As Mexican towns go, Orizaba could be worse. From Mexico City it is a long drop to Orizaba. In sixty odd miles you go down six thousand odd feet. That makes a lot of difference in atmosphere. The air thickens and the heat takes on a fiercer strength.
Sitting on the verandah overlooking the square where some small Indian soldiers in their grubby uniforms watched us with blank expressionless eyes, I felt pretty good. The bath had been just right and I was glad to get outside for some food.
On the far side of the square was the flower market. Although it was still early, Indian women were already at work, binding, sprinkling and sorting all kinds of flowers. The heavy scent came across the square and hung round us. “I’m glad we came here,” I said. “I feel this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Myra was sitting with her feet on a chair. Her eyes were closed against the hot sun. She had changed into a simple, well-cut linen frock which fitted her figure like it was painted on her.
“We part at Vera Cruz,” she said without any finality in her voice.
“Do we want to go there?” I asked. “Let’s stay here. You can tell me a story every night and when I want a change you can dance for me.”
“That sounds awfully nice of you,” she said, stretching lazily. “But, I can see no future in it for myself.”
“Don’t you ever get away from your hard veneer?”
She opened her eyes and reached for the coffee. “No. It’s much more than skin deep and it never cracks.” She refilled her cup and then stared across at the mountains that seemed to press in on the town.
“That’s an awful shame,” I said, fumbling for a cigarette. I found I’d used my last Chesterfield and glanced hopefully at her. “You must miss a lot of fun that way, sister.”
She gave me a cigarette from her case. “Oh no,” she said, “I’ve no time for play. I’ve got ambitions.”
“You certainly have,” I said. “But you don’t want to overdo it. What did you say your name was again?”
She laughed, “Myra Shumway,” she returned.
I didn’t need the confirmation. I knew I hadn’t made a mistake, but all the same I was glad to know. Besides, we were getting on a more friendly footing and that was important.
“That’s a beautiful name,” I said.
A small party of Mexican labourers passed, carrying guitars. They crossed the little ruined square and sat down with their backs against the wall of an opposite building. Two of them began to play very softly.
“That’s nice,” Myra said. “Do you think they’ll sing?”
“They will if you ask them to,” I returned. “If you give them some money, God knows what they’ll do.”
While I was speaking, a truck came rumbling into the square, blotting out the thin music of the guitars. As it swept past the hotel, two men slid off the tailboard. A small wizened man and a big fat man.
Myra suddenly pushed back her chair, made to rise, then settled herself again.
“Something bite you?” I asked, watching the two men approach. “We’re going to have company. Americans by the look of them.”
“You ought to go into vaudeville,” Myra returned. Her voice was so acid that I glanced at her, surprised.
“Know ’em?” I asked, wondering why her face had hardened. This kid could look tough when she was in the mood.
“My best friends,” she returned bitterly. “You’ll love them.” The two men came up to the verandah, mounted the steps and stood over us in silent hostility.
Myra said, “Hello. I’ve been wondering what happened to you?”
“I bet you have,” the fat man said between his teeth.
“This is Mr. Ross Millan,” she went on, waving her hand in my direction. “Doc Ansell and Mr. Samuel Bogle. Mr. Bogle’s the gentleman with the dirty face.”
“Sit down and have an egg,” I said, wondering why these two guys looked like a public disaster.
“I don’t want an egg,” Bogle said, stretching his thick fingers ominously.
“Maybe Mr. Bogle would like a drink?” Myra said, smiling.
“We’re going to have more than a drink,” Bogle returned viciously. “We’re collecting for charity—our own charity.”
“He’s got a very forceful personality, hasn’t he?” I said to Myra.
“Grape nuts for breakfast,” Myra said, shrugging. “You know what it does to some people.”
“Oh sure,” I said. “Perhaps he’d like some now.”
Bogle seemed to draw moss of the air around into his lungs. I took a menacing step forward.
Myra said quickly, “Do sit down and have a drink. It gives me a pain in the neck looking up at you.”
“Yeah?” Bogle said. “You’ll be getting more than a pain—and it won’t be in the neck either—if you don’t hand over my dough.”
Myra looked over at Ansell, “Has he been left out in the sun, do you think?”
Ansell’s small mouth tightened. “That line won’t get you anywhere,” he said firmly, “we want our money!”
I didn’t know what this was all about, but I did feel that two to one seemed pretty long odds.
“Listen fellas,” I said, easing back my chair. “If you can’t be civil, I must ask you to make a noise like an airplane and fly away.”
Bogle’s fists slowly knotted. “Did you hear what that punk said?” He turned slowly on me and pushed his great red face forward. “Open that big trap of yours again and I’ll tear your arm off and beat you to death with it.”
I smiled at him, not making any move. “Couldn’t you beat me to death with something else? The manager of the hotel would probably supply you with something. I don’t think I’d like to lose my arm.”
Ansell intervened just as Bogle got set to hand me one. “Not so fast, Sam,” he said.
“Maybe, this gentleman doesn’t realize the facts.”
Bogle looked suspiciously at me and then at Ansell, “You mean he’s a sucker, too?” he asked.
“Why not? You and I were. He seems quite a respectable person,” Ansell returned.
I thanked him. “Of course, I don’t know what this’s about,” I said. “But, if I can lend you anything or help you, just say the word.” I looked at Myra who had been watching with alert eyes. “Do you know these two gentlemen?”
“We met at a café,” she said slowly. “But, it was just a hello and good-bye acquaintance. We had a drink and we parted.
“Yeah, we parted okay,” Bogle said, breathing heavily. “Our dough went with you.”
In spite of this guy’s bulk, I wasn’t standing for that. I stood up, “Are you calling her a thief?” I demanded angrily.
Bogle crowded me. It gave me .the impression that a mountain was going to fall on me.
“Yeah,” he said, showing his tobacco stained teeth. “Do you want to make anything of it?”
I decided that I’d be more use to Myra if I remained in one piece. The Bogle fella looked like he might be a little too much for me. Besides, I never like hitting anyone twice my size. I don’t see any sense in it.
“No, that’s all right, Bud,” I said, stretching my leg and stamping. “I got a cramp?”
“Cramp?” he repeated, blinking at me.
“Yeah, nasty thing, cramp.” I looked over at Myra. “Do you ever get cramp?”
“Only when I wear pink,” she said. “It’s a funny thing, but, pink cramps my style.” Bogle’s blood pressure seemed to be troubling him. He tore his hat off his head and dashed it on to the ground. Then he began punching the air with his fists.
“Gently, Bogle,” Ansell broke in. “There’s no need to lose your temper.”
“I want my dough!” Bogle howled, kicking his hat across the verandah. “I don’t want a lot of talk. I just want my money and then I’m going to tear this dame into small pieces and feed her to the vultures.”
Ansell drew up a chair. “We mustn’t jump to conclusions,” he said. “We have no proof that Miss Shurnway took our money.”
“I’ve get proof,” Bogle said savagely. “I’ll get it if I have to turn her inside out.”
Myra’s blue eyes widened for an instant. Then I knew. She had lifted the money. That slaughtered me. It not only complicated matters, but it gave these two guys an opportunity to be really awkward if they felt that way.
“Don’t get your truss in a knot,” Myra said sharply. I’ll say this for the girl, she’d got plenty of nerve. “What are you talking about?”
Bogle seemed to be praying. But the words that came through his clenched teeth didn’t quite line up with divine thought.
“We think you stole our money,” Ansell said, looking at her steadily. “We both had small sums on us, but when you left, the money had gone. I don’t like to accuse you, but you’ll have to satisfy us that you didn’t take it.”
She whirled round on Bogle, “I bet this was your idea,” she said. “I wish I had you at home. I’d use your head in my rock garden.”
Bogle’s muscles began to expand. “Iszatso!” he said. “Let me tell you something. You’ve shot your mouth off long enough. Now, it’s my turn. Gimme that dough or I’ll turn you upside down and shake it out of you. And if this punk thinks he can stop me, then let’s see him do it. They’ll have to hose him off the wall by the time I’m through with him!”
Maybe there are a few jaded people on the look-out for a new sensation, but I’m not like that. Being hosed off a wail didn’t sound like a pleasant way to spend the morning.
“Myra,” I said firmly, “Give these gentlemen their money and explain, as you explained to me, that it was just a gag. They’ll appreciate it as much as I did—I hope.”
Myra hesitated, then shrugged. She took a roll of notes from the top of her stocking and tossed it on the table. “There’s your money,” she said angrily. “I hope the rot-gut you buy with it poisons you.”
Ansell picked up the money and counted it. He gave seven dollars to Bogle and put the rest in his pocket.
Bogle drew a deep breath, “And now,” he said, hitching up his trousers, “I’m going to smack her one. Sister, am I going to bounce you off a wall!”
Ansell frowned. “Don’t be so primitive, Bogle,” he said. “You should never strike a woman.”
“Not in public, anyway,” I added.
“I’ll take her some place quiet,” Bogle pleaded.
“Certainly not,” Ansell said. Now that he had got his money, he seemed to take a much more agreeable view of life. He turned to Myra, “Now, young lady,” he said briskly, “I want to talk to you. I admire cleverness. That was a neat trick you pulled on us. A very neat trick. I deplore your ethics, of course,” he added hastily, “but there can be no mistaking talent. You have great talent.”
Myra seemed inclined to be sore. “Go boil your head, you old owl,” she said and turned her back on him.
Ansell looked upset, “Pity,” he muttered; then catching my eye, he went on, “And you, sir? Who may you be?”
“The name is Ross Millan,” I said. “I’m a representative of the New York Reporter.”
“New York Reporter?” Ansell’s eyes opened. “That’s one of America’s greatest newspapers. I’m pleased to know you, Mr. Millan.” He offered his hand, “I’m only sorry that we should meet under such distressing circumstances.”
“That’s okay with me,” I said, shaking his hand. “You don’t have to worry about that. Miss Shumway has an advanced sense of humour. I know you boys can take a joke.”
“There’s too much talk,” Bogle growled. “You ain’t letting this dame get away with this, are you?”
Myra twisted round, “Why can’t you beat it? There’re enough rubbish dumps in this town without you adding to them. Take this big pickle-puss away and haunt houses with him.”
Bogle swelled with fury, “Did you hear what she said?” he demanded turning on Ansell. “I ain’t going to stand for it! I’ll —”
“Wait a minute,” Ansell said, as Bogle made to get to his feet. “Sit down, Sam. We won’t get anywhere like this. Now look, Miss Shumway, if I wanted to, I could hand you over to the police. But that won’t get us anywhere. You and I could be useful to each other.”
“How?”
“You’ve got very clever fingers,” Ansell told her, settling himself comfortably in the basket-chair. “Perhaps you can do other tricks besides—er-—exploring people’s pockets.”
Myra frowned, “What if I can?” she said cautiously.
“Now look, my dear,” Ansell went on, “we can, if we forget our differences, be profitable to each other. On the other hand, if you don’t wish to be helpful, then I must hand you over to the police and work out my problems with Bogle.”
“That should be a problem in itself,” Myra said, looking it Bogle scornfully. “How you’ve got anywhere with that lump of cheese surprises me.”
Bogle closed his eyes. The strain of controlling himself was getting too much for him. “The things I’ll do to you when I get you alone,” he said in a strangled voice.
“Never mind that, Bogle,” Ansell said sharply. “We must stick to the point.” He turned back to Myra, “Please don’t irritate him. Are you going to be helpful or not?”
“Why, of course.” A mischievous gleam had come into her eyes. “You want to know if I can do tricks? Well, I think I could give you a little demonstration.” She looked at me, then at Bogle. “Ah! Now if Samuel will help me, I think I’ll— yes, the very thing!” She reached across the table and plucked a length of pink ribbon from one of Bogle’s ears. She pulled steadily and several yards of ribbon lay on the table before Bogle recovered from his astonishment and jerked away. The ribbon fell in a little pile to the ground and Bogle stared at it in horror.
“Why, Mr. Bogle,” I said, “you didn’t tell me you were that sort of a girl.”
“Did that come from me?” Bogle whispered.
“And to think I said you were empty headed,” Myra said sadly. “Why didn’t you tell me you used your head as a cupboard? I won’t take out the sawdust because your poor head might collapse, but I’m sure you’ll be glad to get rid of this,” and she removed a billiard ball from his other ear.
Bogle shivered and sprang to his feet. He dug his fingers into his ears feverishly.
“It’s all right, Bogle,” Ansell said kindly. “She was only demonstrating a trick. She’s a magician.” He turned to Myra, “I must say that was extremely expert.”
Myra shrugged. “If I had my apparatus here, I’d show you something really good. That’s just kid’s stuff.”
Bogle sat down again.
“Why don’t you two go off somewhere and get to know each other?” I said to Myra. “This fella Bogle’s got a nice face and maybe he just wants conversation. I’ll talk to Doc while you two enjoy yourselves.”
“Enjoy myself? With him?” Myra said, jerking her thumb at Bogle. “I’d rather walk around with a typhoid epidemic.”
I thought she had something there, but I kept my opinion to myself.
“What you need,” Bogle said, leaning across the table, “is a smack in the slats.”
If the slats were where I thought they were, I felt he had something, too.
“Quiet!” Ansell snapped. “We’re wasting too much time.” He looked at Myra severely,
“Young lady, you’re deliberately aggravating him. I warn you, I’m not standing much more of this.”
Myra laughed. “I’ll be good, poppa, honest I will,” she said, and patted his hand. “Now, tell me all about it.”
Ansell looked at her suspiciously. “You seem to forget that you can’t afford to be funny,” he said.
“Aw, skip it, Doc,” I broke in. “Why don’t you say what you want to say and stop nagging the girl?”
Ansell looked a little surprised, “I’m trying to, but there’re so many interruptions.”
I turned on Bogle, “Don’t interrupt the Doctor any more, Bud,” I said. He’s getting tired of it.”
“Yes,” Myra joined in. “Give that big mouth of yours a rest. We’re sick of the sound of your voice.”
Bogle was so surprised that he just sat in a heap, his eyes starting out of his head.
“Okay, Doc,” I said quickly, before Bogle could recover. “The floor’s all yours.”
“Do either of you believe in witchcraft?” Ansell asked.
Myra held up her hand. “I do,” she said. “How else do you explain our Samuel away?” Bogle took off his tie and tried to tear it in half. He was blue in the face with passion. He jerked and pulled at the tie, but it was too strong for him.
Myra said, “Let me,” and snatched the tie out of his hands. She cut it in half with a fruit knife and handed it back to him. “There you are, Sammy,” she said.
Bogle sat in a kind of stupor, staring at the tie. Then he dashed it to the ground.
“Miss Shumway!” Ansell exclaimed angrily. “Will you stop picking on Bogle?”
“Well, I was only trying to be helpful,” Myra said, her eyes wide in innocence. “He couldn’t manage to do it himself.”
“All right, all right,” I said hastily. “Why witchcraft? Who believes in witchcraft these days?”
Ansell looked at Bogle, satisfied himself that he was not going to have a fit and tried to collect his thoughts: “I don’t suppose you know much of the background of this country. I’ve lived here for over twenty years and I’ve seen some very odd things.”
“So have I,” Myra said, looking at Bogle.
“If you can’t stop this woman talking…” Ansell said to me furiously.
“Be good,” I said to Myra.
She lifted her shoulders.
“Go on,” I said. “Don’t worry about her.”
“If I’m to explain this at all,” Ansell said, rather hopelessly, “I wish you’d all listen. At one time there was a powerful secret society in this country who called themselves the Naguales. The members of this society were the witch doctors who bossed the Maya Indians. They are almost extinct now, but there’s a few of them who still practice in a little village not two hundred miles from here.”
“I’ve heard about ’em,” I said. “Aren’t they supposed to produce rain at a moment’s notice and change themselves into animals? You don’t believe that junk, do you?”
Ansell shook his head, “No, I don’t. I believe they have certain supernatural powers such as mass hypnotism, and in some rare cases they practice levitation, but that really doesn’t concern us. What I’m interested in is their herbal medicines. Have you ever heard of teopatli?”
I shook my head. “What is it? A drink?”
“It’s a sure cure for snake bite.”
While we were talking, Bogle sat with his head in his hands, in a kind of stupefied daze. He wasn’t causing any trouble, so we ignored him.
“How do you mean… a sure cure?” I prompted.
“Listen, young man, I’ve seen men die of snake bite. It’s a pretty nasty business. I’ve seen men of this little village pick up a coral snake and let it strike at them, and then put this ointment on. They feel no effects at all.”
“Probably they’ve drawn the poison before demonstrating,” I said sceptically.
Ansell shook his head. “I’ve given them a pretty thorough test. Rattle snakes, scorpions and coral snakes. Teopatli fixes any of these bites like lightning.”
“All right, where do we go from there?”
“I want to get the recipe from this Indian fella and I think Miss Shumway can get it for me.”
Myra stared at him. “Someone’s been out in the sun without a nice, big, shady hat,” she said.
“Wouldn’t you like to put your feet up, poppa?”
“If you were a few years younger,” Ansell said, between his teeth, “I’d like to smack some manners into you!”
I knew just how he felt.
Myra giggled. “You’re not the only one who’s thought along those lines,” she said, shaking her head. “One of them did try it. They had to put four stitches in his face and give him a pension.”
“Take it easy,” I broke in. “What makes you think this baby could get the stuff and what would you do with it if you got it?”
Ansell calmed down. “People all over the world are getting bitten by snakes,” he explained.
“Teopatli really works. Properly marketed it’s worth a fortune. It would be an essential part of any traveller’s equipment. I could charge what I liked for it.”
I considered this. If the stuff was really a cure for any snake bite, then, of course, he had something. There was not only a fortune in it, but also a terrific news story.
“You’ve actually seen the stuff work?” I asked.
“Of course, I have.”
“What’s the difficulty? I mean why can’t you get hold of it.”
Ansell snorted. “Quinti won’t part. He’s this Indian fells I’m telling you about. For fifteen years I’ve been after him, but the old devil just grins at me.”
“Where do I come in on this?” Myra asked cautiously.
“I saw Quinti a couple of weeks ago,” Ansell said. “He tried to fox me as usual, but I put a lot of pressure on him and finally got him in a corner. He told me that soon he was going to die. But before he die, a Sun Virgin would come to him and take from him all his secrets. She would have great powers of magic, her hair would be like beaten gold and her skin like the frozen heights of lxtacchiuatl. It was just his way of putting me off, but now I’ve seen Miss Shumway, I guess we could frighten him into talking.”
Myra sat up. “You don’t want me to impersonate a Sun Virgin, do you?” she demanded.
“Why not?” Ansell asked, his eyes shining. “With your tricks, your looks and a little bluff, you could do it on your head.”
I leaned forward suddenly. “Where’s this village you’re talking about, Doc?” I asked.
“It’s ten miles from Pepoztlan.”
That gave me an idea, but I wanted time to think about it. “Listen, Doc,” I said. “Let Miss Shumway and me talk it over, will you? I think you’ve got an idea that’d make a great news story. It’d be fine publicity for you if you get the stuff, but I want to sort out the angles.”
Ansell got to his feet. “I’ll give you half an hour,” he said. “I take it that you won’t run out on me?”
“We’ll be here when you come back,” I told him.
“Hey!” Myra said. “Whose side are you on?”
I grinned at her. “Pipe down for a minute, will you?”
Bogle got to his feet after Ansell had shaken him. “Talk!” he said bitterly. “That’s all we do. We came out here so I could kick this dame’s teeth in and what happens? We sit around and talk! Now, we go away so they can talk! Don’t we ever do anything else, but talk in this gawdamn place?”
“Cheer up,” I said. “You’re getting so many wrinkles, before long you’ll have to screw your hat on.”
He glared at me, then turning on his heel, he slouched after Ansell. They crossed the square and disappeared into a beer parlour that stood at the corner.
I settled further, into my chair. “Well,” I said, “you can never tell, can you. How do you like being a Sun Virgin?”
Myra’s reply was unprintable.