“If you know whom the lake belongs to?” the young man in the water repeated.
“To whom?” said Kate, flustered.
“To the old gods of Mexico,” the stranger said. “You have to make a tribute to Quetzalcoatl, if you go on the lake.”
The strange calm effrontery of it! But truly Mexican.
“How?” said Kate.
“You can give me something,” he said.
“But why should I give something to you, if it is a tribute to Quetzalcoatl?” she stammered.
“I am Quetzalcoatl’s man, I,” he replied, with calm effrontery.
“And if I don’t give you anything?” she said.
He lifted his shoulders and spread his free hand, staggering a little, losing his footing in the water as he did so.