g satisfied with sheep,
goats, or anything else. Therefore but few Tarahumares can afford
to entertain him in their country. If an ox is not killed for him,
he will eat the Indian. He always holds his head down, because he is
listening to all the ceremonies that are being held in the Tarahumare
land, and he is always full of thoughts of how he may cure his sons,
the Tarahumares. He never dies. When a person is very ill, and there
is no such hikuli in the country, the shaman in his thoughts flies
to the hikuli country, where "the great authority" stands looking
at his children, the people, and offers him the soul of an ox that
has been sacrificed. Hikuli accepts the offering, and sends back his
blessings by his servants, who are always well dressed and wear straw
hats, "like regular Americans," as my shaman friend Rubio expressed
it. Only the shamans, however, can see them come, to cure the hearts
of the people and to clean their souls.

All these various species are considered good, as coming from Tata
Dios, and well-disposed toward the people. But there are some kinds
of hikuli believed to come from the Devil. One of these, with long
white spines, is called ocoyome. It is very rarely used, and only for
evil purposes. If anyone should happen to touch it with the foot,
it would cause the offending leg to break. Once when I pushed one
of these globular spiny cacti out of my way with a cane, my Indian
attendant immediately warned me, "Leave it alone, or it will make
you fall down precipices."

At one of the feasts which I witnessed I wished to taste hikuli, as
it was new to me. A lively discussion arose between the shamans, and
I was finally told that I might sit with them, as it was known that I
had some of the sacred plants in my possession. The condition was made,
however, that I should take off my sombrero. It happened to be a cold
and windy December night, but I obeyed and put my handkerchief over
my head, to which no objection was raised. The man who carried the
gourd, first danced in front of the shaman, then around the fire,
and finally brought it to me. The liquid tasted somewhat bitter,
but not exactly disagreeable; and while I drank, the man looked at
me with astonishment, as if he had expected that hikuli would refuse
to be taken by me.

I drank only a small cupful, but felt the effect in a few
minutes. First it made me wide awake, and acted as an excitant to the
nerves, similar to coffee, but much more pow