“I’m not common, Joe,” I protested; “and I’ve a notion a decent American is the social equal of an Indian chief. It’s social equality I’m talking about, not rank.”
“Cap’n Sam is right,” observed Chaka, with a smile that would have fascinated a woman. “Equality among men is found only in heart and brain.”
His readiness to converse, remembering his former reserve, almost startled me.
“Perhaps you’re right,” drawled Joe. “But tell us, Chaka, is there much danger in this coming adventure, do you think?”
The Maya looked grave.
“Plenty danger, Cap’n Joe.” Every one was a “Cap’n” to Chaka; he considered it a complimentary title, bound to please. “Danger from Itzaex, first of all; but not much, for I am Chief’s son. More danger from Mopane tribe, who hate Itzaex. Most danger from the mighty Tcha, who very strong, very jealous, very watchful.”
“What are those people like?” I asked.
The Maya shook his head.
“My father not tell me. When I ask, he tremble, like he afraid; and my father is brave man. But the Tcha country very small—in the middle of a mountain—and their legend say a white man some day discover them and be their master. My brother Paul is white man.”
“So you think our greatest danger will be to get to the hidden city, do you?”