pass that point. "The tunic of quilted cotton, the escaupil!
The maquahuitl, with its blades of grass! The bow and arrows
which--all, all surely of Aztecan manufacture, yet seemingly
fresh and serviceable as though in use but a month ago! And the
race extinct for centuries!"

"Well, unless he's a howling liar from 'way up the crick, he
extincted one of 'em," cheerfully commented Waldo, bearing his
canned fruit to the cavern.

Professor Featherwit followed shortly after, finding the exile
busy preparing food, looking and acting far more naturally than
he had since his rescue from the whirlpool. And then, until the
evening meal was announced, uncle Phaeton hovered near those
amazing curiosities, now gazing like one in a waking dream, then
gingerly fingering each article in turn, as though hoping to find
a solution for his enigma through the sense of touch.

Taken all in all, that was far from a pleasant or enjoyable meal.
A sense of restraint rested upon each one of that little company,
and not one succeeded in fairly breaking it away, though each
tried in turn.

Despite the struggle made by the exile to hold all emotions well
under subjection, Cooper Edgecombe failed to hide his almost
childish delight at sight and taste of those canned goods, and it
did not require much urging on the part of his rescuers to ensure
his partaking freely.

But the cap-sheaf came when uncle Phaeton, true to his habit of