“That’s right, it never rains but it pours,” Billie went on to say, as he fondled his Marlin repeating rifle, which had of late proven its value in many ways; one of which accounted for the skin of a grizzly bear which the overseer at the Red Spar Mine had promised to cure for the boy, and send to the ranch later on.
He listened and soon made up his mind that the howls were approaching.
“Course they just seem to know there’s a chance for a fine meal, out here on the wild old desert; and there they come, licketty-split, as fast as they can run. But they needn’t think they’ve got an easy mark to deal with. Reckon that if I could knock over an old he-grizzly, I ought to be able to take care of a pack of cowardly wolves and coyotes. Huh! let ’em come, I say. But I wish that old moon’d peep out from behind them clouds; it’d sure be a heap more sociable like.”
Brave words these were, and Billie doubtless meant to prove that he did not fear the coming of the four-footed pirates of the plains and the desert. All the same, his hands trembled more or less as he handled his gun, nervously drawing back the hammer several times, as if to make certain that it worked mechanically.
There could be no doubt but that the wolves were heading straight toward him. Billie was amazed. Why, had it been daylight, so that they could see him with their sharp eyes, they could not be taking a more direct course toward the spot where he and Jupiter were encamped.
Once he thought that perhaps he ought to jump on the back of his pony, and let the broncho shoot off over the desert as he pleased; feeling certain that Jupiter would do everything that lay in his power to keep out of the reach of the wolves.
Hardly had this idea occurred to him than he turned it down.
“That would be fool’s play,” he declared, aloud, so that Jupiter might hear him, and perhaps understand what motives influenced his actions. “They’d keep right on after us, and sooner or later we’d just have to haul up and fight it out. So what’s the use changing base? If it’s got to come, this is as good a place as any. And if I’ve been and got anywhere near the border of the desert, what a goose I’d be to head back into it again, when that sand storm may commence in the morning. No sir-ee, here I take my stand, come what will; and that’s all there is to it!”
Somehow Billie felt better after all that heroic talk. It does brace one up to exhibit such defiance, say what you will about it.
He no longer lay there on his blanket, but was on his feet. The first thing he did proved that Billie was getting on, and no longer the greenhorn he had been; for he made sure to secure the canteen; in case Jupiter took it into his head to run away, he would not carry off this priceless article with him.
That proved to be one of the smartest things the boy had ever done in all his life, and showed how he was waking up these days, under the new conditions which surrounded him, making him think for himself. For the terrified pony did presently jerk loose, and go galloping away, much to the chagrin of his owner.
However, there was no time now for crying over spilt milk, as Billie told himself. The approaching wolves were very close, and would soon be upon him.
Billie tried to figure out whether the cowardly creatures would attack him immediately; or after their customary manner, hang about in a circle at an ever decreasing distance, waiting for him to be overpowered by sleep.
“Looks like I’m up against it,” he said aloud; “and let’s see how a Winkle can pull through. There’s lots of ’em been soldiers, and never yet did one turn out to be a coward; and I ain’t meaning to be the first, hear that?”
Whether he was addressing the wind, or the nearby wolves, Billie did not say; but his defiance was meant all the same.
He tried to penetrate the darkness so that he might see some object at which he could fire, for he wanted to make every bullet count, if possible. There was no telling how many of the wolves and coyotes there might be. If he kept on shooting them down, and more continued to arrive, the dreadful moment must come when he would run out of ammunition. What then? The programme ceased to interest Billie after that stage. True, he would still have his trusty hunting-knife, and that possessed a keen edge on both sides; but what a puny weapon it must always be in the hands of one unaccustomed to wielding a blade like that, and with an unnumbered throng of four-footed adversaries leaping about him.
Now the howls were along a different order. Billie fancied that he could trace exultation among other things in the last series; just as though the wolves began to feel sure of their supper, and rejoiced accordingly. Many a time had Billie himself shouted with glee because of that call to the spread; and now he was experiencing how it felt to be on the other side of the fence, with these hungry wolves springing to the feast.
Well, first he would at least have some satisfaction in knocking over a few of his lupine enemies—he believed that was what they were called in books he had read concerning their characteristics.
There was certainly something moving close at hand, and coming toward him too. Billie swung his ready gun that way. Looking closely he felt sure that he could make out a dark, slinking form—yes, and there were two shining dots that made him think of a cat’s eyes as seen in the dark, such as he had often done at home.
Billie waited for no more. He knew the first of the wolves had arrived, and that he could not get busy any too soon now. The quicker he taught these varmints a much needed lesson, the better. Besides, if he could only succeed in killing a few of the gray rascals perhaps he might take that keen edge off the appetites of the others, for he knew that they would lose no time in pouncing on any of their mates from whom blood was drawn.
With this in mind he leveled his rifle, took as good aim as was possible under the conditions, and pulled the trigger.
Instantly a wild screech arose, proving that his bullet had not been wasted. He instantly got his rifle in readiness for further operations, and then grimly waited to see what followed.
There was a great scurrying around out there in the gloom, accompanied by all sorts of snapping noises, some growls, and the sounds of a battle.
“Glory!” ejaculated the boy, as he crouched there, trying to pierce the darkness that shrouded the scene so completely, “I do believe the rest of the gang have tackled the one I hit, and are tearing him to pieces right now. Ugh! hear ’em snap and growl, would you? Don’t I wish it was light enough to see, and wouldn’t I just like to send another chunk of lead straight in among the lot? Oh! why can’t the beggarly old moon peep out, just to encourage a poor fellow once in a while?”
Apparently his earnest plea must have been heard, for just then there did come a break in the clouds, allowing the moon a chance to look out. Billie seemed to take it for granted that he was being favored, and that he must make a quick use of the golden opportunity.
He was already looking straight out toward the place where all this commotion seemed to be in progress, so that as soon as he saw the whirling figures there he started in to send several shots that way.
That he did not waste his ammunition was evident, for there was a wild scattering among the fighting animals; and he could plainly see several forms lying there, before the moon again hid her smiling face.
“Good boy! do it some more, can’t you?” Billie cried out, being wildly exultant by this time, because of his success.
The wolves kept at some little distance after that. They had learned a lesson, and would be careful how they attacked the one who apparently had it in his power to deal out death at will.
Half an hour later he could hear sounds again in the same old quarter. He understood from this that the hungry beasts were making a meal off the unlucky victims of his fire, but as this suited him very well, Billie did not attempt to interfere.
That threatened to be the longest night in all his experience, for he knew that he dared not go to sleep, even for a minute, lest those daring beast of prey jump upon him; and once at close quarters, where the repeating rifle did not count for more than a cudgel, get the better of him.
Sometimes it was almost impossible for the boy to keep his eyes open, despite the fact that he was fully aware of the serious consequences, that would follow, should he forget himself. He fought fully fifty battles while night held sway; and often victory was gained only by a close margin; for more than once he had nodded until his head fell forward, and this served to arouse him again.
He had matches with him, and once in a long time used one so that he might have the consolation of learning the time of night.
It seemed to Billie that his little nickel watch must have stopped, though he had surely wound it up, and so far as he knew it was not subject to tricks of any kind. But those minutes did drag most terribly, and when four o’clock arrived he began to look toward the east most expectantly, though he knew full well that he could not possibly discover the first gleams of coming day for at least an hour and a half.
All was well, however, and that gave the boy considerable solid satisfaction. He experienced the pleasure that always accompanies a task rightly done; and even fancied that Donald and Adrian must find reasons for congratulating him, when they heard how he had kept guard all through that dreadful night.
He could hear the wolves moving around every little while, but as a rule they had learned their lesson well, and kept at a certain distance away. Then again it was of course possible that, not being so ferociously hungry as they had been in the beginning, they were no longer ready to take desperate chances.
Twice Billie had discovered a pair of glowing eyes shining in the darkness like twin stars; and thinking that he might as well do what execution was possible, while the chance remained, he had on both occasions carefully aimed his gun, and then fired. And as he gleefully told himself on each occasion, from the clamor that ensued he felt pretty positive that he had hit something. The other wolves did the rest; because that was what they were on the spot for, to secure a meal.
But now it was almost time when he felt he must detect those welcome signs in the east that would tell of coming day.
Billie rejoiced to know that he had really come through that terrible night in such decent condition. He was not a particle sleepy now, for all that had worn off, and he felt that he could hold his own. All the same, he continued to look anxiously toward that promising quarter of the horizon where he must soon discover the first gray streaks of morning.
“I really and truly believe that’s it, coming along at last; and say, I give you my solemn affidavy right now, that I never saw daybreak as thankfully as this same morning!”
That was what Billie was telling himself, as he strained his eyes, and perhaps his imagination at the same time, in staring into the magic east, where all his hopes lay. As the reader has found out before now, this same Billie was something of a talker, and could ask more questions in ten minutes than most fellows would think up in an hour. And when he had no one else to impose on as an audience, he did not hesitate to talk to himself, yes, and often carry on a regular conversation in that way.
But at least his hopes with regard to the breaking of day were not doomed to be disappointed this time; for that was really the first faint streak beginning to light up the horizon, where it lay low and flat against the east.
He watched it slowly broaden, and kept telling himself that he was a mighty fortunate boy to be able to see the morning, after all his troubles.
At the same time Billie felt a dash of real pride, to think that he had managed to hold his own, even when pitted against the perils of the desert.
“Oh! yes, I’m getting to be a veteran, that’s what,” he remarked, complacently, when he found that he could begin to see a little over the sandy range, where the small dunes showed the fury of the previous day’s dry storm; “and mebbe I won’t have a stunning story to spin for the benefit of my two chums, when we get together again. Say, by the way, I wonder where they are right now; and if Broncho Billie after all will have to do the rescue act for the rest of the bunch?”
That was certainly putting on airs for you; it would be the climax of all his experiences if some time or other he, the late greenhorn, could run across an opportunity to stretch out his hand and render assistance to those seasoned prairie range boys.
All at once Billie remembered something.
“Wow! I have got a fine lookout before me, now, haven’t I; without a broncho to help me along my weary way? Hang that measly Jupiter, why couldn’t he have stuck by me? He ought to have known Little Billie better than that. I was able to keep them fierce wolves from devouring him, sure I was; didn’t I prove it by knocking over a whole lot of the critters. And that reminds me I ought to step out to see what became of my game.”
This he at once started to do; and it gave him a creepy sensation when he made the discovery that all there was left of the slain animals were some scattered and clean-picked bones, together with fragments of gray hide. The balance had completely vanished before the assaults of the rest of the wolfish pack.
“Whew! that’s what I call going some!” exclaimed the astonished boy, as he surveyed the battlefield ruefully; “and I reckon I ought to feel thankful they didn’t get a chance to try their sharp teeth on me. I owe a heap to this faithful gun of mine; and after this nothing will ever tempt me to sell the same, or give it away. It ought to be handed down to my grandchildren, and kept with a red ribbon tied on the same, hanging from the wall; like that old Revolutionary musket is in our house, which was once owned by my ancestor, who fought under General Marion, the Swamp Fox. Oh! but I’m hungry, though; and that reminds me my troubles ain’t over yet by a jugfull. I could eat a petrified loaf of bread, or even a—a—well, a muskrat; and I used to think they were the limit when I saw that trapper in the marsh cook one, and call it musquash, fine and dandy.”
The prospect for breakfast certainly looked pretty slender to poor Billie.
He stared hard all around him, as the light grew stronger, and a rosy flush told where the coming sun would presently break above the horizon, to start another hot day. Not a thing in sight was there, that gave promise of succor. As on the previous day, one could not see any great distance accurately, on account of a peculiar haze; and this prevented him from making out the hilly ranges that he felt sure must lie to the north, and not such a tremendous distance away either.
So Billie heaved a big sigh, as he reduced his girth by drawing in his belt.
“If this keeps on I’ll soon be as thin as a living skeleton,” he told himself, as he counted the remaining holes in the leather, and figured on how he would look when he had by degrees reached the end of the string.
Gathering up his blanket, and making as small a bundle of it as possible, he shouldered this, and then set his face toward the Promised Land, which, in his case, lay directly to the north.
His little compass again came in handy, and showed him his course. Every few minutes the anxious boy would consult it feverishly, for he was dreadfully afraid that he might wander away from his prearranged route, and get to making that fatal circle he had heard lost people usually traveled.
When not staring at the face of the small, brassbound compass Billie was casting his eyes ahead, and trying with might and main to make out something hopeful there, the dim outlines of rocky elevations perhaps, anything to break the horrible monotony of that dreary sandy waste of which he was already so heartily sick that he hoped he might never set eyes on another desert in all his life.
And of course the more he considered his deplorable condition, the worse his sensation of hunger became. It seemed to Billie that he could not have eaten much of anything for a whole week, and he feared he would soon become so weak from starvation that it must be impossible for him to put one foot in front of another.
And yet this was the same boy who had devoured almost as much of that cooked venison at noon on the second day previous, as his two chums combined; followed that up with a hearty supper; then a breakfast and a lunch on the day they pushed out on the desert, and finally finished what food he had with him on the preceding evening.
Still, he was frightfully hungry, just as boys who never have missed a regular meal in all their lives, do get, when up against it for a change.
Billie plodded on.
The sun was now an hour high, and getting very hot, he thought, as he stopped to drop his burden and rest; while he took his red bandana handkerchief and mopped his streaming brow with it.
“I wonder how long I can hold out this way?” he asked himself, with a most forlorn air, and a dismal shake of the head. “If I only had some dried beef, or venison like the Injuns call pemmican, to gnaw on, it wouldn’t be so bad; because then I’d keep my strength; but seems like there’s a gnawing inside me like my appetite was beginning to start on my vitals. I wonder if all starving people feel that way first. Oh! how ashamed I ought to be about the many times I’ve thrown away good crusts of bread, and such things. I’ll never be guilty of such a sinful waste again, so help me. I’ve reformed, I have, and I’m going to lead a different life after this, licking my platter clean every time. If I only had some of the stuff I’ve wasted right now,” and he fairly groaned as the delightful array came before his mental vision to tantalize him.
All at once Billie seemed to feel an electric flush. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again, as though fearing that he was dreaming.
Why, that peculiar haze, which is so often met with in dry seasons of the late summer, and hides the features of the landscape even within a mile of the observer, had apparently mysteriously lifted, so that he could see hills ahead; yes, and at no great distance either, the green trees looking like heavenly dashes of color after his eyes had been so long accustomed to only that deadly white of the desert.
“It is, I really and truly believe it must be my goal!” he exclaimed, almost in passionate delight. “Oh! there may be a chance for me yet; unless this is just one of them mirages they say dying men always see on the desert, before the end comes. But I must press on. One more notch I’ll take my belt up, and after that you watch me toddle for that Paradise ahead. Oh! don’t it look inviting, though? Will poor old Broncho Billie ever live to reach it?”
He did press resolutely on, although the heat began to tell upon the fat boy very seriously. It seemed to Billie that he was baking, yet he was that stubborn he refused to drop his blanket, or gun, or the first thing he was carrying like a pack horse.
“What’s that I see over there?” he suddenly asked himself, shading his eyes from the glare of the sand by holding one trembling hand above them. “Moving figures, eh? Now, I wonder if they’re Injuns, and p’raps them same hostile young Apache bucks we had trouble with before. Well, here’s my faithful Marlin ready for business as always. It kept me from being made a supper for them wolves, and I reckon now it ought to do the same—but hello! seems to me I ought to recognize the way them fellers ride! Glory hallelujah! if it ain’t my bully chums, for sure; and say, if that ain’t Jupiter trailing along after ’em, I’ll eat my hat! Oh! joy unbounded; for now I don’t have to starve to death.”
That was his first thought, and seemed to afford him the most consolation; for in the mind of Billie there could not be a more terrible fate meted out to any mortal here below than having to go without his regular meals; which proved that the fat boy was not made out of the same stuff as the suffragettes over the sea.
Swiftly the two others bore down upon him, swinging their hats above their heads, just as cowboys always will when excited, and giving vent to the wildest cheers. Billie grinned with happiness as they came closer and closer. He even began to champ his teeth, as though desiring to make sure that his jaws were still capable of doing their customary duty, before starting in to make up for lost time.
“Hurray for Billie!” cried Adrian, as he drew in his reeking pony close by. “He’s all wool and a yard wide, sure he is; and his pards are proud of him,” Donald shouted. “Here, give us your hand, Billie; this is the biggest round-up ever. We were afraid you’d come into a peck of trouble; but we ought to have known you better than that. Ain’t he just the jim-dandy fellow, Adrian? Full-fledged by now, and taking nobody’s dust. Yes, I say with you, hurray for Broncho Billie!”
But the wanderer, though undoubtedly gratified by this expression of confidence shown by his chums only stretched out his hands and exclaimed:
“Food! gimme something to eat, fellows, because I’m starving!”
Whatever the other boys may have thought about it, knowing that Billie could not have gone a great while without food, they understood his weakness too well to make any remark.
Fortunately they had something along with them; for as cowboys Donald and Adrian had long ago learned to always look ahead, since no one could tell when he would need food when abroad on the range. And so they quickly thrust into Billie’s eager hands quite a quantity of stuff.
He ate like a hungry wolf, while his chums sat there in their saddles, and waited patiently for him to take the first savage edge off his appetite. Billie was mumbling to himself meanwhile, just as a starving boy might when food has come into his possession. In imagination he had been pretty far gone; but it was all right now; and soon Billie was feeling himself again.
“Thought I could make way with a cartload of grub,” he said, “judging from the way my empty stomach kept griping me; but seems like I’m stalled already. P’raps it wasn’t quite so bad as I believed; but excuse me from ever going through such a terrible experience again. Just thinking you’re starving to death is mighty near as bad as the real thing!”
“You’re right, Billie; and more than one man has just died from the effects of imagination, believe me,” said Adrian.
“But ain’t you going to tell us all that happened to you since you lost touch with us yesterday?” demanded Donald, showing how anxious he and Adrian must be to know what their lost chum had been doing all this while; and how he had been able to keep steadily on, headed into the north.
“Yes, when we found Jupiter grazing along the border of the desert this morning,” Adrian went on to say, “we thought at first you must be in camp, and we looked everywhere but couldn’t see hide nor hair of you. Then Donald here noticed that while the pony had his saddle and bridle on, you’d roped him; and from that we guessed he must have broken away when you had him staked out, for your pin was at the end of the lariat. Then we were in a stew, because we knew what it meant to be left on foot out on the desert.”
“What made the pony break away, Billie?” asked Donald, suspiciously.
“When the wolf pack came down on me, the beast got frightened, and just left his poor master in the lurch,” returned the rescued one, calmly, yet watching out of the corner of his eyes to notice the others exchange quick looks, and nod their heads, as if to say: “see, just like I told you, Billie was equal to anything that came along; he’s all right, Billie is!”
“Wolves, eh?” remarked Adrian, presently.
“So the hungry critters got scent of you last night, did they, Billie?” questioned the other chum, eagerly; “and you must have had a tough time staying awake to chase the pack away. Knock over any?”
“Oh! I don’t know how many, because as fast as I bowled one over the rest would jump in, and gobble him up. This morning all I could find there, was a lot of bones scattered about, and some chunks of hair.”
Billie said this as coolly as though after all it were a very little matter, and hardly worth mentioning, after a fellow had alone and unaided slain a grizzly bear.
“And you’ve really not had any sleep all night, then?” Adrian asked; as though that was the most astonishing part of the whole business in his eyes.
“Never a wink I can truthfully say,” the hero of the occasion declared, holding up his right hand in affirmation; “but I’m feeling all right again now. I could stand the wolf part of it, yes, and the keeping on guard a thousand hours, like it seemed to me; but the starving was just awful. I’m mighty glad to be with you both again. And p’raps, when noontime comes, we can cook something warm.”
“Oh! we’ll promise you that, old fellow,” laughed Adrian; “but let’s be getting out of this blistering heat. I think it’s even worse after that sand storm. Over yonder we’ve got our camp, with poor old Bray waiting for us. He pulled through in good shape, because a mule is tougher than most horses. Come, jump up in your saddle again, and see how it feels to ride.”
Billie had stepped over and secured Jupiter. The truant horse actually seemed glad to greet his stout master again, for he had given several snorts, and rubbed his velvety muzzle against Billie’s hand, as though apologizing for having deserted him so basely. But Billie was of a forgiving nature, and could not hold a grudge. He was moreover so delighted to see his mount again that he just forgot his grievance.
It was with some difficulty, however, that he climbed into his saddle, for his limbs seemed more or less stiff after such a wakeful and uneasy night of it. Once mounted, and they started to gallop over the billowy surface of the desert, heading toward the nearby hills.
Billie soon began to experience the old familiar sense of exhilaration as of yore.
“This is what I call great!” he called out, as he urged Jupiter on after the flying steeds of his chums; “they say you never miss the water till the well runs dry; and I’m sure I never really appreciated what a joy it was to ride till I had to peg it afoot this same morning. But I’ve had a great experience all around, boys, and I’ve learned my lesson, yes, lots of ’em.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Adrian, over his shoulder; “and what might one of the same be, Billie?”
“Never to scorn small things, and to lick the platter clean,” responded the fat boy, promptly; “why, all morning long I’ve been haunted by remorse, I tell you. Seemed like I could see the ghost of every bit of food I’ve wasted for years rising right up to accuse me. You notice how different I’m agoing to live after this. No scraps going to waste from my dish, let me tell you.”
The others laughed heartily, and remarked that such noble sentiments did their author proud; also more to the effect that from that time forth they would expect to see Billie putting on additional weight, since, if he wasted nothing, his rations must increase in proportion.
Presently they reached the border of the desert, and Billie gave a cheer as he found himself actually under the shelter of the trees, whose green branches he had seen when far out on the sandy waste.
The tent was soon rounded up, with Bray tethered close by; and it seemed to Billy, whose heart was overflowing with gratitude and thanksgiving, that the old pack mule’s salute was meant in honor of his coming back from the dead, as it were.
“So this is the country where the Zuni village is located, is it?” Billie asked, later on, when they began to make ready to break camp, and start off once more, this time avoiding the desert, and sticking to the hills.
“Yes, somewhere not a great distance off we can expect to run across the canyon where the rock houses that are really caves, were cut out, hundreds of years ago by the ancient cliff dwellers,” Adrian went on to say.
“And,” added Donald, “it wouldn’t surprise me if we ran across some of the Indians any old time now, because this must be their stamping ground. Get your cayuse, Billie, and we’ll be off. Course you feel rocky after not getting any sleep last night, but it’ll wear away. Don’t I know what it is, after night wrangling the saddle band of horses, when there were cattle rustlers hanging around, ready to stampede the herd, so the boys couldn’t set out after them? All ready to start, Adrian? Then here we go!”
So the three of them set out, with the pack mule bringing up the rear, as unwilling to move as ever, and having to be half dragged along, until the fit of stubbornness wore away.
Donald remembered all that he had been told concerning the ground they were now passing over and accordingly laid his course toward the northeast.
Sometimes they were surrounded by rocks, and then again trees would add a pleasing change to the landscape.
“There’s the first Indian!” remarked Donald, suddenly, as he reined in Wireless, and pointed ahead.
“Whatever do you s’pose he’s adoing there, a-bending down, and hunting like he’d lost something precious?” Billie wanted to know. “They don’t pick up diamonds around here, now, I shouldn’t think, do they, Donald?”
“Well, the diamondbacks are found in another part of the country,” replied the other, with a laugh; “but these smaller prairie rattlers are just as poisonous, I’m told, even if they don’t look so terrible.”
“Oh! do you mean that warrior is ahunting rattlesnakes?” demanded Billie, with a shiver; for, as we happen to know, he had lately found reason to conceive a great aversion for the scaly reptiles, one and all.
“Looks like it to me,” replied Donald. “You see, their big dance comes along soon now, and as they need a lot of the wrigglers to show off before the people who come here just to see them do their stunts, why, of course they’ve got to hustle, and call in every one that lives around this section.”
They slowly advanced toward the spot where the Zuni brave was bending down, and with a stick tickling a coiled snake, in order to induce him to straighten out, so there would be little danger of his striking when he was snatched up; for it is a peculiarity of the rattlesnake that he cannot defend himself unless coiled, which is the reason they instantly throw themselves that way when alarmed.
“Oh! a heap of people believe they draw out the poison fangs, and the little sack that holds the green fluid, so that there ain’t no danger after all,” remarked Billie, in rather a loud voice, as they halted close by to watch the Zuni finish his risky task.
He must have heard what Billie said, and understood the implied slur, though he kept right on with his job. They saw him finally succeed in inducing the rattlesnake to uncoil, and start to wriggle away; when quick as a flash that dusky experienced hand shot out, the fingers closed upon the neck of the snake, and thus it was lifted triumphantly from the ground.
“He’s beckoning to us to come up closer,” said Donald, guessing what the dusky Zuni brave wanted with them; and a minute later they were bending over from their saddles, watching him, while he squeezed his captive in such a fashion that its jaws spread wide open, and revealed two long fangs projecting from the upper jaw, and from which drops of a greenish fluid were slowly exuding.
“There, what do you say to that now, Billie?” exclaimed Donald, as he turned to see the fat chum staring at the snake, with whitened cheeks, and a horrified expression on his plump face.
“Gosh! it ain’t so that they take out the poison sack, is it?” muttered Billie; “and that stuff must be the deadly thing they push into a fellow when they strike! Oh! ain’t they the limit, though, them rattlers? And I ought to be thankful every day I live that I didn’t go all the way down into that hole when I slipped.”
The Zuni never even smiled as he saw how easily he had convinced the three white boys that this snake at least had not been tampered with before caught. He did not appear to be surprised to see them here. Doubtless at this particular season of the year they were accustomed to having quite a number of white people visit the village, to examine its wonders. And of course the shrewd Zunis always made it a point to have plenty of curios to dispose of, at fancy prices, to these palefaces who had heard the story of their wonderful rock homes, and had come hundreds of miles it might be, to gaze on the same with their own eyes as one of the curious things of Arizona.
He turned and stalked away, his keen black eyes evidently on the watch for signs of other snakes; though from the way his bag was filled out, he must already be carrying several at the time.
“Looks kind of interesting, eh, Adrian?” remarked Donald.
“I reckon we’re going to be well paid for that tough ride across the desert,” was the other’s reply; but as for Billie, he only shrugged his plump shoulders, and muttered something to the effect that it was queer what some people saw in horrible sights; but as for him, he would rather spend his time going through a county fair, where they had all sorts of good things to eat, than to witness a dozen of these hideous rattlesnake dances; though of course, since they were on hand, and his chums seemed so set on witnessing the ceremony, he supposed he’d just have to stand for it.
“Anyhow, I got a snapshot of that queer looking Zuni holding that snake by the neck, with its jaws open,” he added proudly, at which the others complimented him on his smartness, though this was not news, since both had heard the sharp “click” when Billie pressed the button.
Donald was taking careful note of his surroundings. His prairie education really enabled him to tell which way a certain trail he had struck run; and it seemed plausible that by following this up they must sooner or later arrive at the cliff where all those ancient homes had been hollowed out centuries back. To tell the truth Donald already had a good idea where it lay; judging from the trend of the ground, and what he saw beyond, where the rocky elevation started upward.
Several times they discovered moving figures, and in each instance these proved to be other braves who, carrying bags slung over their shoulders, seemed to be also hunting for the crawling reptiles whose day was so close at hand. Rattlesnakes were apparently held in great respect by these simple people of the cliffs, perhaps because from ages back they had been looked upon as an oracle, or an object of worship.
Once or twice they even had a friendly nod from these searchers, who were apparently accustomed to seeing whites around the neighborhood of the village.
Donald had just drawn rein close to one of these young braves, meaning to ask if he were following the right trail to the village, when an exclamation from Billie caused both he and Adrian to raise their eyes.
What they saw was surely enough to cause them to stare; and as for Billie, he fairly gasped for breath.
A strange and hideous figure was coming along a cross trail, and both boys knew instantly that thus early in their visit had a lucky freak of fortune enabled them to gaze upon the wonderful Witch Doctor, the medicine man of the Zunis.
He was about as wonderfully rigged out as the wildest imagination could picture him; though Donald noticed that just then he did not wear the tinkling bells, and the little gourds that had stones inside to cause them to rattle with his every motion; these were only assumed on state occasions, when driving away the evil spirit that came with sickness; or when leading the wild dance of the tribe.
But all the same he struck Billie as the most fantastic figure he had ever run across in all his life; and the boy stared as hard as he could, almost forgetting to even breathe, as the medicine man crossed their trail, and started to move off in a stately manner, as though he realized that as the recognized head of the ancient Zuni tribe he had an office to hold that always demanded respect on the part of those with whom he came in contact.
“Whew!” muttered Adrian, “ain’t that the limit, though?”
“He beats the one I saw in the Yellowstone Canyon all hollow,” admitted Donald.
“My stars! what a great get-up!” whispered Billie, as though half afraid lest even such low tones might cause the Witch Doctor to turn upon him, and put him under some mysterious spell.
Donald turned to the young brave, who had salaamed when the old humbug strode past, and looked after him a little uneasily; for evidently the medicine man was greatly feared by the other members of the tribe, to whom he seemed “the real thing,” as Adrian put it.
“Is that the Witch Doctor?” Donald asked, in a low tone as he bent down.
The brave nodded his head. Perhaps he wondered why these paleface boys did not exhibit more evidences of respect and fear when the wonderful fakir was passing. Perhaps he also secretly envied them their courage, too; for no Zuni brave dared to refrain from making that salaam when coming upon the man of magic, who could make the very rocks sing, and whose incantations frightened off the angel of death sometimes, when all conditions were favorable.
“Where is he going now?” continued Donald, just as though he may have been entertaining a suspicion as to the truth, and wished to substantiate the same.
The rattlesnake hunter lowered his voice so that the dreaded Witch Doctor might not hear him speaking; and this was what Billie heard him say in fairly good English at that:
“He go make much talk with Great Manitou—come back bimeby—much must do ’fore can lead rattlesnake dance. Ugh!”
With that, as though fearful that he may have said too much, the brave scurried away, his head bent low in the endeavor to locate still another of the reptiles, the presence of which was so vital to the carrying out of the great annual festival and its strange ceremonial dance.
The boys exchanged looks.
“Do you believe that, Adrian?” asked Donald, as he looked after the Witch Doctor, still close by, though receding from the spot where the three Broncho Rider Boys sat in their saddles.
“It sounds on a par with what you heard told at the mine, and at home among the punchers who’ve been over this way,” answered the other, quietly. “And sure that young buck ought to know when the Zuni people expect their wonderful medicine man to hold daily talks with the Great Spirit in the mountain.”
“Yes, the story runs that he disappears from sight for hours, and that while he’s gone the Zunis who dare to listen hear the most wonderful strains of music coming from the inside of the mountain; and then perhaps that awful voice which they believe belongs to Manitou, the Great Spirit, with whom the medicine man is conversing, grumbles in the depths of the rocks.”
“Hello! what’s up now, Billie?”
Adrian asked this as he saw the fat boy suddenly slip out of his saddle, and start to run toward the receding figure of the Witch Doctor. The only reply which Billie deigned to make was to wave a hand in the air, while he kept his attention riveted on the object of his feverish advance ahead.
“Oh! I know what ails him!” exclaimed Donald, with a laugh; “see, he’s gripping his little kodak in his hand. Billie has suddenly remembered that one of his purposes in coming here was to snap off some pictures, and that strikes him as the finest thing ever.”
“And I reckon Billie knows a good subject when he sees it,” chuckled Adrian, as he sat at ease in his saddle, and watched operations on the part of the kodak fiend.
Billie had judged where he might get a fine, unobstructed view of the retiring medicine man; and it was really laughable to see how quickly all his past troubles were forgotten when this glorious chance to get a splendid snapshot came along.
He stumbled several times, and once the boys feared he had smashed his camera against a rock; but as Billie kept right along they concluded that he had been smart enough to protect it in some way, possibly at the expense of his hands.
“Now he’s got to the place he was aiming for; watch him shoot!” said Adrian.
They plainly heard the sharp “click” of the shutter as Billie made his exposure. So did the Witch Doctor, evidently, because Donald always said he gave an involuntary “duck,” as if that metallic sound might have made him think of the hammer of a gun being raised.
The weird old Zuni humbug whirled around, and looked at Billie. He even raised a hand, and made some sort of threatening gesture. When he took a couple of steps in his direction poor Billie really believed he must be about to visit some terrible punishment upon his head as a judgment for his rashness; at any rate the boy spun around, and came hurrying back toward his chums, looking quite concerned.
But he need not have worried, for the medicine man was apparently not annoyed enough to give chase, or else he proved to be averse to exerting himself when he had serious business on his hands. He turned again, and walked away, vanishing among the rocks and brush.
“Oh! I got him, and believe me that was a splendid snapshot!” gurgled Billie, as he joined the others; and after finding that he was not being pursued, showing signs of considerable relief.
Again Adrian and Donald exchanged glances. It was as though the same thought might have come suddenly into both their minds.
“I dare you to make the try!” said Donald, aggressively, as though he knew how such a proposition would meet with instant favor from Adrian, who would not be held in contempt for anything.
“I got you!” was the ready response, as the other jumped to the ground.
“What are you fellows meaning to do?” demanded the surprised Billie.
“Oh! just trail after that old humbug, and see where he goes,” replied Donald.
Billie wanted to go with them very much; not that he felt any great desire to come into close contact with that grim looking old medicine man; but he disliked being left alone worse still. After his recent experience on the desert he felt like having company, no matter under what conditions.
Of course the others would have much preferred that Billie stay with the animals, but neither of them dared hint as much. He had as much right to go as they did, if he felt so inclined.
So Donald hastily started to fasten the pack mule to a branch. As for Wireless, the broncho had been well trained, as a cow pony always is, and when his reins were dropped over his head he would stand a long time unless something unusual occurred to frighten him.
Adrian was of the same mind, as could be seen from the way he threw his bridle forward, and then landed on his feet.
“Me too,” said Billie, promptly; and with the words he proceeded to fix Jupiter after the same fashion, knowing that the horses would be quite content to stand there in company.
All this had taken place in much less time than it takes to tell it. The Witch Doctor had disappeared from sight, but could not be so far ahead but that they might quickly overtake him, if they were spry.
Donald led off, as it had been his proposition which the others had accepted; and on this account, as well as his familiarity with the customs of these strange cliff dwellers, he might be accorded the position of pilot, during the time they remained in the neighborhood of the Zuni village.
The boy had taken particular note of the place where the strangely attired old medicine man had last been seen; and it took the three chums but a few seconds to arrive there.
Just as the guide anticipated, he found that there was something in the nature of a path worn along the rocks, and among the dead fragments of brushwood. It was as though the Witch Doctor had gone back and forth along this same route many times a week for years and years.
What influenced Donald and Adrian to accept of this sudden opportunity to spy on the Zuni medicine man it would be hard to say. Perhaps Donald, whose father was a mine operator as well as a big rancher, may have had a little notion that he would like to know more about the source of that precious metal which report said the old magician knocked from some wonderfully rich ledge inside the mountain nearby the village. That would not be so very strange after all, though the boy might be taking fearful risks in thus following such a vindictive old fellow as the Witch Doctor was reported to be.
As for Adrian, he did not have the same sort of temptation beckoning him on. In all probability the subject of mines and rich ore deposits would have failed to lure him; whereas the prospect of a pleasant little mystery to be solved would act as a spur.
And somehow, what Donald had told about that mysterious music, the strains of which often floated faintly to the ears of the Zuni people after their medicine man had betaken himself off to one of these famous audiences with Manitou, had taken a firm hold on the mind of Adrian. He hoped that before they quitted the country of the Zunis a chance would arise whereby they could find out if there was really any truth in these stories; and should it prove to be so, learn just what caused the music that the ignorant natives believed supernatural or angel voices.
And as has already been said, Billie went along simply because he was afraid to stay there alone, and not that he felt any particular interest in either gold mines or cherub voices.
Two minutes later, and Donald held up a hand warningly. That was enough to tell the others he had sighted the object of their pursuit. And as they did not wish to let the hideous figure that stalked along ahead know how he was being followed, they hung back until their guide again beckoned them on.
“He’s just gone back of that line of brush yonder,” Donald whispered, as they joined him. “Let’s wait here a minute, to give him a chance to move along. And we can keep an eye on that cliff over yonder; because, unless I’m mistaken, he was heading that way when last I glimpsed him.”
They crouched there and waited, Billie nervously fingering his camera, as if in readiness to use it again should the chance arise.
“There he goes!” ejaculated Adrian, suddenly.
“Oh! where?” asked Billie, giving a start, as if he had at first suspected that the old fellow might have stolen a march upon them; and from the way Billie looked above his head one would think he half expected that that hideous figure would come tumbling down upon them, his arms filled with rattlesnakes, perhaps.
“Over near the cliff, just as I said,” replied Donald, pointing as he spoke.
“I see him, all right,” announced Billie, immediately, as though that were something worth mentioning.
“Looks like he meant to climb up somewhere,” suggested Adrian.
“We’ll watch, and see the circus, then,” added Donald; “but better keep down, so he won’t glimpse us if he happens to look back this way.”
“That’s good advice!” muttered Billie, dropping flat, and then poking his head up as best he knew how, so that he might see without betraying his presence; Billie had not been in the company of these two prairie boys for weeks without picking up at least a smattering of the things they knew.
“Why, he’s gone!” he exclaimed, a second or two later; and commenced to rub his eyes vigorously, as though inclined to suspect that they had played him a trick.
“Did you see that?” remarked Donald, of Adrian; for they had been looking all the time Billie was fussing, and getting himself so nicely fixed that he had temporarily lost track of the medicine man.
“He went behind that twisted cedar, and then seemed to just melt away in thin air,” the other replied, with a vein of wonder in his voice.
“Then he is an old wizard after all, ain’t he?” remarked Billie, hearing this.
“That remains to be seen,” declared Donald. “Shall we go over there, and take a look around, Ad?”
“Sure he ain’t just hidin’ behind some rock?” asked Billie, grown cautious, it appeared, after his recent experiences.
“You can see for yourself that the whole face of the cliff looks open, and there isn’t an outlying stone that would shelter a cat, much less a fellow of his heft,” Donald told him; “how about it, Ad?”
“If you think it’s right, why let’s walk over, and make out to be interested in the formation of the wall of rock,” replied the other. “If he chances to pop out on us, then we can make him believe we’re geologists, and interested in the history of these old-time hills.”
“A good idea, sure it is!” admitted Billie, always wanting to put in his oar, and at the same time willing to give praise where it was due.
Donald no doubt thought the same, even if he only smiled, and nodded his head.
Having thus decided they stepped out from their place of concealment, and in an apparently careless manner walked toward the cliff that reared its head far above, being fully a hundred feet from base to summit.
Billie trailed along in the rear. He did not feel wholly at ease, although in the society of his chums, whom he knew to be capable of holding their own with any ordinary peril. But somehow Billie had an idea that they were taking big chances when they accepted the risk of spying on the Witch Doctor. And he wanted to be in a position to render a good account of himself, in case anything happened.
He had slung his little camera over his shoulder by means of the strap attached for this very purpose; and now held his rifle in both hands, feeling very much of responsibility, somehow or other, because he came in the rear, and let them do all the looking for an explanation of the mysterious disappearance of the old Zuni, while he kept his eyes on the alert for trouble.
Just as Donald had so positively said, there were no outlying stones of any size along the base of this cliff. The two boys had even glanced eagerly upwards more than once, half expecting to discover signs that might tell how the mountain here had once been used by some of the cliff dwellers; but so far as they could see there was not a single hole hewn in that blank wall from top to bottom.
Adrian picked up a piece of stone, as though carrying out the little scheme he had suggested about their pretending to be geologists; and while he and Donald put their heads together, as though they were examining the same, they were exchanging remarks.
“See any sign of the old fraud, Ad?” asked Donald.
“Not around here, that’s flat,” answered the other.
“But we’re directly behind that crooked cedar,” urged the rancher’s son; “and as sure as I’m here, that’s just where I saw him last. And you know as well as I do, Adrian, he couldn’t have slipped away to either side, nor yet climbed the face of this cliff!”
His chum shook his head as he glanced all around; and then stepping closer to the face of the height that arose far above, he scrutinized it carefully.
Then he laughed.
“Tell you what, Donald,” he said, “this makes me think of plays I’ve seen on the stage, where the magician disappears through the face of the rock in a wonderful way; but everybody knows that it’s only canvas, painted to look like the solid wall. Here, though, there’s no such thing; and yet you say he came to this spot and then just went up like a puff of smoke. Take it from me now, that there must be some secret way of getting in back here, if only we had the key to the mystery!”
“Whew! is that what you think too, Donald?” asked Billie, taking time to stare at the wall of rock, which up to now had interested him very little, since it was the Witch Doctor himself for whom he was looking.
“I reckon it must be something like that,” Donald admitted. “We don’t believe in magic, and all that stuff; there must be a real explanation for everything that looks so queer; if, as Adrian says, we only had the clue to the trail. But even the rocks here show no trace of his footsteps, so we can only give a guess how he gets in and out.”
“Huh!” grunted the incredulous Billie; “I reckon, then we’re up against a blank wall right now, in more ways than one; and the old chap’s got us guessing, all right.”
“If we hang out here any length of time, Adrian, we’ll try and come back to this place again, and see if we can make a discovery,” suggested Donald, presently.
“You’ll find me agreeable,” replied the one addressed; but Billie made no remark, and doubtless secretly hoped they might change their minds.
“I’ve got the exact spot marked in my mind, so we won’t make any mistake about it,” Donald continued, seeming to have set his mind on solving this mystery, concerning which there was so much talk among the miners, and the visitors who came to the Zuni village from time to time, led by curiosity, and a desire to see the queer customs of this ancient people.
“It’s his secret, all right,” muttered Billie.
“And like as not,” Adrian went on to say, thoughtfully, “handed down to him from his ancestors, or some other medicine man; for they tell me that at some time in their lives each Witch Doctor selects the one he thinks ought to succeed him, and teaches that party all the things he knows, that go to make him different from the other men of the tribe.”
“Yes,” added Donald, “as you say, this secret way of getting into the mountain has been known all the way back, for hundreds of years; but so much afraid are the Zunis of their medicine man, that never once would a brave dream of following the same, to watch him talk with Manitou in the heart of the Sacred Mountain.”
“It’s a trick, then, you believe?” questioned Billie.
“No doubt about that, Billie,” Adrian replied, wishing to settle the matter once and for all in the mind of the other chum; “if you could once find the ‘Open Sesame,’ here to this rock, the same that Ali Baba did, you remember, in the ‘Forty Thieves,’ ten to one you’d learn that the inside of the mountain has passages running through it every-which-way; and that once he gets inside the old humbug just feels able to appear and vanish whenever he feels like it, because he’s right at home.”
“Now, that sounds like hard, common-sense; and I’m beginning to think you’re on the right track after all, fellows,” Billie told them.
“That’s comforting, anyhow,” chuckled Adrian. “When we’ve advanced the argument so far that Broncho Billie approves of it, things begin to move, eh, Donald?”
“I s’pose now, that if one of your miners came along here, and set off his little dynamite cartridge right at the base of this same cliff, there’d be something showing after that, a hole in the rock that somehow we just can’t seem to find now?” was the next suggestion on the part of the stout chum; who liked to think up all sorts of strange ideas that often bordered on the ridiculous; though he had been known to give his comrades a hint once or twice that had led to good results in their hands.
“We haven’t any more business around here, have we, Ad?” asked Donald, with a little chuckle, as of amusement.
“I can’t remember having lost anything,” replied the other; “and if you’ve looked all you want to, and marked the place with a white stone in your mind, why, I reckon we’d better vamose the ranch.”
“Second the motion; all in favor say ay—motion carried unanimously, so come on, fellows, let’s back track to the ponies,” Billie went on to say, hurriedly before Donald had half a chance to get a word in.
“All right, let’s see if you can lead us there, Billie,” suggested Adrian. “You’ve been showing some pretty clever stunts lately; and keeping track of things as you go, in case you want to return the same way, is part of the education of a true plainsman, you know.”
Billie looked dismayed. The fact of the matter was that while they were on the way to this place he had been so busily engaged in keeping a bright lookout for signs of the dreadful medicine man, that he had paid little or no attention to the surroundings.
Still, that was no reason he should expose his ignorance to his chums, who, as Adrian had just said, were coming to have a good opinion of his abilities.
“Oh! all right, just as you say about it, boys!” he declared, cheerily; “but I’m hardly myself after my late terrible experience; and it might save time and bother if one of you took charge of the return trip. Not but that I’m able to do the thing, if it seemed really necessary—you understand that, of course.”
Neither of his comrades made any remark, though able to read between the lines, and judge for themselves just how capable Billie might prove.
“Looks quite different in here to what it was out on the sand desert, don’t it, boys?” Adrian remarked, after they had started away from the cliff.
“I should say it did,” replied Billie, “with the trees around, and these bushes too. Ain’t that a hazel bush, Donald, and this one, say, didn’t you call it a rattlesnake weed once, when we were on the ranch?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t get the name from being eaten by the crawlers, Billie. And here’s another bush you ought to know,” Donald told him.
“Buffalo berries, as sure as shooting,” said the stout chum, eager to show that his memory was good. “I hid in a patch of the same that time I tried to coax an antelope up close enough to nail him, by waving my red bandana every little while. And he did come trotting along, now retreating, and then getting closer, till I just couldn’t stand it any longer, and blazed away; but somehow I didn’t get my game, though I thought I hit him, all right.”
“But you could do much better than that now, Billie,” said Adrian, soothingly; “because you’ve had ever so much experience since that try. Yes, and brought down game worth talking about, too.”
“Thank you, Adrian; it’s kind of you to say that, and I won’t forget it soon, either!” declared Billie, as he turned his head to take one last look at the beetling cliff before they passed out of sight of it.
Immediately they heard him give an exclamation.
“Well, I declare!”
“What is it?” asked Donald, also whirling around.
“Why, he must have been watchin’ us all the time, fellows; just think of the cunning of the old rascal!” continued the fat boy, whose face was filled with a mixture of surprise and alarm.
They did not have to question him any farther, because both of the others had by now made the same discovery that had arrested the attention of Billie when he turned to say good-bye to the mysterious cliff.
There, about three-fifths of the way to the top they sighted an object marked plainly on the white face of the wall. It was indeed the old medicine man, dressed in all his panoply of feathers and skins and colored beads until he looked like a gay advertising sign.
“Whew! he’s staring right at us,” said Billie, uneasily; “just like he knew we had gone and follered him here, and wanted to ask us what business it was of ours if he chose to sneak away and talk with the Manitou of his people?”
“Try your kodak on him, then, Billie, and have something to show to prove your story when you come to spin it,” suggested Donald, who did not appear to be very much concerned over the new happening.
Apparently Billie thought this might not be a bad idea, for dropping his rifle he hastily swung the little camera around until he could grip it in both hands.
“Better hurry,” warned Adrian, “because I think he’s on to your dodge, and objects to being potted without having his palm crossed with silver. That’s the way with most of the Indians along the line of the Southern Pacific now; they dodge, and hide their faces whenever they see a camera coming, or poked at them, until you throw them a quarter, when they’ll pose.”
“Click!” went the shutter, followed by a satisfied exclamation from the operator.
“That was another good one, I’m telling you!” Billie affirmed, triumphantly; “mebbe I won’t have a dandy lot of views to pay for all my trouble in toting this same little black box all the way over desert and mountains.”
“He still watches us,” observed Donald; “and I’d give something just to know what is passing through the mind of that sharp old humbug right now; because he must guess that we’re interested in his actions, or we wouldn’t have followed him the way we did.”
“Oh!” remarked Adrian, “chances are he’s been followed many times before now, without anybody ever picking up any information worth while. Trust the crafty old scamp for knowing his business through and through. If you were close enough right now to see what he’s doing I reckon you’d find him laughing in his sleeve, as they say, because we ran smack up against a dead wall over there. We’re not the first, by a long sight, because the story of that lump of gold would be apt to lure lots of prospectors over this way. And they’ve been fooled every time by his disappearing so queer like. Perhaps some of them, being ignorant and superstitious like the Zunis, really began to believe the Witch Doctor did have the power to open the side of the mountain, whenever he wanted to talk with Manitou.”
“Anyhow, it’s plain he means to stand up there and watch us out of the place,” Billie went on to say; and then being overwhelmed with his customary desire to acquire information he added: “looks like the face of that cliff is as flat as any house wall; so what d’ye think he can be standin’ on up there all this while?”
“Some sort of small ledge, you’d find, if ever you got there,” Donald advanced, positively enough, as though it did not admit of a doubt in his mind.
“Oh! that’s it, eh?” Billie continued; “then he must have come out through some crack that we can’t see from here.”
“But we may, some fine day not a great while off,” remarked Donald, lightly.
“That is, if you can find the way in down at the base?” said the fat chum, who did not like to take things for granted when they seemed to be barricaded with all manner of unsolved problems.
But as Donald turned away and resumed his progress along the trail he was heard to say, half to himself, though the others caught his words plainly enough:
“That hidden entrance down below shouldn’t bother us any, if once we make up our minds we mean to see for ourselves what the old chap has got concealed inside his Sacred Mountain; because cowboys always carry ropes along, and it wouldn’t be such a hard job, after all, to drop down from the top there, and land on that same ledge, some time when we knew the Witch Doctor was busy in the village. I’ve got the spot marked to a certainty in my mind, and all of you notice that there’s the finest cedar growing directly above him on the top of the wall, just as if it had been meant to fasten a lariat to. Leave it to your Uncle Donald, and perhaps before a great while we’ll make a try to solve the secret of the hidden treasure of the Zuni medicine man.”