodly portion. It wasaccepted with expressions of gratitude; and, after the customarysalutations, the visitors took their departure, leaving the recluse tohis solitude and lonely cogitations, the nature of which could only besurmised.
The hunter went from the hermitage with conflicting thoughts. He hadtalked with the hermit many times, but had never before looked so farinto his character. He was nearer the solution of the oft repeated, butstill unanswered question, "Who is he?" than at any previous time; andyet his theories were vague and unsatisfactory. He determined to knowmore of the man of mystery, and resolved to see him frequently.
A Prince of Anahuac: A Histori-traditional Story Antedating the Aztec Empire Page 17
