Adventure, December 1914 — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

24 regained something of his own manner. ‘The mescal cult, if you choose to call it that, has spread widel. in New Mexico and Arizona among the Indians, and even north- ward. I understand your Government has forbidden the importation of the plant and its sale to the Indians under severe penal- ties. Still, the sale grows, they tell me. I don’t think it is any worse than some of the whisky they sell—not so bad, for the whisky is beastiy. Will you try it?” On tie table now I noticed that there lay some round, brown disk-like buttons, about an inch in diameter and perhaps a quarter of an inch thick. They were exactly like those which Kennedy had found in the chat- elaine of Valcour, and it was with the greatest effort that I managed to control my surprise. I watched Kennedy to see what he would do, but his face betrayed nothing. Sefiora Ruiz took one of the little buttons out of the tray and carefully pared off the fuzzy tuft of hairs on the top. It looked to me very much like the tip of a peculiar cactus plant, which in fact it was. Then she rolled it up into a little pellet and placed it in her mouth, chewing it slowly. The others followed her example and we didthesame. Mentally I determined to fol- low Kennedy’s lead. ‘“‘The mescal shrub,” remarked Alvarez as he joined us, “grows precisely like these little buttons which you see here. It is a species of cactus which rises only half an inch or so from the ground. The stem is surrounded by a clump of blunt leaves which give it its button shape. On the top, still, if you look carefully, you can see the tuft of spines, like a cactus.”’ “That’s very interesting,’ commented Kennedy, examining one. “It grows in the rocky soil in many places in the northern Mexican states,” con- tinued Alvarez, “and the Indians, when they go out to gather it, simply lop off these little ends that peep above the earth. They dry them, keep what they wish for their own use and sell the rest for what to them is a fabulous sum.” “It has to be smuggled across the border,’’ smiled Mrs. Hawley, “‘but we don’t mind that.” ! 1} THAD scarcely swallowed the bitter, | almost nauseous thing than I began to feel my heart action slowing up and my pulse beating fuller and stronger. -and contracting, waves of color. Adventure For the moment I was a little bit alarmed, thinking of the tragedies that had so re- cently taken place, but I reflected that Ken- nedy would not try anything that was dangerous. Still, I could see the pupils of his eyes dilate, as with a dose of belladonna, and I suppose mine must have done the same. It was not long before I began to feel a sense of elation, of superiority—as if it were [, not Craig, who was engineering this case. I did nothing to carry my new idea either into word or action, and afterward I learned that that feeling was a common experience of mescal-users, that they some- times actually did perform wonderful feats while they were under the influence of the drug. But the feeling of physical energy and intellectual power soon wore off. I was glad to recline in an easy chair in silent indolence. Then for an enchanted hour followed a display which I am totally unable to de- scribe in language that can convey to an- other the beauty and splendor of what I saw. I closed my eyes. By a strange freak of fancy I thought I saw that hideous, grinning idol which had been standing on Neumey- er’s desk. All about it played long tongues of red:and golden flame. I opened my eyes hastily. The vision was gone. I picked up a book. It seemed that a pale blue-violet shadow floated across the page, leaving an after-image of pure color that was indescribable. It was a blue such as no worker in art-glass ever produced. Still seeing that marvelous blue, I re- placed the book and again closed my eyes. A confused riot of images and colors, like a kaleidoscope, crowded before me—golden and red and green jewels in a riot of color. I gazed—with closed eyes—and still I could see it. I seemed to bathe my hands in incomparable riches such as I had never dreamed of before. It was most peculiar. All discomfort ceased. I had no desire to sleep, however. Instead I was supersensitive. And yet it was a real effort to open my eyes, to tear myself away from the fascinating visions of color. I looked upward at the ceiling. It seemed that the gas jets of the chandelier, as they flickered, sent out waves, expanding The MICLOOOK (© in