"Tezcot is rebuked," returned he, regretfully. "The wisdom of Ix is greater than his. The hermit's desire to learn something of what is passing among the people in the valley shall be gratified. There is peace on the beautiful Anahuac, and the people appear to be happy; still, there is unrest and repining beneath it all. The signs bespeak a coming storm--not of the heavens, which we wot of when the sky is overcast and chains of fire flash across it--nor yet when the waters descend and the thunder's deep and awful voice is heard. No, it is not a storm like that, but one in which the passions of men shall sway them as the tempest sways the mighty tree; a storm in which blood shall flow and once more stain and soil the beautiful face of Anahuac; and sorrow shall find place in the hearts of many people, and lamentation shall ascend." The voice of the hunter was like one inspired. The hermit felt it, and replied: "The language of Tezcot is the language of a prophet. Whose hand is in the strifeful storm of which he foretells?" "The hand of Maxtla, king at the royal city of Azcapozalco, is in it," answered the hunter. At the mention of Maxtla's name, an expression of fierceness came over the hermit's face, but the taper's dim light did not reveal it. He inquired, in a voice in which there was evident displeasure, causing the hunter to give him a closer look: "Where is the old destroyer of Tezcucan liberty, Tezozomoc, that Maxtla is king at Azcapozalco?" "The old king is dead," replied Tezcot. "The world is none the worse for that, I'm sure," returned the hermit, showing unmistakable enmity. "It is surely not any better since Maxtla is king," answered the hunter, observing with interest the hermit's relaxing reserve. "What would he--this Maxtla of Azcapozalco?" inquired Ix. "It is known that he would destroy the Prince of Tezcuco, because of jealousy and hatred." A gleam of intelligence might have been seen to light up the anchorite's countenance on hearing these words, but it was not observed by the hunter, who continued: "The prince is a fugitive, hunted as a fox by the vassals of the king." The hermit was silent and thoughtful for a moment, and then asked: "Whence come the signs which speak to Tezcot of an approaching conflict?" "If Ix would read the signs himself, let him go into the valley where dwell the Tezcucans--the oppressed people of the fugitive prince. The deadly serpent lies motionless in our path, but should our foot perchance fall upon it, our destruction would follow swift and sure; though not more surely than retribution on the man who tramples human rights beneath his heel," replied the hunter, impressively.