told him what had happened. He left almost immediately—alone. Said he knew this country and he might learn something. Before he left he advised us all not to leave the ranch. Fletcher said the Yaquentes are very dangerous hereabouts and to leave everything to him. He hasn’t returned since.”
Lanky Peters growled, “I can’t say I liked the way he advised us not to leave the ranch. It sounded to me like a command. Course, we didn’t pay no attention. Just before I returned here I paid a visit to the Yaquente camp. Them Injuns is living in a canyon about a quarter of a mile east of Muletero. I rode through the camp. Nobody paid me any real attention, but I did get some dirty looks. A lot of them Yaquentes looked sort of hopped up, like they’d been eating mezcal buttons or something. You’ve heard of ’em doing that, haven’t you?”
Lance said, “Yes, I’ve heard of it being done.” Oscar and Jones exchanged glances. So far as Lanky and the rest of the employees knew this was a cactus-hunting expedition, nothing else.
Oscar frowned. “Something else I don’t like: when I was coming through Muletero I saw Chiricahua Herrick just coming out of the local cantina. Probably his whole gang is here too.”
Lance asked quickly, “Did Herrick see you?”
Oscar nodded. “He said hello, in fact, genial as you please. He didn’t seem none surprised at seeing me here either. I don’t like the setup. Between Herrick and his crowd and the Yaquentes, it looks like we might be kept virtual prisoners here at the ranch.”
The men quickly exchanged looks. Lanky Peters and the other hands appeared puzzled. Lance said, “Lanky, you and the others might as well know it now. The main object of this expedition was to hunt cacti, I suppose, but there’s two or three other things in the wind to be settled. There may be some fighting before we get through. If anybody feels the job might get too tough he’s free to get his horse and leave now—and there ’ll be no hard feelings.” Lance waited. None of the crew showed any signs of leaving. As a matter of fact they appeared to take a fresh interest in the proceedings. Lance went on, “I can’t go into details now, but you’ll get the whole story eventually. Isn’t that right, Professor?”
Jones looked startled. “Bless me, I suppose it is. I’m interested, however, in nothing but cacti——”
Katherine interrupted by rising from her chair and saying, “I’ve simply got to go and clean up. When do we eat?”
Cal Braun nodded. “I’ve been thinking it’s time I started to get supper. Give me a half-hour, Miss Gregory.”
“One minute,” Lance said. “If Fletcher does return here, and I have a feeling he may not, I’d just as soon no one told him what happened to me. You know, regarding that snake temple and so on. If he wants to know what happened tell him to see me. I’ll tell him as much as I think he should know.”
“It’s all right with me,” Lanky drawled. “I didn’t like that Fletcher’s looks from the first minute I saw him ——”
Lance cut in, “There’s some sort of queer setup around here. Maybe Fletcher hasn’t a thing to do with it, but I’m not taking chances.”
Katherine left to go to her own room. Cal Braun departed for the kitchen. The rest sat around and smoked. No one said a great deal. Fletcher didn’t put in an appearance. Lance wondered where he was, what he was doing. He felt quite sure Fletcher wasn’t carrying on any intensive search of any sort.
Cal Braun finally announced that supper was ready. The meal was eaten, more or less, in silence. When it was concluded Lance went to the doorway and glanced outside. It was clear and starry. A wonderful night on which to point out to a certain girl the beauty of starlight on the mountains. Lance steeled himself against the thought and smiled at Katherine who may have had something of the sort in her own mind. Lance stood in the open doorway. Eventually he caught Oscar’s eye and pointed to Lanky Peters. Oscar caught the idea and nodded. Lance passed through the doorway and outside.
He made his way down to the far end of the gallery and rolled and lighted a smoke, shielding the flame of the match between his cupped hands. Within a few moments Oscar put in an appearance. “What’s on your mind, Lance?”
Lance asked if Lanky was coming. Oscar said he was.
Lance said, “Let’s wait for him. There’s no use me repeating what I have in mind.”
Lanky came strolling along the gallery, his lean frame bulking big against the light shining from windows of the ranch house. The three men squatted down against the adobe wall of the building at the far end of the gallery where the shadows were thickest.
“I didn’t give out all the details,” Lance commenced, “when I was telling my story. That Yaquente—I call him Horatio—feels sort of grateful to me because I saved him from a beating at Herrick’s hands a spell back. Well, Horatio has squared his account. If he hadn’t I’d been the victim in a ceremony that’s due to be held tonight ——”
“Victim?” Oscar asked.
“There’s a human sacrifice to be staged. I was to be it. Horatio was double-crossing his own people by aiding me to escape from that pit. Boys, he was plenty scared too.”
Lanky drawled, “You’ll never realize, Lance, until you know the Yaquentes like I do, how much nerve it required for Horatio to do that. But that’s a Yaquente for you. They’re willing to die to repay a debt.”
Lance nodded. “That’s the way I figured Horatio. Like I say, it was right hard carrying on a conversation with him, but I gathered he wasn’t entirely sold on the setup. That beating Herrick started to give him that day has sort of destroyed Horatio’s faith in things maybe. What it’s about I don’t know, but there’s some white man working the Yaquentes up to do some deviltry. I don’t know what the game is but I’m betting there’s more than religious ceremonies involved——”
“You think Herrick is the white man in question?” Oscar asked grimly.
“I don’t know. I keep remembering that Kilby confessed someone was furnishing peyotes to the Yaquentes ——”
“T’hell you say!” Lanky ejaculated. “That means religious ceremonies sure as hell.” In the faint starlight that fell on the gallery his face looked uneasy. “I had an idea those Yaquentes were getting mezcal buttons someplace from their looks when I went through their village today.’ Nother thing I didn’t like—they all wore six-shooters, and the guns looked new.”
Lance considered Lanky’s words. “Somebody must be furnishing ’em firearms too. It’s my understanding that the Yaquentes aren’t supposed to wear guns to any extent. The Mexican Government tries to hold ’em down ——”
“You give a Yaquente a gun and keep him supplied with mezcal buttons,” Lanky said, “and he won’t give no damn about any government. Sure as hell those Injuns are getting ready to blow off steam. I don’t like it.”
“Here’s something else I haven’t told you,” Lance went on. “There’s a smaller room off that big chamber in that snake temple. I looked in there and saw some boxes. They hadn’t been opened, but I didn’t have any trouble guessing what they held—ammunition and gunpowder. There was another smaller box there with a few small holes bored in it. It might have held snakes.”
“Snakes?” Oscar asked blankly.
Lance nodded. “One thing that’s got the Yaquentes impressed as hell is the way this white man handles snakes. They don’t bite him. Furthermore, Horatio swears they’re snakes with feathers. The Yaquentes are commencing to believe sure as hell that their god, Quetzalcoatl, has come back to lead them.”
Lanky nodded. “I’ve heard of that Quetzalcoatl god and how the Yaquentes feel about snakes. They think they’re sacred. Funny thing, for all his nerve, no Yaquente likes to get near a snake—especially a rattler. Well, Lance, what you aiming to do about it?”
Lance smiled thinly. “Lanky, you know some of the Yaquente language, I understand.”
“I can make out with it,” Lanky said warily, “though I don’t claim to be expert. My great-grandmother was a full-blood Yaquente, y’know.”
“Lanky—Oscar,” Lance said. “There’s a powwow being held in that snake temple to night. I’ve got to know what it’s all about. Lanky, you know the language. Are you game to go with us? How about you, Oscar? Take a chance with me?”
Oscar nodded. Lanky rose slowly to his feet. His face was white. “I reckon you don’t know what it means if we get caught, Lance. It’s risky business. White men have snuk into Yaquente ceremonials before—but they never lived to tell what happened. Their bodies were found later—and they weren’t nice to look at.”
Lance said, “I figure we need your knowledge of Yaquente to see us through.”
