snatched up half a dozen gloriously hot tortillas and frijoles. A cry of
indignation and anger was checked at the old woman's lips as two small
silver coins slipped from the boy's hands, and tinkled pleasantly
together in her own.

Holding his spoils in his hands Ned walked swiftly up the street. He
glanced back once, and saw that the old Aztec woman had sunk back into
her original position. He had nothing to fear from any alarm by her, and
he looked ahead for some especially dark nook in which he could devour
the precious food. He saw none, but he caught a glimpse beyond of
foliage, and he recalled enough of the city of Mexico to know what it
was. It was the Zocalo or garden of the cathedral, the Holy Metropolitan
Church of Mexico. Above the foliage he could see the dark walls, and
above them he saw the dome, as he had seen it from the window of his
prison. Over the dome itself rose a beautiful lantern, in which a light
was now burning.

Ned entered the garden which contained many trees, and sat down in the
thickest group of them. Then he began to eat. He was as ravenous as any
wolf, but he had been cultivating the power of will, and he ate like a
gentleman, knowing that to do otherwise would not be good for him. But,
tempered by discretion, it was a glorious pursuit. It was almost worth
the long period of fasting and suffering, for common Mexican food,
bought on the street from an old Aztec woman, to taste so well. Strength
flowed back into every vein and muscle. He would not now give way to
fears and tremblings which were of the body rather than the mind. He
stopped when half of the food was gone, put the remainder in his pocket,
and stood up. Fine drops of water struck him in the face. It had begun
to rain. And a raw wind was moaning in the valley.