"I lost my train," said the old fellow, "and on returning to the hotel I met Lynx-Eye, who recruited me. I represent science and am entrusted with the geological, geographical, crographical, stratigraphical, palaeontological and other observations. I shall have plenty to do."
"Forward, then!" commanded Simon. And, taking the lead with Antonio, he at once said, "Now tell me about your companions. And you, Lynx-Eye, where do you hail from? After all, if there are still a few specimens of Redskins left, they're not out for a good time on the highways of Europe. Confess that you are, all of you, made up and disguised."
"They are no more made up than I am," said Antonio. "We come from the other side. For my part, I am the grandson of one of the last remaining Indian chiefs, Long Carbine who ran away with the little daughter of a Canadian trapper. My mother was a Mexican. You see that, though there's a mixture, our origins are beyond dispute."
"But afterwards, Lynx-Eye? What has happened afterwards? I'm not aware that the British government provides for the descendants of the Sioux or Mohicans?"
"There are other concerns besides the British government," said the Indian.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean there are concerns which are interested in keeping us going."
"Really? What are they?"
"The cinema-firms."
Simon struck his hand against his forehead: