The Lost City, Jr. Joseph E. Badger [spicy books to read txt] 📗
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and we must consult together before breaking the news. For now
we have had no rest, so I believe we would better lie down for an
hour or two.”
Mr. Edgecombe appeared to be perfectly willing to do this, and
soon the wearied men were wrapped in blankets and sleeping
peacefully.
Long before their lids unclosed, Bruno had an appetising meal in
readiness, although the others had broken fast long before, and
Ixtli, his hands tightly clasped behind his back, as a child is
wont to resist temptation, was inspecting the air-ship in awed
silence.
Taking advantage of this preoccupation, Bruno quickly yet clearly
explained to his uncle all that had happened, showing that by
playing a more prudent part the young warrior must inevitably
have perished.
Then, making sure Cooper Edgecombe was not near enough to catch
his words, Bruno told in brief the information gleaned from Ixtli
concerning the Children of the Sun, whom he and Waldo more than
suspected must be the long-lost wife and daughter of the exiled
aeronaut.
As might have been expected, Professor Featherwit was deeply
stirred by all this, fidgeting nervously while keeping alert
ears, with difficulty smothering the ejaculations which fought
for exit through his lips.
After satisfying his craving for food, the professor led the
young Aztec apart from the rest of the party, speaking kindly and
sympathetically until he had won a fair share of liking for his
own, then broaching the subject of the Sun Children.
After this it was by no means a difficult matter to get at the
seat of trouble, and little by little Featherwit satisfied
himself that Ixtli would do all, dare all, for the sake of
benefiting the woman and maiden who had treated him so kindly.
At a covert sign from the professor, Bruno came to join in the
talk, and his sympathy made the young Aztec even more
communicative. And Ixtli spoke more at length concerning
Tlacopa, the paba, and another enemy whom the Children of the Sun
had nearly equal cause to fear, one Huatzin, or Prince Hua,
chiefest among the mighty warriors of the Aztecan clans.
This evil prince had for years past sought Victo for his bride,
while his son, Iocetl, tried in vain to win the heart-smiles of
the fair Glady, Victo’s daughter. And, through revenge for
having their suit frowned upon, these wicked knaves had joined
hands with the priest in trying to drag the Sun Children down
from their lofty pedestal.
It did not take long questioning, or shrewd, to convince the
professor that in Ixtli they could count upon a true and daring
supporter in case they should conclude to interfere in behalf of
his patroness and teacher, adored Victo.
The professor led the way over to the air-ship, there producing
the clothing and arms once worn by another Aztec warrior, which
he had carefully stowed away in the locker, loath to lose sight
of such valuable relics; truly unique, as he assured himself at
the moment.
Bruno gave a little exclamation at sight of the articles, then in
eager tones he made known the daring idea which then flashed
across his busy brain.
“We ought to make sure before taking action, uncle Phaeton. Then
why not let me don these clothes and steal down into the valley,
under cover of darkness, to see the ladies and—”
“No, no, my lad,” quickly interrupted the professor, gripping an
arm as though fearful of an instant runaway. “That would be too
risky; that would be almost suicidal! And—no use talking,” with
an obstinate shake of his head, as Bruno attempted to edge in an
expostulation. “I will never give my consent; never!”
“Or hardly ever,” supplied Waldo, coming that way like one who
feels the proprieties have been more than sufficiently outraged.
“Give some other person a chance to wag his chin a bit, can’t ye,
gentlemen? Not that I care to chatter merely for sake of
hearing my own voice; but—eh?”
“We were considering whether or no ‘twould be advisable to take a
walk over to the observatory,” coolly explained the professor.
“Of course, if you would rather remain here to watch the
aerostat—”
“Let Bruno do that, uncle. He grew thoroughly disgusted with
what he saw over yonder, yesterday,” placidly observed the
youngster.
“Waldo, you villain!”
“Well, didn’t you vow and declare that you could recognise grace
and beauty and all other varieties of attractiveness only
in—dark brunettes, old man?”
Professor Featherwit hastily interposed, lest words be let fall
through which Mr. Edgecombe might catch a premature idea of the
possible surprise held in store; and shortly afterwards the start
was made for the snug covert from whence the Lost City had been
viewed on prior occasions.
Naturally their route led them directly past the scene of the
bear fight, where the huge carcass lay as yet undisturbed, and
calling forth sundry words of wonder and even admiration, through
its very ponderosity and now harmless ferocity.
Professor Featherwit deemed it his duty to gravely reprove his
wards for their rash conduct, yet something in his twinkling eyes
and in the kindly touch of his bony hand told a far different
tale. His anger took the shape of pride and of heart-love.
In due course of time the lookout was won, and without delay the
savant turned his field-glass upon the temple which appeared to
appertain to the so-called Sun Children; but, not a little to his
chagrin, the azotea was utterly devoid of human life.
But that disappointment was of brief existence, for, almost as
though his action was the signal for which they had been waiting,
mother and daughter came slowly into view, arm in arm, clad in
robes of snowy white, with their luxuriant locks flowing loose as
upon former occasions.
Both lads—three of them, to be more exact—gave low exclamations
of eager interest as those shapes came in sight, while even
Cooper Edgecombe gazed with growing interest upon the scene,
wholly unsuspecting though he was as yet.
A slight nod from the professor warned the brothers to stand
ready in case of need, then he offered the exile the glass,
begging him to inspect yonder fair women upon the teocalli.
The glass was levelled and held firmly for a half minute, then
the exile gave a choking cry, gasping, ere he fell as one smitten
by death:
“Merciful heavens! My wife—my child!”
CHAPTER XXI.
DISCUSSING WAYS AND MEANS.
In good measure prepared for some such result, in case their
expectations should prove true, friendly hands at once closed
upon the exile, hurrying him back, and still more completely
under cover, as quickly as might be.
Cooper Edgecombe seemed as wax in their hands, not utterly
deprived of consciousness, but rather like one dazed by some
totally unexpected blow. He made not the slightest resistance,
yielding to each impulse given, shivering and weak as one just
rallying from an almost mortal illness.
Yet there came an occasional flash to his eyes which warned the
wary professor of impending trouble, and as quickly as might be
the stunned aeronaut was removed from the point of observation,
taken by short stages back to the spot where rested the
flying-machine.
Ixtli seemed something awed by this (to him) inexplicable conduct
on the part of the gaunt-limbed stranger, but gave his new-found
friends neither trouble nor cause for worry, bearing them company
and even lending a hand whenever he thought it might be needed.
The Gillespie brothers were far more deeply stirred, as was
natural, but even Waldo contrived to keep a fair guard over his
at times unruly member, speaking but little during that retreat.
With each minute that elapsed Cooper Edgecombe gained in bodily
powers, and while his mental strength was slower to respond, that
proved to be a blessing rather than otherwise.
The rendezvous was barely gained ere he gave a hoarse cry of
reviving memory, then strove to break away from that friendly
care, calling wildly for his wife, his daughter, fancying them in
some dire peril from which alone his arms could preserve them.
It was a painful scene as well as a trying one, that which
followed closely, and respite only came after bonds had been
applied to the limbs of the madman,—for such Cooper Edgecombe
assuredly was, just then.
There were tears in the professor’s eyes, as he strove hardest to
soothe the sufferer, assuring him that his loved ones should be
restored to his arms, yet repeatedly reminding him that any rash
action taken then must almost certainly work against their better
interests.
The exile grew less violent, but that was more through physical
exhaustion than aught else, and what had, from the very first,
appeared a difficult enigma, now looked far worse.
Only when fairly well assured that the sufferer would not attract
unwelcome attention their way through too boisterous shouting,
did the professor draw far enough away for quiet consultation
with his nephews.
Mr. Edgecombe was deposited within the air-ship, secured in such
a manner that it would be well-nigh impossible for him to do
either himself or the machine material injury, no matter how
violent he might become; and hence, in case of threatened trouble
from the inmates of the Lost City, flight would not be seriously
hindered through caring for him.
Professor Featherwit now gleaned from his nephews pretty much all
they could tell him concerning sights and events since his
departure in quest of the exile. That proved to be very little
more than he had already learned, and contained still less which
seemed of especial benefit to that particular enigma awaiting
solution.
True, Waldo suggested that Ixtli be employed as a medium of
communication between the Sun Children and themselves; but,
possibly because, as a rule, this irrepressible youngster’s ideas
were generally the wildest and most far-fetched imaginable, uncle
Phaeton frowned upon the plan.
No; the young Aztec might prove true at heart, even as
indications went, but the risk of so trusting him would prove far
too great.
“That’s just because you haven’t known and slept with him, like
we have,” declared Waldo. “He’s red on the outside, but he’s got
just as white a soul as the best of us,—bar none.”
Bruno likewise appeared to think well of the young brave, and
suggested an amendment to Waldo’s motion,—that he accompany
Ixtli into the sunken valley, covered by the friendly shades of
night, there to open communication with the Sun Children.
“By so doing, we could make certain of their identity,” the young
man argued, earnestly. “That, it appears to me, is the first
step to be taken. For, in spite of the apparent recognition by
Mr. Edgecombe, it is possible that no actual relationship
exists.”
“What of that?” bluntly cut in the younger Gillespie. “Don’t you
reckon strangers’d like to take a little walk, just as well as
any other people?”
“Patience, my lad,” interposed the professor. “While we seem in
duty bound to lend aid and assistance to women in actual
distress, we can only serve them with their own free will and
accord. Granting that the women we saw upon the teocalli were
other than those believed by our afflicted friend—”
“But, uncle, look at their names! And don’t Ixtli say—tell ‘em
all over again, pardner, won’t ye?” urged Waldo, taking a burning
interest in the matter, as was his custom when fairly involved.
The young Aztec complied as well as lay within his power, giving
it as his fixed opinion that sore trouble, if not actual peril,
awaited the Children of the Sun, unless assisted by
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