lost as might be constructed. Then I watched and waited for just
such another storm as the one upon whose wings my darlings were
borne away, meaning to take the same course, and so find--"

"Why, man, dear, you must have been insane!" impulsively cried
the professor, unable longer to control his tongue.

"Perhaps I was; little wonder if so," admitted Edgecombe, turning
that way, with a wan smile lighting up his visage. "I could no
longer reason. I could only act. I had but that one grim hope,
to eventually discover what time and exposure to the weather
might have left of my lost loves.

"Then, after so long waiting, the storm came, blowing in the same
direction as that other. I cut my balloon loose, and let it
drift. I looked and waited, hoping, longing, yet--failing! I was
wrecked, here in this wilderness. My balloon was carried away.
I failed to find--aught!"

Cooper Edgecombe turned towards the air-ship, with a sigh of
regret.

"If one had something like this then, I might have found
them,--even alive! But now--too late--eternally too late!"



CHAPTER XIII. THE LOST CITY OF THE AZTECS.

Uncle Phaeton was more than willing to do the honours of his pet