“The legends say that the ancient race of Tcha still exists, hidden somewhere near here. Your presence leads us to believe the tale.”
There was no reply.
“Your skin is white; you are not of the Maya race,” continued Paul.
The man remained silent.
“May we not visit your people, and greet them as friends?”
Red-beard shook his head. “You talk in riddles,” he replied coolly.
“A white skin in Yucatan is unusual,” hinted Paul.
“Yet five of you have white skins,” answered the other, not giving our sun-browned Mexican credit for belonging to our race.
“We are Americans,” said Paul. “Soon we shall return to our own country, far away, from whence we came. It would please us, since we are here, to meet your people, who have so long secluded themselves from the great world.”
The red-beard made no reply to this. He did not refuse to answer any direct question, but would not argue or give us any satisfaction in return for our friendly advances.