“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.