"You can't be Manuel," said Marshal.
"He can't be Manuel," said the big policemen and the little policeman.
"Maybe not, then," the dwarf conceded. "I thought I was, but I wasn't sure. Who am I then? Let's look at the other papers and see which one I am."
"No, you can't be any of them either, Manuel. And you surely can't be Manuel."
"Give him a name anyhow and get him counted. We got to get to that ten thousand mark."
"Tell us what happened, Manuel—if you are. Which you aren't. But tell us."
"After I counted the regular people I went to count the little people. I took a spade and spaded off the top of their town to get in. But they put an encanto on me, and made me and Mula run a treadmill for thirty-five years."
"Where was this?"
"At the little people town. Nuevo Danae. But after thirty-five years the encanto wore off and Mula and I stole the list of names and ran away."
"But where did you really get this list of so many names written so small?"