“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.”
[CHAPTER XVII.—A SECRET OF THE SACRED MOUNTAIN.]
“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.”