ou
killed him, but--there were others, still?"

"Many of them; far too many for any one man to withstand," earnestly
declared the exile. "I made all haste in bearing the redskin here,
obliterating all signs as quickly as possible; yet for days and nights I
cowered here in utter darkness, each minute expecting an attack from too
powerful a force for standing against."

Uncle Phaeton rubbed his hands briskly, shifting his weight hurriedly
from one foot to its mate, then back again, the very personification of
eager interest and growing conviction.

"More of them? A strong force? Armed,--and garbed as of old? The
clothing, the footwear, and, above all else, the weapons, purely
Aztecan? And here, only two short years ago?"

"Sadly long and hideously dreary years I have found them, sir," the
exile said, in dejected tones.

The professor burst into a shrill, excited laugh, which sounded almost
hysterical, and, not a little to the amazement of his nephews, broke
into a regular dance, jigging it right merrily, hands on hips, head
perked, and chin in air, at the same time striving to carry the tune in
his far from melodious voice.

After all, perhaps no better method could have been taken to work off
his almost hysterical excitement, and presently he paused, panting and
heated, chuckling after an abashed fashion as he encountered the eyes of
his nephews.

"Not a word, my dear boys," he hastened to plead. "I had to do something
or--or explode! I feel better, now. I can behave myself, I hope. I am
calm, cool, and composed as--the genuine Aztecs! And we are the ones to
discover that--oh, I forgot!"

For Waldo was fairly exploding with mirth, while Bruno smiled, and even
the exile appeared to be amused to a certain extent at his expense.

Little by little, the worthy savant calmed down, and then, almost
forcing the exile to indulge in another delicious smoke, he led up to
the subject in which his interest was fairly intense.

Cooper Edgecombe was willing enough to tell all that lay in his power,
although he was only beginning to realise how much that might mean to
the world at large, judging by the actions of the professor.

According to his account, the great lake, or drainage reservoir of the
Olympics, was a sort of semi-yearly rendezvous for a warlike tribe of
red men, where they congregated for the purpose of catching and drying
vast quantities of fish, doubtless to be used during the winter.

"As a general thing