Going well up out of the ravine they made a turn to the west, and went around the side of a mountain until they came to a dense growth of underbrush, which had the appearance, in its denseness, of being impenetrable. Tezcot, however, knew the ground well, and quickly found a place that would admit of their passing through. When they came out on the opposite side of the thicket, it was to find themselves on a kind of shelf in the side of the mountain, at the back of which rose an almost perpendicular wall of rock. Following this rocky wall for a short distance back, they came to a great recess in its face, which had the appearance of a natural vestibule. In the rear of this recess was an opening, which proved to be the entrance to a cavern. Tezcot went familiarly forward, passing through the aperture into a tunnel-shaped cave, which appeared as running far back into the mountain. The interior was only dimly lighted from the entrance; yet the semi-darkness did not seem to impede the hunter's movement, for he went confidently in, until he came to an opening in the side of the tunnel, before which he stopped, and gave a peculiar signal. In response to the signal there presently appeared before the visitors the form of a man dimly outlined in the faint light of the cavern. In a voice which was deep and solemn, he inquired: "Who would break in on the solitude of Ix, the anchorite?" "Tezcot, the anchorite's friend, and Mitla, his child, who have come to pay their respects to him, and hear again the words of wisdom which his lips are wont to speak," replied the hunter, respectfully. "Tezcot and his are ever welcome in the home of Ix, the hermit. Enter, and find rest." Tezcot laid aside his hunter's outfit, and, followed by Mitla, passed into the recluse's lonely abode. The cell, or room, occupied by the hermit as a habitation, was a natural cavity in the side of the main cavern, situated, as we have seen, some distance back from the entrance. It was square shaped, and answered well the purpose for which it was used. A burning taper shed a dim and sickly glimmer over the room, giving barely light enough to reveal its contents. At one side of the apartment was a couch, made up of animals' skins, and opposite to it a rough table, on which was placed a burning taper. Such was the scanty furnishment of the hermit's cell, except the necessary arms of a hunter, with which he was supplied, and which were lying and hanging about the room. Good friends, like Tezcot, would often give the recluse sufficient provisions to last for days, yet he would sometimes venture out on the mountain, when no eye was near to watch him, in quest of game, which he seldom failed to secure, for he handled his weapons with efficiency. His food was prepared in the main cavern, leaving his cell free from that inconvenience. A question frequently asked, but never answered, was: "Who is he, this Ix, the hermit?" He was in truth, and to all, a man of mystery.