A Prince of Anahuac Part 7

"Think what is ahead of ye yonder: a bracing meal, and, by my life, ye shall have a refres.h.i.+ng mug of _pulque_[7] to wash it down. D'ye hear?"

returned the hunter, encouragingly.

[7] NOTE.--An intoxicant, made from the juice of maguey, p.r.o.nounced pull-k[=e]--a drink much used by the Mexicans to this day.

"Ah, good master, you are very kind," answered the man.

"If to be mindful of a willing hand is kindness, then be it so, lad,"

was the hunter's benignant reply.

The hunter and his companions were now moving along the border of a narrow stretch of level ground, which extended far around the mountain.

They suddenly rounded a sharp point which brought into view a dwelling, from which a faint glimmer of light penetrated the gathering darkness.

The dwelling was the home of Tezcot, and the advancing hunter the mountaineer himself, accompanied by two servants, returning from a hunting excursion.

As the party approached the house, Tezcot saw that a man, who proved to be a strange hunter, occupied the front porch alone. When near enough to speak he stopped, his attendants pa.s.sing on. Addressing the stranger, he said:

"Hail, friend! Peace and good-cheer to thee, and welcome to such fare as may be found in this, my mountain home. I am Tezcot. Who art thou?"

The stranger arose and, saluting, answered:

"The G.o.ds be with you and yours, most liberal of hosts. Cacami, a Tezcucan hunter, is he whom the good genii have directed to this excellent mountain home, where the tired applicant for nourishment and rest is ever met by generous impulses and unrestrained hospitality."

Tezcot scanned the stranger with not a little curiosity at hearing his gracious speech. The language bespoke him more than a mere hunter. He was a young man, and, from appearances, one enjoying superior advantages. The mountaineer was very much pleased at hearing words so eulogistic of himself and his, and could not repress his gratification.

It was his chief pleasure to be reminded that he was generous and hospitable. He replied:

"Your speech commends us, friend, and we pray it may be deserved. We can say of a truth, and not boastingly, that no man ever turned from Tezcot's door hungry or weary."

"What you say needs no proof, generous host; it is but an echo of the voice of those who have eaten of your bread and drank of your excellent pulque. No man, in or out of the valley, hath in so great a degree the esteem and good will of the hunters of Anahuac as yourself. With them Tezcot is counted the prince of hosts, and a chief among men," added the stranger, warmly.

"I see, O Tezcucan, whence comes your favorable opinion of us,"

returned Tezcot. "A word of praise from our good friends in the valley is not less pleasing because it comes to us in this way. May the favorable impressions of us you bring with you not suffer by personal contact."

This dialogue was carried on standing, the mountaineer in the meantime relieving himself of his hunter's outfit. He now suggested that they be seated, and after being so he turned to his guest and inquired:

"Is this your first visit to these parts?"

"To this locality, yes; to the mountains, no. For several years I have made occasional incursions to the district in pursuit of that charm which sometimes leads the best of men--as in your own case--to choose for a home the most solitary scenes," replied the Tezcucan.

"A wonderful fascination, truly, is found in the life we lead, or how could we endure its solitude?" answered the mountaineer reflectively; and again, "You are not one who hunts for profit, I judge?" he added, interrogatively.

"No, for pleasure only; still I sometimes sell, or permit my men to do so, when we secure more game than we want."

"You are not alone, then?"

"No; I have two attendants who are being cared for by your servants.

Your good wife has already looked after their comforts."

"And, be a.s.sured, O Tezcucan, that they will suffer no discomfort while under her care," returned Tezcot, showing his appreciation of his wife's excellence. He then added: "Referring to them, by the way, reminds me that others are needing refreshment. Zoei!" he called.

"Well, Tezcot, what is it?" came back from within.

"My jacket hangs limp as a dead hare's leg. Haven't ye something to put under it, eh?"

"Yes, supper is ready. Bring our guest and come."

Rising, Tezcot turned to the stranger, and said:

"Come, friend, you are doubtless as ready as myself to dispatch a good sized block of well prepared supper. There is nothing like a sharp appet.i.te and a well loaded board to make a man satisfied with himself and all the world."

"A philosophical utterance, certainly," returned the Tezcucan, following his host into the house.

The evening meal consisted of maize bread, cold meats of game, fruit, and chocolate. The hunter's favorite mug of pulque, which he always relished after a day on the mountains, was in its place near him, while one was immediately pa.s.sed to the guest.

Tezcot was here reminded of his promise to his men, and ordered a gla.s.s of the beverage for each taken to them; then taking his own from the board, he said:

"Drink, friend, and let our drinking be a pledge of future good will between us."

"Most cheerfully, kind host; and may I not add for myself, your excellent family as well?"

The mother smiled and the daughters blushed, while the host and his guest quaffed their pulque with keen and appreciative gusto.

"Superb!" exclaimed the Tezcucan. "Your friends do not overestimate the quality of your pulque, and I shall join their ranks at once."

"We are glad it pleases you. Your appreciation is our recompense,"

returned Tezcot, much gratified. "And, now," he continued, "let us try some of the substantials."

The suggestion was equivalent to a command, and all went to eating.

When the meal was fairly begun, Mitla gathered sufficient courage to say:

"Father, tell us about your hunt to-day. From the quant.i.ty of game brought in, good luck must have attended you."

"Yes, the day was fine, and brought us extra good luck," he answered, and then paused to indulge his keen appet.i.te for a moment. "Game was plentiful," he went on, "and we secured quite a bunch. There were some fine targets for testing an archer's skill, which would have delighted your heart, child, could you have been with us."

Mitla was the hunter's favorite, as was Oxie the favorite of her mother. The father's preference arose from the fact that Mitla, like himself, loved the mountains and their forest solitudes.

In reply to her father's reference to herself, she said:

"How much it would have delighted me, could I have been with you, I can not express; but you know how dearly I love to use my bow and arrow; let that speak for me. You often tell me, however, father, that I am too tender-hearted to engage in hunting."

"Yes, that's a fact, Mit, and I'm not sorry for it. I would not that ye were disposed to be cruel, for ye are a woman," he replied, in approval of her weakness, or, more fittingly, her innate sympathy.

"Your daughter is a fine archer, I infer?" remarked the Tezcucan inquiringly, addressing the mountaineer.

"Her arrow is true--I might say unerring," replied the father proudly.

"And yet few know that she is an archer, at all."

"My father, you see, is a little extravagant in his praise of my archery," interrupted Mitla.