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“Good,” I answered, “I will study it to-night,” and continued my walk, thinking little more about the matter, for my mind was full of other things.

The air was pleasant and the evening fine, so that I did not return to the house till the moon rose. As I passed up the path a man stepped so suddenly from the shelter of a bush in front of me, that I drew my machete, thinking that he meant to do me a mischief.

“Stay your hand, lord,” said the man, saluting me humbly, and at the same time giving the sign of brotherhood. “It is many years since we met, so perchance you may have forgotten me; still, you will remember my name; I am Molas, your foster-brother.”

Then I looked at him in the moonlight and knew him, though time had changed us both, and, putting my arms round him, I embraced him, seeing that he had been faithful when many deserted me, and I loved him as to-day I love his memory.

“What brings you here, Molas?” I asked; “when last I heard of you, you were dwelling far away in Chiapas.”