so,--a very, very old man. His name was Manuel
Alayon. He used to tell us all about these enchanted houses. He had
a book that none but he could read, which contained many things
about them. We used to gather at his house at night to listen to
the reading of that book."

"Where is the book now, father?"

"Don't know. Alayon died. No one ever knew what became of the
sacred book. Afterwards came the insurrection of the Indians, and
the old friends also died."

"Do you remember what the book said?"

"Now, one of the things comes to my mind. It said that there was a
very old house called the _Akab-sib_, and in that house a writing,
which recited that _a day would come when the inhabitants of Saci
would converse with those of Ho [Merida] by means of a cord, that
would be stretched by people not belonging to the country_."

When I heard this, the idea occurred to me that the old fellow was
quietly having his little bit of fun at my expense. In order to be
sure of it I inquired:--

"What do you say, father? How can that be? Do you imagine how
people forty leagues apart can converse by means of a cord?"

But when my interlocutor answered that he could not either know or
imagine how that could be done, and particularly when my friends
assured me that Chable had no idea of the electric telegraph, I
then became convinced of his good faith, and began to ponder on the
strange disclosure we had just listened to. The old man soon rose
to take his departure, and I invited him to call again, when he had
not been to church and consoled himself with his spiritual friend,
in order that I might be able to take his portrait. He repeated his
visit a few days later, as requested. I took his portrait, and
asked him again about the monuments of Chichen. But, alas! that day
his lips were sealed, or his memory failed, or his Indian secrecy
had returned. He knew nothing of them; had never been there; did
not remember what the old men said of the enchanted houses when he
was young, except that the place had been enchanted for many, many
years, and that it was not good to sleep near them, because the
_Xlab-pak-yum_, the lord of the old walls, would be angry at the
intrusion, and chastise the offender by disease and death within
the year.

Some months late