lation than by speech, the young Indian brave made
his sentiments clearly understood, and if they could have placed full
dependence in that pledge, the brothers would have felt vastly relieved
in mind.

But they only too clearly recalled numerous instances of cunning
ill-faith, and, in despite of all, they could not well avoid thinking
that this was really something like a white elephant thrown upon their
hands.

"All right. Play we swallow it all, but keep your best eye peeled, old
man," guardedly whispered Waldo. "Fetch him along, yes or no, for it may
be growing worse than dangerous right here, after so much shooting."

"You mean for us to--"

"Take the fellow along, and keep him with us, until uncle Phaeton comes
back to finally decide upon his case," promptly explained Waldo. "Of
course we ought to've let him die; ought, but didn't! We couldn't then,
wouldn't now, if it was all to do over. So watch him so closely that he
can't play tricks even if he wishes."

There was nothing better to propose, and though the job promised to be
an awkward one to manage, Ixtli himself rendered it more easy.

Past all doubt he could understand, as well as speak, the English
language, for he took a step in evident submission, speaking gently:

"Ixtli ready; heart-brother say where go, now."

Again the brothers felt startled by that quaintly correct accent, and
almost involuntarily Bruno spoke in turn:

"You can talk English? When did you learn? And from whom?"

A still brighter smile irradiated the Aztec's face, and turning his
eyes towards the secluded valley, he bowed his head as though in deep
reverence, then softly, lovingly, almost adoringly, responded:

"SHE tell me how. Victo,--Glady, too. Ixtli know little, not much;
his heart feel big for Sun Children, all time. So YOU, too, for kill
bear,--like dat!"

Bruno turned a bit paler than usual, catching his breath sharply, as he
repeated those names:

"Victo,--Glady,--Wasn't it by those names, Victoria, Gladys, that Mr.
Edgecombe called his lost ones, Waldo?"

"I can't remember; but get a move on, old man. The sooner we're back
where uncle Phaeton left us, where we can see a bit more of what may be
coming, the safer my precious scalp will feel. This Injun--"

"No scalp," quickly interposed the Aztec, with a deprecatory gesture to
match his words. "You save Ixtli. Ixtli say no hurt white brothers. Dat
so,--dat sure for truth!"

Only partially satisfied by this e