"To a hunter, only," replied the newcomer, who was none other than our recent acquaintance, Cacami, the Tezcucan hunter, whom we left enjoying the hospitality of the mountaineer, Tezcot, and who was now _en route_ home. "Seeing you unfairly set upon by a troop of villainous Tepanec soldiers," he went on, "I thought I'd take a hand, and see how quickly fled the cowardly pack, except these three--" He paused to examine the fallen soldiers, to learn what was their condition, and then continued, "who, I fear, are past the aid of man." "Your coming, friend, was most timely; a moment later and we would have been in their power," said the prince. "That was about the situation, stranger, as I saw it," returned the hunter. "You have done us a very great service, and I regret that we are unable to suitably reward you. Words will not do it, which leaves us poor, indeed, at this moment. An expression of our deep gratitude is all we have to offer you. Inadequate as it is, it is sincere," spoke the prince, feelingly. "There is nothing to reward, friend, nor is there any call for an expression of gratitude. What I did for you I would do for another, under the same circumstances," replied Cacami, who was disposed to depreciate the service he had rendered the prince. "And yet you would be justified in pronouncing us ungrateful were we silent and unfeeling in the matter," said Hualcoyotl. "I only did my duty, stranger; that's all. So, say no more about it," persisted the hunter. "You will at least give us your name," urged the prince. "We would be glad to know and remember it." Cacami looked at the dead soldiers, two of them victims of his own sword; and realizing the magnitude of his offence against the king, decided not to make himself known. He said, very courteously, in reply to the prince: "I do not doubt your gratitude, friend, for the service rendered you. It was done impulsively, and with unfortunate result to two of these men, lying here, dead, almost at our feet. I would not be remembered for such service, and beg that you will permit me to pass on unknown." "We will not press you, hunter, but deeply regret that your feelings lead you to withhold your name. You have done a greater service than you can at present be aware of," pursued the prince in tones which conveyed an impression of mystery. "Should you become known to us, we will, if in our power, reward you for it in a fitting manner." Cacami looked wonderingly at the prince, because of the hidden significance which was evident in his remark. He was, apparently, on the point of putting an inquiry, but suddenly changed his mind, answering only by a look of depreciation. The prince, casting his eyes in the direction taken by the retreating soldiers, continued, by saying: