satiate with monotonous years, took the pipe from her indrawn lips, and
asked in a weary, trembling falsetto:

'How many wives hast had?'

'Seventane,' the Inca retorted quickly, dropping at once into broad
dialect, 'and now lone and lookin' to wed again. Wilt have me?'

'Nay,' replied the crone. 'I've buried four mysen, and no man o' mine
shall bury me.'

There was a burst of laughter, amid which the Inca, taking the crowd
archly into his confidence, remarked:

'I've never administered my elixir to any of my wives, ladies and
gentlemen. You may blame me, but I freely confess the fact;' and he
winked.

'Licksy! Licksy!' the drunken man idiotically chanted.

'And now,' the Inca proceeded, coming at length to the practical part of
his ovation, 'see here!' With the rapidity of a conjurer he whipped from
his pocket a small bottle, and held it up before the increasing
audience. It contained a reddish fluid, which shone bright and rich in
the sunlight. 'See here!' he cried magnificently, but he was destined to
interruption.

A sudden cry arose of 'Black Jack! Black Jack! 'Tis him! He's caught!'
And the Inca's crowd, together with all the other crowds filling the
market-place, surged off eastward in a dense, struggling mass.