t, besides the annoyance from insects and the
risk from snakes which they elude. At the present time this usage has
become fixed.[2]

Without the assistance of peons, Kerbach could not possibly get plants
sufficient to ship. To cut down trees without authority would be a penal
offence, certainly detected. He explored the country at a distance and
found nothing. It was necessary to come to terms with Don Filipe at any
cost or abandon the enterprise. Meantime letters reached Amalfi describing
the new Odontoglossum, with a picture showing the foliage. It was that he
had found. The treasure hung within reach, and a pig-headed Indian forbade
him to grasp it.

In such a difficulty one applies to the Cura. Kerbach paid this gentleman
a visit. A tall, stout, good-natured ecclesiastic was he, willing to help
a stranger, perhaps, even though unprovided with the dollars which Kerbach
offered 'for the poor,' if his mediation proved successful. The Cura made
the attempt and failed signally. It was useless to try again. The good man
begged ten dollars, or five, or one, upon the ground that he had done his
best. But Kerbach in despair was not inclined for charity. The Cura
sighed, hesitated, tossed off a glass of aguardiente and proposed another
way.

'This is a wicked country, sir,' he said. 'Ah! very wicked. And the
wickedest people in it have a proverb which I shudder to repeat. But your
case is hard. Well, sir, they say (heaven forgive them and me!), "If the
saints won't hear you, take your prayer to the devil." Horrible, isn't
it?'

'Horrible!' said Kerbach. 'But I don't know where to find the devil.'

'Yours is a pious country I have heard, though not Christian. In this
wicked land even children could tell you where to seek him. Now, you will
give me a trifle for my poor?' And he held out his hand.

'But I'm not acquainted with any children. Your reverence must really be
more explicit.'

'Bother!' exclaimed his reverence, or some Spanish equivalent. 'Well, you
will pay me the fifty dollars promised?'

'Twenty! When Don Filipe signs the lease.'

'And all incidental expenses? Then my sacristan will call on you
to-morrow. Never talk to me again of your impious projects, sir.'

The sacristan was very business-like. He demanded a dollar to begin with
for the Indian who would work the charm, and another dollar for himself
to pay for the masses which would expiate his sin. Kerbach asked details,
which were given quite frank