we will
ascend and look for the glorious 'Lost City of the Aztecs!'"

Again the savant sprang to his feet, wildly gesticulating as he strode
to and fro, striving to thus work off some of the intense excitement
which had taken full possession. And words fell rapidly from his lips
the while, only a portion of which need be placed upon record in this
connection, however.

"A fico for the paltry lost cities of musty tradition, now! They may
sleep beneath the sand-storms of countless years, but this--I would
gladly give one of my eyes for the certainty that its mate might gaze
upon such a wondrous spectacle as--Oh, if it might only prove true! If
I might only discover such a stupendous treasure! Aztecs! And in the
present day! Alive--armed and garbed as of yore! Amazing! Incredible!
Astounding beyond the wildest dreams of a confirmed--"

With startling swiftness uncle Phaeton wheeled to confront the exile,
gripping his arm with fierce vigour, as he shrilly demanded:

"Opium--are you an eater of drugs, Cooper Edgecombe?"

Even as the words crossed his lips, the professor realised how
preposterous they must sound, but the exile shook his head, earnestly.

"I never ate drugs in that shape, sir. Even if I had been addicted to
morphine and the like, how could I indulge the appetite here, in these
gloomy, lonely wilds?"

"I beg your pardon, sir; most humbly I implore your forgiveness. I have
but one excuse--this wondrous--Good night! I'm going to bed before I add
to my new reputation as--a blessed idiot, no less!"

CHAPTER XIV. A MARVELLOUS VISION.

But the night was considerably older ere any one of that quartette lost
himself in slumber, for all had been too thoroughly wrought up by the
exciting events of the past day for sleep to claim an easy subject.

By common consent, however, that one particular subject was barred for
the present, and then, sitting in a cosy group about the glowing fire
there in the cavern, the recently formed friends talked and chatted,
asking and answering questions almost past counting.

Little wonder that such should be the case, so far as Cooper Edgecombe
was concerned, since he had been lost to the busy world and its many
changes for a long decade.

Then, too, his own dreary existence held a strange charm for the
air-voyagers, and the exile grew wonderfully cheerful and bright-eyed
as he in part depicted his struggles to sustain life against such heavy
odds, and still strove to keep