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.