ell him how much I am to give you.'

Don Hilario argued, however, until, finding Oversluys immovable, he grew
sulky. The fact is that to strip their church against the Indians' wish
would be not a little perilous even though the Cura were implicated; to
ignore him would be madness. Collectors have risked it, they say, before
and since, but never assuredly unless quite certain that the prize was
worth a deadly hazard. In this instance there was no security at all.

As they approached the village Don Hilario brightened up. 'Well,' he said,
'what will you give me?'

Oversluys had no money, but he offered a sum--the amount of which I have
not heard--payable in Guatemala city; to be doubled if the orchids should
prove white. Don Hilario declined this proposal with oaths; he dared not
go to Guatemala city, and he could not trust a friend. The negotiations
came to an end. Grumbling and swearing he rode for a while by himself;
then fell into silence, and presently rejoined Oversluys quite cheerful.
The houses were close by.

'It's a bargain, friend,' he said. 'Your hand! It's a bargain!'

'Good! Now I won't take my mules with the orchids into the village. Can
you lead us round to the other side? There is a hut there, I daresay,
where I can leave my men and return with you.'

Don Hilario declared that such precautions were unnecessary, but when
Oversluys insisted he led the way through by-paths. They did not meet a
soul. Upon the edge of a broad savannah beyond was a corral, or enclosure,
and a shed, used by the _vaqueros_ for slaughtering, branding, and so
forth in the season, empty now. Hundreds of cattle browsed slowly towards
the corral, for evening approached and the woods were full of jaguars
doubtless. Though unwatched at this time of year, they took refuge nightly
in the enclosure. It was just such a spot as Oversluys sought. His men had
food, and he told them to remain with the animals. Then he returned with
Don Hilario.

It is usual to ask the Cura for lodgings in a strange place; he himself
puts up a traveller who can pay. This was a rotund and masterful priest.
They found him alighting from his mule, with soutane rolled up to the
waist, showing a prodigious breadth of pea-green trousers. He wore a
triple string of blue beads round his neck, and flourished a whip of
cowhide.

Oversluys looked like a traveller who could pay, and he received a
greeting as warm as foreigner can expect; a foreigner in those lands