Читать книгу A Prince of Anahuac - James A. Porter - Страница 10

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Off from Lake Tezcuco, in the direction of Tlascala, the country is rough and mountainous, and, at the time in which our story is laid, was a wild and woody district. We are not informed as to what nation or nations then possessed this territory; but, from the fact that it was a common hunting-ground, and frequently invaded by bands of soldiers, irrespective of tribal connections, it may be inferred that it was regarded neutral. Since this phase of the question is best suited to our purpose, we accept it as the true one.

Notwithstanding the wildness of the country, it had its denizens, though few in number and sparsely located. There were narrow, level stretches of ground-plateaus, found here and there on the range, sometimes extending for miles around the base of a mountain, or along the cliffs and crags which abounded. These plateaus, in most cases, were places of habitation; the men occupying them being of a class who preferred the life of a free mountaineer to living in the thickly settled districts. The territory was extensive, and game, consisting of wild fowl and small animals, was abundant. Herein was the charm which made a life there one of preference to those who found a home upon it. The occupation of the inhabitants was, therefore, chiefly that of hunting; and it may be added, in this connection, that many of the markets of the valley towns and cities were indebted to them for their supply of wild meats.

Some of the more thrifty and accumulative residents cultivated the plateaus on which they had fixed their habitations. When such was the case the mountaineer divided his time between farming and hunting; and, in some instances, a surprising degree of prosperity and comfort was the result. The better class prided themselves on their hospitality, and often carried it to a fault, to the truth of which hunters from the valley, and others who made excursions into the district, were ever ready to bear witness.

The most prominent person living in this mountainous region, and one who will hold a conspicuous place in our narrative, was a man named Tezcot, who did farming, besides being a most successful hunter. He was a person of intelligence, and showed in his intercourse with men that he had been well trained in his youth. He was never heard to refer to his early life, and all that could be learned of it was, that, for causes best known to himself, he had cut loose from his people, and, with his young wife, sought and found a home among the free hunters of the mountains.

As the years passed, this man grew in the estimation of his fellow mountaineers, until his position among them became one of preeminence. His goodness of heart, integrity of purpose, and excellent judgment made him a wise counselor. He was, consequently, consulted on all questions of importance. His advice was invariably good, and his decisions on questions referred to him for adjustment were always acquiesced in. As a result, peace and harmony prevailed where confusion and discord might otherwise have been expected. He was nominally the hunters' chief, ruling them by the power of his wisdom, integrity, and kindness.

Tezcot's dwelling was, comparatively, of a superior character. It was constructed of stone, and thatched with maguey leaves, and contained several apartments designed for supplying the needs of a family. Commodious porches protected its front and rear from the heat of a tropical sun, and furnished a pleasant retreat in leisure hours for the inmates. It was, altogether, a very convenient mountain home.

In addition to the dwelling there were quarters for servants, whom the mountaineer kept to perform the necessary labor about the place.[6]

The farm work was conducted mostly by an experienced and trusted vassal, while much of the master's time was spent on the mountains in pursuit of game.

Tezcot's household consisted of himself, his wife, and two daughters. The eldest daughter, who was about eighteen years of age, was a fine specimen of the Indian maiden, the pride of her immediate friends, and an object of admiration to all who knew her. She was known among the denizens of the range as the "Mountain Princess," to which appellation she was certainly entitled, if personal graces and womanly charms, together with the prominence of her father, counted in the elemental forces which fixed upon her a title so expressive of the high esteem in which she was held. Mitla was the name bestowed upon this nymph of the hills by her parents, and by which she will hereafter be known.

The second daughter of the hunter was not so queenly as her sister, and, being the younger, was looked upon as little more than a child. Her fifteen years were not sufficient to gain for her the consideration accorded the "Mountain Princess." Oxletta, or Oxie, as she was called, was an agreeable and comely appearing girl, and gave promise of developing into a splendid woman.

The mother was not an old woman, and still possessed much of the attractiveness and vivacity which had undoubtedly distinguished her in the bloom of womanhood. From her the daughters inherited much of the comeliness which marked them as objects of admiration and esteem. Her name was Xochitl, signifying wild flower, which evidenced, in its application, no small degree of loveliness even in the first years of her life. She was called "Zoei" by her acquaintances, and it fitted her well, so expressive of affection and gentleness, prominent characteristics of her disposition.

The daughters were given all the advantages possible under the isolated circumstances with which they were surrounded. The father and mother were fairly well educated, and through their efforts the girls became proficient in many things. Aside from being instructed in the history and traditions of their race, they were well trained in domestic affairs.

It is said of the Aztec women that they were adepts in the culinary arts. Their tables, when the occasion required it, we are informed, were replete with deliciously prepared sauces, confections, and other delicacies, which would have tempted the most fastidious epicurian palate; and Zoei, the good wife of the hunter Tezcot, was not an exception.

Spinning, embroidery, and featherwork were also considered essential accomplishments, in which the sisters were thoroughly instructed by their mother.

Featherwork was an art of peculiar interest to the Anahuacans, and they greatly excelled in it. Abundant material for its practice was always at hand in the beautiful plumage of the myriads of tropical birds: the parrot, the hummingbird, the pheasant, and many others of the feathered tribes which might be named, congruous to that latitude and country.

In addition to her other attainments, Mitla was a fine archer, and was often to be found on the mountains in pursuit of its practice.

It was evening, and the twilight was rapidly verging into night. At this hour three persons might have been seen wending their way around the southwestern slope of the mountain at the base of which stood the dwelling of Tezcot, the hunter. The fast fading light of the departing day penetrated with its crimson-tinted rays the thickly standing trees, throwing sombre shadows athwart the pathway of the sojourners, warning them of the nearness of night. It was evident, from the rapid movement of the party, that they were not unfamiliar with the rough trail they trod. They were moving along in single file. In the lead was a man of large mold, who, though apparently past middle life, was yet in the prime of manhood. Upon his back was strapped a javelin and bow, with an accompanying quiver, which, with his general appearance and dress, distinguished him as a hunter. His companions were following closely behind him, bearing a heavy burden between them, the end of the pole or support of the burden resting on a shoulder of each. They were silent as the noiseless forest through which they moved. Not a sound was heard save the measured tramp of their feet as they hastened on. Finally emerging onto the plateau, and seemingly relieved from the sense of solitude with which the deep silence of the forest had impressed them, the hunter said:

"It is a heavy load ye bear, lads; but the end is near, and ye'll soon be rid of it."

"Yes, master," said the foremost man; "it is, indeed, a heavy load, and would try us greatly to go much farther."

"Think what is ahead of ye yonder: a bracing meal, and, by my life, ye shall have a refreshing mug of pulque[7] to wash it down. D'ye hear?" returned the hunter, encouragingly.

"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 passing 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 gods 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 assured, 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 appetite 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 passed to the guest.

Tezcot was here reminded of his promise to his men, and ordered a glass 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 quantity 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 appetite 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.

"He, no doubt, has reasons for being so," said Cacami. "It is a delightful accomplishment, and I'm sure you realize much pleasure from it. I am not unskilled in the use of the bow, and greatly enjoy its employment." Turning to the younger sister, he continued: "You, my young friend—Oxie, I believe, do not engage in its practice?"

"No, my sister's excellence and my own awkwardness have always discouraged me, so I have given up trying," she answered a little ruefully.

"Oxie, if not an archer, has other accomplishments really more womanly," spoke the mother, joining in the conversation to defend her favorite.

"Your daughters are both, without doubt, worthy of all praise, each for those accomplishments best suited to her disposition," replied Cacami with tact, addressing his hostess.

"Good girls, friend, both of them," interrupted Tezcot, stripping the meat from the bone of a pheasant; "differently constituted, that's all." Then abruptly turning the subject, he said: "Have you been successful, Cacami, in chasing the charm to which you alluded this evening, the charm which we of the mountains find in pursuing the hunter's calling?"

"You may be assured, O Tezcot, that I have no cause for complaint. My success has always been very satisfactory," replied Cacami; and continuing, he inquired: "How do you hunters manage to dispose of your game aside from what you consume?"

"Take or send it to the nearest market. My men will go in after another day to dispose of our surplus, which is now quite large," replied the mountaineer.

"I brought in a fine lot with me to-night, and as I never carry game from a worthy host's door, you may consider it a part of your surplus, which I hope will obviate the necessity of your going to the mountains to-morrow, thus affording you a day's rest," said Cacami, evidently bent on meeting the generosity of his host.

"It requires no such sacrifice, O Cacami, to prove your heartiness of will. We can not allow it," remonstrated Tezcot. "No, no, my friend, you must not think of it."

"I have so decided, good host, and beg that you will allow me to have my way," returned Cacami respectfully, but in a manner that settled the question.

"Well, friend, you seem bent on carrying out your purpose, which we hope is not prompted by any doubt of the unselfishness of our hospitality," said the hunter, feeling that his cherished reputation for generosity was being questioned.

"Not at all, most hospitable of men. On the contrary, the giving of the game is intended as a trifling mark of my appreciation of your unequaled liberality," urged Cacami. "The value of game, to me, is gone," he continued, "when I have it in hand. It is the pursuit of it, and not its possession, which brings satisfaction, excepting when I can dispose of it in the way I propose; then it does become of value, not intrinsically, but for the pleasure it returns when thus bestowed."

"You are kind, very kind, Cacami," rejoined the hunter, relenting. "And since you will have it so, be assured it shall not be lost to you."

"And why should it be counted lost at all? Does the hospitality of the great-hearted Tezcot amount to so little? The game is an insignificant return, I assure you, for the gratification it will afford me to recall having eaten of your bread and drunken of your pulque," returned Cacami warmly.

Supper was here concluded, and, yielding to the Tezcucan's fervency, Tezcot said:

"So be it, friend; providing, however, that you remain our guest another day, and join Mit and me in a short excursion on the mountain."

"That I will most cheerfully do, and count the day happily spent," responded Cacami graciously.

The majority of the little group we have introduced in this chapter—the home of the hunter's chief and the adjacent mountains, will figure extensively in this narrative. With our brief sketch of the persons presented, we leave the reader to perfect the individuality of each, forgetting for the moment to what race they belonged. An eminent mountaineer hunter, a man of noble impulses, proficient in everything required of him; an excellent wife and mother, who was a worthy companion to the father of her children; two beautiful maidens, who, though of directly opposite temperaments, were equally devoted in their home relations—an exceptional family, together with their Tezcucan guest, a young man whom the reader, we hope, will find an agreeable accession to the personnel of our story.