"Polo? Polo? Well, now, I think I've heard of them. Was one of
them a big red-bearded man with a great eye for a horse and a great
eye for a woman?"

"That would be my Uncle Matthew."

"For God's sake! And was the other a cold, dark man, a good judge
of a jewel and a grand judge of a sword?"

"My father, Nicholas Polo."

"For God's sake! You're the son of one and the nephew of the other?"

"Did you know them?"

"Ah, laddie, how would I be knowing people like that! Sure, they're
great folks, high in the esteem of the grand Khan, and I'm only a
poor sailorman."

"But you heard of them."

"I heard of them. They were in good health. And I heard they were
on their way home, though they would travel overland and not risk
the great dangers of the sea. I suppose, if they go back to China,
you'll be going with them?"

"I don't know," says Marco Polo.

"You ought to see China. It's a great country, a beautiful country."