There was no particular danger to be feared on the way to the hermitage, except a possible attack from some prowling beast; still Tezcot deemed it prudent to go armed for any emergency. He had undertaken to do a thing, and was firm in his purpose that nothing should intervene, through any act or omission of his, to prevent its accomplishment. He was wide awake, and his uncommonly quick ear and penetrating eye were wonderfully alive to the surroundings, ready to catch any sound, or spot any object, of a suspicious nature which might suddenly arise. The prince's enervated physical condition, together with the roughness of the ground over which it was necessary to pass, made their progress unavoidably slow. He had the utmost confidence in his conductor, and followed him in silence. However, not having been informed as to their destination, his mind was actively ruminating amid the realms of conjecture and anticipation. Not a word was spoken by either, after leaving Tezcot's house, until the cavern was reached, and then not before the signal was given, and Ix's deep and solemn voice was heard in answer to it, bidding them welcome to his humble abode. The hermit's expression of language was always impressive, especially so in the presence of those whom he looked upon as having superior intelligence, entitling them to consideration. The presence, therefore, of the Prince of Tezcuco was of sufficient importance to call for his most imposing manner. After Tezcot had in a few words introduced the prince to his cavern retreat and its mysterious occupant, and the prince had given expression to his great surprise and gratification, the hermit said significantly: "The wise hunter counted well when he numbered Ix among the friends of Hualcoyotl;" then turning to the latter he continued: "Content yourself with me, O Prince of Tezcuco, until the great Huitzil is ready to avenge you, which he will surely do." We will not pause to detail what followed at the hermitage on this occasion, except to say briefly, that Tezcot, after assuring himself that the prince would be comfortable, and promising an early return, took his leave, saying as he did so: "The gods befriend you both, and confuse the emissaries of Maxtla." A no less sincere benediction from two grateful hearts followed the departing friend. The hermit and prince were alone. What transpired between them the reader will be left to conjecture. We will say, however, that the association resulted in a friendship which proved of inestimable advantage to both of them in an auspicious future. Tezcot went from the hermitage to the meeting of the friendly hunters, which resulted in the organization of a mountain patrol, and anyone going to the hermit's cave the next morning would have found its approaches watched by eagle eyes in hunter's guise. Thus we leave the fugitive prince, who had at last found a perfect refuge, where he could bide his time without fear of molestation. CHAPTER XXI.