"Wonderful! Marvellous! Superb! I envy you, sir; I can't help
but envy your possession of so magnificent--and so
well-preserved, too! That is the marvel of marvels!"

"Well, to be sure, I haven't used them very much. The bow and
arrows I could manage fairly well, after busy practice. They
have saved me from more than one hungry night. But as for the
rest--"

"You might have worn the--Is it a ghost-dance shirt, though?"
hesitatingly asked Waldo, gingerly fingering the wadded tunic.

"Waldo, I'm ashamed of you, boy!" almost harshly reproved the
professor. "Ghost-dance shirt, indeed! And this one of the most
complete--the only perfectly preserved specimen of the ancient
Aztec--pray, my good friend, where did you discover them? Surely
there can be no burial mounds so far above the latitude where
that unfortunate race lived and died?"

Mr. Edgecombe shook his head, with a puzzled look, then made
reply:

"No, sir. I took these all from an Indian I was forced to kill
in order to save my own life. I never thought--You are ill,
sir?"

"Bless my soul!" ejaculated the professor, falling back a pace or
two, then sitting down with greater force than grace, all the
while gazing upon those weapons like one in a daze. "Found
them--Indian--killed him in order to--bless my soul!"