The hunter suspected the fugitive's identity, and, while waiting for night to come, when he could go to his relief, occupied the time in ruminating as to how he might best serve him. He haply hit upon an idea which appeared so plausible to him that, with an emphatic slap of the knee, he exclaimed:
"Just the thing! I'll save him, or my name's not Tezcot."
"What is 'just the thing,' father; and who are you going to save?" asked Mitla, who was present, and somewhat startled by the hunter's sudden outburst.
"The prince, child. Who else could I save just now?" he answered, absently.
At this moment a revelation came to Mitla's mind, which was quite a surprise to her, and she said, expressing it:
"What a simpleton I have been, father, not to have thought of it before--the man under the pile of chia-stalks is Hualcoyotl, the Tezcucan prince! Is that what you mean?"
"I'm sure I can, Mit," answered the hunter, positively. "But, child, ye must ask no questions; I can not answer ye."
"Very good, father. I'm sure you will do whatever you think you can," she replied, with the confidence of an unqualified belief in his infallibility.
The time dragged along very slowly to the kind-hearted hunter after his conception of a plan for relieving the fugitive. He felt that the poor fellow must certainly be suffering no little agony in his painful position, and his sympathy was stirred accordingly.
Night, which was impatiently waited for, came on at last, enveloping the mountains in darkness, obscuring from observation objects at a very short distance. It was the hour of relief for the hapless wanderer hidden out in the chia patch.
Tezcot and Mitla quietly left the house, and approached the spot where the man was concealed. The latter pointed out the pile of stalks which covered him, and the former lifted them off his motionless form. They found him in a pitiable condition, quite unable to rise. The hours of confinement under the chia stalks, together with his previous enervation, had rendered him benumbed and helpless. He was assisted to his feet, but his limbs refused to sustain him, and it was found necessary for the hunter to carry him to the house. He was taken to a private apartment, and placed on a comfortable couch. A mug of pulque was given him to drink, after which it was thought best to leave him for a time to himself, to recover, in a measure, from his spent condition.