great
bushes on the roof of our church.'

Oversluys was roused at once. Since Roezl made the discovery, fifteen
years before, every one had come to know that rarities may be expected on
an Indian church. The pious aborigines collect any orchid of exceptional
beauty which they notice in the woods and carefully replant it on the
sacred building. It was the custom of their heathen forefathers.

'Are there any white ones among them?' Oversluys asked. An albino form of
Cattleya Bowringiana had never been heard of, but he thought it might
exist. And if so the roof of an Indian church would be the place to look
for such a treasure.

'As many white as red! I say, what will you give for a dozen?'

This was a difficult question under any circumstances, since the plants
could hardly be flowering then; and there is no difference in growth
betwixt the white varieties and the red. Besides, Oversluys had not the
very slightest confidence in this youth.

'How will you get them?' he asked.

'Never mind that. Pay me half the money down and I'll bring the plants
to-morrow. You know, our Indians are suspicious of collectors. You mustn't
be seen in the village.'

That was reasonable enough in one point of view, but preposterous in the
other. 'Oh,' said Oversluys, 'I must see the orchids at any risk--that's
flat! and I must hear how you mean to work.'

'Why?'

'Because if you take them without the Padre's consent you know as well as
I that the Indians will be after me at daylight, and--h'm! There would be
work for the doctor! What sort of man is your Padre?'

'A sort of pig, of course,' laughed Don Hilario. 'A fat old boar, ready
for the knife. And my knife is ready, too! Patience, friend, patience!'
His eyes still laughed, but he made the significant gesture so common in
those lands--a sudden stealthy grip of the machete at his waist.

This was not an unimportant revelation. 'You are on bad terms with the
Cura?' Oversluys asked.

'Not now. He thinks I have forgotten. It's years ago. I was a boy. But the
Castilian never forgets! I will tell you.'

The story was not edifying. It related to a young woman in whom the Cura
felt interest. He surprised her in company with Don Hilario and beat the
lad.

'Well,' said Oversluys, 'I'm sorry you and the Padre are not friends,
because I will have nothing to do with removing orchids from the church
unless he bears part in it.'

'But the pig will want all the money.'

'You need not t