“Then, so says the legend, the Indians will once more be a mighty nation, and drive those who oppress them into the sea, as the wind drives dust.”
Now the señor rose from his chair and walked up and down the room.
“Do you believe all this?” he asked, suddenly.
“Yes,” I answered, “or the greater part of it. Indeed, if what I hear is true, the lost half of the talisman that has been missing for so many generations is in Mexico at this moment, and, so soon as I am well enough, I go to seek him who bears it, and who has come from far to find me. That is why we must part, señor.”
“Where has this man come from?” he asked, eagerly.
“I do not know for certain,” I answered, “but I think that he has come from the sacred city of the Indians, the hidden Golden City which the Spaniards sought for but could not find, though it still exists among the mountains and deserts of the far interior, whither I hope to journey with him.”
“That still exists! Ignatio, you must be mad. It never has existed except in the imagination.”
“You say so, señor, but I think differently. At least, I knew a man whose grandfather had seen it. He, the grandfather, was a native of San Juan Batista, in Tobasco, and when he was young he committed some crime and fled inland to save his life.
“All that befell him I do not know, but at length he found himself wandering by the shores of a great lake, somewhere in or beyond the country that is now known as Guatemala, and, being exhausted, he laid himself down to die there and fell asleep.
“When he awoke, people were standing round him, like the Indians to look at, but very light in colour, and beautifully dressed in white robes, with necklaces of emeralds and feather capes. These people put him on board a great canoe, and took him to a glorious city with a high pyramid in the centre of it, which was named Heart of the World.