"The words of my wise friend are full of meaning. They come to Ix like a message from the world. He will treasure them up and give them thought, for they are portentous. Things of which the wise hunter hath no knowledge press heavily upon Ix's mind. His heart is sad because of the wickedness of men," returned the hermit, in gloomy accents. Tezcot was acquainted with some of the hermit's peculiar moods, and felt, from his manner, that a longer stay would be neither pleasant nor profitable; so, after a brief silence, he arose and said they would depart, inasmuch as their absence from home had been prolonged in order to make the hermitage a visit. The hermit expressed his gratification for the visit, and said further: "My friend has brought much food for thought, for which I am grateful. Do not forget, O Tezcot, that you and yours are ever welcome in the home of the hermit. Tarry not away; for Ix would hear more of the signs of the hour and what they portend." "When the signs speak more clearly I will come again, that Ix may have knowledge of their import," returned the hunter, turning to leave the hermit's cell. They passed into the main cavern, where a liberal division of the game was made, of which the hermit received a goodly portion. It was accepted with expressions of gratitude; and, after the customary salutations, the visitors took their departure, leaving the recluse to his solitude and lonely cogitations, the nature of which could only be surmised. The hunter went from the hermitage with conflicting thoughts. He had talked with the hermit many times, but had never before looked so far into his character. He was nearer the solution of the oft repeated, but still unanswered question, "Who is he?" than at any previous time; and yet his theories were vague and unsatisfactory. He determined to know more of the man of mystery, and resolved to see him frequently. CHAPTER XVI. The day was one of brightness and warmth on the mountain where we left Hualcoyotl and his attendant. The storm of the previous night had entirely disappeared before the refulgent rays of the morning sun. Hours came and passed, and the day was three-fourths gone; yet, fairly well protected in their new quarters, the prince and Oza slept on in an unbroken slumber, so worn were they from the almost superhuman efforts of the night before. The sleep of exhaustion was upon them, and the ordinary noises of the mountain wilds with which they were surrounded were without effect to disturb them. Now and then a bird would alight quite near and shie its bright eye at the sleepers, then hurry away. Animals frisked unconcerned about them, and the pestiferous insect filled the air with its ceaseless and annoying hum; still the tired fugitives continued profoundly unconscious of it all.