Then, after the air-ship was cared for to the best of his
ability, and the night-guard set in place so that an alarm might
give warning of any illegal intrusion, the little party returned
to the cavern home of the exile where, after another refusal on
his part, the professor filled and lighted his beloved pipe.

Almost in spite of himself Featherwit was drawn towards those
marvellous articles depending from the wall, and, as he gazed in
silent marvel, Cooper Edgecombe drew nigh, with still other
articles to complete the collection.

"You may possibly find something of interest in these, too, dear
sir, although I have given them rather rough usage. This formed
a rather comfortable cap, and--"

"A helmet! And sandals! A sash which is--yes! worn about the
waist, mainly to support weapons, and termed a maxtlatl,
which--and all sufficiently well preserved to be readily
recognised as genuine--unless--Surely I am dreaming!"

If not precisely that, the worthy professor assuredly was almost
beside himself while examining these articles of warrior's wear,
one by one, knowing that neither eyes nor memory were at fault,
yet still unable to believe those very senses.

Up to this, Cooper Edgecombe had felt but a passing interest in
the matter, forming as it did but a single incident in a more
than ordinarily eventful life; but now he began to divine at
least a portion of the truth, and his face was lighted up with
unusual animation, when Phaeton Featherwit turned that way, to