"The soldiers of the king know their duty, and must perform it, though it will avail them nothing to search my place. Kan, the weaver, has other business to occupy his time than that of hiding royal aristocrats, who would take no more account of his life than they would of an ocelotl's," was the curt and not inapt reply. "There is truth in what you say, weaver," returned the soldier. "Small value is put upon a man's life by them, especially if he is in their way." Without further delay he proceeded, with his companion, to search the few apartments of the cottage, giving them a thorough examination. Kan never worked more diligently than he did while the soldiers were looking through his place. The fibers of the maguey fairly flew through his hands, and higher and wider grew the pile of thready stuff at his left. Although his movements were rapid, he showed no evidence of disquiet. His countenance wore its customary stern look, and yet, beneath, there was poignant solicitude for his royal charge. It appears to have been a characteristic of his people to forget self in their devotion to others. He took no account of his own personal risk: the penalty he incurred in harboring the fugitive--a penalty the measure of which would depend on the caprice of a suspicious and tyrannizing king. After a protracted search into all the nooks and secret places about the weaver's premises, the men returned to the room in which he was working. This room was quite plain, without recess or other receptacle where a man might have found concealment. The spokesman looked critically over it, and said: "The fugitive is surely not hiding with you, friend; for we find nothing of a suspicious character about your house. Sorry we were obliged to trouble you, but orders must be obeyed." "Right, soldier!" returned Kan. "You have performed your duty, and no harm has been done." The weaver spoke with affected carelessness, which he did not feel, for every moment which the soldiers spent in the room was one of anxiety to him. Casting his eyes over the apartment once more, the soldier said: "Since everything with you appears straight and satisfactory, we'll relieve you of our presence. Good luck to you, weaver." "The same to the soldiers of the king," replied Kan, with a supreme effort at indifference, as the searchers turned to leave his place. The party was hardly beyond the curtained doorway when the weaver's assumed carelessness gave place to cautiousness. "Hist! do not stir!" he ejaculated guardedly. Rising, he went to a small window, a safe point from which to watch the soldiers' movements. When he was satisfied they would not return, and that all present danger was past, he went to the pile of selected fibers, which had grown so rapidly under his supreme efforts while the soldiers were searching his place, and, lifting them, said: